The Six Month Marriage (24 page)

There was an alert look in his eye and his whole body
was tense. He looked like a bird of prey about to swoop, thought Madeline with
a shiver. But it was too late for her to keep silent now.

‘Why are you not going to marry one of the young ladies
from round about?’ she asked. ‘Why are you going to marry someone so cold and
cynical?’

‘I wasn’t aware it was any of your business,’ he
remarked.

She had the feeling that for some reason he was
deliberately taunting her, though why that should be she did not know.

Before she could reply he went on, ‘I will answer your
question nevertheless. The reason why I won’t marry any of the young ladies
from round about is that they would bore me out of my mind. They can talk of
nothing but fashions and fripperies. Their ideas are bounded by thoughts of the
latest novels, and the latest styles in dress.’

‘I thought you liked talking about those things,’ she
said with a flush, remembering the times she had spoken to him about her new
gowns, or about the novel she was reading.

‘I do. But not to the exclusion of all else.’

‘And will Letitia’s conversation, then, be so different?’
she asked with an attempt at coolness, though her pulse was starting to
quicken.

He shrugged. ‘Probably not. But she will know better
than to bore me with it.’

‘And is that all you ask from a wife? That she doesn’t
bore you?’ demanded Madeline.

‘That depends.’

‘On?’ she asked.

‘On what sort of wife you are thinking of.’

His eyes drilled into hers, and she dropped them, unable
to meet his gaze. ‘I . . . I am thinking of a proper wife.’

‘Very well.’ He turned up her chin so that she was
looking at him, and she felt a quiver go through her at his touch. ‘From a
proper wife I would want friendship and companionship. I would want someone I
could share my hopes and dreams with. And a helpmeet, someone who would help me
turn those dreams into reality. I would want someone who, besides sharing my
interests, had interests of her own, and who would let me help her in her
endeavours.

‘I would want someone who was concerned about the
tenants and labourers on the estate, and who could talk to them without
insulting them or patronising them. And then I would want someone with a strong
and courageous character, who would not have a fit of the vapours every time
there was a problem in life, but would find a way to solve it.

‘But as well as being strong and courageous she would
also have to be soft and vulnerable - I have no taste for harridans! She would
have to let me look after her and protect her and make her life easier for her.
She would have to rouse in me the desire to make love to her, not just once but
over and over again. She would have to be someone I would want to have children
with, not just as heirs, but as living, breathing little people of flesh and
blood. And she would have to be someone I could imagine spending the rest of my
life with and enjoying every minute of it.’

His voice dropped. ‘Do you know anyone like that,
Madeline?’

She gulped. Her pulse was racing and she felt suddenly
weak.

‘Because if you do, then I won’t marry Letitia. I won’t
need to.’ His voice was husky. ‘So tell me, Madeline, do you know anyone like
that?’

His head was bending towards hers. She could feel the
whisper of his breath warm on her cheek. She could smell the fresh, clean scent
of him, and beneath it a deeply masculine aroma that made her pulses leap. And
then he kissed her.

Madeline was lost in a sea of exhilarating sensations as
he pulled her closer to him. It felt right for her to be in his arms. It felt
right for him to be kissing her, and for her to be kissing him in response. It
felt right for him to be crushing her body to hers. And all of a sudden she
knew why.

It was because she loved him.

When had it started? she wondered, thinking of the
feelings she had for him. Since the moment he had rescued her from her uncle,
she realised. And ever since then it had been quietly growing, her friendship
and trust and affection for him, her respect and her desire, until those
feelings had all merged into one and been transformed into something far more
profound; until they had been transformed into love.

And then she could think no more, but gave herself
willingly to the delicious sensations that were coursing through her body. As
his hands began to caress her she found her sensations intensifying, so that by
the time he swept her off her feet and carried her up to the bedroom she was so
weak she could not even undress. But his impassioned words and burning kisses
told her that he wanted nothing better than to do it himself.

Philip’s lovemaking was the most breathtaking,
exhilarating experience, the most wonderful and all-consuming thing she had
ever known. And when at last, their passion spent, he cradled her in his arms,
Madeline gave a deep sigh of contentment. Nestling into his arms she felt a
sense of happiness and fulfilment she had never even dreamed existed

I have been married to Philip for almost six months, she
thought as a pleasurable drowsiness overtook her, but this . . . this has been
my wedding night.

Philip
woke early the following morning. Madeline was asleep beside him. Her long
flaxen hair tumbled over the pillow and her face was serene.

He smiled as he remembered how determined he had
initially been not to consummate their marriage. But that determination had
gone out of the window when he had realised he loved her.

He knew there were still problems to be faced, but
whatever the cause of Madeline’s fear of marriage he was determined to help her
overcome it.

Knowing that Jenny would soon be coming into the room he
slipped out of bed and quickly dressed, not wanting to embarrass the little
maid. Once dressed he went downstairs and was about to supervise the clearing
up after the fête when Crump appeared, saying, ‘A messenger has just arrived
for you, my lord. He says he has instructions to deliver the message to you and
only you. I have put him in the library.’

Philip frowned. A messenger? Who on earth could it be?
And who could the message be from? His thoughts went to Jack. If it
was
a message from Jack it could not have come at a worse time, but he could not
turn his back on the friend who had saved his life. ‘Very good, Crump.’

He strode into the library. A man in ragged clothes
stood there. Philip summed him up quickly and decided he was honest. ‘Well?’ he
asked. He wanted to deal with the unwelcome intrusion as quickly as possible so
that he could spend the morning with Madeline.

‘You’re the Earl of Pemberton?’ asked the man warily.

‘I am.’

‘I’ve got a message for you. "Meet me same place
soon as you can." That’s the message. ‘e said you’d know what it meant,
and ‘oo it was from.’

Philip nodded. So the message
was
from Jack. And
if he was sending a coded message he must still be in danger. Philip thought
over the wording of the message. Same place - that was easy:
The King’s Head
,
the hostelry where they had frequently met and caroused in their youth. And as
soon as possible.

It went against all his instincts to leave Madeline at
such a time but he knew that Jack would not send him such a message unless it
was urgent and he could not let his friend down. Besides, the sooner he went
the sooner he would be back. Perhaps even before Madeline woke.

He gave the man a sovereign and then rang for Crump. ‘I
want a horse waiting for me at the front door in ten minutes,’ he said.

‘Yes, my lord.’

Once Crump had left the room he went over to the desk
and pulled a sheet of paper towards him, taking up his quill and writing a note
to Madeline, explaining that he had been called away urgently and saying that
he would be back as soon as possible. He signed it,
Your loving husband,
Philip
. Then, sanding the note he went out into the hall. Danson, the
footman, was standing there and Philip handed him the note, instructing him to
see that it was delivered to the Countess as soon as she was awake.

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Danson deferentially.

But when Philip had gone a cunning look crossed Danson’s
face. Instead of taking the note to Jenny, so that she could deliver it to her
mistress, he went into the servants’ quarters and, making sure he was not
observed, he stopped in a narrow passageway.

Although the passageway was narrow it was well lit as a
large window was set into the outside wall. Holding the sealed note up to the
light he tried to make out the words of the message. The day was bright, and
the light, shining through the paper, revealed much of Philip’s bold
handwriting.

It did not reveal every word, but Danson could decipher
enough of the message to know that Philip had been called away. Thinking
quickly, he realised that if Madeline did not receive the note she would not
know where the Earl had gone. Or why.

He cudgelled his brains, trying to think of a way in
which that piece of information could be used to create trouble between the
Earl and the Countess, and in so doing help his mistress: not Madeline, but
Letitia Bligh. Not for nothing did Miss Bligh pay him a handsome retainer, and
not for nothing had she promised him the position of butler once she was firmly
established at the Manor as its Countess.

And then it came to him. An idea so simple and yet so
devastating it would end the Earl’s marriage to Madeline for sure.

Crumpling the note in his pocket with a crooked smile he
went into the kitchen, where Jenny was just having her breakfast. It was time
for his plan to begin.

‘His lordship’s out early this morning,’ he said to
Jenny conversationally.

‘Perhaps he has work to do,’ she replied.

‘If you can call it that,’ said Danson suggestively. ‘But
I wouldn’t call Miss Bligh work. She looks more like pleasure to me.’

‘Miss Bligh?’

Jenny was trying not to rise to his bait, he could tell,
but even so she was alert and curious.

‘That’s where he’s gone. To see Miss Bligh. I heard him
giving orders in the stables. Rumour has it he was about to marry her last
year, but instead he came home with another wife. You can’t blame him, though,
can you? He knew he’d lose the fortune if he married Miss Bligh. The old Earl
was crazy if you ask me. Imagine making a will like that. So what could the
Earl do?

‘He was in love with Miss Bligh all right, and no
wonder, her being so elegant and polished and all - she looks like a countess
already, you might say. But marry her and lose the fortune? No. He couldn’t
bring himself to do it. So he married someone else instead. But feelings will
out. Oh, yes, feelings will always out.

‘What is it they say? All’s fair in love and war? And I
reckon that’s about the size of it. He wants Miss Bligh, and one way or another
he’s going to have her. Oh. But I shouldn’t be saying this to you,’ he said. ‘I
forgot, you came with the mistress, didn’t you? I don’t suppose it’s any joke
to you that the master’s saddled up and gone to see Miss Bligh.’

‘No, you shouldn’t be saying this to me,’ snapped Jenny.

He smirked as he saw that Jenny’s happy mood had
disappeared. He watched her as she pushed back her stool and threw away the
rest of her breakfast.

‘Lost your appetite?’ he asked.

Jenny left the room without replying.

Madeline
woke. A smile spread across her face as she remembered the events of the night
before. She and Philip . . . it had been so wonderful.

She turned her head, expecting to see Philip beside her,
but there was no sign of him. The bed was empty. She felt a moment of intense
disappointment before guessing that he must have already risen and gone
downstairs to oversee the servants as they cleared away the debris of the
Christmas fête. She could tell it was late by the light streaming through the
curtains and she realised she must have overslept.

Even so, she allowed herself a few minutes to indulge in
the memory of their blissful night together. How wonderful it had been. She had
never known marriage could hold such pleasures. She smiled as she thought how
lucky she was. She stroked the pillow next to her. There was a hollow in it
where Philip’s head had been. The bedclothes still carried the scent of him,
warm and masculine. Oh! It was good to be alive!

She threw back the covers and, humming to herself, chose
a pale blue kerseymere gown to wear. It was light and bright, and matched her
mood perfectly.

A minute later Jenny came into the room with a jug of
hot water.

‘Did you enjoy the fête last night?’ asked Madeline, as
she washed and then set about dressing, with Jenny’s help.

‘Yes, miss,’ said Jenny.

Jenny seemed surprisingly taciturn.

Madeline said teasingly, ‘You did not take too much
punch, I hope?’

‘No, miss.’ Jenny seemed not only taciturn but dour.