Rules of Marriage, page 31
“I just hope we will have no need of them on this side of the Atlantic any time soon,” Jake said at the party following the Humphreys’s wedding.
Hastings had provided a glib response. “We should not have such need—so long as Boney is confined to Elba.”
“So long as ...” Jake repeated vaguely. Then he had brightened and proposed yet another wedding toast.
Only recently Rachel had received an answer to the note she had written Clara, who had returned to live with her parents in the midlands. They were spoiling their grandson Benny rather frightfully. Clara was trying to accept Joe’s death, but with little success thus far. She ended by saying, “Grab your happiness while you can, dear friend. Love is far too precious to allow petty concerns to stand in your way.”
In July, when Lord Wellington returned to England, the Prince spared no amount of the public’s money in welcoming home the conquering hero. There were parades and fireworks and a fair was set up in Hyde Park that reduced the grassy lawns to dusty—or muddy—splotches for months to come. The most elegant party, though, was one which found neither Rachel nor the Prince’s wife on the guest list.
The Prince spent and spent and spent on a magnificent dinner and ball at Carlton House, his London residence. The guests were confined to a mere two thousand and more of his highness’s closest friends. For days, the newspapers oohed and ahhed over the elegance or raged against the expense, depending on their editors’ politics.
Rachel had had no illusions about her place in society and was neither surprised nor disappointed to find her name omitted from the Prince’s guest list. Even before the Prince’s grand soiree came to her attention, she began to feel a distinct cooling of attitudes toward her. As Libby had predicted, she received a fair number of invitations, though she was never taken up as a favorite in society. Rachel neither sought nor welcomed the limelight. However, she had enjoyed making the acquaintance of certain people in society’s inner circle, and she now missed conversing with them.
With the city full of high-ranking military officers—and their ladies—being feted at every turn, Rachel noted a dwindling of invitations coming her way. Celia, Marchioness of Lounsbury, all but gave her the cut direct at a dinner party Rachel attended in the company of the Duke and Duchess of Aylesworth. Rachel felt sure it would have been the cut direct had Libby not been at her side.
However, the dowager marchioness—Jake’s mother—deliberately sought Rachel’s attention and chatted amiably with her. She even went so far as to invite Rachel to call upon her. Rachel found the dowager a warm and charming person. Her own embarrassment over being—or having been—the mistress of the woman’s son, though, prevented her from responding with anything but polite reserve.
In the Aylesworth carriage on the way home, Rachel asked, “Was I imagining things, or was there an undercurrent of ... of something going on this evening? I was not very comfortable.”
Libby sighed. “No, my dear. You were not imagining that. The story of that infamous sale has found its way to ton drawing rooms.”
“Oh, dear.” Rachel, too, sighed. “I suppose it was inevitable someone should recognize me as ‘that’ Brady woman.”
“Probably,” the duchess agreed.
“If . . . if you’d rather I ... that is, if you should wish to lessen your connection to me, I shall understand.”
“Certainly not!” The ducal couple spoke in unison and their vehemence sent a flush of warmth into Rachel’s heart.
The duchess leaned across from her seat opposite and patted Rachel’s hand. “Put that thought out of your head. No. We shall go on just as we have. In fact, I may just give a ball in your honor.” She laughed. “After all, you missed having a proper come-out ball.”
Rachel, too, laughed at that absurdity. “Oh, please don’t.”
But Libby went right on with her flight of fancy until the carriage arrived at Rachel’s door.
The next day any sense of comfort she had gained from Aylesworth’s support came to an abrupt end.
Twenty-four
As Rachel left the hospital the next afternoon, a man rose from where he had been sitting on the steps.
“Ah, at last,” he said. “Kept me waiting, you did.”
“Edwin! What on earth—?”
Ellison, who had, as usual, been waiting at the entrance to escort her home, started forward at the shock in her tone.
“It’s all right, Ellison. Just wait at the gate for me.” She turned to Brady, noting he was dressed in worn but clean clothing such as a dockworker might wear. He was also sporting a full beard. “What do you want?”
“Now, is that any way to greet your long lost husband?”
“Husband?” she asked scornfully. “What about your wife and family in East Anglia?”
He paused for only a moment. “Ah, so you know about them, do you?”
“And that your supposed marriage to me was all a hum. How could you—how could any man do such a despicable thing? You ruined my life.”
“Oh, I don’t know, my pretty.” He reached out to touch her, but she backed away with a shudder of disgust which was not lost on him. She saw fury flash across his countenance. He gestured at her attire. “Look at you. Playing the fine lady. You seem to have done right well for someone whose life has been ruined.”
“What do you want?” she repeated.
“Just some of what you’ve got,” he said. “As your husband, I’m entitled.”
“You might be—if you had ever been my husband. Now, if you will excuse me ...” She turned away.
“Not so damned fast.” He grabbed her arm and held it tightly. When Ellison started forward, Brady pulled his coat back to show her a pistol. “Call off your watchdog, or he will get hurt.”
“It’s all right, Ellison,” she said. “Just give me a moment.” She looked at the roughened hand clasping her arm far too tightly. “Let go of my arm,” she demanded. To her surprise, he did.
“I’ve been watching you for over a week,” he said. “Your comings and goings. Hobnobbing with the swells and all. I figure you can afford to help out a ... a friend ... in need.”
“Why on earth would I even think of doing so after what you did to me?”
“Maybe to keep the swells from knowing that their Mrs. Brady is no widow at all. In fact, she was never even a wife.” His smile was a triumphant leer. “See? I know the story you’ve put about.”
She tried to think, to forestall his demands. “This is brave talk for a man who could still face a firing squad as an army deserter.”
“Edwin Brady died in the Peninsula. I’m Mullens now, a respectable worker on London’s docks. Not many as would even recognize me now.”
“Major Forrester would.”
“Ah, yes. Forrester. But he’s enjoying my leftovers so much, he’d probably not say anything.”
“You despicable toad!”
“Ah, ah. Behave yourself, my lovely.”
“How much?”
“I figure—maybe—fifty guineas to start with? You’re worth fifty guineas, aren’t you?” He laughed crudely.
“I—it will take me a couple of days to raise that kind of money.” Although her relationship to the Duke of Aylesworth had been bruited about, she knew her inheritance was not common knowledge. With luck, Edwin would not know of it.
“I know where you live. I’ll be in touch with you, my sweet.”
With that, he walked off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving her profoundly shaken. She wondered, though, if his tune was inspired by confidence or bravado.
Instantly, Ellison was at her side. “Did he harm you?”
“No. Not really.” Not physically, she thought.
Ellison looked at her in concern. “Wait here, ma’am. I’ll get a hackney cab to take us home.”
Jake was alone in his mother’s library when Foster, the butler, knocked on the door. For days—no, weeks—now, he had been trying to force himself to go to Trenton Abbey, his estate in Wiltshire.
The “abbey” had once been a real abbey which Henry VIII, in his fury against the Roman church, had appropriated and turned over to one of his favorites, a certain Baron Trenton. Trenton’s descendants had eventually managed to lose the property back to the crown. Jake’s maternal grandfather had purchased it from a monarch in need of funds to finance his colonial ventures. Once the abbey was in Jacob Nachman’s hands, the old man had been determined it was to stay with his bloodlines, hence his stipulation to that effect in his daughter’s marriage settlements. In any event, Jake had ever been grateful for his own independence from Lounsbury holdings.
This thought brought him up short. He, Jake, relished his independence. Was this not what Rachel had been talking about, too? Why a woman would need to be independent, though, when she might rely upon a husband was beyond him. Then he reminded himself of two things. He himself refused to rely on his brother and Lounsbury wealth, and Rachel’s experience was with a husband who was far from reliable.
“Come in,” he called, glad for an interruption to these disturbing thoughts.
“My lord, there’s a man named Ellison who wishes to speak with you.”
“Ellison? Oh. Ellison. Send him in.” Jake stood to welcome the man who, he remembered, worked for Rachel. “What can I do for you, Ellison?”
The man seemed uncomfortable. “My lord, I am not sure I am doing the right thing. What I mean to say is, when Lord Lounsbury hired us—my wife and me—he said as how it was on your account.”
“Yes, he did do that.”
“And I know Mrs. Brady is paying our salaries now—and generous she is, too, but ... well ... something’s come up, my lord, and—”
Jake was becoming alarmed. “Come on. Out with it, man. Has Mrs. Brady come to some harm?”
“No, sir. At least not yet.”
“Not yet? Explain yourself immediately.” the former army officer demanded.
“When the marquis hired me, I was to act as a sort of bodyguard for Mrs. Brady as well as butler and general handyman. He wanted me to report any suspicious-appearing folk that might seek her out. I—I assumed he was acting on your order, my lord.”
“He was.”
“Well, sir, earlier this afternoon was the first time it happened. I know this is not strictly your affair now that she pays all the bills, but ... well ... my wife and I are worried and ... we thought you might like to know.”
“You thought right. Sit down and tell me.”
Ellison did just that, describing the incident outside the hospital and the bearded man who had accosted Rachel. Jake made him describe the man twice.
“Dark hair and blue eyes? Hmm. I wonder. Seems unlikely, but you never know.”
“My lord?” Ellison asked.
“Never mind. You heard nothing of the conversation he had with her?”
“No, sir. But it looked to me like he was threatening her. He grabbed her suddenly, too, but then he let loose of her.”
“He was dressed as a common laborer?”
“Yes, sir. Dockworker, I’d say.”
“Thank you, Ellison. You did the right thing in coming to me. I’ll see to it right away.”
“Very good, my lord.”
When Ellison had gone—with extra coin in his pocket—Jake called in Henry and Thompkins.
“I want you two to go down to the docks,” he told them.
“Nose around the taverns there and see what you come up with.” He described the man as Ellison had described him. “I’ve a hunch this may be Brady, and since you two might recognize him, beard and all ...”
“Yes, my lord,” they said at once.
He handed Henry a bag of coins. “Here. This might help to loosen a few tongues. Mind you,” Jake warned, “you are not to accost him. Just find him, and I’ll take it from there.”
Nearly two hours later—far too early for him to hear yet from Henry and Thompkins—Foster discreetly broke in on a conversation between Jake and his mother.
The butler handed Jake a note. “That man, Ellison, just delivered this, my lord.”
Jake recognized Rachel’s script immediately. The note was brief.
Jake,
May I see you at your earliest convenience, please?
R.
“Excuse me, Mother, this is something I must see to.”
“Shall I set dinner back?”
“No. I may not be here.”
Ellison was still in the foyer, waiting to carry Jake’s reply.
“Did you tell Mrs. Brady of your visit to me?” Jake asked him.
“No, my lord. Should I have done so?”
“No. No need at all.” Jake was inordinately pleased that Rachel was apparently turning to him in a crisis.
Rachel had fretted most of the afternoon about what she should do. She knew she could not succumb to Edwin’s demand. If one paid such extortion, it would go on and on. Once again, she wondered how on earth she had ever found such a man attractive. But, of course, she had not seen this side of him before the marriage, had she?
Should she inform the Duke of Aylesworth? No, it was not really his problem. Nor was it truly the Forresters’ problem. Yet she knew she could not deal with it alone, and Edwin did have ties of a sort to the Forrester brothers. So she sent the note around to Jake. Jake, who had come to her rescue before.
He arrived within minutes of her sending the note.
“Oh! I hadn’t expected you quite so soon,” she said, flustered.
“I assumed it was an urgent matter,” he said.
“It may be. Edwin is back in England.”
“Is he now?”
She gave him an account of the meeting, ending with, “He wants money from me. Jake, he laughed when he named a sum of fifty guineas! He laughed.” She could not hide the pain of this revelation.
Jake quickly closed the distance between them and enfolded her in his arms. “Never mind, love. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you.”
“I ... I didn’t want to trouble you, but . . .”
“I know. Ellison came to me earlier. He and his wife were worried about you. From what he told me, I suspected it was Brady who had accosted you.”
“Ellison went to you?” She did not know quite how she felt about this.
“Don’t be angry with him. He was worried. And properly, so, I believe.”
“Well ...” She sounded dubious.
“I’ve sent Henry and Thompkins to the docks to find Brady.”
“They won’t—?”
“Hurt him? No. They are merely to locate him. I may strangle the blackguard later, but they won’t.”
“I—I do not want to be responsible for his being arrested and ... perhaps going before a firing squad. Isn’t that what happens to deserters?” she asked.
“Usually, but I promise I will do what I can to prevent that. He is the rottenest of fellows, but he does have Forrester connections.”
“Thank you, Jake. I do so appreciate your help.” She would have stepped away, but he would not permit her to do so.
He gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t you dare go behind that stiff ‘lady of the manor’ facade with me,” he growled and lifted her chin to settle his lips firmly on hers.
She could not help herself. All her longing of the last few weeks, her fear during this afternoon’s meeting, and the essential rightness of having him here went into her response.
“That’s better,” he murmured at last. Then he put her reluctantly from him. “I must go. I will consult Robert and then wait for Henry and Thompkins to report.”
“You will tell me—?”
“As soon as I know anything, I’ll be back.”
“Thank you.” She pulled his head down to hers for another brief kiss before he was gone.
It was several days before Jake and Robert could deal with the problem of Brady—or Mullens, as he was now calling himself. Mullens had caught sight of Henry in one of the dockside pubs and immediately fled. Informed of this entire turn of events, Aylesworth had persuaded his niece to take up residence in Aylesworth House until the situation was fully resolved. She was not to leave the premises without the company of a burly footman.
In the meantime, Jake was faced with another emotionally wrenching problem.
He had called one afternoon to speak with Robert about the Brady-Mullens affair. Robert had engaged the Runners again and could well have new information by now. The marquis was not in, but his wife was. She had apparently been crossing the hall when she heard Jake’s voice.
“Send Lord Jacob up to the west drawing room, Jeffers,” she called. “And see to some refreshments for us.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The butler shrugged his shoulders. “You know the way, my lord.”
Reluctantly, Jake climbed the stairs. He had not been alone with Celia in well over a decade, though in the early years of his voluntary exile, she had never been far from his thoughts.
“Ah, Jake. How nice to have you all to myself for a change.” She was dressed in a pale green muslin with small puffed sleeves that left her arms bare. With an extremely low neckline as well, she was exposing a good deal of flesh.
“Celia.” He gave her a slight bow and kissed the air above the hand she thrust at him.
“Do have a seat.” She gestured to a large couch upholstered in expensive gold brocade.
Jake chose a wing chair instead, and saw a fleeting look of annoyance cross her face. He stood near the chair, waiting as she arranged herself decoratively on the couch. Jeffers brought in a tray.
“Tea? Or lemonade?” she asked.
“Tea will do nicely. A drop of milk, no sugar.”
He watched as she completed this ritual with pretty gestures, but he said nothing.
