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Captain Fawley's Innocent Bride
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Chapter Three
It was a glorious afternoon. Though there was hardly a cloud in the sky, a deliciously cool breeze skittered playfully through the chestnut trees, making the air beneath their boughs sweet enough to drink. Sadly, Deborah’s pleasure in being out of doors was dimmed somewhat by the company she was in.
Although Susannah no longer viewed Baron Dunning with much enthusiasm, she had not turned down his invitation to promenade through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Particularly since he had been thoughtful enough to bring along his friend, Mr Jay, to escort Deborah. The girls had both hoped that having male escorts would make the walk rather more like the brisk outings they were used to taking in Lower Wakering. But the men were no more willing to stride out than the hired London servants were. They strolled along at a snail’s pace, pausing frequently to acknowledge acquaintances or point out persons of interest who were bowling along the carriage drive in smart barouches or landaulets.
Deborah’s heart sank as yet another friend of Mr Jay’s called out a greeting, then, upon catching sight of Susannah, pulled his rather showy chestnut mare alongside them.
‘What brings you to the park at this hour, Lampton?’ Mr Jay asked him as he swung down from the saddle. ‘Wouldn’t have thought it was quite your thing.’
‘Oh, you know,’ Mr Lampton said vaguely, his attention riveted upon Susannah. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your charming companions?’
Deborah’s first impression was that he must be one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He was tall and well built. A lock of fair hair strayed from under his curly-brimmed beaver hat, but she would have guessed at the colouring anyway, from the fairness of lashes and brows that framed forget-me-not blue eyes.
‘Oh, this is Miss Gillies,’ Mr Jay said briefly. ‘Miss Gillies, the Honourable Percy Lampton.’
‘Charmed to make your acquaintance,’ said Mr Lampton, turning on a smile so patently false, it immediately put Deborah’s back up. Men as handsome as this were not charmed to make her acquaintance. They usually ran their eyes over her swiftly, assessing her scrawny figure, the cheapness of her dress, and then the expression in their eyes became dismissive, or sometimes even downright scornful.
‘Mr Lampton,’ she repeated, making the proper curtsy, though she found it hard to muster up a reciprocal smile.
‘And who, pray, is the dasher upon young Baron Dunning’s arm?’ he enquired, turning to make an exaggerated bow to Susannah.
While the introductions were made, the horse became quite skittish.
‘You were correct about this brute,’ Mr Lampton said to Mr Jay, tugging ineffectually on the horse’s reins while its hindquarters surged across the path. ‘Too high spirited by half.’
‘Yes. I say, don’t you think you ought to…?’ Looking somewhat alarmed, Mr Jay let go of Deborah’s arm and darted under the horse’s tossing head. Shooting a look over his shoulder, he said to Baron Dunning, ‘Perhaps you should move the ladies a little further away.’
While he set about calming the horse, with a competence Deborah had to admire, Baron Dunning linked arms with her and moved her out of range of those potentially dangerous hooves.
And somehow, once the incident was over, Mr Jay had the horse, Baron Dunning had Deborah on his arm, leaving Mr Lampton in sole possession of Susannah.
That was how it remained, all the way home. And Baron Dunning, far from exerting himself to be pleasant to Deborah, could not disguise his annoyance at being so neatly cut out by the newcomer. Deborah felt amused, rather than offended, only wondering how on earth Susannah would decide between all her suitors in the end. Although, if she could not make up her mind, there was nothing to stop her from returning to London again the next year. She was wealthy enough to be choosy. Her parents would not mind in the least if she went home without a husband in tow. So long as she enjoyed herself, and did not throw herself away on a nobody.
She sighed, remembering their conversation the morning after the Marquis of Lensborough’s ball.
‘I am not to throw myself away on a nobody,’ she had said defiantly, when Deborah had challenged her for asking her mother to make further enquiries about Captain Fawley. ‘Even if he is not what I thought him at first, I must not encourage him if he does not have any prospects.’
Sadly for Captain Fawley, it had not taken her mother long to discover that his prospects were non-existent.
‘The eighth Earl of Walton married twice,’ she had explained. ‘The first marriage was arranged by his family, while he was scarce out of his teens, to ensure the succession, for he was the only son. They matched him with one of the Lampton girls, who, eventually, presented him with a healthy boy. He chose his own wife the second time he married, for reasons of sentiment, rather than duty. There was some sort of scandal about the time he died, which I have not been able to get to the bottom of, but the upshot was that the boys were parted and reared separately. The current Earl,’ she said, leaning forward in her chair to dispense her nugget of gossip in a thrilled tone, ‘scoured the battlefields of Spain to find Captain Fawley when he got news of how severely injured he was. He brought him home, and spent a fortune having him nursed back to health, thus effecting their reconciliation.’
‘So,’ said Susannah, getting to the nub of the matter, ‘does that mean he is eligible, or not? If he is truly the younger son of an Earl, he must have a title, as well as his rank of captain from the army, must he not? And…’ She bit at her lower lip as she hesitated over broaching the indelicate topic of money.
But Mrs Gillies knew what interested her charge, without having to have it spelt out for her.
‘No, he was never officially recognised as the eighth Earl’s son. Nor did the old man leave him anything in his will. It all went to the current Earl. All Captain Fawley has is his army pension.’
‘That’s shocking!’ cried Deborah, her fists clenching in indignation. ‘Why was he cut out of the inheritance? It is not as if the present Earl cannot afford to spare a little. He must be one of the wealthiest men in England!’
Susannah laughed. ‘Don’t be such a goose, Debs. Isn’t it obvious? Haven’t you wondered why the two so-called brothers bear not the slightest resemblance to one another? No wonder the Lamptons threw the second wife out.’ Picking up her cup of tea, and taking a dainty sip, she added, ‘Well, that rules him out, for certain. Papa would never countenance me marrying a man who was born on the wrong side of the blanket.’
‘Now, Susannah, dear, I hope you won’t go around suggesting that I even hinted that Captain Fawley might not be legitimate. The Earl of Walton gets most upset with anyone who repeats that old scandal. He guards his brother’s reputation zealously. And if you offend a man of his standing…’
Susannah had shrugged, calmly putting Captain Fawley out of her mind now that she had no further use for him.
It was a relief to get home from their walk in Hyde Park and slough off the disappointed suitors who would, if etiquette had not forbidden such tactics, have cheerfully shoved Mr Lampton off the pavement in order to pry Susannah from his side. Deborah was not surprised when, upon entering her mother’s room, her friend’s first words were of her latest conquest.
‘What do you know about the Honourable Percy Lampton?’ she said, perching on a chair beside the bed, where Mrs Gillies had been taking her afternoon nap. ‘Is he one of the Lamptons who are related to the Earl of Walton? He looks as if he might be!’
Mrs Gillies struggled into a sitting position, while Deborah plumped up her pillows.
‘From the way you have bounced into the room, I assume he has taken your fancy?’ said Mrs Gillies, with a yawn. ‘Of course, he will probably be a handsome devil, if he is anything like his father.’ Her eyes took on a dreamy look as she delved back into reminiscences of her youth. ‘And, yes, he is cousin to the present Earl. Very good ton, the Lamptons.’ Suddenly, her eyes snapped back into focus. ‘Eminently respectable family. Pride themselves on it, in fact. I do not know exactly how young Percy is situated financially, but if you like, I shall find out.’
Susannah leant forward, giving Mrs Gillies an impetuous hug. ‘Thank you!’
Deborah and her mother watched her practically dance out of the room, with similarly thoughtful expressions.
‘I think Susannah may have met her match,’ said Mrs Gillies, at length.
Remembering the ruthlessly charming way he had outmanoeuvred his two rivals in the park, Deborah was forced to agree with her.
* * *
‘What the devil is Lampton playing at, that is what I want to know.’ Captain Fawley scowled at his brother, across the dining table, some ten days later. ‘The way he is monopolising Miss Hullworthy is becoming the talk of the clubs. And don’t tell me he is thinking of marrying her, for I won’t believe it. Apart from the fact he enjoys his bachelor status far too much to hazard it for any woman, no Lampton would stoop to marrying a cit’s daughter.’
The Earl of Walton frowned thoughtfully into his glass of port. ‘He lacks only four months to his thirtieth birthday,’ he said at length, enigmatically.
‘What has that to say to anything?’
The Earl sighed, then looked his younger brother full in the face. ‘What is Miss Hullworthy to you, Robert? Do you care for her?’
‘I certainly don’t want to see her ruined. Good God, you know what a menace Lampton is around women. Only remember the trouble he caused Heloise when she first came to London!’
Percy Lampton had joined forces with the Earl’s discarded mistress in an attempt to soil his young bride’s reputation. The marriage had very nearly foundered before the Earl had got wise to what was going on.
‘I don’t forget it,’ said the Earl crisply. ‘Although, in this particular case, I think I can see what motivates him.’
‘Well, I cannot! Much as I dislike the man,’ he said with a pensive frown, ‘he strikes me as too fastidious to get embroiled in the kind of scandal that would erupt if he really did seduce her….’
‘He won’t need to go so far. All he means to do, I think, is to keep her away from you until he attains the age of thirty.’
‘What has his age to do with anything?’
The Earl sighed. ‘Upon his thirtieth birthday, Percy Lampton will come into a substantial inheritance.’
‘But what has that to do with me? Or Miss Hullworthy, come to that?’
‘You brought her to his notice, Robert, by pursuing her so hotly. Inviting her to Lensborough’s engagement ball caused the devil of a stir.’
‘That was my intent,’ Captain Fawley replied brusquely. ‘But why should Lampton think my affairs are any of his business?’
‘Because of my Aunt Euphemia’s will, I should think,’ he said wryly. ‘Which rather ambiguously named either you, or Percy Lampton as her heir.’
Captain Fawley went very still. ‘I have been named in the will of some woman that I have never heard of? Why has nobody informed me of the fact until today?’
The Earl shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Aunt Euphemia died not long after I brought you home from Spain. My mother’s family always regarded her as something of an eccentric, but when her will was finally read out, they declared she must have been unhinged. I do not think so. And nor did her lawyers or her doctors. Naming you as her beneficiary was not an irrational act, but rather her attempt to redress the injustice she felt her brothers had done to you over the matter of your upbringing.’
‘Felt they had done?’
The Earl acknowledged his brother’s objection. ‘Did do. We both know your mother should have been moved to the dower house and granted an annuity, and that you should have been brought up at Wycke, along with me.’ He clenched his fist on the tabletop. ‘They would have contested Aunt Euphemia’s will, too, if I had not convinced them I had the resources to fight them tooth and nail until there would have been nothing left for anyone to inherit. Eventually, we reached a compromise with the trustees of her estate, which ensured that at least her fortune would remain intact until such time as one of you met with certain conditions.’ He swirled his port round in his glass, staring into it meditatively. ‘I rather think they ceded to my terms, instead of embarking on what would have been a protracted legal case because, at that time, nobody really expected you to survive.’ He smiled mirthlessly.
‘All right,’ Captain Fawley grated, ‘I accept that at the time this will was read, you acted on my behalf, since everyone thought I was about to stick my spoon in the wall. But I have been living under your roof for nigh on two years. Why is this the first I have heard about the will?’
‘Would you believe me if I told you I did not think it would do you any good?’
‘Not do me any good? I have a substantial sum of money owed me—at least I must assume it is, or the Lamptons would not have considered contesting the will to get it—and you say it would not do me any good?’ Captain Fawley got to his feet, blood surging hotly through his veins. This was not the first time he had felt such hatred for his brother. No, he checked himself, only his half-brother. Though they shared the same father, his mother had never quite made the grade with the Earl’s starchy relations. They had evicted her from his father’s home before he was cold in his grave, threatening her with all sorts of dire consequences should she try to claim anything from her late husband’s estate. Bereft, pregnant and without powerful friends to advise her, she had quietly returned to her middle-class family and dwindled away.
‘What are you about, Walton? You pretend to act in my interests, but how can I forget that your mother was a Lampton too?’
Walton barely reacted to his brother’s thinly veiled accusation.
‘You forget, perhaps, that I mentioned there were conditions attached to you inheriting anything,’ he said with icy calm. ‘Until a few weeks ago, nobody, least of all myself, could have guessed you might want to meet them.’
‘If I had known what they are, I would have been able to make the decision for myself!’
‘Then do so now,’ the Earl stated coldly. ‘If you truly wish to escape the ignominy of living on my charity, all you have to do is make a respectable marriage. For one thing my aunt made resoundingly clear. She had no wish to have a bachelor living in her house. But do not tarry, Robert. If you are not married by the time Percy attains the age of thirty, then the trustees have decreed everything will go to him. He is, after all, a blood relative, which you are not.’
Robert felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. No woman in her right mind would marry him. He knew it. Charles knew it. That was why he had not told him about the legacy. Knowing that a fortune lurked for ever just beyond his reach would only have added a further layer of torture to his existence.
He slumped back into his chair. Once again, he had lashed out at his brother, who had only ever had his welfare at heart. And sadly, though they both knew he hated having to subsist on his brother’s charity, they also knew there was no viable alternative. Charles had offered on numerous occasions to make over to him the estates and trusts that should have been his, as the younger son of the Earl of Walton. Had he inherited them from his father, he would have been glad to live the life of a gentleman farmer, pottering about his acres. But the old man had not named him in his will…how could he, when he had not even been aware his wife was pregnant when he had died so suddenly? To accept them now, from his brother, out of some kind of misguided charity… He grimaced with distaste. No, he had been brought low enough, without stooping to accepting handouts, like some beggar on the streets.
If only he could be independent! His mind revolved over what Walton had just told him about this will. All he had to do, apparently, was to persuade a respectable female to marry him. Yes, that was all, he reflected bitterly. Persuade some poor woman to wake up to the nightmare of his face upon her pillow every morning.
Yet, Lampton must have thought he might have been able to persuade Miss Hullworthy to marry him. Or why would he have gone to such lengths to detach her from him?
‘Damn him!’ He lurched to his feet. ‘Damn all the Lamptons. And damn you too.’ He rounded on his half-brother. ‘Oh, yes, you claim you acted for the best, but because you decided to keep me in the dark, Percy Lampton is dangling that girl on a string. If only I had known, I would—’ He stopped, bitter rage roiling in his gut. ‘You have a lot to answer for, Walton,’ he grated, turning on his heel and striding from the dining room.
He crossed the hall and slammed into the suite of rooms Lord Walton had set aside for him in his London residence. Linney, his manservant, who had been with him since his days in the army, was sitting at a table covered with newspaper, a tankard at his elbow and a pair of boots across his knees.
When Captain Fawley slumped into the chair opposite him, Linney reached under the table for a stone bottle, wiped round the rim of a rather smeared glass tumbler with the sleeve of his shirt and poured his master a full measure.
Captain Fawley drank the bumper off in one go, and pushed it across the table for a refill. He could not let Lampton get away with this! Apart from the fact he hated all the Lamptons on principle, the way he was falsely raising Susannah’s expectations was downright dishonourable. Was there nothing that family would not stoop to, to increase their already substantial personal wealth?
It was not even as though Percy Lampton needed the money as much as he did. Lampton lived a comfortable, independent bachelor lifestyle, whereas he was completely dependent on his brother. His half-brother, he corrected himself.
He leaned his forehead on his hand, struggling against the sense of resentment that thoughts of his half-brother still roused, even after all the man had done for him.
Too much! That was half the trouble. Walton always claimed he was acting in his best interests, but he was effectively robbing him of any choice. Smothering him!
If only there was some way out. Or, at least, some way he could prevent the blackguard getting his hands on his Aunt Euphemia’s fortune.
He damned the Lamptons volubly, and comprehensively, before addressing his second glass of brandy.
He had hated the name of Lampton for as long as he could remember. They had destroyed his mother, blighted his childhood with their insinuations of his illegitimacy and made no secret of the fact they had hoped he would die in some foreign country while he was on active service. The French had done their damnedest, but he was not an easy man to kill. He had survived an explosion, two amputations, a fever and gruelling months of rehabilitation.
Even in his darkest hour, when he had felt he had nothing left to live for, he had refused to let them beat him.
And he was not going to let them beat him now.
If Percy Lampton thought he was going to sit back while he waltzed off with his inheritance, then he was very much mistaken.
He would find a way to best all the Lamptons.
His face twisted into a mask of hatred.
And he didn’t much care how low he might have to stoop to do so.
Deborah started at the sound of someone knocking at the front door. Susannah had gone out for a drive in the park with Mr Lampton, and she had been looking forward to spending a peaceful afternoon reading. She had already become engrossed in her book, and was a little annoyed that she would be obliged to put it aside, and entertain some dull man who would be crushingly disappointed to find his quarry flown. Her mother, who was sitting on a chair by the window to get the best light for her embroidery, let out a sigh.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, having evidently caught sight of the visitor as he waited on the front steps. ‘He will be so disappointed to have missed Susannah.’ Turning to Deborah, she said, ‘Ring for some tea. We must make the poor boy especially welcome, must we not?’
It was only when Captain Fawley walked through the door that Deborah understood what had prompted her mother’s sympathy. She had not approved of many of Susannah’s suitors, before Mr Lampton had come on the scene, but she had a soft spot for the Captain. It was the way he looked at Susannah, she had confided to Deborah one evening not long after they had first made Mr Lampton’s acquaintance. So wounded, so bitter, so tragically certain he had no chance against a man who was everything he was not. For not only was Mr Lampton staggeringly handsome, he had expectations. It was common knowledge that he stood to inherit a substantial fortune upon reaching the age of thirty. So he could not be pursuing Susannah for her money. He would make a better match for Susannah, Mrs Gillies had decided, than an ageing earl, or a spotty young baron. Nor would her parents look askance at him, even though he had no title, since Susannah herself seemed to have her heart set on him. And he was being so particular in his attentions, it was surely only a matter of time before he proposed.
Deborah laid her book to one side, as her mother said, ‘Oh, Captain Fawley, how good it is of you to call on us this afternoon. We are all alone, as you see, and so dull! Please, do sit down. We have ordered some tea. I am sure you will stay and drink a cup with us, even though Miss Hullworthy is not here…’ She faltered, looking a little self-conscious as she alluded to the Captain’s disappointment.
‘Thank you, Mrs Gillies,’ he replied, though he remained standing stiffly by the door, rather than advancing towards the seat she had indicated he should take. ‘I was aware that Miss Hullworthy was out. In point of fact, I waited until I was certain she would be. It is your daughter I have come to see. Miss Gillies,’ he said, his cheeks flushing as he turned towards her, ‘I know this is a little unorthodox, but might I have a few words with you in private?’
Deborah did not know how to answer him, nor to even begin to guess what on earth he might wish to say to her that would require privacy. Besides, it was completely improper! She was sure her mother would not allow any such thing.
‘Why don’t you two take a turn about the garden?’ her mother stunned her by saying. ‘But stay in sight of the windows. I am sure if Captain Fawley feels he needs to speak to you privately, he has a very good reason,’ she said, in answer to Deborah’s puzzled look. ‘I will take a seat in the back parlour, from where I will have a good view of the lawn. Will that be acceptable, Captain?’
‘Most acceptable. Thank you for your generosity, madam,’ he said, opening the door and indicating that Deborah should accompany him.
One of the reasons for hiring this particular house was that it had a good-sized garden, by London standards. There was a narrow strip of lawn, bordered by low, shrubby sage plants, interspersed with clumps of sweet-william. Against one of the walls that separated their garden from the neighbouring property, some chairs had been set out around a wrought-iron table in a position to catch the early-morning sun. The area could still be used for sitting out later, too, since a pergola had been placed to provide some shade at the height of the day. And the roses and honeysuckle clambering over the structure in a marvellously scented tangle made it a pleasant place to sit well into the evening.
Captain Fawley headed unerringly towards the flowered arbour, making sure Deborah was sitting down before glancing back towards the house. When Mrs Gillies waved to him from the window, he bowed in her direction, before turning to address Deborah.
‘Before I broach the matter I have come here to discuss, may I have your assurance that you will hold everything that passes between us in the strictest confidence?’
He returned her mystified gaze with a scowl so ferocious, Deborah began to feel a little nervous.
‘If it means so much to you,’ she answered, touched by his intention to confide in her, ‘of course I will. Though I should not like to keep anything from my mother….’
‘There will be no need to keep her in the dark for long,’ he assured her. ‘But I must insist that you do not reveal anything, not even to her, until I give you leave.’
‘That sounds a little high-handed.’
‘If I cannot trust you, then say so now, and that will be an end to it!’
Deborah scarcely paused to think. It would be quite impossible to let him leave without discovering why he had thought it imperative to breach etiquette by seeking an interview with her alone and then swearing her to secrecy. She would die of curiosity.
‘You can trust me,’ she vowed.
For a minute or two, he frowned down at her, searching her face as though he needed to be absolutely sure before committing himself any further. Finally, he squared his shoulders, as though coming to a decision about her, and muttered, ‘If I did not think I could trust you, I would never even have considered coming to you. One thing I have noticed about you—you seem to possess more integrity than most girls of your age. I know that you have endured much during this past year, and borne it all with fortitude.’
Deborah filled up with pleasure at his praise, though gruffly delivered.
‘You have also confided in me that when your Season comes to an end, you will have little to look forward to. I hope you will not take it amiss if I speak bluntly?’
He was about to trust her with some burden that he carried. How could she object if, in his extremity, he phrased it bluntly?
‘You may speak freely to me,’ she assured him.
‘Well, then,’ he said, taking the seat beside her and staring earnestly into her face, ‘not to wrap the matter up in clean linen, the facts are these. You have neither the wealth, nor the looks, nor the wiles required to snare a wealthy husband.’
Deborah gasped, wounded to the core by his harsh assessment of her complete want of feminine allure. But he did not even pause in his catalogue of her failings.
‘You might, perhaps, have secured the interest of a more ordinary man if you were not so frail. But I have no need to tell you that a man who must earn his own living, as, say, a soldier, or a diplomat, will want a wife in robust health, with the stamina to raise his family, and order his household in possibly less-than-comfortable circumstances.’
She was about to point out, in no uncertain terms, that she was not some frail creature that could not withstand a little hardship. And argue that, while such a man as he had spoken of was exactly the sort of husband she had come to London to find, Susannah’s ambitions had catapulted her into spheres where such men did not venture. She was quite sure, that if she ever met such men, they might see she had some redeeming features. But he gave her no opportunity to say a word.
‘You have admitted to me that you do not expect to receive any proposals of marriage,’ he ploughed on with brutal candour, ‘and that at the end of the Season, because of your straitened circumstances, you will have to seek paid employment. If you do not become a governess, you must serve as a teacher, for ever confined to some stuffy classroom. You will be quite miserable, for you would much rather marry, and be mistress of your own establishment than be for ever at the mercy of some other family’s spoiled brats.’
Deborah’s heart was pounding hard. She could not remember any man ever insulting her so comprehensively. Even though all he had said was true, it was cruel of him to fling it in her face. How dare he taunt her with her wish to marry, having told her she stood no chance of snaring a man!
‘I do not think I wish to continue with this conversation,’ she said, rising to her feet and turning her back on him.
‘Miss Gillies, do not turn me down before you hear the whole.’
Turn him down? She froze. What was he trying to say?
‘The…the whole?’ Reluctantly, she looked at him over her shoulder.
‘Yes. Miss Gillies, I have recently discovered that if I can but persuade some respectable female into marriage, I will inherit a substantial property.’ He got to his feet, reached for her upper arm and spun her to face him. ‘I thought you, of all women, might overcome your revulsion for such a man as I am in return for lifelong security.’
‘You are asking me to marry you?’ Deborah’s heart was pounding with quite another emotion than she had been experiencing a moment earlier. She might have known his intention had not been to deliberately hurt her. He just obviously thought of himself as such a bad bargain for any woman, he had to highlight what he thought her alternative to accepting his proposal would be. ‘The devil or the deep blue sea,’ she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Oh, how could he think no woman could love him!
‘Don’t dismiss the idea out of hand,’ he implored her. ‘Please, hear me out.’
Deborah’s heart soared, even as she lowered her head to fumble in her reticule for a handkerchief. She did not know why she was crying, really. It was so silly when it felt as if a huge dark mass, which had been crushing her hopes and dreams, had finally rolled away, leaving her giddy and dazed. The man she loved had asked her to marry him!
She dropped back down on to her chair. The only reason, she now admitted to herself, that she had decided to forswear marriage and seek work was that she could not see herself marrying anyone except Captain Fawley. If she had received a proposal from any other man, she would have been gratified, but she did not think she could really have accepted it. But of course she would marry him. In a heartbeat! As soon as she had got this ridiculous urge to weep tears of relief under control, she would tell him so….
‘Miss Gillies, I know I have little to offer you myself. But consider the property that comes with the marriage.’ He sat down next to her, leaning forward as he put his case. ‘I believe it would make an ideal family home. There will be room for your mother. I am sure you wish to be able to provide for her in her old age. I know her pension to be so meagre you thought it would be better to work than be a burden on her. And would you not rather raise children of your own than be paid to teach other people’s? I would even permit you to hire a fencing master for our daughters, if that is what you wish,’ he added, the touch of humour reminding her of the conversation they had shared at the Marquis of Lensborough’s ball.
Though his reference to children was made in a jocular fashion, she knew he was spelling out to her that he was offering her a real marriage, not just a convenient arrangement. She had a brief vision of a boy and a girl capering about a broad, sunlit lawn, waving wooden swords at each other, while Captain Fawley, lounging beneath the shade of a gnarled oak tree, shouted instructions to them. Another little boy, with a grubby face, grinned down from the branches of the tree, while her mother, seated on a rustic bench nearby, smiled contentedly at her grandchildren. She watched them all from the windows of a rambling stone house, a tiny baby nuzzling at her breast. And then the Captain Fawley on that sun-drenched lawn turned to look at her. And he smiled at her. And his expression was not that of the bitter, careworn cripple who was putting this proposition to her, his eyes full of hopeless entreaty. He had become a contented family man.
She scanned the harsh features, scarce six inches from her own face. The warmth of his breath fanned her cheek. She could smell the faint aroma of bergamot, a scent she had associated with him since the night when he had supported her, half-fainting, from the heat of that crowded ballroom. Her hands remembered the texture of his sleeve, and, through it, the strength of the arm that it clothed.
How she longed to be the one to wipe away those lines of suffering that a lifetime of disappointments had etched so deeply on his face! To make those eyes, that burned with suspicion, glow with contentment or light with laughter.
Oh, she knew he was only asking her to marry him out of disappointment in losing Susannah to a rival. But she could empathise with the streak of practicality in his nature that had him reasoning that if he could not have the woman he had set his heart on, there was no reason that he should forgo the property, as well. Had she not planned her own future along similar lines? Having given up hope of marrying the man she loved, she had decided she would at least stand on her own two feet and not be beholden to anyone.
Though it was depressing that he thought so poorly of her. He saw her as a girl with so little going for her that she would be grateful for the chance to live in comfort, even if it meant allying herself to a man he assumed no woman could look upon with anything but revulsion.
‘If any other man had asked me in such terms,’ she declared, determined to justify her intention to accept him, in spite of his insults, ‘I would have turned him down flat. Don’t you know that the way you just addressed me was hurtful, almost beyond bearing?’
‘If that is what you think,’ he said, rearing back and making as though he was about to stand up, ‘then I will trouble you with my unwelcome attentions no more.’
She regretted her impulse to put him straight, as soon as she saw the pain in his eyes. She had never intended to hurt him. Oh, blow her stupid pride. It was not worth defending if doing so wounded him.
‘Your attentions are not unwelcome,’ she hastily reassured him. ‘And of course I will marry you. It was just the way you put it…’
He got to his feet, looking down at her with an expression so fierce she felt almost afraid of him.
‘You must not expect honeyed words, or any insincere flattery from me, Miss Gillies. I may not have put my proposal with any great eloquence, but at least you know exactly what it is I am offering. I am offering you financial security, a chance at a good, comfortable future. You are about to marry a man who has been a soldier all his adult life. A man who has fought hard and lived rough. I am not going to spout some silly romantic nonsense to try to deceive you into expecting what I cannot give.’
She blinked in astonishment. Hurt tears sprung to her eyes. Had any woman ever received such an insulting proposal or had her acceptance met with such a stinging rebuke? If she had a grain of sense, she would tell him what he could do with his proposal, and walk away.
But then she would never see him again.
She would become a teacher, just as she had planned, but with the knowledge that, had she had more courage, she could have been Captain Fawley’s wife.
She could have endured that lonely life of drudgery, had he never proposed to her. But now, such a future would be unbearable.
A cold hand seemed to reach into her bowels, and twist them into a knot as another horrible thought occurred to her. Seeing the ruthless way he had tried to bludgeon her into a marriage he was convinced she could not want, was he not bound to bully some other hapless female into taking him on, so that he could get at his inheritance? She could not deceive herself into thinking she was anything more to him than the first on a list of prospective wives, drawn from the pool of available females in desperate straits.
‘I do not expect anything from you,’ she said despondently. How could she have forgotten, even for a second, that he was in love with Susannah? She might have fanciful visions of creating a happy family with the man she loved, but as far as he was concerned, she could be any female.
A means to an end.
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