Midnight Marriage: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Series) (13 page)

“So good of you to interrupt your breakfast to see me, Sir Gerald,” Robert Thesiger drawled and took out his snuffbox, a significant stare at the butler who still hovered in the doorway. He waited for the servant to close the door on his back before taking up a position by the window, forcing Sir Gerald to move his whole body or suffer a crick in the neck. Before Sir Gerald could form words to protest his intrusion, Robert Thesiger added bluntly, “Has Lord Alston arrived in Bath, my lord?”

“Lord Alston’s whereabouts are hardly anyone’s concern but his own, sir.”

Robert Thesiger smiled broadly. “I beg your lordship not to waste my time with a petty show of offended sensibilities. He is either in town or he is not.”

Sir Gerald shot to his feet and tossed his napkin on the table. “I will not stand here in my own home and be subjected to such rude inquiry! You, sir, will leave my house at once!”

Robert Thesiger stood between Sir Gerald and the bell pull. “I will certainly leave, as soon as you assure me you have no intention of marrying your sister to Lord Alston.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sir Gerald spluttered, so affronted that he groped for a suitable response to such an outrageous suggestion. “You dare to give me advice on a matter—a matter which is none of your concern and which is of the most private and most delicate—”

“If you care for your sister you will reject Alston’s offer outright,” Robert Thesiger interrupted. “After all, you can’t be ignorant of the fact his lordship is embroiled in a French lawsuit. I shouldn’t wonder if the scandal isn’t in the French dailies by the end of the month.”

Sir Gerald was still finding it hard to control his features least of all put a coherent sentence together. He had never before been addressed so bluntly by a complete stranger and in his own home, but at the mention of a French lawsuit he found his voice, saying with contempt, “If you’re referring to that common little tax collector and his designing daughter, I heard about that at the club at least three weeks ago. The odds are ten to one in favor of Alston winning if it goes to trial, which we very much doubt.” He pulled at the points of his silk striped waistcoat and stretched his neck; mention of his club restoring his feeling of superiority over this ill-bred creature. “That Parisian upstart can be nothing more than a petty nuisance to a nobleman of Alston’s breeding. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he refuses to acknowledge such an absurd lawsuit.”

“Time to get your nose out from between his buttocks,” Robert Thesiger sneered softly in French, adding in English, “Alston’s uneven temperament is but a whisper in polite circles; his sexually twisted conduct toward his mother, all but forgotten. Yet, when this civil action makes it to court, the true nature of his depravity will become sordid public property. You wish to ally yourself with one such as he, allow your sister to become that degenerate’s wife?”

“Eh? You know about that Hanover Square business?” Sir Gerald asked incredulously, curiosity getting the better of him. “I’d heard a rumor—but I never believed—”

“—that in a drunken rage he denounced the Duchess his mother to the world as a whore and a witch?” Robert Thesiger put up his black brows. “Is that the actions of a sane man, Sir Gerald?”

“Sounds a lot of theatrical clap-trap!”

But Sir Gerald’s quick brick-red blush belied his dismissive bluster.

Robert Thesiger’s smile was smug. “It does, doesn’t it? I, like you, would’ve reacted as you have now had I not been with Alston that night. We’d come down from Eton together, the three of us, Alston, Evelyn Ffolkes and myself.” He flicked open his snuffbox. “Brothers in arms, you could say. Evelyn and me there to support our kin in his hour of need. All of us drunk. But not too drunk that we weren’t repulsed by Alston’s unreasonable demands on his own mother.”

Sir Gerald needed a glass of claret to steady his disordered nerves. But having none at hand he gripped the table edge for support.

“Alston is about to become embroiled in a public scandal,” Thesiger continued with a sad smile and a frown between his black brows. “This time the Duke can’t banish him, even if he wanted to. Nor can the circumstances be hushed up and conveniently forgotten. What a shame your wife must forever share kin with a man who has overstepped the bounds of common decency by seducing and then abandoning the daughter of a Farmer-General.” He took snuff, an eye on Sir Gerald to make certain he was digesting every word. “The pretty little thing—and she is pretty, very pretty—had returned from her convent school only a matter of weeks before Alston seduced her with the promise of marriage—”

“Marriage? An English nobleman marry a middle-class Frenchy?” Sir Gerald scoffed pompously. “Unthinkable!”

“Why not, when he did not mean it? It was merely a ploy to get her petticoats up over her luscious thighs. Unfortunately he made the mistake of hunting down a female from a class that does not play by the rules of the aristocracy. The pretty little thing had no idea he did not mean it, nor knew how to rebuff him in her own house. Imagine then the Farmer-General’s horror when he learnt his daughter’s carefully nurtured virginity had been ransacked by an Englishman of rank and fortune. He was determined Alston should do the honorable thing and marry his daughter.”

“The man’s an insufferable trencherfly!” Sir Gerald pulled a face full of revulsion. “The son of duke ally himself with a family of tax collectors? Preposterous!”

“
Mon Dieu
,” Robert Thesiger muttered in French, “you’re so far up his arse, you’re breathing
merde
. Yes, think of the disgrace for the House of Roxton,” he drawled in English, the sarcasm lost on his listener. “Alston has been named in a lawsuit for breach of promise. A preliminary investigation has begun; witnesses for both sides have been called. A judge will question them. Legal representatives for M’sieur Farmer-General are in London. The Duke of Roxton was called before the French Ambassador.”

Sir Gerald felt suddenly hot and sweaty. He did not like drama in his life. And he certainly did not want scandal attached to his good name. It had taken him years to recover from Otto and Deborah’s deplorably wayward conduct. He blinked at Robert Thesiger and asked in a voice of doom, “The Duke called before the French Ambassador? Why?”

“To ensure Roxton’s precious son and heir returns to Paris for the trial.”

“Surely the Duke will be able to—”

“—do what, Sir Gerald?” Thesiger scoffed. “M’sieur Farmer-General is not prepared to settle out of court. He wants his lordship up before judge and jury. The Parisian authorities are determined to make Alston an example of the unbridled aristocratic lasciviousness that infects the good citizens of Paris.” He put up his brows. “You want your sister married to such a man?”

Sir Gerald was ashen faced and sullen. “It’s nothing to do with me now.”

Robert Thesiger looked haughty. “As your sister’s guardian, it has everything to do with you, sir!”

Sir Gerald’s ashen hue turned to puce and he puffed out his cheeks. “How dare you tell me my business, you…you…” Then he realized how he could immediately end this uncomfortable interview and rid his house of this product of degeneracy. He smiled smugly at his unwanted guest, saying conceitedly, “Much you know of the matter. Lord Alston is with my sister as we speak—”

“
What
?”

Robert Thesiger shouldered past Sir Gerald to get to the door, wrenched it open and turned and sneered at Sir Gerald, who was mopping his glistening brow with his discarded napkin, relieved that the man had taken the bait.

“I hope for your sake, sir, that your sister has more brain and wit than you! Or you may yet see her and your precious family name ruined beyond social salvation.”

S
IX

‘
Y
OU DID
keep your promise!” Deb declared with a smile and took a step toward her injured duelist. Then she checked herself, blushing to the roots of her auburn hair, for her spontaneity surely gave away her feelings.

“Yes. I’m here to take you for a ride about the park as promised,” Julian said conversationally, as if it was only yesterday he had kissed her in the shadows of the Assembly Rooms. “There is a chill in the breeze so you will need to fetch a wrap and your bonnet.”

Lady Mary gaped at both of them and rallied herself enough to say, “Deb can’t go riding dressed—”

“Yes, I would like that,” Deb interrupted, not looking at her injured duelist for he was smiling at her in that way that made her feel ridiculously happy. “Don’t wait for me, Mary.”

Julian opened the door for her to pass into the corridor then closed it and turned to Lady Mary, who was on her feet, blushing furiously and looking out of sorts.

“You can’t allow Deb to—” she began and was cut off.

“Has it never occurred to you that every time you say no to Deb she will instantly defy you?” he interrupted calmly. “Got a devil of a temper, too, I’ll warrant. Born with it, by the color of her hair. And she is very young, for all her worldly façade.”

“I suppose you gleaned all of this from one kiss at the Assembly Ball?” Lady Mary asked frigidly.

“No, dearest Cousin,” Julian said simply. “It comes from having many years’ experience of your sex.”

“Well!” breathed Lady Mary. “You needn’t brag about your conquests to me!”

He shrugged. “Think what a dull dog I’d be if at five and twenty I hadn’t notched up a few conquests.”

“I don’t care to know how many females you’ve ruined!”

He smiled and said softly, “Only those wanting to be ruined, Mary.”

“You may think it vastly amusing, my lord, to seduce Deb in the shadows of the Assembly Room—”

Julian sighed. “Mary. Don’t get yourself in a passion over matters which you can neither influence or alter.”

Lady Mary lifted her chin defiantly. “You may have ruined the daughter of a French tax collector but I won’t allow you to ruin Deborah’s chances of marrying well. It has taken Sir Gerald and me years and considerable effort to bring Deb back from the brink of social disaster after she bolted to Paris.” When her cousin put up his brows in interest she became flustered. “Not that
that
is any of your concern.” Adding in an about-face that would have surprised her husband, “When Robert Thesiger asks her I know she will accept him, despite his-his unfortunate parentage.”

“Robert has asked her,” Julian said flatly. “She has refused him on no less than three occasions.”

“How-how do you know this?”

“I have made it my business to know,” he drawled. “One must protect one’s investment.”

“Investment?”

The Marquis came to stand beside her. “Listen to me, Mary. Why do you think Thesiger is pursuing Deb? Why is he so keen for her to accept his offer of marriage when he is at liberty to pursue any female of his choosing?” When his cousin continued to blink uncomprehendingly up at him he sighed. “By enticing Deb into wedlock and bedding her he will have his revenge on a family name he can never call his own.”

Lady Mary’s eyes widened. So the sordid rumors were true. She had heard the whispers about Robert Thesiger’s parentage but she had never had confirmation that the man was indeed her cousin’s half-brother and thus the Duke of Roxton’s bastard son. Still, that did not adequately explain why the Marquis was also pursuing Deborah, unless he and Robert Thesiger were locked in some bizarre battle with Deb’s virtue as the prize. Knowing a little of their history at Eton, she could well believe it.

“You are at the same liberty as Mr. Thesiger to choose any female,” she said as she maneuvered her wide hooped petticoats between the furniture to stand by the window because her cousin was too close for comfort. “Why Deborah?”

Julian frowned down at his intricately engraved initials on the polished lid of his gold snuffbox. “Because Deborah Cavendish is my wife.”

“Your
wife
?”

“Yes.”

“How? When? It can’t be true!”

“We were married off as children, just before I was sent to the Continent. Deb has no recollection of that night and it was thought in our best interests that she and the rest of society remain ignorant of the match until my return. I ask that you not say anything to her.” He smiled crookedly. “She knows me only as Julian Hesham and I would prefer her to go on thinking me a gentleman of no particular family for the time being. If she was to discover the circumstances behind our union before I’ve had a chance to make her my wife in more than name only—”

“You intend to bed her without telling her who you really are?” Lady Mary was outraged. “You think it preferable that she be deceived into your bed than be married honestly and willingly to Robert Thesiger?” She gave a hysterical laugh that broke in the middle. “You think she will accept with equanimity a husband capable of turning on his own mother—”

Quick as lightning he lashed out and grabbed Lady Mary about the wrist and pulled her hard up against his chest, his red face stuck in hers. “You know nothing—
nothing
!” he snarled, green eyes ablaze with fury. He pushed her away and turned to regain his composure, angry with himself for letting his cousin’s words get the better of him. “Don’t interfere in this, Madam,” he added coldly, squaring his shoulders and adjusting his shirtsleeves just as the door was flung wide. “Well, Jack, where is your Aunt Deborah?” he asked, forcing a smile.

Lady Mary threw her cousin a look of resentment and rushed out into the hall. Her head thudded and her heart pounded. She had the beginnings of a terrible megrim. She needed to return home as quickly as possible to tell her husband. She really couldn’t believe Sir Gerald would be party to such a horrid scheme of deceit against his own sister. He must do something to save Deborah from her unconscionable cousin.

“Mary? I thought you’d gone,” said Deb, descending the stairs in a many-petticoated gown of pale blue silk, embroidered in the Chinese manner on tight bodice and hem with flowers and singing birds. The low, square cut bodice was made respectable by the expert arrangement of a thin silk tasseled shawl draped across her bare shoulders. She peered in the large gilt looking glass in the hall and patted into place her upswept hair, several sprung curls allowed to fall over one shoulder. She frowned, catching her sister-in-law’s reflection. “Are you perfectly well, Mary?”