Marigold Chain (8 page)

‘
Go
away,’ he muttered.

‘
No. It’s
past two in the afternoon and I have a tisane here which will make
you feel much better – but you must sit up.’

‘
I don’t
want to sit up. I want to be left alone.’

‘
Don’t be
a baby.’

This was the
last straw. Alex opened his eyes and gingerly turned to face his
tormentor. A waterfall of hair, gleaming rose-gold and a lot
brighter than he thought necessary, dazzled his vision. He shut his
eyes for a moment and then, blinking, looked again; brown eyes,
flecked with amber. There was something familiar about them too –
something he felt he ought to be able to remember but could
not.

‘
Who are
you?’

Amusement gave
way to reproach. ‘You don’t know?’

‘
I
wouldn’t ask if I did.’ He sat up very cautiously. ‘God – my
skull’s split.’

‘
You
shouldn’t have drunk the brandy,’ said Chloë severely. ‘Mr Beckwith
had more sense.’

‘
He
would,’ replied Alex acidly. A strange fact communicated itself to
his impaired faculties. ‘We are sitting on the floor. Did I sleep
here?’

She nodded,
grinning.

‘
Why?’

‘
Mostly
because you passed out - but also because I had your bed. Drink
this.’ She handed him a mug.

Alex sniffed it
suspiciously. ‘It smells disgusting.’

‘
It
tastes disgusting too,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘But it truly will
make you feel much better. And it’s your own fault, after
all.’

‘
I know.
I shouldn’t have touched the brandy,’ recited Alex, preparing to
swallow the mixture. ‘Just tell me one thing; why did you sleep in
my bed?’

Chloë watched
him tilt the mug to his mouth and grimace as he tasted its
bitterness. ‘But where else should I sleep? We are married.’

The timing was
perfect. Caught with a mouthful of tisane, Alex spat, spluttered,
dropped the mug and began to cough. Chloë thumped him helpfully on
the back and then, when the choking subsided, passed him a
handkerchief.

Alex mopped his
eyes and then sat quite still, turning the dampened linen
thoughtfully in his fingers. Finally, he said, ‘Would you repeat
that?’

Chloë
experienced a pang of misgiving.

‘
I said
that we are married.’

Looking up, his
eyes bloodshot but disconcertingly intense, Alex considered
her.

‘
Now
that,’ he remarked, ‘is news.’

She met his
gaze stubbornly. ‘You’ve forgotten. I thought you would.’

His mouth
curled unpleasantly. ‘You were right. I can’t, after all, be
expected to recall all my careless excursions into matrimony.’

Just for a
second, with a lurch of her stomach, she almost believed him. Then
misgiving became irritation and she said, ‘Can we discuss this
sensibly?’

‘
I doubt
it.’

‘
Look,’
said Chloë crossly, ‘you could at least
try
to be helpful. I know it was a mistake. I
knew it at the time and I tried to stop you – but you
would
have it. And so here we are.
The question now is what we’re going to do about it.’

Alex stared at
her. Then, on an explosion of breath and with less than his usual
grace, he got to his feet and extended a hand to her.

‘
Well for
God’s sake let’s begin by getting off the floor. My head is
pounding and my bones feel as though somebody’s taken a cudgel to
them. So if you want me to think, I’ll need a chair and a gallon of
water.’

Accepting his
hand, Chloë rose and followed him to the table. Silently, she
poured water from the pitcher and put it in front of him before
sitting down. Alex drank, clutched his head for a moment and then
looked at her.

‘
My
recollections of last night are, to say the least of it, imperfect.
Remind me.’

She looked back
at him, her hands clenched tight in her lap.

‘
James
Ashton is my step-brother and you must have won more than he could
afford to pay because he ended the night by staking me – or rather
my hand in marriage and my dowry.’

Alex’s face
showed nothing. ‘Presumably my luck held or you wouldn’t be here.
What then?’

‘
Oh then
you insisted we be married immediately – so you climbed the
wisteria and sat on the Reverent Morland. He wasn’t happy. He said
we deserved each other.’

Mr Deveril’s
sense of humour wasn’t working and the blue eyes frowned in an
effort of memory.

‘
Did I
force you to it?’ he asked bluntly.

Chloë coloured
a little but her gaze did not waver. ‘No. Or not in the way I
suspect you mean it.’

‘
Well I
suppose that’s something. But why the hell did you do it? You can’t
have
wanted
to marry
me.’

The flush
receded leaving her rather pale and her voice, when she spoke
again, held more than a trace of constraint.

‘
I let
James stake me because it was a chance to get away from him and
seemed the lesser of two evils. And no, of course I didn’t want to
marry you. I expected to stay in the house last night and throw
myself on the charity of friends this morning. I didn’t bargain for
you being so bull-headed or Freddy Iverson and your friend Mr
Fawsley encouraging you in your madness. I thought that you’d sober
up and regain your senses and that we could come to some
arrangement that didn’t involve marriage. But none of that
happened.’

‘
So I
gather. But still … you agreed to it.’ It was not a
question.

Chloë hesitated
and decided that the best form of defence would be attack.

‘
Yes.
Well, marriage would be a necessary snag if you were to acquire my
dowry, wouldn’t it?’

She was
subjected to a long and trying scrutiny.

‘
Acquit
me,’ he said coldly, at last. ‘I’m not a fortune-hunter, looking
for a rich child-bride. How old
are
you, by the way?’

‘
What do
you think?’

He considered
her. ‘Sixteen?’

She drew
herself up. ‘Certainly not. I’m twenty.’

Mr Deveril was
not impressed. ‘Well, you don’t look it.’

‘
No?’ She
returned his gaze. ‘Well, you don’t look as if you’ll see
thirty-five again – but I suppose that’s the brandy.’

Alex stared at
her. Then, ‘Oh God!’ he said with a smothered gasp. ‘You mistake
me. I’m not usually crapulous more than four days out of
seven.’

Chloë remained
unmoved.

‘
Oh. But
I could hardly be expected to guess that, could I?’ And meeting his
eyes, saw the very real laughter there. She grinned back. ‘I must
say, you’re taking it better than I expected.’

‘
Practice, they say, makes perfect,’ he replied absently. He
rose and walked away from her, running his hands through his hair.
‘Doubtless I was given your name but I’ve forgotten it.’

‘
It is
Chloë. But I was becoming quite used to Marigold.’ She looked at
him thoughtfully. ‘If you are willing to forgo my rather small
fortune, we don’t really have a problem.’

Alex leaned
against the mantel and folded his arms.

‘
You are
offering me a divorce?’

The narrow
brows rose in surprise.

‘
No. We
don’t need a divorce. The marriage is only on paper, so what we
need is an annulment. It should be quite simple.’

The ice-blue
gaze rested on her sardonically.

‘
It would
be quite simple if you hadn’t spent a night in my bed.’

‘
But no
one knows that,’ she said calmly. ‘However, if you think it
necessary, we can … provide substantiation.’

‘
Ah.’ He
smiled. ‘You’re suggesting we rely on medical evidence to dissolve
the bond between us by proving it a marriage
nisi accedat copula carnalis
?’

‘
If that
means it hasn’t been consummated, then yes.’

‘
I see.
Excuse me asking,’ he said delicately, ‘but
can
we rely on it?’

She frowned
irritably. ‘Again – yes.’

Mr Deveril
smiled with what Chloë personally considered to be infuriating
admiration and said, ‘That’s comforting. Unfortunately, however, it
may not be enough.’

‘
Why
not?’

‘
I
imagine you are a Catholic?’

‘
Yes.
What of it?’

‘
Simply
that I’m not. Which poses not one problem but two. England was
excommunicated under Cromwell and, even if it hadn’t been, I rather
think we’ll find that no provision has ever been made for cases
such as ours. If that’s so, the theologians and canonists will be
able to use us as an excuse for interminable debate. In short, it
will take time.’

‘
Oh,’
said Chloë.

‘
Oh,’
agreed Alex. ‘Which brings us to what we are going to do in the
meantime. Is Ashton your only relative?’

She nodded.
‘Unfortunately. The only good part is that he’s not blood-kin.’

‘
So I
presume you don’t want to go back?’

‘
Never in
this life.’

‘
Do you
mind if I ask why?’

Wanting,
if possible, to avoid this conversation, Chlo
ë
said evasively, ‘You know him.’

‘
Not well
- but as much as I care to,’ replied Alex. ‘And I imagine the
reasons why I dislike him aren’t the same as yours.
Well?’

She sighed and,
realising that she was going to have to say something, decided that
it might as well be the truth – distasteful though that was.

As
dispassionately as possible, she said, ‘He put a roof over my head
because it suited him to have an unpaid house-keeper. And I
wouldn’t have minded that if there had ever been enough money – but
there never was because he either drank it, spent it on whores or
gamed it away. We couldn’t keep a maid-servant more than a week
because he tried to bed them and then hit them when they said no.’
She paused briefly and, when she resumed, her voice was completely
without timbre. ‘Recently, it’s been worse. He can’t afford the
whores and … and I’ve had to bolt my door at night.’

His eyes hooded
and unreadable, Mr Deveril contemplated the faded gown with its
signs of careful mending, then the impossibly straight spine and
the tilt of her chin, both which told him that sympathy would not
be welcome. Finally, with an almost imperceptible nod, he said,
‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’

Rising, he
reached for his coat and rifled through the pockets till he found a
handful of crumpled paper. ‘Thought so,’ he murmured. And then,
opening the door, shouted, ‘Matt?’ – only to discover that Mr Lewis
was just outside, sitting on the stairs, whittling.

‘
What the
hell are you - - ?’ began Mr Deveril. And then, with intense
irritation, ‘Give me some bloody credit, Matt. She’s a child, for
Christ’s sake! What did you think I was going to do?’

‘
Make bad
worse – same as always,’ retorted Matt. He stood up amidst a shower
of wood-shavings and looked through the open door at
Chlo
ë
. Then, apparently satisfied, said,
‘What did you want?’

A hint of
colour touched the flat pallor of Alex’s face and the flash of
temper vanished as quickly as it had come. ‘These are Ashton’s
notes of hand from last night. Take a look and see what they amount
to, then go and tell him I want them honoured by the end of the
week. Oh - and tell him I’ve married his step-sister but warn him
against paying us any bride-visits.’ A hard smile curled his mouth.
‘Frighten him a bit, if you like … or even a lot.’

Matt’s seamed
face brightened. ‘Reckon I can manage that.’

‘
I don’t
doubt it,’ returned Mr Deveril absently, waving him on his
way.

As soon
as the door closed, Chlo
ë
said baldly,
‘Why did you do that?’

‘
For
fun,’ he said flippantly. And then, catching sight of her
expression, ‘Don’t read too much into it. I frequently do things I
don’t have to. Now. Where were we?’

She was
starting to wonder how often Mr Deveril said what he really meant –
but wisely refrained from asking and said instead, ‘You were trying
to decide what to do with me.’

A very
different smile lit his eyes. He said, ‘Not the best way of putting
it - but yes. And I have a suggestion to make. I will make discreet
enquiries about the possibility of an annulment, meanwhile you will
continue to reside here with all the appearance of wifely
permanence. All, that is, save one.’

Chloë
looked up, a sudden light in her eyes. ‘
Nisi
something
copula
carnalis
?’

‘
That’s
the one. You’ve a good memory.’

‘
Only for
vital implications.’ She hesitated. ‘Since you don’t want either me
or my eight hundred pounds, I can’t imagine what possible benefit
such an arrangement might be to you.’

‘
You
don’t need to. And don’t be so cynical. Call it a matter of
chivalry.’

She gazed back
in rapt fascination. ‘Chivalry? Really? That’s nice.’ Then, shaking
her head, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Deveril – but I don’t believe you.’