An Unsuitable Bride (37 page)

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.” Alexandra sounded as confused as she felt.

“My dear girl, it has everything to do with you. You are illegitimate, and by your own description, you are an embezzler and a thief. How more unsuitable could you be as a Blackwater bride? Something, I may remind you, that you have pointed out to me in no uncertain
terms. And to put the icing on the cake, I love you. There will never be anyone else I could ever wish to marry.”

She gazed at him, stunned, as she absorbed his words. “Oh, Perry, ’tis absurd.”

“The entire situation is absurd,” he declared roundly. “But the old man holds all the cards. So, Mistress Douglas, marry me and save the Blackwaters.”

“I had thought to be just your mistress,” she said, considering. If she could contemplate one, why not the other? Both would give her a loving life with Peregrine. “Once I’d completed my work at Combe Abbey, I had thought we could set up house, and I wouldn’t object if you chose to marry someone—”

“Enough!”
he bellowed, giving her shoulders an inadvertent shake. “How insulting can you be? I do not want a mistress,
any
mistress. I want and
need
a wife. And I want
you.
Now, your answer, if you please.”

Why not?
She felt a little jolt of excitement. Maybe everything could work out in the end, once this tangle was unraveled. “You are very persuasive, sir.” She dropped him a mock curtsy. “How could I refuse such a tempting and elegantly phrased offer?”

“Hornet,” he said appreciatively.

“But I must finish my work at Combe Abbey first,” she said, and all warmth and appreciation fled from his countenance. “I have to ensure my own independence and Sylvia’s.”

“That is not necessary,” he stated, tight-lipped.

“Yes, it is,” she responded simply. “I will not let injustice stand. Stephen owes us our portions, and he will pay them. He just won’t know that he’s done so.”

Abruptly he swung away from her and stalked to the window, standing with his back to her until he had himself under control. “And if I will not permit you to do this?”

“You will not have that right,” she said simply. “I will marry you after I’ve completed my work.”

Peregrine wrestled with himself for long minutes while she stood where he had left her, unmoving, quiet, her hands clasped against his robe, waiting. Finally, he turned back to the room and said curtly, “We’ll leave it there for the moment. Get dressed and come down for breakfast. I am sharp set.” He left the chamber, the door clicking shut behind him. It wasn’t a slam, but it was definitely expressive of irritation.

Alexandra took a deep breath that was more like a shuddering sigh. She should be feeling so happy; indeed, a moment ago, she had been. It was an extraordinary solution, one she wanted more than anything in the world, but she could not bring herself to abandon something over which she had sweated so much blood, so many tears, so many terrifying moments. Even if she could give up her own portion, she could not leave Sylvia destitute. Even if Perry swore to support her sister, she knew that Sylvia’s pride would resist such an offer
as strongly as her own. Maybe she could compromise. Tell Peregrine that she would continue her charade only until she had enough for her sister and Matty to live in comfort for as long as needed.

She washed and dressed in the pink silk gown, thinking of how to convince him.

Breakfast was laid out in the parlor, but she saw no one as she made her way downstairs. The fire burned brightly in the parlor, and enticing aromas arose from the covered dishes. Peregrine was lifting the lids of the dishes and glanced over his shoulder as she came in. “What may I serve you, ma’am? Eggs, bacon, mushrooms, kidneys . . . ?”

“Just an egg, please.” She poured coffee and sat down at the table. “Thank you.” She offered a tentative smile as he placed a plate in front of her.

He nodded briefly before heaping a plate with mushrooms, kidneys, and bacon for himself. He reached for the ale jug and poured himself a tankard, buttered a hunk of wheaten bread, and began to eat.

“I own I’m surprised that my mother is still married to the Count,” Alex observed, trying to lighten the mood.

“She is still using his name and title, so one must assume that she is.”

Alex’s laugh was cynical. “It probably means that she has not yet found a good enough substitute.”

“You really do loathe her, don’t you?” Peregrine regarded her across the table with a slight frown, wondering
if this extreme depth of feeling was what lay beneath her powerful need for justice.

“She is responsible for ensuring that her daughters are destitute,” she said fiercely, her gray eyes burning now with the years of accumulated anger and bitterness. “And she didn’t give a damn. What am I supposed to like about that?”

“Nothing, of course,” he said, his voice mild. “My own mother was a recluse and had nothing to do with us as children, so I understand how you feel, to a certain extent.”

“Oh?” She sat forward in her chair. “Tell me about it.”

Perry shrugged. “Our father died when Jasper was about eleven, so he became the fifth Earl while he was still at school. Seb and I were six or thereabouts. Our mother became an invalid; she shut herself up in a wing of the house and never saw us. I don’t think she even asked after us. We were cared for by a succession of nursery maids, our affairs controlled by trustees. We were sent away to school a year later, where, thank God, we had Jasper to look after us.”

He smiled, remembering. “Jasper stood up for us, protected us from the worst of the bullying, fought our battles while teaching us to fight them ourselves. Eventually, of course, we were able to stand on our own feet. But in essence, we were orphans throughout our childhood.”

“But you had your elder brother,” she said softly.

“Yes. And you only had yourself, and your sister
was your responsibility. I understand that, Alexandra.”

“She still is.” She looked at him with a plea in her gray eyes. “I must complete that responsibility, Peregrine. Please understand that. I promise I will no longer fight for justice for myself, but I must ensure that Sylvia is taken care of whatever might happen to me.”

Peregrine sighed. “And you won’t allow me to assume responsibility for you both?”

“No.” It was a flat negative, and he understood that he had reached point non plus.

“Well, for the moment, we’ll leave it there,” he temporized. He had no intention of accepting her condition, but nothing would be gained by butting heads with her now. He sipped his ale, then said, “Since you have, in principle, anyway, agreed to marry me, would you be willing to do me a favor this morning?”

“Of course,” she said swiftly. “Whatever you would like.” She could deny him nothing when he was willing to accept her own need.

He smiled, crumbling a piece of bread between his fingers. “I would like you to accompany me on a visit to my Uncle Bradley.”

“Your uncle?” Alexandra looked horrified, remembering what he’d said about the man. “
Why?”

“Well, I have to present him with my entirely unsuitable choice for a bride. And the sooner ’tis done, the better for everyone.”

“But we will not marry yet,” she pointed out.

“I would like to establish the fact and your credentials
with my uncle,” he said patiently. “It will be a weight off everyone’s mind. But if the idea alarms you—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I mean, it’s a little scary after what you’ve told me about him, but since ’tis part of the plan, then, of course, I will do whatever you wish.”

He nodded, and there was a gleam in his eye. “In fact, you might find the idea rather appealing, since it involves another part for you to play. And you are a consummate actress, my sweet.”

Alex looked for a sting in the words but felt none. He seemed to be genuinely amused by his idea. “Go on,” she prompted.

“For the visit to my uncle, I would have you don those breeches you wore in Lymington—a guise, my dear, that is most enticing. We shall see how it plays with the old man.”

Alexandra pondered this for a moment and then nodded with a little chuckle. She would find it much easier to deal with the fearsome uncle if she was acting. It was just another part, tailored to suit a particular situation. And she was adept at such playacting. “You’ll have to direct me how to play it.”

Peregrine smiled. “I will do that on the way. But first, you must fetch your costume. I’ll send Bart to summon a hackney. Tell him to wait at Berkeley Square for you, and he can bring you back here to change.”

Billings greeted her return to the house with a characteristic sniff. “Letters come for you.” He gestured to the hall table, where two sealed letters lay on a tarnished silver salver.

“Thank you.” She snatched them up and hurried up to her bedchamber, reading the letters as she went. Andrew Langham, on behalf of Lord Dewforth, would do himself the honor of visiting her at three of the clock that afternoon. And Mr. Murdock would do himself the same honor, one hour later. She would have to come straight back here after the visit to Lord Bradley.

She bundled up her male costume, thrust it into a small cloak bag, and hurried back to the waiting hackney.

Chapter Seventeen

Back in Stratton Street, Alexandra dressed in the breeches and jacket. She twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head and crammed the cap over it, pulling the brim low.

“How do I look?”

“Delicious,” Peregrine said. He’d been watching the transformation with a lascivious gleam in his eye. “Let’s go before I yield to temptation and ravish you on the spot.”

She laughed delightedly, loving the lustful light in his eyes. It made her feel both desirable and powerful, two sensations that hitherto were unfamiliar to Mistress Alexandra Hathaway. She followed him downstairs and out to the waiting hackney. The jarvey’s eyebrows disappeared into his scalp when he saw his two passengers emerging from the house. The well-dressed young lady he’d taken to Berkeley Square appeared to have undergone some considerable transformation. He shrugged. It was none of his business, and the pair was providing him with a lucrative morning’s work.

Peregrine gave him the address and jumped into the carriage behind Alexandra. “The secret to handling Viscount Bradley is to show no sign of discomposure,” he began as soon as the vehicle began to move. “He will do everything he can to discompose you, and if he senses the tiniest crack in your armor, he’ll pry it loose until ’tis a gaping hole.”

“An unpleasant image,” Alex murmured with a shiver of distaste.

“He’s a thoroughly unpleasant person. He’ll probably have in attendance a truly pathetic victim of his malice, Father Cosgrove. He’s my uncle’s personal priest and father confessor.” Perry gave a short, sardonic laugh. “Bradley is forcing the poor man to act as his amanuensis as he writes his memoirs. Disgusting, lascivious, and perverted they are, too. He may oblige you to read some portion. If he does, you should do so without objection, but whatever you do, do not show him that they affect you in any way at all. Treat them as the disgusting fantasies of a perverted mind, beneath contempt.”

“And this man holds you and your brothers in the hollow of his hand?” she asked in wonder.

Peregrine’s mouth thinned, and his eyes took on a glacial cast. “Thanks to our father’s profligacy, he does. Blackwater won’t see the estates destroyed and the family honor with them. Bradley holds the winning card, so we must play to it.” He regarded her through slightly narrowed eyes. “Does that make any sense to you?”

“You could say ’tis similar to what I am doing myself,” she returned. “Stephen holds the winning card, and I am playing to it to win freedom and justice for my sister and myself.”

He hadn’t considered Alexandra’s situation in that light before. “With one difference,” he pointed out drily. “My brothers and I are not engaged in any criminal activity.”

Alex flushed angrily. “That is not just. I am merely claiming what’s mine and my sister’s. Some quirk of the law took it away from us, and I am getting it back.”

“And by doing so, you are breaking that very law,” he said, wishing he had not started on this track again but unable to stop once he’d started. “It may be an unjust law, but it
is
the law of the land. Attempting to break it makes you a criminal, Alexandra. And I ask you again, give it up now, before anything bad happens. You need never return to Combe Abbey. Leave the books in Berkeley Square, take up your real identity, and show yourself to the world as my wife. I swear to you on my family’s honor, Sylvia will be provided for until her dying day.”