The Six Month Marriage (6 page)

‘Why would he contact me?’ Philip asked.

‘He knows you. He trusts you. If something’s wrong he
may not want to go through the regular channels, or he may not be able to. We
have to investigate every possibility. He’s not been —’

He stopped as a waiter approached their corner and asked
if he could get either of the men anything. They answered in the negative, and
did not speak again until he had left.

‘He’s not been in touch with you?’ asked Callaghan,
finishing his question.

‘No,’ said Philip. He said no more.

Callaghan nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’ll let us know if
you hear from him?’ he asked.

Philip looked at him appraisingly. He was a good judge
of character – his years in the army had honed his original instincts in that
direction – and he felt that Callaghan was a man to be trusted. But even so he
would only reveal any contact if Jack himself wanted him to do so.

Callaghan smiled, as if reading his thoughts. ‘That is,
if Saunders has no objections?’

Philip gave a curt nod

‘Good.’ Callaghan stood up. Then, for the benefit of
anyone who might be listening, he said in a hearty voice as the two men left
the club, ‘Good to see you again, Pemberton! Next time we mustn’t leave it so
long!’

The two men parted, Philip frowning as he thought over
what Callaghan had said.

He did not like it. No, he did not like it one bit. Jack
wasn’t the kind to lose touch with his superior officers unless it was
unavoidable, no matter how delicate his mission might be, and if it was
unavoidable, that meant trouble.

Still, Jack was capable of handling trouble. And right
now, thought Philip, as an image of Madeline rose before his eyes, he had his
own concerns.

The sooner he returned home and attended to them, the
better.

The Hungarian Brothers
was turning out
to be even more interesting than
Evelina
. Madeline, absorbed in her
book, was enjoying herself. The sun was warm and a pleasant buzzing of the
bees, interspersed with the occasional cooing of the doves, created an idyllic
backdrop to the romance. Lord Pemberton’s house was only a short distance away
from her uncle’s house in
Grosvenor Square
, but it seemed to be in a different world. It was calm and
peaceful; all the things her uncle’s – and her father’s - house had never been.
She was just about to turn the page when she was disturbed by a sound coming
from the direction of the house and, looking up, was amazed to see Jenny
hurrying towards her through the garden.

‘Jenny! What are you doing here?’ she asked, laying down
her book and going to greet her maid. ‘How did you find me?’

‘Oh, miss,’ gasped Jenny, who had obviously been running
hard, and who was clutching her side where a sharp pain had formed with the effort.
‘I’ve come to warn you, miss. Your uncle’s found out where you are and he’s
coming to get you. He’s already on his way.’

Madeline looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘No, Jenny,
you must be mistaken. He can’t have found me.’ But even as she said it she
began to realise it must be true. Jenny had found her, and if her maid could
find her then so could her uncle.

Icy fingers clutched at her heart.

‘He’s had the servants looking for you all night,’ went
on Jenny. Her breathing was still laboured, but she was determined to speak. ‘He
sent everyone out. He was in such a taking. They’ve been combing the streets,
but they couldn’t find you. You don’t know how glad I was to think you’d got
away! But someone saw you, miss. Some drunk. He saw you getting into a hackney
carriage with the Earl of Pemberton. And now your uncle’s on his way here to
fetch you back again. But don’t you let him take you, miss. Don’t you ever go
back to him, or he’ll make you pay for having run away. There’s no telling what
he might do if he gets you in his clutches again.’

Madeline turned pale. Whatever happened, she was not
going back with her uncle. But if he found her in the garden she would be an
easy target.

‘Quickly,’ she said to Jenny. ‘We must go inside. I’ll
speak to Crump and give him instructions not to admit –’

But it was too late. A violent altercation was coming
from the direction of the house, and a minute later her uncle appeared, Crump
following and still protesting that Mr Delaware could not come in.

Madeline looked wildly round but the garden was bounded
by a high wall and there was no escape.

‘There you are!’ seethed her uncle. His face was
contorted with anger and he was almost purple with rage. He strode towards her
in fury. ‘Thought you’d set up for yourself, did you?’

Madeline shrank back, afraid of him and humiliated by
his words. As if she would . . . would . . . she couldn’t bear to think what he
was implying.

But her uncle did not stop. He advanced on her
menacingly and as she turned to run he caught her by the wrist, his fingers
like a vice and his nails biting into her flesh. ‘Oh, no, miss. You’re not
going anywhere. Your dowry’s going to pay my gambling debts. You’re coming back
with me.’ His face suddenly broke into a warped smile, and Madeline found it
almost worse than his rage. ‘I never thought you had it in you, Maddy. A chip
off the old block after all.’ He gave a leer. ‘And you’ve not done bad for
yourself. I told you that dress would work wonders. Look what it’s done for
you. Set you up as Pemberton’s mistress. Pemberton! An earl! If I didn’t need
your dowry to pay off Lucius Spalding, I’d applaud!’

Madeline, trying to twist her wrist out of his grip,
suddenly saw Philip striding across the garden. She closed her eyes, racked
with humiliation as she realised that he must have overheard. She made a
renewed effort to wrench herself free whilst Philip strode towards them across
the garden, his face like thunder.

That is how he must look on the battlefield, she thought
as she saw him. His long, lean body was rippling with sinew and muscle and a
wave of power seemed to emanate from him, flooding the air with danger.

‘
Delaware
!’ His voice cut the air like a whip. ‘Get your hands off my wife!’

Gareth sneered, although he took an involuntary step
backwards all the same. ‘She’s coming with – what did you say?’ he asked as the
Earl’s words sunk in. ‘Your
wife
?’ And then he quickly recovered. ‘Oh,
no, Pemberton, you don’t play that one with me. You have no claim on her. She
is my ward. My twenty-year-old ward. She’s under-age, Pemberton; under
my
care and protection. You’ll have to find yourself another bit of muslin.’ His
face took on its customary leer. ‘Although this one’ll take some beating, I
agree.’

‘That is the second time you have insulted Lady
Pemberton,’ said the Earl, the wave of danger intensifying. ‘Do so again and I
will call you out.’

Gareth dropped Madeline’s wrist and a look of fear
crossed his face. The Earl had fought on the
Peninsula
. His reputation was formidable. ‘Now, look here, Pemberton,’ he
said shakily. ‘You can’t do this. She isn’t your wife. You know she isn’t.’ His
tone was almost pleading.

‘The Countess and I were married by special licence this
morning. Which means that she is no longer under your “care and protection”,
Delaware
. She is under mine. If you wish
to complain that I married her without your consent then I suggest you take the
matter up with the proper authorities.’

‘You . . .You . . .’ spat Gareth, words failing him as
his rage momentarily overcame his fear. Then, ‘You’ll never get her dowry,’ he
said, holding his ground and squaring up to the Earl; only to quail a moment
later before the latter’s aura of power.

‘I don’t want it.’ The Earl spoke contemptuously.

‘You don’t want ten thousand pounds?’ asked Gareth
incredulously.

‘It would barely cover the Countess’s pin money. You may
keep her dowry. Provided,’ he said, his voice becoming like polished steel, ‘that
neither I nor the Countess ever see or hear from you again. Is that understood?’

‘I –’ Gareth’s eyes were calculating.

Madeline watched him in fear, seeing the play of
emotions across his face. She had learnt to read him well; indeed, her safety
had often rested on her ability to know what he was thinking.

He felt ill used, that much was clear from his aggrieved
expression, but there was a calculating look in his eye which told her that he
was reluctant to make a fuss. And small wonder. With Madeline’s dowry he could
pay off his debts, and what use was she to him anyway? Without her dowry she
was no use at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was a hindrance.

True, her dowry was tied up so that he could not touch
it, but if Philip did not want the money, then he could easily claim it and
give it back to Gareth.

If she married him.

Which she was determined not to do.

But Gareth did not know that.

He thought she was already married.

 ‘I don’t like it,’ Gareth said grudgingly at last. ‘You
have played me a dirty trick. But - yes. It seems I have no choice. I agree.’

‘A wise move,’ said Philip. ‘And now, you have polluted
my house for long enough. Crump will show you out.’

Gareth looked as though he might choose to stay and
create further trouble, but one look at Philip’s implacable face decided him.
He gave a curt nod and followed Crump back into the house.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Philip, striding over to
Madeline.

But now that the immediate danger had passed, another
worry forced its way to the front of her mind. Was the Earl going to force her
to marry him after all? Was that why he had claimed they were already married?
Only last night he had told her that she had a choice in the matter of her
marriage. He had made her think she could agree to his proposal or reject it as
she chose. But by telling her uncle they were married he had taken that choice
away from her.

‘You had no right to say that,’ she declared. ‘I have
not agreed to be your wife.’

His stopped in his tracks.

 ‘I have just —’ he began.

‘Taken my choices away from me.’

‘I have done nothing of the kind,’ he said. ‘If I had
not told your uncle we were married he would have had every right to take you
back - though how he found you in the first place I don’t know,’ he added.

‘As to that, the answer is simple,’ said Madeline. Her
anger was beginning to fade as it did not seem as if he was going to force her,
after all. ‘My uncle sent his servants out to look for me. A drunk saw me
getting into the carriage with you, and told my uncle’s servants what he had
seen.’ She shook her head and shivered, suddenly feeling cold. ‘I should have
known he would not let me go so easily.’

‘He told you this?’ asked Philip curiously.

‘No.’ Turning to Jenny, Madeline said, ‘It was Jenny who
told me. She came to warn me that my uncle had discovered my whereabouts.’

Noticing Jenny for the first time, Philip said, ‘That
explains it.’ He became thoughtful. ‘Well, it is a good thing Jenny is here,’
he said at last. ‘You are in need of a maid.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘I take it
you do not wish to go back to Mr
Delaware
?’

‘Oo, no, sir,’ said Jenny, agog with all she had just
witnessed.

‘Then that is settled. I have some business to attend
to,’ he said to Madeline, ‘but we will speak again after lunch. There is still
much we have to discuss.’

‘Only
think, miss,’ said Jenny as she dressed Madeline’s hair some half an hour
later. She had followed Madeline up to her bedroom and helped her to dress
properly, lacing her corsets for her, before repairing the ravages done to her
hair. ‘Now you’re the Countess of Pemberton I’ll have to start calling you “my
lady” instead of ”miss”.

‘No, Jenny.’ Madeline watched her maid’s deft fingers
arrange her hair, ‘I am not the Countess of Pemberton.’

‘But the Earl said . . . ’

‘I know what the Earl said, but he only did it so that
Gareth would leave me alone. I am not the Countess of Pemberton, although . . .
’

‘Yes, miss?’ asked Jenny.

‘Although the Earl has asked me to be his wife. He needs
to arrange a temporary marriage in order to claim his inheritance,’ she
explained, ‘and he has asked me to be his temporary wife.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Jenny. ‘So,’ she went on, ‘when is the
wedding to be?’

‘There is no wedding,’ said Madeline.

‘But you just said . . . ’

‘I said he
asked
me,’ said Madeline. ‘But I have
refused.’

‘Refused!’ Jenny’s busy fingers fell idle in amazement.

‘Of course I have refused,’ said Madeline.

‘But the Earl isn’t like your uncle, miss,’ said Jenny,
shaking her head as she continued with her work. ‘He’s a different sort of man
is the Earl. They all say so, all his servants, and servants always know. I’ve
been friendly with Hinch, the parlour maid, for a long while now. We met by
accident on our afternoon off some months ago, and struck up a friendship, and
that’s how I got in, miss; as soon as I heard where you were I came at once,
and Hinch, she let me in at the back. She’s always spoken well of her master.
Treats his servants well, he does, and –’