Confessions From an Arranged Marriage (7 page)

T
he amethysts had been a wedding gift from George I to the second duke. The pearls had been in the family even longer, dating from the time when Queen Anne had enjoyed a brief but violent friendship with the beautiful young wife of the first Marquis of Blakeney, before he was created duke for his steadfast support of the Hanoverian succession.

Both heirlooms were the traditional perquisites of the heir's bride. By fobbing Minerva off with insignificant trinkets, the duke demonstrated his contempt for his only son.

Blake was used to that. To his surprise some of his anger at the snub was on behalf of his fiancée.

Miss Montrose shall have the use of all the family jewels in due course.

That clever young lady might be oblivious to the duke's meaning, but not Blake. The duke was stating that Minerva, with her insufficient connections and fortune, would only be fully welcomed into the Vanderlin family when she'd produced a son. Or even two.

Blake was rather charmed by her naïveté. She had no idea she'd been given inferior jewels. He also felt some compunction that she wouldn't be earning the good ones any time soon. When he collected Desirée's ruby bracelets, he noticed a magnificent emerald and diamond necklace in a glass case.

“A copy of one owned by the late Empress Josephine and made in Paris,” the jeweler said, only too happy to demonstrate the most expensive item in his shop to a customer known to be about to have immediate, rather than future, access to a handsome fortune. “With the war well behind us we have no need to avoid French fashions.”

“Indeed not,” Blake said. “I'm off to Paris myself in a week or two.”

“With such a necklace a lady would have no trouble holding her own, or even surpassing, the French ladies.”

Blake left the premises with the bracelets for his mistress in one pocket and a wedding present for his bride in the other.

He reached his rooms to find that someone had delivered a parcel for him. Any expectation of pleasure vanished when his man told him it came from Vanderlin House. He didn't bother to open the duke's note. As promised or threatened, his father was making another attempt to prepare Blake for his illustrious future by setting him a course of study. He picked up the first of a thick sheaf of pamphlets and allowed himself a little grin. Minerva, at least, hadn't made good on her kind offer to provide him with improving literature. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

He'd better give it a try. Every now and then he suffered an attack of hope that a miracle would occur and he would be able to appreciate one of these earnest tracts, full of matters vital to the future of the nation.

He poured himself a glass of sherry for fortification and turned to the first page.

The smell of ink on cheap paper assaulted him. Small print and long words danced before his eyes.

Ten minutes later he stood up and pitched them into the fire, glass and pamphlet both.

Chapter 7

W
hen Sebastian deemed his wife well enough to travel up from Kent, Minerva was reunited with her sister at the Iverleys' house in Portman Square. Once the children had been kissed and admired and settled in the nursery with their attendants, Diana lost no time in hustling Minerva to her boudoir for a tête-à-tête.

“I'm so sorry, my darling,” Diana said, drawing Minerva down onto the sofa with her and holding her hand. “It's all my fault.”

“Why? Because you didn't marry Blakeney yourself? Do you expect me to believe you regret wedding Sebastian because of what has happened to me?”

“Hardly! Though I'm glad to see your misfortunes haven't rendered you incapable of impertinence. I meant if I'd been well enough to attend to your presentation myself, the ball would have been here. There would have been no chance of Blake trying to seduce someone in the library because Sebastian wouldn't have let me invite him.”

Minerva rested her head on Diana's shoulder, as she had so often as a child. Finally in company with the one person in whom she might fully confide, she felt none of the need to scream with anger or weep with fear she'd been suppressing.

“What's done is done,” she said. “I must make the best of it.”

“My dearest Min! The maturity of the sentiment does you great credit. Lift up your head so I may look for gray hairs.”

“After all, Blakeney is heir to one of the most powerful political families in England. He may not be very clever but perhaps that's for the best. I shall guide him.” She wished she felt as confident as she sounded.

“That's all very well, but Blake's not just a dynasty. He's a man too. And I think you'll find when you get to know him he's not all bad. I wouldn't have considered marrying him if he was.”

“You thought you were in love with him because of his looks!”

“True. Mostly. But I like him too. I always have. Sebastian has his own reasons to loathe him, going back to their childhood, but he's getting over it.”

“Not that I've noticed. He wanted to kill Blakeney after the ball.”

“Blake did behave abominably. I was so furious when I heard about it.”

“He thought I was the Duchess of Lethbridge, I understand that. I understand that men have mistresses, too. I've been trying to tell myself he didn't mean it.”

Diana's arms tightened about her. “Poor Min. I don't know what to say. Try and forget it. How have you been getting on with him since?”

Minerva shrugged. “We've only met a few times. We have been pleasant to each other.”

“Nothing more?”

“We had one conversation about criminal justice reform, but since then he's shied away when I talk about anything interesting.”

“Interesting to you, you mean.”

Min grinned back at Diana. “Of course.”

“You used to complain about his hunting stories. Have you had to suffer a lot of them?”

“Not one.” Min stopped to think about it. “How very odd. He's mentioned horses a couple of times, but no hunting. He's been living in Devon for a year or two. Perhaps they don't hunt there. If not, I don't know what he was doing there.”

“He sold his hunters when he left London. The duke keeps him very short of money but that will change now. Sebastian made sure of it when he negotiated the marriage settlement. You needn't worry.”

“I wasn't worrying,” Minerva said absently. Blakeney had always been hunting mad, yet apparently he'd given up the sport, just like that. She added it to the compilation of odd facts she was amassing about her husband-to-be.

“What about the duke and duchess? Have they received you kindly?”

“The duke and duchess could not have been more gracious. Dining at their table and hearing the latest political news from its very source is thrilling. I can't believe I am to live at Vanderlin House.”

“Is that settled then?” Diana asked. “Did Blake agree?”

“I've seen my rooms. Our rooms.” Minerva replied. It was true that her fiancé had been silent on the subject of their abode.
Silence meant consent, didn't it?

“I think it an excellent sign that the duke and duchess are so cordial in their welcome. If they respect you, Blakeney will too.”

“They are giving me a lot of jewelry.”

“Tell me about it.” Diana's eyes lit up at the mention of one of her favorite subjects.

When it came to describing jewelry, or clothing, Minerva inevitably disappointed her fashionable sister. “Some diamonds. And some other things. I can't remember, there were so many. You'll have to wait and see them when they've been cleaned. Although,” she added, “they didn't look dirty to me.”

“I don't know Blakeney's parents well,” Diana said. “Sebastian likes them.”

Min frowned. “I like them, I suppose, and I admire them. But they aren't very warm. Not at all like our parents. In fact they are quite cold with Blakeney.”

“I'm sure it's just ducal formality. Since Blake is to marry into our family, I suppose we'd better get him used to the Montroses. I shall give a dinner.”

“Rather a small dinner since it's too far for Rufus and Henry, and Mama and Papa aren't coming to London for the wedding.” Minerva's parents hated to travel. They'd written that they'd see Blake and Minerva in Shropshire, when they returned from Paris and came up to Mandeville House for the summer.

“Will's only a few miles from London and we'll send for Stephen from Harrow. Four Montroses can make enough of a racket to let Blake know what he's in for.”

Minerva tried to imagine Blakeney fitting into a gathering of her noisy, opinionated family and failed. Not that her fiancé was a man of excessive formality, but conversation among the Montroses raged fast and furious, quite unlike Blake's rather dégagé attitude. His stance in company tended toward semi-inattention, punctuated by the occasional cynical comment.

He had hinted at a more serious side during their walk home from dinner at Vanderlin House, then belied the impression with his kiss in the middle of Berkeley Square. She shook her head in bafflement and blushed at the recollection.

Diana regarded her with interest and drew the right conclusion. “Has he kissed you?”

She nodded.

“How was it?”

“It was pleasant.” Min didn't want to admit how much, even to Diana. As for the odd physical sensations she sometimes got in Blakeney's presence, it was merely her body's reactions to a good-looking man. True, she'd met plenty of good-looking men without getting so much as a quiver of desire in her chest, let alone her belly, but Blakeney was probably the handsomest man she knew. It was natural and quite involuntary, like a sneeze in a dusty room.

“It's good you find him attractive. You'll enjoy bedding him, and if you enjoy it he'll enjoy it. Bed isn't everything, but mutual satisfaction there can help smooth over differences in other areas of life. I always said I'd tell you all about marital intercourse once you were engaged, and it may as well be now.”

“As a matter of fact I know quite a bit.”

“Why am I not surprised? I had a feeling Celia and you had a few interesting chats.”

“I read a book too.” At the time, Minerva had found the outlandish games played by men and women in
The Genuine and Remarkable Amours of the Celebrated Peter Aretin
cause for mirth. Two years later she wasn't so sure.

“Books are all very well, but you can't ask them questions when you don't understand something. I'm going to be frank with you. I believe Blake to be a man of sophisticated tastes when it comes to women.”

“Did you . . . ?”

“Absolutely not. We never exchanged more than a kiss or two.”

Min nodded in considerable relief. Her forthcoming nuptials were complicated enough already.

“Gentlemen expect their brides to be virtuous,” Diana continued. “Some men like them to be ignorant too. They enjoy playing the tutor in the bedroom. My first husband was like that. I do not believe Blakeney is one of those. The more you know, the happier you'll both be.” She smiled. “You can get a man to do just about anything after a good bout of lovemaking.”

Minerva felt less confidence than she had on any subject in years. The kiss she'd shared with Blakeney had affected him much less than it had her.

She thought about parliamentary and criminal reform. She thought about children working long hours at dangerous tasks for pitiful wages. She thought about the number of parliamentary seats controlled by the Duke of Hampton and his influence in the country. Influence that would one day be wielded by Lord Blakeney. She thought about influencing Lord Blakeney.

Never one to shrink from a challenge, she stiffened her spine. “I suppose I'd better listen to your advice,” she said.

W
illiam Montrose, the eldest of Minerva's brothers, was a very large man, topping Blake by two or three inches in height and at least three times as much around the chest. His brawn was obviously helpful for hacking his way through jungles in pursuit of rare plants, and for beating up men who had the temerity to look up his sister's skirts. Blake seized his hand and shook it vigorously.

“It's been a long time, Montrose. I recall you are a fair boxer. Would you like to put on the gloves with me at Jackson's some time?” Better to let William expend his violent impulses under circumstances where Blake's superior science and speed would make the contest an equal one.

William's glare dissolved into a reserved smile with just a hint of a threat. “I'd be delighted, Blakeney. My felicitations, and I trust you will treat my sister well.”

Though invited to a family dinner, the guest list had been expanded to include the Iverleys' friends, the Chases and the Comptons. The group was small enough for informality. Not that the Montroses went in for ceremony. As his neighbors in Shropshire he'd always been a little acquainted with the family, and well aware of their reputation for eccentricity. No one at the table appeared at all surprised when Stephen, the youngest, threw a piece of bread at his brother in response to a mild insult. Even the haughty and exquisite dandy Tarquin Compton merely ducked, and brushed a falling crumb from his coat.

Diana Iverley was a talented hostess and Blake wondered if his future wife shared her sister's aptitude. He wouldn't mind more evenings like this one, but couldn't imagine such an event in the lofty apartments of Vanderlin House. Even Cousin Sebastian, usually so hellishly serious, seemed relaxed at his wife's table. He and Blake had exchanged polite, if not cordial, greetings, and proceeded to ignore each other by silent mutual agreement.

After an enjoyable discussion with Stephen about estate management, he turned to his betrothed.

“Well Miss Montrose,” he began, hoping to forestall another conversation about the prospects for a dissolution of Parliament. “How did you enjoy the play last night?”

“Very well, thank you, Lord Blakeney. It was very gracious of the duke and duchess to invite me.”

“Did you prefer the tragedy or the farce?”

“I've never been fond of
Macbeth
. I don't find it at all probable that Lady Macbeth would go mad like that. I should think she'd be too busy running Scotland.”

“You shock me, Miss Montrose. Do you condone murder?”

“Don't be absurd, Lord Blakeney. I am happy to say that regicide is no longer a necessary or feasible route to power.”

Amazing the way the girl managed to bring any discussion around to her favorite topic.

“I think you'd better call me Blake,” he said hastily.

“And you'd better call me Minerva.”

“Your family call you Min.”

“That's such a childish name.”

“Perhaps I'll call you Minnie.”

“If you do I'll have to kill you. Or call you Arthur.”

“No one has ever called me Arthur. How did you even know it's my name?”

Minerva's perfect little mouth pursed into a pout of a smile. “There are no secrets from Mr. Debrett.”

This hint of mischief piqued Blake's attention. She was appealing when she wasn't being deathly earnest. Knowing only too well what
interested
his future bride, it might be to his advantage to find out what
amused
her.

“So if you don't think much of
Macbeth,
do you enjoy comedies?”

“I do. I adore Sheridan's ingenuity and wit.” Her perfect little nose wrinkled. “The farce last night was idiotic and not at all witty.”

“You didn't appreciate the pirates stranded on a desert island?”

“Pirates are all very well, but what was Harlequin doing there? And performing poodles in neck ruffs?” Her blue eyes twinkled with mirth. “Don't you think it strains credulity to find an entire pantomime troupe in the middle of the ocean?”

“I don't think logic is the main object of these entertainments.” Blake wondered if he should mention that the display of ankles by the females in the company was the major attraction, and one he could appreciate.

“Of course,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning in confidentially. “I expect you enjoyed the girls. My brothers would have.”

Touché
, he conceded silently. Could Minerva Montrose actually be flirting?

“Were they pretty?” He angled his head so their lips were less than a foot apart, bordering on the intimate.

She held her ground and met his eye, though her faint blush told him she was a little embarrassed. For all her confidence, Minerva Montrose was a novice when it came to playing the coquette. She was also, he had to admit, every bit as pretty as any of the dancers.

He dropped his voice to a murmur. “I didn't notice any handsome girls. On the stage.”

“How very dull for you,” she said gamely.