The Six Month Marriage (3 page)

He looked at
her steadily for a minute. ‘Is that so?’ he asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

She swallowed, but met his gaze. ‘Yes.’

For a moment
their eyes locked, and she had the unnerving feeling that he was recalling the
rumours that were circulating about Gareth
Delaware
and his treatment of his niece.

‘If you can
bring yourself to trust me, Miss
Delaware
, I may be able to help you,’ he said.

Madeline
pressed herself back against the squabs. Trust him? A man? Never.

‘It was at
Lady Appleton’s ball that we were introduced, was it not?’ he asked softly.

Her heart
jumped. ‘You are mistake— ‘ But suddenly there seemed no use denying it. He had
not only remembered who she was, he had even remembered where they had met. Her
voice fell. ‘I . . . yes, I believe it was.’

Surprisingly,
his face softened and he smiled. But despite this, she still she did not trust
him. Because now that he knew who she was, what was he going to do with the
information?

‘You said -
you said you may be able to help me?’ she asked him cautiously.

The carriage
began to slow. She glanced out of the window and saw they were pulling up in
front of a large town house. It was an imposing residence, with iron railings
separating it from the pavement. A short flight of steps led up to a magnificent
porticoed entrance.

The carriage
stopped. Without answering her question Lord Pemberton climbed out. He went
round to her side of the carriage and handed her out. Her skin tingled as he
touched her, and she pulled her hand away, confused. Why did she tingle when he
touched her? she wondered. And why had she felt so strange when he had kissed
her?

Lord Pemberton
gave no indication that he had noticed anything unusual, however. He guided her
up the steps that led to the front door. Their way was lit by two flambeaux,
one on each side of the door.

Madeline
hesitated. Should she really go into the house with him? It was dangerous. She
turned and looked down the street. Unconsciously she shook her head. Going into
the house may be dangerous, but wandering the streets was even more so. And as
for going back to her uncle . . .

She took a
deep breath, and went into the house.

‘Why,
Lord Pemberton –’ The motherly housekeeper stopped mid-sentence as, coming from
the back of the house, she caught sight of Madeline.

‘Ah, Mrs Green,’ said Philip. ‘Miss . . . Miller has met
with an unfortunate accident. She was separated from her party on the way to
the theatre and was then set upon by a group of footpads, who amused themselves
by reducing her to the state you see her in now. Be so good as to show her
upstairs, and provide her with the means of washing and a decent gown.’ He
looked at Madeline judiciously. ‘Miss Emma’s dresses should fit her well
enough, at least for the present,’ he said.

‘Very good, my lord,’ said Mrs Green, rather dubiously. But
if she wondered what was the true explanation of Madeline’s presence she did
not wonder aloud, for Lord Pemberton was her master and it was her job to serve
him, not to speculate on the nature of his guests. ‘If you’ll follow me, miss,’
she said to Madeline.

‘Go ahead,’ said Philip as he saw Madeline hesitate. ‘We’ll
talk again once you’ve changed your gown.’

‘Oh, I had almost forgotten, my lord,’ said Mrs Green,
turning round as she began to conduct Madeline up the stairs, ‘Mr Fellows is
here. Crump has shown him into the library.’

‘Mr Fellows?’ asked Philip in surprise. ‘How long has he
been here?’

‘Not long, my lord. He arrived barely five minutes ago.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Green.’

What brings Jason here? he wondered, as Mrs Green
disappeared up the stairs with Madeline in her wake.

At that moment Jason Fellows himself appeared from the
back of the house.

He was a good-humoured gentleman with a pleasing
countenance, and at this moment his face wore a grin. ‘I didn’t realise you had
company,’ he said as he caught sight of Madeline following Mrs Green upstairs. ‘Don’t
worry, I’ll show myself out!’

‘It isn’t what it seems,’ said Philip. He removed his
greatcoat and steered Jason back towards the library.

‘No?’ Jason sounded incredulous.

‘No.’ The two men went through into the library. ‘Drink?’
Philip asked, as he took the stopper out of a decanter which was placed on a
small table by the fireplace.

Jason settled himself down in a wing-backed chair. ‘I
don’t mind if I do.’

Philip poured them both a drink and then, flicking the
tails of his coat behind him, he sat down opposite Jason, on the other side of
the fireplace.

The two men had met at university but on leaving their
paths had diverged. Jason now had the soft features and almost boyish manner of
a man about town, whilst Philip had the hardened look of a soldier, a man who
had spent his adult life on the continent, and most of it on the battlefield.
It wasn’t just his naturally hawk-like features that gave him such a strong
presence, nor his lean, firm-muscled body; it was something about his air.
There was an alertness about him, a strength and litheness, that Jason did not
have.

‘So, what brings you here?’ asked Philip. He took a
drink from his glass and then put it down on the table beside him as he settled
himself more comfortably in his chair.

‘I was just passing, on my way to the club,’ said Jason.
‘I thought I’d call in and see how you’d got on with your lawyers.’

Philip shrugged. ‘As well as can be expected. Mr Murgo,
that is, Mr Murgo the elder, told me exactly what he’s been telling me since my
father died: that the will is watertight and there’s no way round it; that
although I inherited the title and the Stonecrop estate when my father died
last year, I won’t inherit the Rochdale fortune until I’ve been married for six
months.’

‘But that isn’t a problem,’ said Jason.

‘No,’ Philip agreed. ‘I fully intend to marry. I may not
have had my father’s good luck in finding a woman I can love, but at
thirty-four I know I must go ahead and marry anyway, to provide an heir for the
estate.’

‘It’s just a shame your father took a dislike to your
chosen bride,’ said Jason.

Philip nodded. ‘It is.’

‘Even so,’ said Jason, ‘I never realised your father’s
dislike of Letitia went so deep. I didn’t think he’d put a clause into his will
to try and stop you marrying her. Who would have thought he’d make it a
condition of his will that you must be married for six months before you can
inherit the fortune? And who would have thought he’d stipulate that you can’t
inherit the fortune even then if you marry Letitia? He’s all but made it
impossible for you to go through with it. And yet she comes from an old, if
untitled, family. And if she doesn’t have a fortune, well, the
Rochdale
fortune is big enough for two.’

Philip was thoughtful. ‘I know. But my father took
against her. He thought she was selfish, shallow and vain –’

‘Which she is,’ interrupted Jason.

Philip nodded. ‘Which she is. But she is also capable
and undemanding, at least in any personal way. I tried to explain as much to my
father but he was deaf to my arguments, even though he knew I needed an heir
and that Letitia was the most suitable bride I could find.’

‘He thought you should marry for love, as he did,’ said
Jason.

‘Believe me, nothing would have pleased me better,’ said
Philip. ‘But I was not as lucky as he was. I never fell in love. Still, life
goes on. I must marry. My nurseries need filling and I need a countess to run
the Manor whilst I look after the estate.’

‘You’re still determined to marry Letitia, then? You don’t
think, in the light of your father’s will, it might be easier to find someone
else?’

Philip sighed. ‘I’ve tried. But a year on the marriage
mart has convinced me there is no one else I can bring myself to take to wife.
If I was a young man, if I was twenty-two or three, then I’d choose a
débutante, but I can no longer abide their idle chatter. My years in the army
have changed me; hardened me; and if I have to listen to the merits of muslin
over sarsenet at the breakfast table for the rest of my life I’ll end up in a
madhouse!’ he said with a wry smile.

‘Come now!’ said Jason, laughing heartily. ‘That’s not
fair! There must be any number of charming young ladies who can converse
intelligently on things beside the latest fashions - art and music, for
example.’

Philip groaned. ‘Even worse!’

‘Well, why not choose a more mature woman, then?’ asked
Jason.

‘More mature?’ Philip lifted his eyebrows. ‘In my
experience ladies get older, but not more mature.’

‘You’re thinking of Mrs Hardcastle,’ smiled Jason. He
thought of the wealthy widow who had pursued Philip relentlessly for the last
six months, flirting girlishly with him whenever she met him – no mean feat,
considering that she was over forty years old!

Philip laughed. ‘I must admit she sprang to mind! But
seriously, Letitia’s the only woman I’ve ever felt I could marry. She may not
be what I’d once hoped for from a wife, but at least she understands the
situation and knows the sort of life I am offering her. She is not a young girl
who will expect me to fall in love with her and then be hurt when I can’t, nor
yet an older woman who may not be able to give me an heir. At twenty-seven she
is as close as I am going to get to a suitable match: old enough to be realistic
about the sort of life she will have with me, young enough to fill the
Stonecrop nurseries - and shallow enough to believe that marrying an Earl is
preferable to marrying for love; if she even has the ability to love, which I
very much doubt. Added to that, she’s experienced at running a country house
and will take a lot of the day-to-day cares off my hands, leaving me free to
manage the estate. It isn’t what I’d once hoped for from marriage, but under
the circumstances. . . ’ He shrugged. ‘ . . . it’s the best solution.’

‘Then all you need is to find a way round your father’s
will.’ Jason took a sip of his drink and then put his glass down on a pie-crust
table. He pondered the problem of the old Earl’s will. ‘Mr Murgo could offer
you no hope, you say? I must admit, it’s a thorny problem.’

Philip stretched out his legs and crossed his booted
ankles. ‘Old Mr Murgo couldn’t, no. But the youngest Mr Murgo could.’

‘Ah!’ Jason nodded in satisfaction. ‘So it’s good news
at last.’

‘He didn’t want to say so in front of his father and
grandfather because his suggestion was – unusual,’ said Philip. ‘I have a
feeling that young Mr Murgo will go far!’

‘Unusual?’

‘Yes. Unusual, and rather unorthodox, which is why he
didn’t want his father and grandfather to know about it. He followed me out of
the office when I was leaving and asked me to meet him later for a mug of ale,
in a disreputable tavern in a poor part of town; one he knew his father and
grandfather would not visit.’

‘You agreed, of course,’ said Jason.

‘Of course.’

‘And what was his idea?’ Jason asked.

‘His idea was, that if I arrange a temporary marriage
with a willing young woman - someone who isn’t Letitia - then at the end of the
six months I will inherit my fortune.’

‘Go on,’ said Jason.

‘After that, there will be nothing to stop me getting an
annulment,’

‘Of course!’ exclaimed Jason. ‘As long as the marriage
isn’t consummated, then you will be able to have it annulled!’

‘And then,’ said Philip, ‘once it’s been annulled, I can
compensate my temporary bride for her time and her trouble - she will need some
inducement to go along with the idea, after all - and go on to marry Letitia.’

‘With the fortune already in your hands! By George!’
said Jason, sitting up sharply. ‘Young Mr Murgo’s right. What a plan! He’s a
genius.’ Then said, with a whistle. ‘But it’s no wonder he didn’t want his
father to hear about it.’

Philip nodded. ‘No. It is rather a . . . creative . . .
solution to the problem.’

‘And?’ asked Jason. ‘Are you going to go through with
it?’

‘I thought not, to begin with. After all, where would I
find a young lady I would want to take to the Manor and treat as my wife, even
it was only for six months? The sort of person I would be able to hire to play
such a part would not be the sort of person I would want to inflict on my
friends and neighbours, even as my temporary countess.’

‘Would you have to take her to the Manor? Couldn’t you
stay in
London
for six months?
Or bury yourself at a seaside resort?’

‘No. The marriage would have to seem genuine, and as my
love for the Manor is well known it would not seem convincing if I stayed away
for long. And besides, I can’t stay away: there is too much that needs my
attention in
Yorkshire
.’