Authors: Wedded Bliss
“Jupiter,” a youthful voice whispered. “Moses only handed down ten commandments.”
“Yes,” Lady Eleanor whispered back, but not half as softly, “but that was because he was not an earl.”
Rockford turned at the familiar voice and noticed his sister for the first time. He raised his eyebrow. She raised hers. “Later, sister,” was all he said. She bobbed her head in acknowledgment.
He returned his attention to Alissa. “Madam?”
She preceded him out of the room, glancing back to see Claymore smiling encouragement and Eleanor giving her a wink. She raised her head, lest Rockford see her chin trembling. She paused, not knowing which direction to take. The hall was almost as large as the entry to Rock Hill, with doors and numerous corridors leading from it, and a grand marble staircase straight ahead.
“To the left,” he said, pointing the way.
Hugo would be thrilled, Alissa thought when she saw the two-story library. If he got to stay. Rockford headed toward a huge oak desk and stood behind it, leaving her the smaller facing seat, as if she were interviewing for a position, which she was, in a way. Alissa smoothed her skirts, which were creased from traveling. Rockford rubbed his eyes. He looked tired and his neckcloth was askew, but she had no sympathy for him. He should have been home to receive her message, home to make them welcome. Home to sleep in his own bed.
“Well?” he said.
“Very, thank you,” she replied. “Although the trip was arduous.”
“You know deuced well what I meant, Countess. What in thunderation is that circus doing in my hallway?”
Waiting to be shown rooms, Alissa thought, but did not say. “The dogs were a gift from Sir George,” she told him, in preface to her prepared speech. “A wedding gift.”
“He couldn’t send silver candlesticks like everyone else?”
“They were for the boys.”
“The boys did not get married; we did.”
Ah, so he did remember the wedding. That was a good sign, Alissa thought, ready to continue.
Before she could, he asked, “And you felt you had to trot the whole herd of them to London to…show me?”
“Not precisely. And the dogs did not trot. They rode in the second coach. The ponies trotted.”
“You are telling me you brought the boys, their dogs and ponies, along with Claymore, who should have been pensioned off in my boyhood. Oh, and my sister, back from her foray into deceit and depravity. Lud, did you leave anyone home?”
“Sir George, bleeding.”
There was Ganyon’s name again. Rockford pinched the bridge of his nose between fingers, wishing for a cup of coffee. With a dash of arsenic.
“Did you kill him?” he asked, deciding to ask
why
later. “Did you come to town to hire a lawyer? Ah, perhaps you are on your way out of the country and you came to say farewell?”
There was a hopeful note to his last question that Alissa could not like. She merely said, “No. He lives.”
“Very well. Then mayhap, Countess, you would be so good as to tell me why in hell you are here in my house when I left you in the country?”
“Because you left me in the country.”
“You are making no sense.”
Alissa supposed she was not, to a man like him. “I had many sound, logical reasons for coming.”
“Yes?”
She gathered her defenses, all the reasons she had planned to give him. “The children need a father, someone who could have told them they had to leave the animals behind.”
“Which they would not have had to do, if they had remained where they belonged. And they have done fine all these years. You need to be firmer; that is all.”
Spoken like someone who had never denied a determined five-year-old anything. She sniffed and said, “Amy and I needed new wardrobes.”
“You could have sent for the finest modistes. They would have moved their shops to Rock Hill, for your patronage.”
“I could not find proper tutors for the boys. Most did not wish to travel so far for an interview without a guaranteed position. Chances of finding the best man are better in London.”
“What could be so difficult about hiring a tutor? Hugo is too weak to go to school, and you feel your sons are too young, so what does it matter if they are behind in their studies?”
Behind? She ignored his willful misconception. “I wished to give my sister wider experience of society, the opportunity to meet people.”
“Eligible bachelors, you mean. You would have done better to wait for the spring Season. Few people are still in town now. Besides, I doubt you will ever be able to give that chit town bronze, not when she jumps at shadows.”
Ready, as always, to come to her family’s defense, Alissa said, “She jumped at your shouting.”
He brushed that aside. “Furthermore, if you are encouraging her to dream of a grand match, you are doing the girl a disservice. She is still the daughter of a bailiff.”
“As I was.”
He tipped his head. “Your point, madam. Go on.”
“Amy will do fine, with your sponsorship. I was hoping, too, to see her and my sons accepted by my late husband’s family.”
“Hysmith? I told you the new duke is as stiff-rumped as the last. His late wife was worse.”
“But the boys are his nephews, nevertheless. He should meet them.” He looked dubious of the honor to be bestowed on the duke, so Alissa hurried on: “And I thought to restore your sister’s reputation.”
“Impossible.”
“No, it is not. The country folk have accepted her as a heroine, chasing after Arkenstall to retrieve your belongings.” The rude sound he made told her what he thought of the neighbors and their notions of truth. “Lady Eleanor cannot be allowed to hide away at Rock Hill for the rest of her life.”
“It is what she chose.”
“Out of embarrassment. Then she chose another disastrous course with Arkenstall. She is not happy, and will not be until she confronts her past. Here in London.”
“I will speak with her myself.”
“She brought back the Rembrandt.” Alissa had given up thoughts of doing portraits in oils after seeing the small picture of an old woman with a jug.
“Did she, by Jove?”
He smiled, the first smile Alissa had seen on him since she arrived. She thought it unfortunate that he cared more for the painting’s return than his sister’s—or his wife’s. “It is hanging at Rock Hill.”
“Where it belongs. Where all of you belong.” He could not hide a yawn. “You still have not given me one good reason why you came to town. Or what any of this has to do with Sir George Ganyon.”
“He wishes to marry Amy.”
Rockford was suddenly wide awake. “That loose screw? I would never give my blessings, so you did not have to batten on my doorstep. Or didn’t you trust me?”
“I trusted you. It is the baronet I do not trust. He threatened to force my sister to wed him if he was not granted permission.”
Rockford decided he would get a more accurate story from Claymore before they left. “No one threatens my family. I thought I had made that plain to Ganyon, but it was not plain enough, I see. I will handle it, so now that you have said your piece you can go home. I cannot imagine what you were thinking, bringing the boys and the dogs to the city. Here. Why, Rothmore House hosts one of the finest collections of antiquities in all of England.” He raised a small white figurine, an exquisite many-armed goddess carved out of a single piece of ivory. “I cannot have children playing among such priceless treasures.”
Alissa admired the delicate work of art, but said, “Your children are priceless, too.”
“Yes, well, the little goblins—the little gems, that is—cannot stay here. As I said, I am hosting an important reception tonight. The prince regent himself might attend. If you leave soon, I might be able to restore Rothmore House in time.”
Alissa was not budging. “I cannot put those children back in the carriages so soon. The journey was wearying enough as it was. Furthermore, your neighbors saw us arrive. What would they think if you pack us off to an inn or hide us away? They will think you are ashamed of your children, that is what, ashamed of your wife. It was just such behavior that led Sir George to think I might be receptive to his advances.”
He clutched the figurine in his hand. “You never mentioned that part, by Jupiter.”
“Well, it is true. Your leaving left me open to insult. And there is more.”
He opened his fist and traced the curves of the ivory goddess with his fingers. “I was afraid of that.”
Alissa could not come out and say that she wanted to make a real marriage out of this convenient travesty, that she wanted them to become partners, friends, lovers. That she missed the pleasures of the marriage bed, the comfort of a man’s warm body next to hers. What she said was, “I do not wish ours to be a marriage in name only.”
Rockford’s fingers stopped caressing the sculpture. That was not in his plan, not at all. “You agreed—”
She raised her chin. “I want a daughter.”
The ivory goddess hit the desk.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hell.” he cursed, then begged her pardon. Or that of the many-armed goddess now in many pieces. Bedding his wife was not only not part of his plan, but it was not part of his life. He did not want to be involved with a woman. Any woman. The Austrian princess was business, not pleasure, he told himself. No emotions were involved. No unruly passions were raised, at least not his. The princess was known to toss the occasional knickknack.
His former marriages had accounted for some of the most unpleasant intervals of Rockford’s life, years filled with tears and shouts and sulks and scenes, especially when his wives were increasing. And those women he had wed were ladies. Heaven knew what Mrs. Henning, his new countess, would subject him to. She was already off to a good start, if her aim was to destroy his home, his career, and his peace of mind.
“Dash it,” he said, “how could you want another infant when you have enough children to satisfy the maternal instincts of a queen bee? And if your sister is not young enough to count as a daughter, go adopt one. I am certain there are any number of moppets languishing in orphanages. Or I could have my secretary put an advertisement in the paper, if I still had a secretary, that is, for a family with extras. I’d think people would be glad to see a daughter go to a good home. Plaguey nuisances, girls. Just look at my sister.”
“No.”
He carefully swept the fragments of the goddess into a pile on his desk while he wondered how the nondescript nobody he’d married had turned into a woman of such strong convictions. He had admired her pluck, but independence was better at a distance. Now she was staring straight at him, daring him to disagree, as if they were equals.
“You owe me a baby. Nothing was ever said about not honoring the marriage vows. That is part of what marriage means to me.”
Equals, hell. The female was far better at this than he was. He had to try, though. “I do not recall the vicar telling us to go forth and multiply. Did I miss that part?”
“Marriage is a sacred rite for the begetting of children.”
“Oh, no, it is not. Marriage makes offspring legitimate. It does not demand them.”
“You never said you felt that way.”
“And you never said you wanted more children.”
“I never had the chance. I would have on our wedding night, when we consummated the marriage.”
“Confound it, I could not force myself on a woman who hardly knew me. I thought that would offend you.”
She stared at her hands laced in her lap. “I am a widow, Robert, not a virgin.”
There was his name again. Lud, last time he’d repeated it to himself to see if the unfamiliar syllables had any effect. They had not, not giving him the slightest inclination to leap across his desk, the way he did now. Unseemly, that’s what it was. Beneath his dignity.
He had to get her out of here. Out of the country would be better, but—
“Very well, you can stay for a day or too. Until I have straightened out the mess with Sir George. I cannot travel to Rock Hill at this moment, but a letter should suffice. I’ll make sure the maggot knows what will happen if he steps over the line.”
“And the other?”
“The tutor? I will make inquiries at my clubs, send a message to my college. I am certain—”
“
Not
the tutor.”
Damned persistent female. “I will think about it,” he muttered.
“See that you do, Robert. I will not return to the country otherwise.”
He stood up. “I have the right to send you where I will.”
She stood up and faced him across the desk. “And I have the right to a marriage. I mean to have one.”
“But if those children damage one—”
There were two crashes from the hallway. One sounded like the Etruscan vase; the other might have been the Chinese urn cane holder. Or Claymore tripping over a dog.
Bloody hell.
*
He was a rake, Alissa thought later, dressing for dinner in her finest gown, with jewels Claymore had insisted she bring. Why would he not leap at the chance to share her bed? She was a willing woman, rightfully his. Could he be one of those men who did not like women? He disliked females in general, she thought, but not in that way, from all she had heard. And if he suffered some physical impairment, what was he doing out all night with the Austrian princess? Playing at charades? No, Rockford was a thoroughly virile man. He simply did not think Alissa was worthy of his attentions. She fussed over her toilette far longer than usual, to prove him wrong.