Anne Barbour (17 page)

Dumbly, Amanda shook her head.

“To begin with, there are approximately four hundred souls living at the Park who depend on me for their livelihood—field laborers and their families, the house staff, etcetera. Even the vicar and his wife and children, for I am responsible for the upkeep of the church. I own several other estates, as well, all of which are in worse shape than the Park. There used to be more, but everything that was not entailed was sold off years ago.

“The house at the Park is heavily mortgaged and, but for your father’s largesse, I should have lost it to the Crown by now. Oh yes, he has already started on the payments he agreed to in the marriage settlements. A very generous fellow, your papa, not to wait until the thing was signed, sealed, and delivered.”

“And your brother and sister?” whispered Amanda, horrified.

“As I think I told you, they were raised at the Park with me, but recently I have had to move Dorothea to the home of our Aunt and Uncle Breverton in Gloucester. They are an older couple and not well circumstanced. They have been all that is kind to Dorothea, but her presence presents a financial burden to them. Andrew is in the City, studying Law. He has a small inheritance of his own from a distant uncle that is barely keeping a roof over his head, and meals. He augments this income by working in the office of one of the barristers in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”

“Dear Lord,” said Amanda, once more sinking onto the piano bench. “I had no idea.”

“It is probable, then,” Ash replied austerely, “that you also have no concept of what I owe to the family name.”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Quite. The Ashindon title dates back to the time of the Tudors, and this means a great deal to my family—all the uncles, aunts, and cousins. My Grandmama Ashindon has been at me to marry since I acceded to the title, because my primary function in her eyes is to beget an heir. She repeats, ‘The line must continue’ to me like a litany every time we are together. So, you see, Miss Bridge, it is not simply all your lovely money that I’m after.”

“Oh. Oh-hh,” Amanda said again as the implications of this statement sank in. A mental image of the earl’s lean body above hers, naked in a candlelit bedroom, flashed through her mind and she could feel herself blushing. She shook herself. She was not an ignorant virgin, after all. Well, yes, she supposed she was a virgin, for surely the young Amanda was unsullied, (She uttered a silent, hysterical giggle. Who says you can’t get it back?) but since she had no intention of marrying this man, her maidenly trepidation was absurd. Besides, she knew very well his lordship would much rather be doing his begetting with his cousin’s beautiful widow.

“Well, all right, then,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “You say my father has agreed to hand over a lot of money to you. How much will he be giving you before the actual ceremony?”

“What—?” Ash drew a long breath. “This is not a matter that concerns you, but he has agreed to pay off the mortgage immediately. He will also provide the wherewithal to begin repairs on the Park so that by the time I bring my new bride through its portals it will be fit to live in.”

“I see. Well, that sounds as though it will bring in quite a chunk of change right there. I should think all we have to do—”

“You really have acquired the most peculiar phraseology,” interrupted Ash irritably. “Yes, I know,” he finished in unison with Amanda. “Your bump on the head. What was it you were saying? Not that any of it makes sense.”

Amanda breathed a small sigh of relief. At least he was speaking to her in tones of reasonable civility. “I should think,” she continued patiently, “that all we need to do is milk Papa to the max over the next few months. From what Serena has said, I can get thousands of pounds just for clothes—and there’s the wedding trip.”

“What the devil—?” began Ash in angry puzzlement.

“A few weeks before the wedding date,” Amanda continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “we can just call the whole thing off. By then you should have enough to solve your immediate cash flow problems, don’t you think?” She smiled brightly, anticipating his ready agreement to such an eminently sensible plan.

Instead, Ash’s glare increased in intensity so that she felt she was in danger of melting around the edges.

“I think,” he rasped, “that knock on your head permanently damaged your powers of reason. Even if such a course of action were not despicable—which it is—and even if it were to solve my problems—which it would not—your papa would be within his rights to sue me for breach of promise—which he undoubtedly would.”

“Oh,” said Amanda, undaunted. “But how about if I call it off instead of you?”

Ash, who had been pacing the carpet, whirled to face her.

“Have you any idea what the repercussions would be of such a move?”

“Mm, I suppose Papa would not be happy, but—”

“That is the understatement of the century. Your father wants this union very badly, and when men of his stamp are thwarted in what they want very badly, they tend to get very ugly. I expect at the very least you would be sent to the country to live on bread and water for an extended length of time.”

“If that’s all—”

“In addition, it would be years before you could show your face in London again. The tabbies would have a field day with you, and I would be made to look ridiculous. Not that that matters to me, but—”

“Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Of course, you had not.” He grasped both her shoulders and shook her ungently. “You may as well resign yourself to the fact of this betrothal, Miss Bridge. Whether you—or I—like it or not, we will marry, and you will have to make the best of it—as I intend to do.”

He released her so suddenly she almost toppled backward and, turning, he left the room without another word. In a few moments, she heard the slamming of the front door.

Well hell, that had not gone at all as she planned. She shrugged. She would just have to confront him once more, the next time he came to the house. She was not about to allow herself to be trapped in a loveless marriage, particularly with a man who was besotted with somebody else, and so she would tell him. Sooner or later, he would realize that she was not going to marry him, and this being the case, the earl might as well reap the benefit of her refusal.

Amanda reflected in some dismay on Ash’s words pertaining to her own money. She had not considered the matter before, but it was apparent that she was totally dependent on Jeremiah Bridge for every facet of her existence. Women in these days, as a general rule, had nothing of their own. Every move they made was at the discretion of the men in their lives. Dear God, what was to become of her? How could she bear to be “cabin’d crib’d and confin’d,” as Shakespeare put it, for the rest of her life? Her years in the twentieth century had conditioned her to a freedom of movement that was unheard of here. She simply could not sit in her father’s or her husband’s drawing room and occupy herself with embroidery, while outside a fascinating world was going about its business.

Jeremiah seemed determined that his offspring bring him the social acceptance he craved so badly. Would he cut his recalcitrant daughter off without a penny when she ultimately refused to marry the impoverished earl? How would she earn her own way in this alien environment?

She smiled sourly. If only she had known she was about to find herself in this situation, she would have boned up on her Regency minutia. It would be a very handy thing to know right now who would be the winners of upcoming prizefights, or parliamentary elections. She could make a small fortune at the track—provided she could find a way to circumvent the absurd restrictions on female activity currently in vogue.

Her academic skills would certainly be of no use to her here—unless, perhaps she could hire on in one of the ladies’ seminaries that seemed to dot the Regency landscape. But no, a knowledge of literature was not required of young ladies of the
ton.
Perhaps she could teach music, although except for the piano, her expertise in that field was limited.

Well, she was a raving beauty. Perhaps a career on the stage. Mmm. Her experience in “the theatah” was limited to a performance as Tiny Tim in the fourth grade, but with a little luck and a lot of chutzpah, maybe—

She brought her hands down on the keys with a discordant jangle. This was getting her nowhere. What she really needed to do was find a way to get back to her own time. Despite the advantages of a whole beautiful body and the bloom of youth, she did not belong here. Her former life had not been wholly satisfactory, but she had carved a niche for herself there. She had acquired the security of a good career, and she enjoyed her work. There would be no Lord Ashindon in 1996. The thought flashed, unwanted, in her mind, and she was obliged to suppress very firmly the pang she experienced as a result. Good grief, dark-haired earls with eyes like a winter sea had no place in her life. No, there was no question in her mind that she wished to live out her life in her own time.

Now then, if her earlier calculations were correct, her former self was six feet under by now, but if who or whatever was responsible for bringing her here had such a facility with time, surely she could be brought back to her own century in time to fix her aneurysm or whatever it was that had done her in.

She shook her head. This was really confusing. If only she could connect up again with the person in the spectacles. If she did encounter him/her, she would grab hold and not let go until she got some answers.

Why in the world, she wondered, had Ash been so upset at the idea of getting as much money as possible out of Jeremiah before the big breakup. The old fool had plenty and it might as well be put to some use besides gratifying his own selfish wishes.

With this laudable thought in mind, she went up to her bedchamber for a thorough perusal of her jewel box.

Chapter Twelve

In the days following her instructive self-confrontation, Amanda endeavored to confine her activities to those befitting a proper Regency miss. She paid morning visits with Serena, she practiced her stitchery, for which she discovered she had absolutely no aptitude, and, under her mother’s tutorial eye, poured over volumes of
The Lady’s Magazine
and
La Belle Assemblée,
choosing bride clothes. She found herself in Serena’s black books only once when she went jogging early one morning in Hyde Park. It was her lack of anything resembling proper footwear, however, rather than her mama’s strictures that prevented a repetition of this activity.

Lord Ashindon did not come near the house in Upper Brook Street, and by the end of the week Amanda was in a state of boredom bordering on the frantic. When the day arrived of the dinner party at Grandmama Ashindon’s, she welcomed it almost with relief.

The earl was to collect his betrothed and his future in-laws shortly before the whole party was expected at Lady Ashindon’s, and in her bedchamber Amanda fretted and jittered as Hutchings performed her tasks.

“Now, miss,” said the maid, “if you do not hold still, you’re going to look as though you were pulled into this gown backward. And it is so lovely, you will not wish to ruin the effect.”

Indeed, thought Amanda gazing once more in bewildered awe at her reflection in the mirror, Serena had outdone herself, for the gown was her mama’s choice. It was gold satin, of a shade that almost exactly matched her hair, and it fell in heavy folds to her feet. Atop drifted a tunic of palest gauze, embroidered with gold acorns, and with it she wore a topaz necklace that gleamed richly against the creamy smoothness of her skin.

Hutchings had foresworn the usual curls this evening, instead sweeping Amanda’s hair into an old-fashioned polished coil that lay smooth as taffy on her neck. A few tendrils escaped to frame her face in a tantalizing filigree. Amanda longed for a camera to capture this fleeting moment of beauty that would vanish like the golden glory of a dawn sky should she ever manage to assume her own shape in her own time.

She was alone in the drawing room when Ash made his appearance, and his gray eyes darkened to the shade of embers shot through with lingering traces of fire.

He said nothing, but bowed over her hand, his lips brushing her fingertips with a sensuous warmth that she felt down to her toes. She was breathless, suddenly, and welcomed the bustling entrance of Serena a moment later, followed by Jeremiah.

Her father immediately instituted a machine gun burst of conversation, and Amanda realized with some surprise that he was nervous.

“Evening, Ashindon. Fine evening, eh? Well, don’t you look pretty as paint, Amanda? I reckon her ladyship will welcome you with open arms tonight. Don’t you think, my lord?” He plowed ahead without waiting for an answer. “Of course, my Serena is well acquainted with many of the nobs who will be at your grandmama’s house tonight. Her grandfather was the Earl of Brashing, you know. Will you take a glass of Bordeaux, Ashindon? It’s a LaFitte, and prime stuff, I assure you.”

This, however, the earl declined with suitable expressions of regret, remarking that Lady Ashindon was expecting them shortly.

“And if there’s anything that sets Grandmama’s back up it’s tardiness,” he concluded.

Amanda glanced at her father, but the expected heightening of color and belligerent stance did not appear. Instead, Jeremiah ceased all conversation, bellowed for Serena, who appeared at his side just as he opened his mouth, and bustled his family anxiously into the hall, calling for outer garments and the carriage, which was already waiting at the curb.

The Dowager Countess of Ashindon resided in one of the smaller domiciles of Grosvenor Square. “The old girl may have been forced to economy,” Ash whispered to his betrothed, “but she says she’s damned if she will live in some shabby-genteel neighborhood in the wilds of Knightsbridge or Kensington.”

The little party was greeted at the door by a butler of such supercilious mien that Amanda could be forgiven her initial assumption that he must be a visiting duke who happened at the moment to be passing through the entrance hall. A liveried footman escorted them up the elegant, curved staircase to the drawing room above. The servant announced their presence in stentorian tones and Amanda found herself almost flinching as a phalanx of quizzing glasses and lorgnettes were raised to catch the glitter of candlelight.