An Unsuitable Match (21 page)

After a tour of the estate the following morning, accompanied by no fewer than three estate staff, Clarice took her leave of Thaxter and went in search of Lady Alice.

‘How was your morning stroll?' her grandmother asked.

Clarice scowled. From the moment Thaxter Fox had arrived at dinner the previous evening, he had been the perfect gentleman. His manners were once more impeccable and he was warm and pleasant toward the estate staff. At one point during their inspection of the stables, he had even made a jest and laughed heartily.

Yet all the while, Clarice found herself continually comparing him to David. Where David's manners and amiable personality came naturally to him, she could see Thaxter Fox continually gauging and adjusting his behaviour according to the responses of others around him. He questioned at length the role of the senior members of the estate staff. She found it particularly disconcerting that he ignored any questions that were posed to him by the staff.

‘It was fine, but I would not be surprised to hear he was keeping a detailed dossier on all of us. He continually wanted to review the most minute of details. He asked the stable master no less than four times how much Papa would get if he sold the black mare at the market in King's Lynn. And that man of business of his is the oddest fellow I have ever met. He certainly doesn't dress or sound like someone who has worked for a gentleman before.'

‘No?' Lady Alice replied.

Clarice clapped her hands and chuckled. ‘The one good thing to come out of this morning is that Mr Fox has already begun to tire of the estate. He and his man are going to travel to Holt this afternoon and don't expect to be back until late. Which means I have the whole afternoon to roam the estate and not have to worry about dealing with him.'

The dowager gave a low hum in response. ‘Don't stray too far from the main house, Clarice.'

‘I shall stay on the estate; I will be perfectly safe,' she replied.

Lady Alice pursed her lips. ‘I would like to think so, but I wish you to come to my side once Mr Fox returns from town. We may be on the family estate but with strangers in our midst, we should rely upon the protection that our trusted staff afford us.'

‘I plan to take my paints and work on a new landscape down at the edge of the lake; I will only be a hundred or so yards from the main house,' Clarice replied.

‘Ah, so there you are,' the voice of her unwelcome houseguest rang in Clarice's ears.

She cast a glance upwards at the sun and sighed. It had moved well past overhead and was now heading down the afternoon sky. The hour was later than she had realised.

Alone in this private, secure place, she had enjoyed Thaxter's absence from the estate; and now he had found her.

‘Quite a clever hiding place you have here; I have been scouring the estate for the past hour looking for you. I was on the verge of giving up and going back to the house when one of the servants mentioned you might be down by the lake.'

She gave him an uninterested glance and turned back to her easel. Running the brush over the canvas, she was putting the finishing touches to a scene she had painted many times before.

‘How was your trip to Holt?' she replied.

He came and stood by her side and gave her painting a cursory look.

‘Disappointing. I really do have little time or appetite for these provincial towns. Every shop in which I tried to purchase goods on credit initially refused me. Of course, once I mentioned my connection to your father, they soon changed their minds.'

He opened the lapels of his jacket, revealing a deep crimson, mustard and burnt orange spotted vest.

‘I told them that if they wished to secure my future custom, they had better convince me of the quality of their goods. What do you think of the cut of my new vest, Lady Clarice? I got it gratis.'

‘It's very nice,' she lied. The colour palette was so hideous it hurt her eyes.

There were few places in Holt that supplied such goods, so it would not be an impossible task for her father's steward to discover which hapless tailor Mr Fox had pressured into giving him free goods. Her father valued his family's name and reputation in the local district. He would be furious to know his heir was trading on the Langham name for personal gain. The well-cut vest would be paid for, whether Mr Fox wished it or not.

He shrugged his shoulders at her curt response. She dipped her brush in first the blue and then the yellow paint, frowning when it didn't give her quite the shade of green she desired for the waterside reeds. She added a little more yellow before putting the brush to the linen canvas.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as he stepped closer. Endeavouring not to look at him, she continued to focus on getting the line and structure of the plants just right.

‘Is this all you do down at the lake, Lady Clarice?' he asked. He was so close now she could feel his hot breath on the side of her face. She stepped away and moved closer to the lake, praying that if she kept her eyes focused on the subject of her painting, he would soon get bored and go back to the house.

Go away. Please go away.

‘Never been one for painting landscapes. Always thought it a pointless waste of time. Why bother painting a rustic scene of ducks swimming on the water when you could be shooting the blessed birds and serving them up on the table for supper?' he said, adding his usual self-satisfied laugh.

‘Yes, well, it is more of a lady's afternoon pastime. I have a number of my pieces hanging in various rooms both here and in London. Papa says I have quite the eye for a landscape,' she replied.

He sniffed. ‘My brother Avery had a gift for drawing when he was young. Not that it did him any good.'

She nodded, pleased at the change of subject. ‘Papa mentioned you have a younger brother. Will we be meeting him?'

Thaxter harrumphed. ‘Not likely. I haven't set eyes on him or the rest of my family for years. He joined the army the minute he realised there would never be enough money to send him to a reputable school. I understand he was injured at Waterloo. But enough about my wayward brother. What about you, Lady Clarice?'

He followed her to the water's edge.

When he reached out and brushed a hand down the side of her face, Clarice shuddered. She hurried away from him back to her easel, desperately trying to convince herself that he had not actually touched her.

‘Don't be shy, Clarice. I know you enjoyed my attentions at the garden party; why should we pretend that you didn't? And now that we are here together in Norfolk, we should take the opportunity to strengthen our bond,' he murmured.

The garden party seemed like a lifetime ago. The afternoon spent with Thaxter had been for her father's benefit. By showing the other members of the
ton
that the Langham family had accepted him as one of their own, Thaxter's entry into London society would be made all that easier. He had been pleasant and gracious to a fault throughout the picnic, and now she knew why. The gathered members of society's elite had seen them together, noted how well they were matched and drawn the obvious conclusion. Thaxter had carefully orchestrated the whole scene and Clarice had well and truly been played for a fool.

It all made perfect sense. The dashingly handsome heir to the Langham title takes the hand of the daughter of the house in marriage. He has someone to show him the ways of society and she continues the family bloodline. If she didn't know that Thaxter Fox was a manipulative rogue, it would be the perfect aristocratic fairytale.

She straightened her back; her decision had been made: she was going to marry David Radley and Mr Fox would have to accept it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him remove his coat and unbutton his waistcoat. The fragile hope that he was about to take a late-afternoon dip in the lake died as soon as it entered her mind. He began to walk back to her.

Her breath caught in her throat and time slowed.

She heard the ducks on the lake and the wind whistling through the long grass. Slowly she scanned the horizon as an icy fear gripped her heart. Her carefully chosen hiding place was not that far from the house, but it was unlikely anyone would hear her cries for help.

She was alone with him.

She knew enough about life to know that no unmarried girl ever allowed herself to be alone with a man such as him. While David's letter had revealed much of the passion a man might feel for the woman he loved, the look of violent lust in Thaxter's eyes told her he had no plans for a tender wooing. Her situation was becoming more perilous by the second.

He reached her side and placed his hands on her shoulders. She froze. He bent his head and placed a kiss on the side of her neck.

‘Don't you dare touch me!' she cried, and pushed him away.

He staggered back, laughing. Mocking her. ‘My dear, dear Clarice, very soon I will be touching every inch of your flesh. I shall run my tongue over your naked breasts as I spread your legs wide and ride you like a young mare.'

She shook her head. ‘No.'

‘I see you need to have the facts of life explained to you, my girl. Once you and I are wed, I plan to have you on your back as often as I like. My heir should be growing within your belly well before Christmas. Which is why I think I should take you here and now. Seal the deal, as they say.'

‘I think not. I shall never marry you, Mr Fox; we would never suit. Besides, I love another,' she replied, her voice wavering with fear.

He took a step closer. ‘I couldn't give a damn what you want, LADY Clarice. Once I have had you, your tight-fisted papa will have to give you and your lovely dowry to me. I can't wait to see the look on his face. Then when you are my wife, you will submit to my command. As your husband it will be within my rights to discipline you. Fight me, and your pale, virginal skin will feel the lash of my riding crop. Don't be foolish enough to flatter yourself in thinking you will be the first filly I have broken in.'

His hand reached for the bodice of her gown and gripped tightly. She tried to pull away, but he viciously pulled her back and gave her a hard slap across the face. The paint palette flew out of her hand.

Shocked and dazed at this unprovoked violence, Clarice searched desperately for salvation. A few more blows to the face, and her strength would surely wane. Whether she was conscious or not when he took her, it would matter little. The outcome would remain the same.

She felt the paintbrush in her right hand and knew she had to take the chance. As Thaxter pulled her toward him, his thin hard lips opening in order to kiss her, Clarice struck.

‘You bloody bitch!' he screamed as the sharp end of the wooden paintbrush found its way into the soft flesh of his upper arm. He lashed out with his good arm and, taking a handful of Clarice's gown, tore a large hole in the front of it, revealing her breasts.

The sight of the black onyx with the Strathmore stars on the bail hanging on its fine gold chain only served to enrage him further. He made a wild grab for the chain, but his grasping fingers found only bare breast. He lunged forward, and gave the delicate tissue a hard, cruel squeeze.

Clarice cried out in pain and slapped his arm away, then punched hard against his damaged arm.

‘Think your duke's bastard will have you once I have finished with you? Think he will want you when you are a ruined whore?' he roared.

His good arm swung once more, but Clarice saw it coming and dodged. As she righted herself she saw the clear inevitability of the situation. It was now or never. Even with one damaged arm, Thaxter was too strong for her. She either fought back while she was still on her feet, or accepted that he was going to force her to the ground and ruin her life. If she was going down it was not without a fight. He would have the scars to show for his brutality; she would make sure of it.

Pivoting on her right foot, she took hold of the leg of the easel, sending the canvas and her other brushes clattering to the ground. She swung it wildly at him. He ducked but was not quick enough. The top corner of the easel connected with the side of his face, just below the eye, with a sickening
thwack
.

He cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, clutching his face.

Clarice threw the easel to the ground and ran for her life. Scrambling up the small rise back to the gardens, she ran as fast as she could, not daring to turn and see if he had followed.

Clutching her torn dress to her breast, she reached the main house and slipped in through a side entrance. She locked the door behind her, knowing her escape would be in vain if he followed and demanded her hand.

Turning toward the stairs, tears streaming down her face, she encountered Lady Alice. Her grandmother looked at the torn dress and a strange expression immediately passed over her face. Knowing no-one within the estate or village would dare lay a hand on Lord Langham's daughter, the answer as to whom had attacked Clarice was obvious.

‘Where is he now?' she demanded.

Clarice shook her head. ‘I don't know; I fought him off at the lake and then ran here. He plans to ruin me so Papa will have to agree to our marriage.'

With Clarice's dowry at his disposal, Thaxter could go back to spending money like a madman. Lady Alice went to a nearby window and looked out onto the drive. It was empty.

‘Are you ruined?' she asked calmly.

‘No. Oh Grandmamma, I was so frightened!' Clarice cried. She took a step toward the dowager before her grandmother cut her off.

‘Go upstairs this instant, cover yourself and wait for me. Make sure no-one sees you, not even your maid,' she ordered.

No hug, no words of comfort, just a direct command. Clarice stared at her in disbelief.

Lady Alice took hold of her arm and steered her toward the stairs. She gave her granddaughter a gentle push in the back. ‘Go, go! I cannot control this if you are here when he arrives back at the house. Lock your bedroom door and don't open it to anyone but me; I don't know if he has any of the servants in his pocket,' Lady Alice said.

Clarice heard fear in the old woman's voice.

She managed to climb the stairs and do as her grandmother bade. A gentle knock on the door half an hour later signalled the arrival of Lady Alice. Behind her a maid carried a bowl of warm water and clean towels. Lady Alice dismissed the girl as soon as she had set the bowl down on a table. Following the maid to the door, she closed it and turned the key.

‘Good, we shouldn't be disturbed this way. Much as I trust our household staff, we must bear in mind that if, God forbid, anything happens to your father, Mr Fox will be their new master. Considering the way he has been lording it over them since he got here, I expect they know what the years under his reign will be like.'

She came to Clarice and, pulling her into her arms, gave her a heartfelt hug.

‘I am sorry I couldn't do that downstairs, but we need to keep this afternoon's events a secret. We must play our cards close to our chest. If anyone knows you have been alone with him, a betrothal will be expected. If he suspects that I know anything, he will press his case.'

Clarice wiped away a tear and nodded. The threat of being married to Thaxter Fox still loomed large.

‘Did you see him?'

Lady Alice nodded. ‘Yes. Apparently Mr Fox had an accident this afternoon while out walking and fell, injuring his head. Cook is stitching up his cheek, and you should have heard the words he used as she set needle to skin. Evil man.'

She walked over to the bowl of water and dipped in a dry cloth. ‘Now, let me have a look at you; those scratches were rather ugly.'

Clarice removed the warm woollen wrap she had put on to cover the torn dress and took a seat next to the table.

‘You may wish to remove your necklace,' Lady Alice said, pointing to David's gift. Clarice shook her head.

‘No. I have made my choice; the necklace stays,' she replied.

Her grandmother smiled and placed a tender kiss on Clarice's forehead. ‘Good. That should make it easier for you to stick to my plan. Just remember, once false move or foolish comment and your dreams of marrying David will turn to ashes.'

Clarice nodded once more. She was fast learning to trust her grandmother's instinct for survival.