A Most Delicate Pursuit (4 page)

He should have made it clear that he wouldn't visit her anymore. Michael knew the final cut was the deepest. He couldn't bear the thought of wounding her even more.

“My sweet,” he said, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “How are you? I'm so sorry to hear of old George's passing.”

“I'm well enough, thank you. It wasn't really a surprise. He'd been ailing for quite some time.”

Dabbing her eyes, Constance clearly was looking for sympathy, but he saw no tears in their depths. As she leaned forward, her breasts pushed up and were nearly springing out of the gown's bodice. Worse than that, he could see her hardened nipples through the sheer fabric. The gauzy material clung to her like a second skin. He imagined that the tiny hooks holding the gown together at her back were near to bursting.

Though her choice in wardrobe had never bothered him before, he found himself becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Still, I'm sorry for your loss,” he said when he found his voice again.

She waved her hand. “Let's have honesty between us. You know I hated the man. He was a boorish mule, and exiting this mortal coil was the best gift he's ever given me.”

Another man might have thought ill of her, speaking her mind like that, but Michael understood too well what it was like to be trapped in a marriage with someone you didn't love. The terrible day-to-day living side by side, two souls forced into the small space of an unwanted marriage. All for the sake of powerful alliances, of providing an heir, of increasing one's wealth.

Yes, he'd done as his father had insisted. He'd taken Lenore as his bride and imprisoned her in his life, in his home. He'd married her but hadn't loved her. And, when she'd strayed, cuckolded him with her lover, he'd played the wounded one.

But he knew who'd been truly to blame. It hadn't been his intention to make such a mess of it. In fact, he was yet again being a good son, a good soldier. After Michael had caught her in bed with the cur, he threatened to cast her out. It didn't matter. Once the gossip had started, there was no stopping the scandal. Lenore had been exposed.

But it may as well have been him that ended her life that night, for fate had placed his hand at her back as surely as if he'd driven her carriage from that bridge and into the icy waters below.

One thing was certain: he'd had his share of regrets, and he wasn't about to add to their number.

“I'm not the one for you, Connie. I never have been. At best, I was an interesting diversion, and you well know it.”

“You poor boy,” she said in the tone that would always end with them wrapped in each other's arms and the thin sheets of his bed.

“No”—he held up his hand—“I won't do this again.”

Her expression changed. No longer the demure, desirable siren, she became something else. Someone dark. Someone unforgiving. Her eyes darkened, their green turning opaque with fury.

“You'd turn me away?” she gasped. “What a stubborn, willful boy you've always been. Even when your young wife visited the beds of half the town, you were still faithful to your vows.”

“I beg you, don't speak of these things. That was in the past. Let's leave it there.”

She leaned closer, so much so that he felt her hot, moist breath on his face. “I did hear that you are still in need of an heir. With your father gone and you childless, your family's title will revert to the crown. Is that what you really want?”

Michael shrugged. “It doesn't matter what I want. I had one unsuccessful union. I'm not in the market for another one.”

She pulled back from him, narrowing her eyes and setting her jaw. “So, that's it then? You'll dismiss me? I'm not good enough for your lordship? That's rich, Michael. Even for you.”

“It's not my intention to hurt you, Connie.” Despite the fact that that was exactly what he was doing. “Please, let's just part as friends.”

“Friends? You cast me off so cruelly and you think that we could still be friends?” She laughed, a dry, brittle sound. “What a fool you are.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” he said at last.

Once Constance let it be known that he'd cast her aside, half of the gentry would hate and despise him, she would certainly see to that.

There might be some who would rally behind him. At least until they'd learned that he'd included the innocent Beatrice Hawkins in his lies. Surely he'd be cast out of proper society once and for all.

As it was, Michael desired neither friends nor enemies. Or, for that matter, a wife.

“You're making a mistake, Michael. A terrible, unforgivable mistake.”

“Despite what you think, while I don't regret our time together, I know that we would fast tire of each other.”

Before Michael could answer, an urgent knocking sounded at the parlor's door.

“Come in,” he said, his gaze at his former lover never wavering. He knew that she was about to let loose a torrent of fury, and while he felt bad about her situation, he could not let it affect his own survival.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Bentley said, “but His Grace requests your presence in the library immediately. An emergency, is how he termed it.”

If his friend was speaking in such terms, it meant that disaster was near upon them. Without another thought to his own entanglement, Michael bowed to Constance. “My apologies for my abrupt departure, but I must go.”

Without waiting for her to speak, Michael followed the servant out of the room, though he felt her stare burning a hole right through him. Pushing back the veil of guilt that hung over him, he hoped that she might find her own happiness one day and see that he had saved her from a future of heartache.

Michael arrived at the duke's study to find his friend bent over his desk, practically buried beneath a stack of papers.

“Ash?” he asked, rushing into the room. “What's this about?”

“Good. You're here. A situation has arisen with Caroline and Beatrice's cousin, Alfred Danbury. The cur has gone beyond decency and has practically sold Beatrice to the highest bidder.”

“Who?”

He watched Ash let out a long, slow breath. “Sir Richard Bainbridge, very savvy businessman who has a habit of manipulating the aristocracy. Barely six months ago, he managed to acquire a knighthood thanks to his aid during the war effort. Quite the coup, as I hear it.”

Michael nodded. “I've heard of him. He has a history of buying influence and an enormous wealth with which to do so.” He sent Ash a sidelong glance. “More wealth than you?”

Ash laughed. “Not by a long throw, but I put my money to better use than manipulating power. Let's just say he has enough.”

“Then we have a problem.”

“I have a problem, Michael. There's no need for you to get involved.”

Michael shrugged. “Wealth and power don't unsettle me, as I have neither. I'm hardly a threat. What I do have is a bit of influence here and there, and a strong sword arm should you need it. Let me help.”

His friend let out a breath. “That may be the most foolish thing you've ever agreed to, but I'm glad to accept it.”

“So, what is your plan?”

Ash gave him a thoughtful expression. “First, we need to get Beatrice out of London and out of Bainbridge's reach.”

“Not to worry. She and I can be on the road as soon as a carriage is made ready.”

Michael watched his friend hesitate before speaking. “I'm afraid that simply removing Beatrice from these circumstances will not save her. Legally, I have no real guardianship for either her or her mother. Should Alfred choose it, he can force me to relinquish them both to his care.”

“Surely, the courts will understand the sort of man he is? They will see who's at fault here.”

Ash shook his head. “The fault is mine. I underestimated his greed. He signed the agreement I gave him and took my money, sure enough. But it was a private arrangement. According to my sources, Bainbridge has offered to repay the money he took from me and reward him handsomely.”

“Has the man no care for his family?”

“It seems not. Which means we must devise a more permanent solution.”

“Such as?”

“Beatrice needs to marry, and the sooner the better. Once a legal marriage is performed, I'm hoping there will be little that Alfred or Bainbridge will be able to do about it, since the law is hard-pressed to involve itself in a sanctioned marriage.”

Michael laughed. “I think you've overlooked a major point, my friend. Beatrice has flat-out refused to marry anyone.”

Ash watched his friend cross his arms and begin to pace. “That's where the problem lies,” he said.

“A very large problem,” Michael said. “But I've a notion that you already have a solution in mind.”

Michael had every confidence that his friend would find a solution. He'd been a top-notch commander in Spain and the most business-savvy person he'd ever known. As close as they were, he should have seen Ash's plans before the words were spoken.

“Marry Beatrice.”

Michael's breath stopped in his chest, and for a few bare seconds he'd no words for his friend. When he did speak again, he chose his words carefully.

“Ash, you well know that Beatrice would be better off marrying someone else. Anyone else…”

Ash put out his hand and Michael fell silent. Although their time together in battle was long past, the duke had once been his commanding officer and Michael would rather die than oppose him.

“You forget. I'm your closest friend. You've been fond of Beatrice from the first moment the two of you met, and don't try denying it. Sharing secrets, agreeing in almost everything, you both were a united front when Caroline and I were forced to wed.”

“All true,” he said. “But I'm not marriage material. I've a reputation, you know. A womanizer, a wretch, a faithless cur…You've heard the gossip.”

“I have and I give none of their words credence. You're a good man, Michael. The best I know.”

“I thank you for that, as shortsighted as it may be. Even if I did agree to marry her, you know Beatrice. She'd refuse me outright.”

Ash crossed his arms and sent Michael a most serious expression.

“That's why you must convince her that she's the one who's arrived at the notion of marrying you. Make her fall in love with you.”

If his friend's other words had startled him, these words shook Michael to his very core.

“And just how do I do that?”

“By wooing her, my friend. Mount a campaign. You're a huntsman. Use your skills, man.”

“I remember giving you pretty much the same advice not too long ago.”

“And it was most successful, was it not?”

“I suppose so.”

“Exactly. Convince Beatrice that the two of you must leave tonight. Go to Slyddon. You can offer to marry her, but when she refuses, don't let it be the last words on the matter. In the meantime, I'll do my best to convince Bainbridge that the two of you have run away to Gretna Green and will be married within the week. With any luck, he'll follow.”

“And once we're at the lodge?”

“Convince Beatrice to accept your suit. In the meantime, I'll obtain a special license. We'll have the two of you married in short order.”

Michael crossed his arms. “You have a lot of confidence in my ability to convince Beatrice of accepting my offer. And what shall we do after we wed?”

Ash shrugged. “Whatever you like, as long as you keep up the pretenses of marriage.”

“That would be fraud.”

“Only if you get caught.” He waved his hand. “There is nothing that says, after a period of time, the two of you cannot live in separate places. Of course, your estate is large enough where you both might live and never cross paths.”

“I don't know…” Michael began.

“It would solve another problem for you as well. I've heard that Lady Merriweather is going to mount a campaign against you. That's why she's here.”

“Against me? For what?”

“She's already made it known that you'd intended to marry her.”

“That's ridiculous. I never offered for her.”

“She's a most determined woman with a lot of sympathy and power from the old guard. More than that, her late husband carried a great deal of influence amongst the ton. Don't doubt her ability to use it.”

“I suppose it could become quite an embarrassment.” That was it. “It's an insane idea, marrying Beatrice, but it would solve problems for us both.”

“You know it would,” Ash said.

“Very well. I'll do my best in the time we have. But if she refuses after all my efforts, there will be little I can do to help her.”

Ash nodded. “I know, my friend. It may be true that none of us can convince her the sense of it. If that's the case, there's little we can do to keep her from Bainbridge. Still, we have to try.”

Michael watched his friend summon the servants. Ten minutes later, he'd dispensed instructions to ready the carriage, gather supplies for them, and finally to send for Beatrice.

In those moments, Michael considered what he'd agreed to. Of course, he'd long cared for Beatrice and even sought out her company whenever possible. But spend every day with her? As her husband?

And what about the nights?

That thought alone sent a shot of desire right through him. Though he'd done his best to keep his urges under tight control, Beatrice was a vision, a beautiful woman whom no man in his right mind could ever ignore. Add in her quick wit, her bright intelligence, and her strong will, and she was a perfect woman.

But would she be a perfect wife? That thought barely took hold in his mind because another took its place. He knew too well that he would not be the perfect husband.

Far from it.

And yet, Beatrice needed to be saved. Not only from this Bainbridge fellow, but from herself. Her rash behavior would only serve to get her into more trouble. Michael set his mind to it. He would marry her and the devil be damned.

He just hoped both of them would survive the attempt.

“The time for hesitance has passed, Beatrice. It's imperative that you marry as soon as possible.” Ash and Michael now sat before her in the west wing parlor, a small room adorned with pale blue walls, tiny daisy prints against white lace curtains, and a brightly polished oak mantel over the fireplace. The sofa and two chairs were covered with matching yellow fabric. Bea loved this room because of its light, gentle décor. One could simply not remain unhappy in such a place.

Bea wasn't immediately intimidated by her brother-in-law. Far from it. She'd won this argument several times already and knew that propriety demanded that he confront her on occasion regarding her unmarried status. As a result, she faced him straight on, nonplussed and without a shred of doubt.

“Now, Ash. You already know my thoughts on the matter.”

“I do,” he answered, the set of his jaw belying his thoughts. “A matter has arisen that makes it necessary for you to choose a husband…”

Beatrice tamped down her rising panic. If she could put him off just a bit longer. “Really, it's late and I'm so very tired. Perhaps we could discuss this after my visit to the Continent.”

“I don't recall you mentioning any plans for travel this season.”

She waved her hands at him. “I haven't had a chance to tell you of it. Lady Ringsley's maid just gave me her invitation this evening. Lord Ringsley and his wife have offered to take me on holiday with them. Isn't that terribly generous of them?”

Michael sent Ash a concerned look. Was it possible their problem had been solved? That she would be out of reach of both Alfred and Bainbridge.

Ash sent him a barely perceptible shake of his head. “I don't recall ever hearing of this Ringsley fellow. Have you met him, Michael?”

“I've not, but I've heard of him at the faro table a time or two. He's good on his debts, if that's any judge of character.”

“It's not. Which means a trip on such short notice is out of the question. Now, to the matter most urgent.”

Beatrice was not going to lie down without a fight. “You know I'm quite a capable judge of people…”

“As you were of the Hudgins fellow?”

He might well have slapped her with his riding glove. Her face reddened and she bit her bottom lip, obviously doing her best not to lose her temper.

“You've no need to be so mean, Ash.”

He let out a breath and sent Michael a knowing glance. “I do, indeed, since it's clear that you refuse to take these matters seriously. If you don't marry soon, it could cost you your freedom, if not your life.”

She looked at him a moment, and then to Michael. “Is this true?”

“I'm afraid so. Which is why I'm asking you to be my wife. Once we're married, we can protect you from the man who's set on having you no matter what.”

“Surely, you're jesting.”

When Ash began to speak, his words surrounded her like a fog. Alfred assuming her guardianship? Bainbridge with orders to take her to to Scotland? How was it possible?

“My answer is unchanged. I won't be threatened like this.”

Ash sent her a stern expression. “I see. Of course, I'll do my utmost to keep you safe. Michael has agreed to take you to Slyddon until we can find a way to free you from this boil.”

“Can you?” she asked, instantly regretting her earlier anger at him.

“I can try. I've some influence in the courts. But Bainbridge is clever and has very deep pockets. He'll likely outmaneuver us in the end. But it's a risk we have to take. I have nothing more to offer you.”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded. “I do thank you, Ash.” She did her best to blink away her tears. “When do we leave?”

Michael stood and took her hand. “I've already readied the carriage and have your maid, Molly, and the driver on board.”

Bea couldn't help herself. “This is so sudden. There's much I need to do. I've got letters to write. And, what of Mother and Caro? I must tell them goodbye…”

“I wish that you could,” Ash told her. “Unfortunately, Bainbridge has ordered us to produce you at midnight. That doesn't leave us much time. The sooner we get you on the road, the better.”

Bea felt as if her entire world were shattering all around her. Her emotions must have shown on her face. Michael gave her hand a squeeze.

“I know this isn't what you wanted,” Michael said. “I promise to protect you with my life, if need be.”

Panic rose in her like the tide during a full moon. Still, it felt good to have him so close, and even better with him standing so close. It felt somehow…right…

“I know you will.” She turned to her brother-in-law. “Thank you, Ash. For everything.”

“You're more than welcome, Beatrice. Now out, the both of you. The carriage is waiting.”

Michael put his arm around her shoulder and Bea had to admit that the firm warmth of his touch did smooth the edges of her fear. “Thank you, Michael. I'm so sorry that I refused your offer. I know that you meant well.”

He smiled at her. “I promised to protect you with my life and that's what I'll do. Married or not.”

Bea leaned to peer past him to make sure Ash was out of earshot. “I do trust you with my life, Michael. The question is,” she said, pulling him aside, “can I trust you with my secret.”

“Secret?”

She nodded. “I lied about going on a holiday. I've already taken steps to leave London. I've accepted an offer to work as a governess for Lady Ringsley. She'll be leaving for Portsmouth in two weeks.”