To Marry an Heiress (22 page)

A discreet knock on his door intruded on his steep decline into melancholy. The door opened, and Winston stepped into the room.

“Have you a moment, milord?”

Setting the pen to paper, Devon tried to make it appear as though he was occupied with important matters and not lost in unsettling thoughts. “Yes, of course.”

Winston’s visage was more grim than usual as he came to stand at attention before the desk.

“Milord.” He cleared his throat.

“Milord, as you instructed, I was on the brink of preparing a bedchamber for our guest in anticipation of his arrival. I thought it prudent to ask Lady Huntingdon which chamber she thought the guest might prefer. She informed me, however, there was no need to prepare one for Mr. Jake. She expected he would sleep with her.”

Devon heard a resounding snap and realized he’d broken the pen in two. “Surely you misunderstood.”

“Yes, milord, I thought so as well, but when I questioned her on the matter, she insisted that he was accustomed to sleeping in her bed.”

Devon’s heart was thundering against his chest, while his voice was trapped behind the hardened knot in his throat.

“Milord, I am well aware Americans are ill-mannered heathens with few morals, so I fear I am not fully understanding the situation. I thought perhaps you might clarify it for me.”

“Certainly.” He stood with such force that the chair screeched across the floor. “Mr. Jake will stay in the bedchamber located at the farthest corner of the west wing.” Where he’d have no trouble keeping a watchful eye on the chap.

“Very good, milord.” Winston bowed slightly before turning to make his exit.

“Winston?”

The butler stopped and faced him. “Yes, milord?”

Devon knew Winston would never repeat any of
this conversation. A good butler was a discreet butler. “I appreciate you informing me of this situation. Your action in no way reflects disloyalty to Lady Huntingdon.”

“Thank you, milord. I sometimes find it difficult to communicate with Americans, and I’m quite certain I am to blame for any misunderstanding that has occurred.”

“I’ll explain to Lady Huntingdon that we have plenty of bedchambers and no need exists for any doubling up.”

“Very good, milord.”

Ah, yes, indeed, he planned to explain a good many things to Lady Huntingdon.

“This Jake fellow…”

Startled by the unexpected voice, Georgina jerked her attention from the story in which she’d been lost and looked toward the doorway of her sitting room. Devon lounged against the frame. Yet even in his carefree pose, he did not give off the aura of one relaxed.

Quite the opposite in fact. The harsh lines in his face, the intensity of his gaze led her to believe he was a man on the verge of snapping in two.

“What about him?”

He shoved himself away from the doorjamb and took a step toward the fainting couch, where she lay with pillows at her back providing comfort as she read.

“He will
not
be joining you in your bed.”

“Of course he will. He’s used to sleeping with me.”

He narrowed his eyes into dark and dangerous slits. “You were untouched when we wed, I’d swear it, and you claimed to have never been kissed. So how is it that this Jake fellow sleeps in your bed but leaves your innocence intact?”

Merciful heavens! He completely misunderstood her relationship with Jake, and yet she could not prevent herself from taking advantage and teasing him a bit. She slowly, carefully set the book aside.

“I assume it’s because he prefers bitches.”

He looked as though she’d just doused him with a bucket of cold water. “Pardon?”

She fought back the urge to laugh at his bewildered expression and simply shrugged. “He’s attracted to bitches.”

Something close to sympathy filled his eyes as he stated firmly. “But you love him.”

“Yes.”

He knelt on the floor beside her and cupped her cheek with tenderness. “How could he prefer a termagant to you?”

Her chest tightened with the gentleness in his voice, as though he sought to comfort her for a rejection he thought she’d experienced. She’d wanted to have a little fun with him, and instead she was coming dangerously close to making a fool of him. She shook her head. “Devon—”

“He’s here! He’s here!” Noel’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Devon was unprepared for the jealousy that slammed into him as Gina hopped out of the chair, gladness reflected in her face.

Noel burst into the room with Millicent in his wake.

“I spied Lord Ravenleigh’s coach from my window!” he yelled before darting back out, Millicent quickly following.

Gina turned to him. “Devon, about Jake—”

“You’d best go greet him.”

“Yes, I need to make sure the children don’t startle him with their eagerness into attacking.”

Before he could question her about what the deuce she was on about, she’d hurried out of the room. As lord of the manor, he knew his duty was to follow and welcome the fellow. And if the fellow thought he was going to have the liberty of placing a hand on his children, he was going to learn right quickly that he did not—with the assistance of Devon’s knuckles, if necessary.

Once outside, he made his way to the bottom of the steps, a short distance away from Gina. She’d joined the children, who were waiting impatiently, hopping from foot to foot, in the drive.

He did not wish to interfere with their excitement. Still, it troubled him somewhat to witness it.

The coach rolled to a stop. He could see Lauren through the window. The footman hurried forward and opened the door.

A blur of black leaped from the carriage with a resounding bark. Gina fell to her knees, and this mass
of ungainly legs and frantically waving tail proceeded to lick her face while she ran her hands over its ugly head.

He looked back toward the carriage. Lauren had alighted. The footman had closed the door. So where the deuce was this Jake fellow?

“Oh, Jake!” Millicent cried as she giggled.

Devon snapped his gaze to his daughter, who was petting the beast.

“Isn’t Jake splendid, Father?” Noel asked, his face beaming with delight.

With dawning realization, Devon stared at the creature in their midst. No wonder he preferred bitches. He was a damned dog!

He couldn’t prevent the laughter that erupted without warning from deep within, from someplace where he’d been hoarding joy. It burst through to claim its freedom with such force that he had to sit on the steps, his sides aching, as he laughed with an abandon he’d never before experienced.

Gina twisted around, her eyes wide. His children stared at him open-mouthed.

“Bitches indeed,” he said, gasping for breath.

Still on her knees, she worked her way to him. “I didn’t mean to deceive you. When I realized what you thought—”

“You little witch, you taunted me.”

Smiling, she nodded. “It was too good a prank to resist.”

“You beguile me, Gina, by God, but you do.”

“You beguile Huntingdon,” Lauren said.

Sitting on a bench, watching the children toss sticks for Jake to retrieve—one of his tricks—Georgina furrowed her brow. “He was only caught up in the moment. He believed—and I didn’t confess otherwise—that Jake was a man who slept with me.”

He’d laughed, actually laughed when he’d learned that Jake was a dog and not a man. She hadn’t meant for the little deception to take place, but no harm had come of it.

And she’d heard his laughter. Had he laughed like that with his first wife? Had she been able to bring such joy to his days?

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s fallen in love with you.”

She shook her head. “He’s never declared his affections.” But then she’d told him not to, had never considered the possibility he could love her.

“Well, I need to be off,” Lauren said as she rose.

Gina followed suit. “You could stay the night. We have lots of room here.”

“No, I want to return to Ravenleigh. It always takes me a while to settle in once we return from London. We returned later than usual this year because Mother was hoping I would settle on someone.”

Gina wound her arm around Lauren’s as they strolled toward the waiting carriage. “Is there someone who’s taken your fancy?”

“No one I can’t live without.”

“It might be better to look for someone you can live with.”

“When we left Texas, when I left Tom, I thought I would die. It hurt so badly. I realize ours was a youthful love. I seriously doubt it would have stood the test of time. But I wouldn’t mind feeling the same sort of excitement that came over me every time I laid eyes on him. I was always simply so glad to
see
him. I just don’t feel as though I could settle for less.”

And yet Devon had. Once he’d known a great love. With Georgina he’d forfeited love in exchange for wealth. Now he had neither.

And the realization hit her that she had settled as well.

Devon had loved a woman whom Georgina was convinced did not deserve him. As far as she was concerned, Margaret had been spoiled. When Devon had needed her the most, she’d turned away from him. And yet he continued to worship her. Her portrait hung in his bedroom where he could look at it each night before he went to sleep.

Georgina had tried to make their marriage into a partnership. Yet it remained about as cold as any business arrangement.

She couldn’t deny that she enjoyed being with Devon. She treasured the smallest of shared moments. But it suddenly dawned on her that she was settling for crumbs while Margaret had benefited from the sumptuous feast of his love.

Devon was right. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to take a taste of dessert first. In London, he’d given her a glimpse of what their life together might have been. He’d been warm, caring, and considerate.

She’d altered her expectations because of her father’s failings. How unfair to her and unfair to Devon.

In the past few weeks, she’d come to realize that she had a great deal to offer a husband: her unwavering support, her constant belief in him, and her undying love.

Because God help her she did love him.

And perhaps that was the reason that his not loving her had begun to hurt so much.

Strange how once she’d been willing to accept him without his love. But having witnessed all he’d given to another, she could no longer ask her own heart to do without. She deserved the kind of love that Devon and Margaret had shared, the kind of love that Lauren was willing to wait for.

Leaving the children would be almost unbearable, but surely they would recover quickly, especially after Devon found someone else to love. Children were resilient. Noel and Millicent deserved to grow up in a house filled with warmth. She wanted them to experience what she and Devon could not give them.

She would soon be twenty-seven, and she’d never put her own needs, desires, and wants ahead of anyone else’s.

It was long past time that she did.

She would remain with Devon until she’d given him what her father had promised—a financial leg up.

Then she would set them both free.

T
he bonfires burned into the night, illuminating the harvested fields and the many people who had worked to ensure the yield was good.

With Gina’s hand on his arm, Devon strolled among the throng of merrymakers. Millicent clung to Gina’s other hand while Noel walked beside Devon. His son continually reached out to pat Jake as he lumbered along. Gina had assured Devon that the dog would enjoy the outing. Jake seemed as eager to please as his mistress was.

Gina wore the enticing blue dress she’d worn the day he took her boating on the Thames. This evening she appeared more lovely than she had then.

More lovely.

In London he’d never expected that he would associate that particular sentiment with his wife. But she was lovely, lovely beyond measure, her face alight with joy as the men of the village and those of
the fields stopped to doff their hats whenever they passed.

She knew them all by name and asked after their health, their happiness, and their families. Her absolute joy was mesmerizing. He could have watched her all night and not grown tired of seeing the emotions passing over her features.

She was without a doubt at home here. No seeking out fronds behind which to hide. She identified with these people, because she’d come from the land. She respected them more than she did those of the aristocracy.

And in so doing, she respected him.

So he found it easier to respect himself. Perhaps his own labors in the fields were not something of which he should feel ashamed. Perhaps the calluses on his hands were not signs of defeat as much as they were badges of victory.

He caught sight of Benjamin, his wife, and his five sons standing at a nearby table, gathering up food. Devon guided his own family toward them.

“M’lord,” Benjamin said with a toothy grin as they approached. “Good of you to bring your family.”

Gina squeezed Devon’s arm before giving all her attention to Benjamin. “I’d like to meet your family.”

Benjamin’s eyes widened before he caught himself. “Certainly, m’lady. Certainly.”

Devon listened as introductions were made. Tonight class distinctions were blurred, lost in the shadows. He should have been appalled.

Instead he was grateful Gina had insisted they bring the children. It was good for them to be aware
that all the benefits they might enjoy in the future had its roots in these people.

Once introductions were finished, Devon gave his attention to the man who had worked almost as diligently as he had. “I’d like your eldest, Timothy, to begin working in my stables on a permanent basis.”

Benjamin’s chest puffed out, the lad’s face brightened immeasurably, and Benjamin’s wife looked as though she was close to weeping. To Devon, it was a small gesture. To them, he knew that they felt their son was moving up in the world—from the fields to the lord’s stables.

“Very good, m’lord. He’ll be there bright and early in the morning.”

“Come with him, Benjamin, and we’ll work out arrangements for his future.”

“Aye, m’lord.” Reaching out, he ruffled his son’s dark hair.

Devon heard the lilt of flutes and fiddles traveling on the gentle wind.

As Benjamin and his family wandered away, Devon steered his family with a purpose. His family. He’d never felt such completeness. Not with Margaret.

She would have been appalled at the thought of coming here tonight. As for the children, she never would have allowed their presence. She understood her place in society.

Gina defied convention, charming him in the process. She put on no airs. How was he to have ever known he’d find that attribute so enchanting?

“Why was he frightfully glad about working in the stables, Father?” Noel asked.

Ah, trust his son not to overlook anything. He was a sharp lad, and Devon felt his own chest expanding.

“He’s moving up in the world. He’ll live on the premises, learn. Perhaps in time, we’ll take him into the house and allow him to serve as your valet.”

“Noel is perfectly capable of dressing himself,” Gina said.

“That’s not the point, countess. As much as you despise our hierarchy, I must admit to there being a method to our madness. We provide positions that allow people to better their lot in life. You will find a hierarchy even among servants. They do not see their assistance in our lives as belittlement but rather as evidence of their worth. I hope that in time, as we place ourselves back on an even keel, I shall be able to do even more for those here.”

She looked at him as though only just seeing him for the first time. “I hadn’t considered all that.”

They neared the circle of bonfires. At its center, people danced with seemingly little rhyme or reason. The dances of country folk did not resemble the stateliness of the waltz or the complexities of the quadrille, where even there one’s place in society was reflected.

The fires shot sparks into the air. Millicent squealed with delight. Devon lifted her for a better viewing, and she wound her arms around his neck, her eyes glowing with joy, her smile revealing her latest missing tooth.

“Can Millie and I dance, Father?” Noel asked.

She quickly twisted, placed her palms on either side of his face, and said, “Yes, please, Father?”

He cast a sly glance Gina’s way. She bobbed her head. He wasn’t quite as sure of the appropriateness of the request.

As though sensing his hesitation, she asked, “What can it possibly hurt?”

What indeed? He almost mentioned that it simply wasn’t done—but then neither was a nobleman working in the fields as though he were a commoner. He could not help but feel that the world he knew was on the cusp of change. How long before marrying heiresses would give way to other means of restoring wealth?

“Do you think you can determine the proper steps?” he asked of Noel.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, then.” He lowered Millicent to the ground. “Have at it.”

Joining hands, with the dog in tow, they raced to the edge of the dancing couples and began to do little more than skip around. Devon had a strong urge to pull his wife into his arms and hold her as he’d held her when they’d flown the kite. But that action, that thought, was entirely inappropriate. He was after all still the lord of the manor.

He could see the toe of her shoe peering out beneath the hem of her skirt, tapping the ground in lively rhythm to the music.

“I’m so glad we came,” Gina murmured.

“I wasn’t certain how it would go over with you
and the children. I’ve always come alone before.”

She snapped her head around, locking her gaze with his. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d come.”

“It’s the celebration of harvest. It’s important to these people, and therefore my presence is expected.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not here because you want to be? You’re here because of your society’s rules?”

“Quite right.” Although to himself he readily admitted that he enjoyed the celebration, would have attended even if it wasn’t expected.

She shook her head and looked away as though disappointed in his answer.

“My wife and children are here, however, because I enjoy their company.”

She returned her attention to him and gave him a wispy smile. “I’m glad.”

“As am I. You see at long last I have a partner with whom to dance.” He held out his hand in invitation. “Shall we?”

Her eyes widened along with her smile. “Do you know the steps?”

“I rather think we can manage, you and I. We’ve done quite well so far.”

He wasn’t certain if it was a trick of the bonfires or the night, but it looked as though tears welled in her eyes just before she placed her hand in his and averted her gaze. What a sensitive woman she was, his wife.

He escorted her toward the madness, surprised to discover how much he was anticipating joining in.

“Father, do you need me to teach you the steps?” Noel cried out as they walked past.

He winked at his son. “I think I’ve got it.”

Then he took his wife into the center of the throng, and they danced with wild abandon, not with the stiffness of the balls in London.

Her laughter wove through the music, her smile grew larger, and her eyes sparkled with merriment.

And she was his. Before he realized what he was about, he’d offered up a silent thank-you to Nathaniel Pierce.

Pride could be a man’s strength or his weakness. Its perception depended on one’s perspective or where a man stood in relation to his place in the world. Pride could keep a man from giving up when surrender was an easier course. Or it could cause him to shore up his defenses and act without consideration for the consequences. Pride was an asset that sometimes turned on a man and became a liability, as it had with Devon.

In his thirty-four years of life, he’d discovered he had a great well of pride, which defined who he was, who he perceived himself to be.

At times it dictated his actions more than his conscience or his reasoning did.

It was more powerful than lust, desire, or love.

It spoke in moments of anger and trapped him by words that would have been better left unsaid. Because of its brashness, in order to now claim what he wanted, he had to devise an explanation that would
allow him to obtain what he so dearly wanted—without causing his pride to suffer. He wanted from Gina what she gave to the children: her unbridled love. And in order to attain it, he would willingly grant her wish.

Standing before the window in his library, he heard the door click open.

“Winston said you wished to see me,” Gina said.

He wished to do a great deal more than that. Slowly he turned from the gray clouds hovering on the horizon and smiled warmly. “Indeed I do, countess. Please join me.”

Bowing slightly, he made a gesture toward the padded leather chair that rested before his desk.

The light blue gown she wore today was a plain affair, lacking bows or frills. Still, it suited her perfectly. He had discovered of late that it was her very plainness that appealed to him. Her simple manners were open and honest, her smiles genuine, her laughter riveting.

How was it that upon first meeting her he’d failed to notice the tranquil beauty that enveloped her?

She sat and primly folded her hands in her lap, giving him her undivided attention, as was her way. While others hurried through life with a passing comment or a brusque nod in acknowledgment, she managed to make a person feel as though no one else existed on the earth, as though at that precise moment, held in her uncompromising gaze, nothing and no one were more important.

Little wonder the children and servants adored
her and that he found himself doing what neither of them had ever expected he would do.

He was falling in love with her.

He darted a quick glance at the ledgers strewn over his desk, wondering briefly how to explain himself without butchering his pride. He gave his throat a sound clearing so he wouldn’t squeak like an overanxious schoolboy. He met his wife’s gaze.

“I have been studying the ledgers, projecting the future. Your assistance in the fields has made a notable contribution. I foresee our profits at this point in time as being rather small, but I do see them growing—to the point that I will consider us financially solvent in a short while.”

She scooted to the edge of the chair, her smile blossoming. “That’s wonderful, Devon.”

“Indeed. Your father told me that with you by my side I would know unlimited wealth. It appears he spoke truly.”

She shook her head. “You managed it all on your own.”

He held up his hand, noted the trembling, and closed his fingers into a fist. “I believe that we managed it together. As a result, it seems only fair that I honor the bargain I made with your father. I anticipate slowly acquiring wealth. Therefore, Gina, I shall ensure that you acquire a child.”

He had expected delirious joy on her part, not the withering away of her smile, the deep furrowing of her brow, or her retreating against the back of the chair.

“I’m not sure I understand exactly what you’re saying.”

“That I shall begin visiting your bed with the express purpose of getting you with child.” To his own ears the words seemed cold.

To her they must have resembled a block of ice, because she could not have looked more stunned if he’d tossed her into a river in the middle of winter.

Slowly she rose, her hands clasped tightly enough that the white of her knuckles showed. “I suppose I should have told you sooner that I’ve decided to return to Texas.”

His heart stuttered. “Pardon?”

A sad smile flitted across her face. “You made a pact with my father. He failed to live up to his end of the bargain. I wanted to make restitution. But you didn’t need me, Devon. You didn’t need him. You’ve had the power all along to make Huntingdon something grand, an estate worthy of your heir. I can’t compete with the memories of Margaret. She was beautiful beyond description. You know what it is to marry for love. How you could possibly have settled for less this go round is beyond me.

“I had an emptiness in my heart that I assumed having a child of my own would fill. It was my greatest desire. But the emptiness no longer exists. Although I’m not their true mother, I love your children as though I were. And loving them as I do, the greatest gift that I can give them is to set their father free, so he can once again find a woman to love.

“Therefore I thank you for the generous offer, my
lord, but I assure you in time we’d both resent my accepting it.”

In stunned silence he watched his wife stroll from the room as though he’d merely invited her to join him on a picnic.

She was leaving him?

For all her talk of hitching her wagon to his star, she didn’t want him. In many ways, his current wife’s betrayal was much worse than his first wife’s had been.

He’d thought that through Gina’s eyes, he stood tall because of who he was and his accomplishments. Not because of what he was. Not because of his title. Not because of an accident of birth. But because of his unwillingness to accept that what his father had left was all he would ever have.

With her at his side he’d felt wealthy, even though he possessed less than he had when he married her.