Salt Bride (41 page)

“My lady,
please
.” Jane’s voice was barely above a whisper.

How this woman, this former mistress of the Earl, thought her revelations were for the greater good, Jane could not fathom. It was one thing to know that Salt kept a mistress, indeed had women flocking to take on such a role, and to tease him about the consequences of such philandering, and quite something altogether abhorrent to come face to face with a past mistress in her own home intent on sharing confidences about the Earl’s prowess as a lover.

Her immediate thought was that Diana St. John had somehow convinced this woman to seek her out in the malicious hope of making mischief. Yet as soon as Jane had this thought she dismissed it because she genuinely liked Lord Church and she could not imagine he would be involved in any scheme to upset her. And as he was to marry her husband’s former mistress Jane decided that whatever confidences Elizabeth Outram wished to share with her were meant, despite their shocking nature, with the best of intentions. So despite her desire to run from the room with her fingers in her ears, Jane remained outwardly perfectly composed and inwardly trembling with trepidation.

“His stamina and
consideration
for a lady’s pleasure has rightly bestowed upon him the reputation of a consummate lover,” Lady Outram continued smoothly as if Jane had not uttered a syllable. “And as a married woman you cannot be ignorant of a particular moment while making love when a man is at his most
vulnerable
. If he utters anything intelligible it affords a rare glimpse of his innermost feelings. And at the
crucial moment
, Salt was never with me he was with
Jane
. He was with
you
. It’s
always
been you…”

Jane did not trust herself to speak. She was in equal measure utterly appalled and strangely reassured. Such was her distress that in her distraction she was unaware they had traversed the entire room and returned to the fireplace where Pascoe Church had been warming his hands for ten minutes and pretending an interest in the little leaping flames consuming a fresh log.

Lady Outram signaled playfully with her fan to her betrothed, who raised his quizzing glass in acknowledgement, and disentangled her arm from Jane’s so she could stand before her.

“You do love him, don’t you?” she asked rhetorically.

Jane finally looked the woman full in the face. “With all my heart.”

Elizabeth Outram smiled. “Church said you did. He said he knew it the first time he saw you in Salt’s company.” She rested her fan lightly against her pointed chin and regarded Jane pensively. “The first and only time
I
saw you in each other’s company was at the Richmond Ball. It was obvious to all; indeed it was
the
topic of conversation for the evening that the Salt marriage was not a marriage of convenience as was first supposed. And then we saw you from the terrace while we were watching the skyrockets. You could’ve been anywhere; sitting on the moon, much you both cared for anything or anyone but each other! He was kissing you on the mouth and in full view of the world. That’s when we all knew.”

“Knew?”

“That he loves you so very much.”

“My lady?”

It was the Earl and he stood just inside the blue withdrawing room, the liveried footmen holding wide the double doors to reveal Hilary Wraxton conversing with Mr. Ellis in the marble gallery beyond.

“My lord! You are just in time,” Jane responded, coming to life on a quick breath. With a welcoming smile she swept up to her husband. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”

Salt’s concern deepened into a frown seeing the deep blush to his wife’s cheeks and throat. “Is—Are you—Is everything—”

“I have been wishing Lord and Lady Church a safe journey,” Jane interrupted conversationally, eager to relieve him of any anxiety he felt on her part. “Well, they soon will be lord
and
lady,” she confided in an under voice in response to his startled glance, and continued in a neutral tone loud enough for all to hear, “They are off to the Continent with Mr. Wraxton. Paris is their first destination, to be married by a priest and then on to Florence for their honeymoon where Lord Church has a cousin at the consulate.”

The tension in the Earl’s wide shoulders eased. He bowed civilly to Lady Outram as one does to an acquaintance but was able to smile at Lord Church with a raise of one mobile eyebrow. “A papist ceremony, Pascoe?”

Lord Church shrugged and was sheepish. “Churches have remained loyal to Rome since Bonnie Prince Charlie crossed o’the water. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

“I did. And it doesn’t alter our unique friendship,” said Salt, another glance at Lady Outram. “Nothing will. I wish you both very happy.”

Lord Church bowed with a flourish of his lace-covered wrist as the Countess and Lady Outram swept out of the room before them and came to stand beside the Earl, who was looking at the Countess as she conversed with Hilary Wraxton, who was bowing over her out-stretched hand. He plastered his quizzing glass to one eye, as if to better view his friend’s wife, and could not resist a parting shot at her noble husband.

“You don’t deserve her, Salt, but she is very deserving of you.
Au revior, mon ami
.”

Tom and the Earl were seated in their shirtsleeves and tennis breeches, damp backs up against the wall, recovering breath and strength and drinking a well earned ale after an enjoyable and hard fought contest on the Royal Tennis Court. Tom decided there was no better time to broach the subject of his stepsister’s present and future happiness. The large nobleman was tired but relaxed and not at all annoyed with him for his drunken outburst at the Richmond Ball. Still, he decided to ease into voicing his concerns by first announcing that he had finally decided on the perfect wedding gift for the couple.

“It came to me the other week,” Tom told Salt. “I’d been wracking my brains to think of a suitable gift for someone who has everything he’ll ever want or need, and that would also appeal to Jane. And then I had it—”

“There really is no need…”

“—the cottage. The cottage Jane lived in while under my uncle’s protection. Jane had a miserable time there and you must loathe the very sight of the place too. So I’m having it torn down and moved brick for brick further up the valley, closer to Allanvale. Once it’s remodeled and added upon it will make a dower house for my mother. If ever she gets to live in it.” Tom rolled his eyes and gave an embarrassed half-smile. “I have a suspicion she won’t be long Lady Despard. She’ll be remarried by Christmastime, and to some aging fop who has gout but is generous with leaving the purse strings untied. I’ve no objection. I just want her to be happy. As I want Jane to be happy. I told the workmen to have it leveled before you take Jane to Salt Hall at Easter time.”

“Thank you. That truly is the best wedding present you could give us. You’re the best of brothers, Tom Allenby,” the Earl said simply and stuck out his hand, adding with a smile as they warmly shook hands, “You must have been a comfort to your sister while she lived under your uncle’s protection.”

“Me? Egad! I wish! If that’s what you think, then my suspicions are well and truly confirmed. Jane hasn’t told you about her life, if you can call it that, in that house, has she?” Tom asked rhetorically. “Just like Jane to keep it to herself, for fear of distressing you…”

“Go on. Don’t spare my feelings.”

“The first year Jane spent under Uncle Jacob’s roof, he wouldn’t allow me—
anyone
—to visit the cottage. And then when he did grant me permission, my visits were supervised and only allowed four times a year. Seeing her in those plain gowns with her head covered, eating sop and with no pictures on the wall, and my uncle preaching his sermons about sins of the flesh and vanity and greed and eternal damnation and the like, it burned me up, never mind going to Hell. To my mind that was Hell on earth for a young beautiful girl who had the world at her feet one minute and no expectation of a happy life the next. Don’t think me anything but God-fearing, but my uncle was a zealot of the fire and brimstone school of paying one’s dues to the Almighty, and he was hell-bent on making Jane pay for her sins.”

He stopped to down the last of the ale in his tumbler, an eye on the Earl, who had pulled his damp shoulder-length hair out of his eyes and was frowning quizzically at him; as if he had not the slightest idea what Tom was talking about. It made Tom blurt out belligerently,

“I may have needed a goodly quantity of claret to confront you last night, my lord, but I don’t this afternoon. So I’ll just say my piece, before Jane gets here because I don’t want her distressed or to feel the slightest embarrassment, because what I have to say ain’t pleasant. But I’m thinkin’ you’ve been enough in her company, have formed a high regard for the sweet-natured loving creature she is, that what I tell you won’t matter a jot now. Do I make myself plain, my lord?”

“I understand you don’t want to upset her so I suggest you just come out and say it.”

“All right. I will!” Tom announced and swallowed because the Earl’s quiet voice was much more menacing than if he had shouted at him. He took a deep breath and launched into his speech.

“It may come as a complete surprise to you, living as you do surrounded by sycophants and toadies and painted females, who have the
appearance
of beauty but scratch the surface and they’re rotten, rotten to the core, but Jane is as good-hearted as she is beautiful and nothing my uncle or her father or you can make me see her differently!”

“I agree, and if you would allow me to tell you how much she—”

“And if she’s forgiven you for breaking off the engagement—”

“Stop there, Tom Allenby!” the Earl growled and sat up. “I am utterly sick of being accused of breach of promise. I will say to you what I have said to your sister many times over: I did not break off our engagement, nor did I write a letter to that effect. A letter that now mysteriously no longer exists because it did not exist in the first place!”

Tom stuck out his chin. “Yes it does, my lord!

“It’s Salt, Tom. Call me Salt. You are Jane’s brother and thus my brother-in-law.”

This somewhat deflated Tom’s belligerency yet he managed to put enough firmness in his voice to say flatly, “It does exist because I have it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“With your seal upon it too!”

Salt was incredulous. “In my fist?”

“I don’t know what your fist looks like, but Uncle Jacob assured me the letter was genuine. He gave it into my safekeeping on his deathbed.”

Salt was skeptical. “And you have this infamous letter here?”

“Not on me,” Tom said defensively. “But I can have it fetched from Upper Brooke Street.”

“If you would.”

“Consider it fetched! In fact, I’ve been wondering what to do with it ever since Uncle Jacob left it to me. You’re welcome to it!” Tom threw at him, unsure what made his blood boil more, the Earl’s raised eyebrows of incredulity, or the fact the nobleman’s noble nostrils quivered with distaste that Tom had had the bad manners to contradict him. It gave him the impetus he needed to vent his feelings on the subject of his stepsister’s happiness.

“I’d prefer the wretched piece of paper be turned to ash, for all the grief it’s caused Jane. I’m certain she would like nothing better than to forget the existence of that letter and its consequences. In fact, I’ll lay you odds she forgave you years ago, because that’s the sort of girl she is. But it stands to reason you should be just as fair and not hold one tiny mistake against her. Mistakes happen and no one can foresee at the time that an error of judgment will have such far-reaching consequences. She certainly didn’t. How could she?

“It was her eighteenth birthday and she was an innocent. God knows why it’s up to the weaker sex to protect their virtue and fend off the unwanted attentions of a pack of lecherous dogs. Jane never asked or sought out such attention! She wasn’t old enough or wise enough to know any better. Her father sent her off to your Hunt Ball without a chaperone and without any cautionary warnings about the roués on the prowl for a bit of vulgar velvet at such functions. And I wasn’t there to protect her. I should have been there to protect her!”

“It’s all right, Tom,” Salt said, a gentle squeeze of the young man’s shoulder when he bowed his head and turned away to dash a sleeve across his flushed face. “No one can blame you for what occurred. You’re absolutely right. Errors of judgment do happen. I asked your sister to marry me at that Hunt Ball and she accepted and that should’ve been enough. But I lost my head in the moment and…” He frowned self-consciously, murmuring, “Well, it seems the rest you know…”

Tom gave a huff of impatience.

“Jane doesn’t know that I know and she’d be mortified if she ever found out I did. She likes to think of me as her little brother, and that’s fine with me if it gives her peace of mind. My mother told me what happened to Jane. I guess she felt I was owed the true explanation for why Jane ended up under my uncle’s protection after Sir Felix disowned her. But she only discovered the extent of Jane’s fall from grace after Uncle Jacob’s death. Under the terms of his will he charged my mother with a commission to Lady St. John—”