Jo Beverley - [Malloren] Read online

  When the party finally broke up and she could seek the sanctuary of her room she felt mentally exhausted.

  But not physically.

  No, her body seethed with restless and demanding energy.

  Once she was ready for bed, dressed in just her loose silk nightgown, she dismissed Clara and stood facing the adjoining door. She hadn’t noticed noises from the other room, but surely the marquess was there by now.

  She paced for a moment or two then grabbed the wrap that went over her gown. The gown was light, but the wrap was ivory damask and covered her as well as a day gown.

  Still, it was nightwear, and no one could deny that.

  Even so, she walked over to the door and knocked.

  After a moment it opened—to reveal the marquess’s middle-aged manservant. “My lady?”

  A flicker of the eyes showed no one visible in the room behind him. Perdition! She wanted to instantly slam the door and hide under the covers, but she had to rescue some trace of her dignity. “I had a question about the plans for Lord Rothgar’s journey. Tomorrow.”

  The man was studiously impassive. “Shall I give him a message when he comes up, my lady?”

  Nerve crumbling to dust, Diana said, “No, no. It will wait.”

  She closed the door, then staggered to fling herself on the bed. Why, oh why, had she given in to that lunatic impulse? It gave her away!

  Could she hope the man would not mention her visit at all? She prayed for it, cursing her hungry body which had pitched her into such an embarrassing situation.

  She rolled to lie spreadeagled on the bed, looking up at the gray silk underside of her bed’s canopy. Dark gray, like his eyes … She’d always feared this—that her fiery obsession would lead to embarrassment.

  She should conquer her wicked urges. She should resign herself to true, eternal chastity. Like a nun.

  Through the window, she could see the growing moon.

  What a terrible, terrible waste it was, though.

  A knock had her suddenly upright. She stared at the adjoining door as if it had become the portal to hell. She’d imagined it. She must have—

  Another sharp rap.

  She slid off the bed and walked forward, heart pounding. If he was coming to her with lascivious intent, what should she do? Why did everything suddenly seem different?

  Swallowing, she opened the door.

  He was still completely dressed, which made her clutch her wrap around her. “Yes, my lord?”

  “I apologize for the intrusion, Lady Arradale, especially at this late hour. But I request a few moments of your time.”

  Diana swallowed again, this time swallowing disappointment. No, he hadn’t come with lascivious intent, and he hardly seemed aware that she was dressed for bed.

  She stepped back and gestured him in, countess to marquess. “Of course, my lord. Some matter I can assist you with? I have port here if you would care for some.”

  He declined, which meant she couldn’t seek courage in a bottle either. After a moment she indicated the two chairs that bracketed the empty fireplace, and they sat.

  Like husband and wife.

  Stop it, Diana—

  “I am commanded to take you to London, Lady Arradale.”

  Snapped out of foolish fancies, Diana sat upright. “What? By whom?”

  “The king, of course. By way of the queen.” He handed her a folded, sealed letter.

  She opened it and read an invitation from Queen Charlotte to spend a short time as a lady-in-waiting.

  “Why?” she demanded, then added, “I will not go, of course.”

  “It would not be wise to defy the king.”

  “He has no right—” She stopped, forcing her tangled and startled wits into order. This was far from any expectation she had had of this night.

  “Why?” she asked again, a germ of real fear stirring inside. Some of her ancestors—northern rebels—had been commanded to London, never to return. The powers of the kings of England had been restricted since then, but they still could be turned on enemies and rebels.

  “You brought yourself to his attention, Lady Arradale.” Perhaps her confusion showed, for he added, “You petitioned him to allow you to take the earldom’s seat in Parliament.”

  “And why not?” she demanded, though she felt some embarrassment. She’d always known it was hopeless, but it had irritated her so much that she’d had to try. “My lands are unfairly unrepresented. The earldom has a right to a seat in the House of Lords, and I have the right to demand it.”

  “Children think in terms of rights and demands.”

  “Are you calling me a child, my lord?”

  “In this, yes. Or perhaps undereducated.”

  Anger began to burn. “I have had an extensive and thorough education.”

  “You have stayed too much in the north.”

  “I like it in the north.”

  “Because here you can play childish games without consequences.”

  She glared at him, but beneath anger fear lurked, fueled by his obvious seriousness. “What does the king intend?” She forced out the terrifying words. “The Tower?”

  “I do hope not. I would have to invoke habeas corpus on your behalf.”

  “Would he respect that?”

  “He has just been forced to do so in the case of Mr. Wilkes. Here, unlike in France, a person may not be confined at the king’s will, but must be brought to trial. However, the troubles of Mr. Wilkes serve to remind us that the king has sharp teeth and can bite.”

  Wilkes had written a piece for the North Briton critical of the king. He had ended up in the Tower for it, and was still only protected by his position as a member of Parliament.

  Diana steadied her nerves. Ironhand, she chanted to herself. Her great ancestor would not be cowed by a monarch even younger than herself. “There is no similarity, my lord. I have not written articles criticizing the king. In fact, I have done nothing illegal or offensive at all.”

  “Precisely my point, if you will recall. However, you are in some danger.”

  “Why? Merely for requesting consideration of a plea to take my earldom’s seat? Is it not everyone’s right—”

  With a flash of ruby, he waved that aside. “We have disposed of rights. Your petition disturbed the king, as it would disturb most men. I believe he wrote words such as unnatural and rebellious. More dangerously, it drew his attention to your existence and influence up here—you, a young, unmarried woman in a part of the country which still seems inclined to unrest. A part of the country close to Scotland, which still poses a threat.”

  “I’m not a rebel,” she protested. “I’m as loyal and true as anyone. And he cannot dispose of me. The peers, the nation, would never stand for it!”

  “Nor—more to the point—would I.”

  She wanted to laugh, but she had an unwelcome feeling that the marquess’s support might well carry the most weight. “Then what danger do I face, my lord? This danger which presumably you cannot guard against.”

  Relaxed, long fingers lightly laced, he said, “First, pressure to marry.” Before she could erupt over that, he added, “And second that you be declared insane. I will be most disappointed if I cannot guard you from these dangers as well.”

  “No more disappointed than I,” she muttered, throat suddenly tight, and a chill rippling through her.

  Consigning etiquette to the devil, she rose and poured herself a glass of ruby port. As the second warming mouthful went down and eased her, she turned back to him. “He cannot do it, can he? Declare me insane?”

  He had not moved, or even unlaced those relaxed hands. “Not alone. However, definition of insanity is an interesting matter. Have you followed the recent report of the parliamentary committee?”

  She nodded. “Many of the ‘insane’ in private madhouses are merely inconvenient. People locked away as long as their enemies can pay. A scandalous number are women locked away by fathers or husbands. I have taken measures to make sure that cannot
happen here. That sort of trumped up insanity could not happen to me.”

  “True. However, the committee did not address the problem of people confined on a doctor’s orders. It’s not difficult to find a doctor who thinks that extravagance, excessive gaming, or frequent attendance at the theater are forms of madness in a wife. Or that a son or daughter’s desire to marry unwisely shows derangement of the mind.”

  “Or a woman’s desire to speak in Parliament?” She was proud of her calm tone. “Her intention not to marry at all?”

  “Precisely.”

  She leaned back against the table and sipped her wine. She would not show fear in front of him. “I still don’t think the king—even with doctors—could have a peeress locked away for that.”

  “That is why you need to go south. You have visited London how often?”

  “Twice. Once, six years ago to spend some time with an aunt. And again for the coronation.”

  Where I saw you, she thought, in the distance. Assured, powerful, subject of whispered, mysterious warnings. I was intrigued, but I never suspected that one day you would be such a presence in my life.

  “You need to show yourself in society, and be seen to be loyal and sane. You will also benefit from some time at court. You must understand that world and learn how it works, or I truly fear it will harm you.”

  “And yet that world is where the danger lies.”

  “The time is past when northern barons could ignore the south. Mere days separate you now, and with toll roads and improvements in carriages, within our lifetimes that will shorten.”

  She topped up her glass and returned to the chair facing him. “Why should I trust your advice?”

  “I speak of what I know. Why would you think I’d misguide you?”

  “The ways of the éminence noire could be beyond human understanding.”

  His lips twitched. “I do hope so. In this case, however, I am at my most benign. Rosa will be upset if any harm comes to you, and that will distress Brand. You must know that I try to guard my family from all harm. Also, I think it undesirable for the king to treat a peer of the realm as a woman. Even if she is a woman.”

  “But you would think it reasonable for a woman to be forced to choose between marriage or the madhouse, if she was not a peer?”

  “Would an ordinary woman not be mad to refuse a good marriage?”

  “No, and this is no time for humor, my lord. I ask you directly, do you think it right for a woman to be forced into marriage by father, or brother, or guardian, or king?”

  “No. I was a firm supporter of the Hardwicke Act, and I have a hand in other legal matters designed to protect women from abuse. However, in practical terms we must deal with the world we have now. If the king chooses a suitable man for your husband, you will be hard pressed to refuse without giving offense, and without danger of being thought mad. However, we can guard against it, if you are willing to be wise.”

  Diana eyed him suspiciously. It went against her nature to even pretend to accept this. “Wise?”

  “You have shown your ability to act the part of a servant, Lady Arradale, and you act the proper lady very well too.”

  “I am a proper lady, Lord Rothgar.”

  “A quibble over terms. If you come to London and act wisely, you will allay the king’s fears. It might be as simple as that.”

  “And if he presents me with a husband?”

  “Then you can, still the proper lady, plead a wish to make your own choice. The king loves his queen and is a supporter of the ideal of marital fondness. It might well sway him.”

  “And if it does not?”

  “Your time in London will be limited, as the letter says. The queen expects to be confined in August, and at that time both king and queen will lose interest in other matters. They are doting parents. If you have lulled them, you will doubtless be allowed to return here then.”

  “Ah.” She sipped some more of the comforting port though it was his calm practicality and expertise that was soothing her best. “I will be a perfect lullaby, then.”

  “I see you understand.”

  Bitterness rose. “I will be allowed to come home, but wings well clipped, never to stir questions again.”

  “If you don’t challenge the king’s sense of propriety, you should be able to live your life here as usual.”

  “A caged bird knows it is surrounded by bars.”

  “Lady Arradale, I am offering a return to what you have now.”

  “But not a return to what I had an hour ago.”

  He studied her, then nodded. “True. But an hour ago, you thought like a child. You thought you could live without restriction.”

  The galling thing was that he was right. He was even right, she supposed, that she needed this imprisonment in the south in order to fully understand the world in which she wanted to play a part.

  She drained her glass. “What happens,” she asked, “if it does not go as you expect? What if the king insists on a marriage—to one of his favorites, no doubt? What if he tries to paint me mad for refusing.”

  “Then,” he said, “you will marry me.”

  Alarm flaring, she almost snapped something rude, but she made herself think. “Clever,” she eventually acknowledged.

  He inclined his head. “I’m pleased you can leap beyond instinct to reason.”

  “The ultimate security,” she said, trying to hide how unbalanced the notion made her. “It saves me from threat of forced marriage, and of confinement for insanity, because a husband would have the last word there.”

  “And of course, if it should come to that, it would be a marriage in name only. You would remain in complete control of your property, your person, and your life.”

  She rested her chin on her hand, eyeing him. “In that case, my lord—”

  He rose. “No. To save you from dire fates, Lady Arradale, but not for your convenience.”

  She rose too, smiling, and it was a true smile because he was offering a sacrifice. “I do thank you, my lord.”

  “If you are wise and clever, it will not be necessary.”

  “I fear I may be tempted to be unwise, you know, just to cause a thousand ladies to tear out their hair.”

  A hint of humor echoed hers. “Don’t. I promise I will beat you every day.”

  “You won’t. I’d tell Elf.”

  He actually laughed. “‘A monstrous regiment of women.’ Lady Arradale, remember, at court, you are to act the perfect dull lady.”

  “Or … ?”

  “Or I will leave you to your fate.”

  He turned to leave, but she put a hand on his arm, perhaps startling him as much as she startled herself. “We could seal this pact with a kiss, my lord.”

  His eyes rested on hers for a moment, but then he removed her hand. “I think not, Lady Arradale. Can you be ready to leave tomorrow? I can delay for a few days, if necessary.”

  The rejection stung a little, but his expression made her think it might have been self-protection rather than rejection. He had flirted with her, and there was a connection between them. She could even think that he was right. If she was to travel with him to London it would be dangerous to move their relationship into more intimate areas.

  She considered his offer and shook her head. “Like a trip to the dentist, this is best done swiftly. If we start a little later than you planned, I can cancel my engagements, speak to my officers, and be ready.”

  “Very well. I do regret this development, Lady Arradale, but it will have many benefits.”

  “Exactly like a trip to the dentist. Unpleasant, but beneficial in the end.”

  “You have it. There only remain the details of the journey. Will you want your own coach?”

  That pushed her directly into some startling thoughts. Days beside him in a closed carriage? And yet, how ridiculous to roll down the Great North Road in separate vehicles. “I would be delighted to travel with you, my lord. My maid, of course, would share the coach.”

&nb
sp; “And my valet.” A neat parry. Almost as if he might fear assault by her.

  “And I would require my own servants and baggage, so at least one more coach and a baggage cart.”

  “But of course.”

  She nodded. “Then we should be able to leave by noon.”

  He looked at her, and truly those dark eyes were capable of expressing an elusive but comforting warmth. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I will stand your friend, Lady Arradale, my word on it. And send you home again safe, still free to fly.”

  She let her hand linger in his for a moment, relishing the warmth and truly regretting the kiss he would not allow. “I resent needing your protection, you know.”

  His lips twitched. “An almost universal emotion,” he remarked, and releasing her hand, he returned to his own room.

  Diana stood for a moment, gazing at the door, but stroking the hand he had kissed with the other. So, this wasn’t the last night after all, and soon they would be together as never before, for days. She wasn’t sure what would come of that, or what she wanted.

  With a sigh, she took off her robe, extinguished her candles, and climbed into the big bed, where a sudden fit of shivering overtook her. To be declared insane! She lived in a modern age, and in a nation where the power of kings was supposed to be curtailed by his lords and commons, and yet she was at risk. If not for the Marquess of Rothgar she could be at very serious risk.

  She thanked heaven for him, for the events that had tangled his family with hers, but at the same time, as she had said, she resented it. It was so unfair that her sex created such problems. Perhaps she resented and feared most the fact that when she’d asked for the kiss, it had not been lust, or even curiosity. It had been something deeper, a sense of common cause and understanding. That silken thread, grown strong and warm.

  She was fascinated by the Marquess of Rothgar, and he saw her as nothing but another dependent needing his protection.

  One thing was sure. Despite her teasing, she would do nothing to risk him having to make the ultimate sacrifice and marry her. Returning home a virgin countess, free to rule again in the north was one thing. Returning home Lord Rothgar’s virgin bride was surely more than her overwrought and frustrated senses could bear.