A Too Convenient Marriage
Georgie Lee
A secret carried down the aisle!Late one night Susanna Lambert, illegitimate daughter of the Duke of Rockland, bursts uninvited into a stranger’s carriage, turning both their worlds upside down. Suddenly fun-loving Justin Connor finds himself forced to consider marriage!For Susanna, marrying Justin is a chance to finally escape her cruel stepmother and forget about the rake who ruined her. But as wedding bells begin to chime Susanna discovers she’s carrying a huge secret… One that could turn to dust all promises of happiness as Justin’s wife!
She held out her hand to him. ‘Then we have a deal?’
He eyed her fingers with the same amusement he’d demonstrated during their entire discussion. Embarrassment eroded her confidence as her hand hung in the air, waiting for him to take it. For all his glib lightheartedness, she sensed the serious streak lying just beneath the humour. He was considering her offer and whether or not she was worth the risk. He wouldn’t be the only one taking a chance with this challenge. She would be too. But it was worth it if it meant ending her time with the Rocklands and the taint of being a mistake and an unwanted intrusion.
At last he slid his hand into hers, his hold hot and hard. Her heart began to race and she took a deep breath to steady herself, willing her body not to tremble. If he experienced any measure of the heat sliding through her at the joining of their skin he didn’t reveal it, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile both amused and enticing.
‘We do.’
He smiled with a wickedness to nearly make her faint.
Author Note (#ulink_6e7b21b7-8746-5ab6-851a-c8a1c6805ab5)
When Justin Connor first made his appearance as Philip’s friend in A Debt Paid in Marriage, he captured me with his charm. It’s his determination to succeed, to rise above everyone’s low expectations of him, that I chose to explore in A Too Convenient Marriage. In doing so I introduced him to Susanna, a heroine who learns that she is so much more than what other people think. Together they support one another, and overcome all obstacles to find the love they deserve.
Many times in our lives we reach a point where we have to throw off the expectations of others and have faith in ourselves in order to achieve our dreams. It isn’t always easy—especially when things are difficult and we want to quit. Justin and Susanna’s story is about doing what it takes to reach a goal—never giving up and learning to ignore people’s negative opinions. It’s also about drawing strength from those who love and support us and remembering to cherish them.
I hope A Too Convenient Marriage inspires you to keep striving, to continue loving and always to believe in yourself and what you want to achieve.
A Too Convenient Marriage
Georgie Lee
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A lifelong history buff, GEORGIE LEE hasn’t given up hope that she will one day inherit a title and a manor house. Until then she fulfils her dreams of lords, ladies and a Season in London through her stories. When not writing, she can be found reading non-fiction history or watching any film with a costume and an accent.
Please visit georgie-lee.com (http://georgie-lee.com) to learn more about Georgie and her books.
To my husband, who believes in me and my dreams.
Contents
Cover (#u6f66e071-65c0-5133-8264-b3bb1a41a275)
Introduction (#u4dc106ae-5148-58ee-b5a4-ace0de8a45d4)
Author Note (#ulink_f51e1c02-48de-51d0-8439-bce97a0e780d)
Title Page (#ucec185b6-feff-5dba-99a3-a49240d3232d)
About the Author (#u64cabaa4-5995-5e2b-820a-96c05790fe92)
Dedication (#u1834451c-bf9b-5260-8de0-62c93a6e7de3)
Chapter One (#ulink_7ad97458-2d7d-5b3a-b5b9-9ed7a20bc0ce)
Chapter Two (#ulink_95d2e926-7987-5183-b9bb-d6ccec202791)
Chapter Three (#ulink_6a6582ce-b601-5950-955d-b2fefdf1b651)
Chapter Four (#ulink_df69887e-9a52-5638-9f5a-edaa0d822dd9)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_99a4ca70-8845-52e2-ad39-bd64a0eeb8c8)
London—May 1818
‘Marry you?’ Helena Gammon sat back from Justin Connor, her ungloved hand stilling on his chest beneath his shirt. A horse snorted from somewhere outside his chaise where it sat parked in a long row of conveyances in front of Vauxhall Gardens.
‘I’m quite serious. We get on well together, especially at night,’ Justin murmured against the buxom little widow’s neck. ‘Soon, I’ll have the resources to establish myself in the wine trade. I’ll need a wife who can manage as well in my business as in my bed.’
She shifted out of his embrace and laid her hands in her lap as though they were at tea. ‘There are other matters to consider.’
Her lack of enthusiasm wasn’t how he’d imagined this proposal unfolding.
‘Such as?’ Justin leaned back against the squabs, sure he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.
‘You aren’t likely to make a go of it.’ She shrugged as though his failure was predetermined. ‘Not after what happened with the last one.’
‘The storm sank the ship.’ And my business. He pulled his gaping shirt closed. He thought everyone understood that little fact. Apparently he was wrong. ‘There was nothing I or anyone could have done to prevent it.’
Despite months of careful planning, researching, investing, hiring the most capable captain and the sturdiest ship, his first foray into business had dropped to the bottom of the English Channel, taking with it a considerable amount of his money. He hated ships.
‘Even if you did manage to make a go of it, I’m tired of being some unpaid servant to my husband’s ventures. I worked myself to the bone with Mr Gammon. Now I want to be free of such concerns.’ She tugged her bodice up higher over her ample breasts. ‘Mr Preston asked me to marry him this morning and I accepted.’
‘You did what?’ He hadn’t realised the old furrier was sniffing around the widow, much less falling on his knees in front of her in infatuation.
‘He’s rich and has people to take care of his business for him.’
‘He’s well over sixty and not likely to keep you amused in the evenings.’
‘That’s why I’m here.’ She laid her hand over the open flap of his breeches. ‘I thought we could continue.’
He caught her fingers. ‘After a year, you should know I won’t dally with another man’s wife, or help a woman break her marriage vows.’
She pulled back her hand. ‘When did you become so serious about anything except Mr Rathbone’s business?’
‘I tend to be serious when there’s the possibility of violence,’ Justin growled, seeing Helena’s true colours for the first time and despising them. He’d thought their convenient arrangement was based on some measure of respect and affability. He’d been mistaken.
‘Well, if that’s how you’re going to be.’ She flicked her skirt down over her calves and ankles. ‘Mr Preston is waiting for me inside.’
‘You’ll regret marrying him.’ Justin pushed open the chaise door. ‘He might be making a lot of promises now, but once you’re his wife, they’ll all disappear.’
‘You know nothing of the situation.’ Mrs Gammon hopped down from the chaise and stormed off across the walk and into the gardens.
Justin slammed the chaise door shut and slumped against the squabs. It galled him to think she’d waited until he’d proposed to reveal her true impression of him, though he supposed it was better now than after the parson’s mousetrap was sprung. Justin roughly stuffed his shirt back in his breeches and did up the fall, not bothering to button his coat or redo his cravat. Outside, the excited chatter of ladies and gentlemen passing too close to the chaise as they filed into the gardens filled the air.
Then the door swung open. He jerked upright, thinking Helena had come back, but it wasn’t her.
A stunning woman with eyes the colour of the emeralds he’d once handled as collateral fixed her gaze on him, not with the coy calculation of a vixen, but determination. She opened her full lips as if to say something, then changed her mind, pressing them tight together. Gold earrings swung from the small lobes as she raised her foot to step inside the chaise, then paused, as she took in his partial undress and began to back away. Male voices outside the carriage caught her attention and, in a sweep of chestnut curls, she looked to the sound of the noise, then climbed inside and pulled the door shut behind her.
‘Drive away, at once,’ she commanded, pressing herself against the squabs and out of view of the window.
‘No.’ Justin pushed open the door, inviting her to leave. Whatever nuisance this was, he wasn’t in the mood for it, no matter how pretty it might be.
‘Please, you must.’ She leaned out of the chaise to pull the door closed, bringing her face much too close to his. A few freckles dotted her nose and her eyelashes were thick and dark above her vivid eyes. She licked her lips nervously, making the red buds glisten in the low light. Her jasmine perfume encircled him like the cool night slipping in through the open door. She was tempting, but she was trouble, he could feel it.
‘I’ve had enough female companionship for one night and don’t intend to pay for more.’
She closed the door and sat up across from him with unwarranted indignity. ‘I don’t want your money, or anything else.’
She waved a bare hand at him, making the gold bracelet adorning her wrist slide down.
‘Then what do you want?’ He dropped his elbow on the sill of the window and touched his fingers to his chin, more intrigued than annoyed. She wasn’t dressed in the flamboyant colours of the night birds, but in a silhouette of shimmering green material which hugged her high breasts, the tops of which rose in lush half-circles above the bodice.
‘To be away from here, as fast as possible.’ She could barely sit still, but still he didn’t give the order to the driver.
‘Why?’
‘It’s none of your business.’ The irritation mingling with anxiety in her eyes made them sparkle even brighter.
He levelled one finger at her. ‘You’re in my carriage, so I think it is my business. Besides, you don’t strike me as the kind of woman whose family approves of her jumping in a strange man’s vehicle.’
She glanced out of the window, a new panic dimming the slight sweep of pink across her fine nose. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’
‘Enlighten me. I have nothing else to do this evening.’
There was no time for her to tell him as the door swung open again. Two men stared inside, too finely turned out to be whore minders. The older man sighed and clapped his hands over his eyes. The younger man heaved like a bull as he studied first the woman, then Justin and his undone cravat and coat.
‘How dare you.’ The bull reached in and grabbed Justin by the lapels, hauling him out of the chaise.
Justin’s boots hit the step before he regained his footing. He brought his arms up between the bull’s and knocked them aside, then pulled back his fist and rammed it into the younger man’s face.
The bull dropped to his rear in the dirt, sending up a puff of dust. Stunned but not beaten, he hauled himself to his feet, staggering as he glowered at Justin. ‘You’ll pay for that.’
‘Why don’t you stay down?’ Justin moved one foot back for balance, then raised his fists. ‘It’ll hurt less.’
The man rushed at Justin, who slammed his fist into the bull’s stomach, making him double over. Then Justin brought his elbows down on the man’s back to knock him face first into the dirt. He groaned and rolled over, clutching his middle.
Justin straightened one cufflink. ‘I warned you to stay down.’
‘No, Father,’ the woman yelled from behind him. ‘It’s not what you think.’
Justin whirled around to see the older man rushing at him with his walking stick raised. The woman jumped between them, spreading out her arms to stop them, her steadying hand meeting Justin’s chest. He looked down at the lithe fingers spread out over his loose shirt, her thumb just slipping into the open V to kiss his sweaty skin. It was the lightest of touches, but it could have knocked him across the garden.
She turned her piercing eyes on him and they opened wide with a shock to match his. Tense breaths raised and lowered his chest beneath her palm as he waited for her to pull away, the danger from the other men fading beneath the subtle press of her skin against his. Helena’s touch had never rattled him to his boot heels like this woman’s, which was igniting him like a reed set to the coals.
‘Then what exactly is it?’ the older man demanded, lowering his stick, but not easing the hard glare he fixed on the woman.
At last she pulled back her hand and it was almost a relief as the tension between them ebbed, although not completely.
From the ground, the bull coughed and hauled himself to his feet. He staggered over to stand beside the older man. A nasty bruise marred his cheekbone and he failed to fully straighten as he continued to cradle his stomach.
‘Is this the man you’ve been compromising yourself with?’ the bull wheezed.
‘I’ve never seen this woman before in my life,’ Justin spat out, levelling his gaze at both men and daring either of them to pounce again. Whatever connection he’d experienced with the strange woman was gone.
‘This isn’t him. I forced my way into his carriage to hide from you.’ The woman threw an apologetic look at Justin over her shoulder before turning to face her family. ‘I wasn’t here for a tryst. I was waiting for Lord Howsham. We were to be married, but he never arrived.’
Her defiance began to wilt beneath the truth and her father’s condemning stare. Despite his stinging knuckles, Justin felt a twinge of pity for her. He knew a little something about disappointed hopes.
‘Then who is he?’ The bull pointed at Justin.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Justin shot back. This whole situation was growing tiresome.
The older gentleman stepped forward, asserting his authority the way Justin had seen his own father do so many times. ‘I’m Horace Aberton, Duke of Rockland, and this is my son, Edgar, Marquess of Sutton, and my daughter, Miss Susanna Lambert.’
Justin raised an eyebrow at the hesitation which met Lord Rockland’s admission of the woman’s relationship to him. Justin supposed if he gave a fig for what the upper classes got up to when they weren’t trying to thump him outside Vauxhall Gardens, he’d understand the hesitation, but he didn’t and therefore didn’t care.
‘If you expect me to be impressed, I’m not.’ Justin had helped collect enough debts from men like Lord Rockland to not be cowed by their grand titles and lack of manners.
‘How dare you?’ Lord Sutton stomped forward, ready for another beating.
‘Stop.’ Lord Rockland’s booming voice pulled him back, muzzling but not completely checking the bull’s anger. ‘I think we’ve had enough fighting for one night. I believe an apology is in order, Mr—?’
‘Connor.’ Justin jerked straight the lapels of his coat.
‘I’m sorry for offending you this evening and for holding you responsible for an inappropriate situation in which you were not involved.’ Lord Rockland laid a large hand on his chest, his diamond ring flashing in the lantern light. ‘Surely you understand how easy it was to make such a mistake.’
‘No, not particularly.’
‘Then perhaps you can understand the need for discretion.’
‘It’s not my discretion you need to worry about.’ He flung a look at Miss Lambert, who boldly faced him. He had to give the woman her due; she was no cowering miss.
‘True, but I’d like us to come to some understanding about your tact in this matter. If you’d be so kind as to pay a call on me tomorrow at noon, I believe I can make it worth your while.’
Justin wanted nothing more to do with this trio, but he did need money to finally put his last venture behind him and start again. He recognised opportunity when it came crashing through his chaise door. ‘I believe you can.’
‘Good. Until tomorrow.’ Lord Rockland bowed to Justin before ushering his wayward progeny away.
‘He doesn’t deserve—’ Lord Sutton sputtered.
‘After the beating he gave you, I recommend you shut your mouth.’ Lord Rockland’s admonishment silenced any further protest.
Only Miss Lambert dared to turn and watch Justin as she strode away with her father and brother. It was a plaintive glance, but Justin wasn’t in the mood for extending more pity or forgiveness. With his plans for the evening in tatters, he stepped back into his chaise and made for home. With any luck, tomorrow would be better. He’d receive a tidy sum of an apology from the duke, the kind he needed to repay Philip for the money he’d invested and lost in Justin’s last venture, and secure the necessary merchandise to establish himself in the wine trade. Nature had defeated him last time. It wouldn’t happen again. He’d succeed, no matter what Helena or anyone else thought.
* * *
‘What did you think you were doing?’ Lord Rockland roared at Susanna from across the coach as it spirited them away from Vauxhall Gardens.
‘Acting like a slut,’ her half-brother sneered. ‘What else do you expect from a bastard?’
‘Shut your mouth, Edgar.’ Lord Rockland trilled his fingers on his knees. ‘Well, Susanna? Why were you throwing yourself and my promise of your dowry away?’
To have a home, life and family of my own instead of constantly being reminded of how grateful I should be to you for nothing, she thought, but she didn’t dare utter it. She was too ashamed of her foolishness to make the situation worse with the truth. ‘I told you, I went to meet Lord Howsham. We were to leave for Gretna Green.’
‘With the rumours of debt circling him, I’m not surprised he ran after you, or I should say your dowry. Did he compromise you?’ Lord Rockland pressed, though she didn’t know why. Her father wasn’t about to force the earl’s hand, not for his bastard daughter.
‘No, I’m not as stupid as you believe,’ she lied. The truth would see her banished back to the country with all hope of escape lost. Thankfully, the darkness of the carriage kept the shame from lighting up her face. She’d been a naive fool to believe Lord Howsham’s false compliments, but she’d been so lonely and he so attentive and insistent. Lord Howsham hadn’t cared for her. He’d only been after her dowry. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, chastising herself more than her father ever could.
‘If I’d known bringing you to London to try and make a good match would result in you throwing yourself at the first man who flattered you, I’d have left you at Rockland Place.’
She wished he had, but remained silent. It was best not to provoke him. Instead, all she could do was play the dutiful daughter, bite back her anger at his and his family’s treatment of her in what they considered the name of generosity and humble herself once again. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right, I didn’t think.’
‘Indeed you didn’t. Whatever he might have promised you, Lady Rockland told me this morning he’s marrying the Earl of Colchester’s daughter in a fortnight.’
‘Seems he’d rather have a nobleman’s wife and her considerable inheritance than a bastard and her meagre dowry,’ Edgar mocked.
Susanna balled her hands in her lap, wanting to pound on her thighs, the carriage, her father’s chest and her half-brother’s swollen face. Lord Howsham hadn’t just abandoned her for a woman with a more robust lineage and fortune, but he’d told her the deepest of lies a man could tell a woman. She’d fallen for them like some kind of country simpleton, allowing Lord Howsham to press himself on her in the hope he might love her. In the end, it’d gained her nothing but more scorn.
‘You’d better hope Mr Connor and Lord Howsham are both willing to keep their mouths shut about this. If not, what little I’ve been able to achieve on your behalf will be gone,’ her father threatened.
Susanna almost wished it was gone. For all the effort he thought he was extending on her behalf, she’d seen very little love or true concern about her and her future. All he and his wife, Augusta, seemed to care about was getting rid of the taint hanging about their house in the form of her.
‘I can’t believe you’re going to entertain a common man like him.’ Edgar rubbed at the dark bruise forming on his cheek. ‘If I were you, I’d have him thrown in jail for what he did to me.’
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t want such an embarrassing beating made public for all of London to read about in the papers,’ their father answered. ‘As it is, I believe Mr Connor can be of some use to us.’
‘What could he possibly do for us?’
‘He might be the solution to the new problem Susanna has presented us with.’
Susanna’s stomach tightened as it had the morning after her mother’s funeral when Lord Rockland had stepped through the door of their simple wine shop and looked down his aquiline nose at her. She’d known by the way he’d studied her, as he did now, her life was about to change. The little love she’d enjoyed with her mother, who’d done all she could to protect her daughter from the taint of being a bastard among their friends, relatives and neighbours, had ended. Instead of leaving her with all the people she’d ever known, although they weren’t any more loving than the Rocklands, Lord Rockland had taken her into his household to have her moulded into heaven knew what. She’d never been like Edwina, her half-sister and his legitimate daughter, coddled and dressed and paraded through court and the ballrooms. Instead she’d been a barely tolerated companion and chaperon who was now being thrust into society in the hope her family might foist her off on someone else. Lord Rockland should have left her in the wine shop.
‘Whatever you have in mind, I want no part of it,’ Susanna said and was scolded with a cold glare.
‘You’ll go along with my wishes or you’ll find yourself cast out of my house, with the promise of the dowry rescinded and you left, like any little whoring bastard, to fend for yourself. Do I make myself clear?’
‘You do,’ she answered with feigned meekness. Tonight was a setback, but it wasn’t the end of her plans. Her father wouldn’t decide her future as he had when she was thirteen, nor would he get his way. She’d make a life for herself somewhere, somehow, get her thousand pounds of dowry and be free of the Rocklands for ever.
Chapter Two (#ulink_0cd70b40-be41-5564-875c-6667bc3e914c)
Justin stepped into the Rocklands’ ornate Grosvenor Square entrance hall, unfazed by the painted cherubs and knights peering down at him from the gilded ceiling. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in a grand man’s home. In the many years he’d helped his friend and employer, Philip Rathbone, collect debts, there’d been a few titled men who’d defaulted. They’d face Philip and Justin to either return the money or hand over whatever cherished family silver or priceless paintings they’d set up as collateral.
‘Good day, Mr Connor, and thank you for coming,’ Lord Rockland greeted Justin as the butler showed him into the wide study situated near the centre of the house. The books lining the many shelves held little interest for Justin. The experience he’d gathered from his years as Philip’s assistant was more practical and valuable to a man interested in trade than a book full of theories or pretty poetry.
There was no sign of Miss Lambert as the duke led him to a pair of wingback chairs in front of the fire. Between the chairs stood a table laden with a selection of liquors. Now here was something Justin could appreciate.
‘What will you have?’ Lord Rockland asked.
‘Something expensive.’
The surprised arch of Lord Rockland’s eyebrow didn’t trouble Justin as the older man picked up the decanter with the silver brandy tag hanging on a delicate chain around its neck and poured out a healthy measure. He handed the thick glass to Justin, who took a taste, impressed. This was fine drink, not the rotgut he usually endured when he was sent to extract information from common men regarding the suitability of Philip’s potential clients.
Lord Rockland poured himself a glass, then motioned for Justin to take a seat across from him. Once both men were settled, the duke wasted no time getting to the matter. ‘A man like you with such a fine chaise must do well in business.’
‘I do well enough,’ Justin answered with a shrug. The chaise was Philip’s. Justin had been forced to sell his to repay a few investors after the ship had gone down. The loss of his fine vehicle and the matching grey horses had hurt almost as much as the loss of his business.
‘And what exactly is it you do?’ Lord Rockland enquired.
‘I’m in business with a man who loans clients money. I investigate the quality of their collateral and assist my employer in obtaining payment if their debt goes unpaid.’
‘It certainly explains your skill with your fists.’
He pinned the duke with a sharp look. ‘I don’t extract payments in such a way. I use it to defend myself against uncalled-for attacks.’
‘My apologies again for last night.’ Lord Rockland swirled the brandy in his glass, then took a sip. ‘Our emotions were running high after my daughter’s ill-advised adventure. I’m afraid neither my son nor I was thinking straight.’
‘I see.’ Justin didn’t, but he could play along. ‘I don’t intend to continue in my present occupation. I mean to establish myself as a wine merchant, once I have sufficient funds.’
It wasn’t a subtle hint, but he wanted the man to come to the point. He didn’t have time to lounge in Grosvenor Square, drinking a duke’s brandy all day.
‘I see.’ The older man tapped the side of his glass. ‘Then allow me to propose an offer, one, as a man of business, you’re sure to appreciate.’
Justin took a deep drink, savouring the rich liquor, then set the glass aside. ‘I’m listening.’
‘As you might know from gossip, Miss Lambert is not my legitimate daughter.’
Justin hadn’t known, nor did he care. Half the people he dealt with were born without the vicar’s blessing. It didn’t matter to him.
‘Before her mother died, I promised to give Susanna a thousand-pound dowry if she married a gentleman I approved of,’ Lord Rockland explained.
‘How very generous of you.’ And worrying. He was starting to wonder what exactly Lord Rockland intended to offer him.
‘I’m a man who takes responsibility for my mistakes.’ He enjoyed another sip before continuing. ‘Susanna, as you might have noticed, is a headstrong woman who often acts before she thinks. It’s made finding her a respectable husband difficult, even with the promise of her dowry. She nearly threw away the money last night with her impulsive behaviour and now I must hurry to rectify the situation before all is lost.’
‘For you, or for her?’ Justin asked, suspecting it wasn’t the young lady Lord Rockland was worried about as much as the taint her escapade might leave on his family.
‘For both of us, and you. I’m prepared to give you Miss Lambert’s thousand-pound dowry if you agree to marry her.’
Justin stopped the glass halfway to his lips and stared at the man from across the aromatic brandy. ‘You want me to marry your daughter?’
‘Assuming you’re not already married.’
‘I’m not.’ Justin frowned, the memory of Helena’s rejection stinging as much as his knuckles after the beating he’d given Lord Sutton last night. Justin took a long drink, barely tasting it as it burned past his tongue. It was her loss, not his.
‘Good. As a man of business, I’m sure you won’t dismiss such a tempting offer so lightly and will keep the details of last night private. I possess grave concerns about Lord Howsham’s ability to remain silent on the matter.’ Lord Rockland sighed as though they were discussing a troublesome horse which wouldn’t trot properly and not a young woman and her future. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Susanna’s reputation is called into question and all chances of her making a more advantageous match are gone.’
Justin opened his fingers over the glass, then closed them, one by one, trying to ignore Lord Rockland’s unintended insult. Justin was no nobleman’s son, only the common son of a man who’d served Philip’s father the same way Justin served Philip. Despite the way Justin’s father and Helena derided him for wanting to be more, he wasn’t about to make something of himself off the back of some young lady. ‘She doesn’t need a husband. She needs a better chaperon.’
Lord Rockland’s chiselled cheek twitched. ‘I don’t think you clearly understand what I’m offering you.’
‘I understand exactly. Money and a connection to the Rockland family. I know what these things are worth. I also understand the price your daughter would pay for me to obtain them. I won’t ask it of any woman.’
Lord Rockland gaped at Justin as though it’d never occurred to him Justin might refuse what he considered a magnanimous gesture. ‘I assure you, she’s quite amenable to the idea.’
‘You don’t know me, she doesn’t know me and neither of you know what kind of man I am.’ Although Justin was coming to understand clearly what kind of family this was.
‘From what I’ve seen, you’re a man of honour and integrity who’ll treat my daughter as well as any man is expected to treat his wife.’
Lord Rockland’s love and concern for his child was enough to make Justin sick. ‘No.’
‘Perhaps if you were to speak to her, you might see how much you have in common?’ Lord Rockland rose and strode to the door leading to an adjoining room and pulled it open. ‘Susanna, please join us.’
‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’ Justin stood. He had better things to do than sit here and humour this ridiculous idea.
Then, in a swish of silk skirts the young woman appeared and whatever it was he needed to do today was forgotten.
If Miss Lambert’s eyes had captivated him in the dim light of the lanterns hanging from the trees above Vauxhall Gardens, in the sunlight, they blazed with a green which nearly knocked him out of his boots. She strode closer, sparing not a glance for her father, but focusing entirely on Justin. The rich chestnut hair framing her face bounced a touch with each step, making the soft ringlets graze the long line of her neck and high cheeks. He envied the curls, especially the one resting over the swell of her breast. The creaminess of her skin was just visible beneath the fine netting of her fichu while the rest of her supple roundness was covered by a brown-silk gown in a tone to match her hair. It heightened the colour of her skin with a warmth he longed to bury his face in and inhale.
Despite the allure of her full curves, it was her eyes which continued to command him. They were intelligent, quick, hiding her thoughts, but telling him they existed, and not one was concerned with the frippery of dresses or gossip. She was playing the demure, dutiful daughter for her father’s sake, but Justin caught the steely resolve beneath the polished manners. It was the will of a woman with a plan she was as eager to implement as Justin was to establish his wine business. She’d been foolish last night, but Justin sensed it was a momentary weakness, like his proposal to Helena or the five pounds he’d spent on a bottle of wine last week, or what he was very near to agreeing to do.
He settled his shoulders, determined to resist the fleeting temptation of an attractive woman, confident she couldn’t change his mind about this match, even if the part of him low down wanted her to win him over.
‘I’ll leave you two to discuss the matter,’ Lord Rockland offered.
The duke’s words broke the spell cast by Miss Lambert’s eyes.
‘And then cry foul once the two of us are left alone. No, thank you,’ Justin protested.
It wasn’t the first time a father had tried to get him alone with his daughter in an attempt to snare her a husband.
‘I won’t cry foul. She’s been compromised enough already,’ Lord Rockland flung off as he slid the doors closed behind him.
‘Quite a charming father you have there,’ Justin remarked.
Miss Lambert dropped her hands from where she’d been demurely holding them in front of her and rolled her pretty eyes. ‘He’s the envy of the ton.’
She walked over to the small selection of drinks and picked up the brandy. She splashed a tiny drop into a glass, then tossed back the contents, shivering as it went down.
If this was meant to shock Justin it did, but there was something in the confidence of her movement, the surety with which she was executing what he felt was a clear plan, he had to admire.
‘Shall I pour you some more?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He needed a clear head for this encounter. ‘I gather you’re in favour of your father’s suggestion.’
She set the glass down with a clunk. ‘How very intuitive of you.’
‘It’s part of my job to guess what people will do before even they know. It helps me to avoid trouble.’
Her full lips turned down at the corners. ‘I’m not the trouble my father has made me out to be if that’s what’s worrying you.’
‘I’m not worried about anything, since I have no intention of marrying you.’
‘But you will.’ She crossed her arms under her breasts and the slight rise of the full mounds was distracting.
‘I assure you, I won’t.’ Justin forced himself to focus, surprised by the ease with which Miss Lambert affected him.
‘I don’t think you fully comprehend the benefits of the agreement.’ She rolled one graceful hand in the air between them, her nails short and neatly buffed.
‘Oh, Miss Lambert, trust me, I understand very well the benefits.’ He caressed her lithe body with his eyes, following the faint trace of a small waist and rounded hips beneath the flowing dress. He took the last fortifying sip of brandy to ease the heat rising inside him. He needed to reason with his brain, not his member.
She squared herself at him, sure in herself and her goal. Her confidence was currently her most appealing and annoying trait. ‘I heard most of the conversation between you and my father. I know you think I don’t want this marriage, but I do.’
‘You don’t even know me. For all you know I could be a drunk who likes to beat women.’
‘You aren’t such a man. You have too much integrity. If you didn’t, you’d have accepted my father’s offer without bothering to talk to me, set a date for the wedding and rushed through to the bedding as fast as possible.’
Justin tipped his empty glass to her. She was flattering him, a somewhat effective tactic. ‘Perhaps, but even with you standing here demanding we wed I won’t take you.’
‘What if I could be of use to you?’
He winked at her. ‘I don’t need to be married for that.’
She frowned then, the small pursing of her lips as tempting as the subtle rise and fall of her chest.
‘I mean in business. I can make my father increase his offer, especially since he’s so eager to be rid of me.’ A pain Justin recognised rippled through her eyes. She wasn’t alone in enduring the condemnations of a demanding and stubborn father. Justin knew a little something about it, too. ‘A word of support from him will have clients lining up at your door.’
‘I’m aware of this, Miss Lambert, but it’s not so much the clients I’m worried about as it is my wife.’ He set his glass down. ‘I don’t want to look around one day and find you back in Lord Howsham’s bed or in some other man’s.’
For the first time since she’d entered the room her eyes dropped from his and a flush of red washed over her creamy skin. Her shame didn’t last as she raised her head to meet his gaze again with a will as seductive as the faint scent of jasmine gracing her skin. ‘I don’t blame you for being suspicious of me and my motives, so I’ll be as honest with you as you’ve been with me. I didn’t run after Lord Howsham out of lust. I did it because I believed he’d offer me the things Lord Rockland never has, the freedom of my own home and a place as something more than a bastard. You’re worried I’ll chase after every lord who comes my way. The truth is I want nothing more to do with any of them, not even my father. If you agree to the marriage, I will maintain contact with my father in an effort to help you. I could be quite an asset to your wine business.’
‘What do you know of trade, Miss Lambert?’ She didn’t look like one to sit behind a counter all day or wander through a cellar in search of a bottle.
‘My mother’s family owned a wine shop in Oxfordshire. I assure you, I didn’t spend my girlhood learning to draw on plates, but to manage customers, inventory and accounts at my mother’s side. She was an excellent negotiator. It’s how she managed to extract Lord Rockland’s promise to support me, even after she passed.’ She swallowed hard. Justin pitied her and wanted to reach out and take her in his arms to soothe her. His grief for his own mother was as raw as hers, but he didn’t move. ‘I can garner for you the same type of deal.’
‘Can you now?’ She was certainly more experienced in the wine business than he’d imagined. He wondered what other surprising traits and talents she possessed.
She strolled over to him, allure and innocence wrapped up in the slow swing of her hips. ‘Judging from your willingness to start your own business, you’re a man not averse to taking risks. A betting man as some might say.’
‘I’ve been known to wager from time to time.’ Justin remained still, as intrigued by her offer as he was tempted by her full lips and what they would feel like beneath his.
‘Then let me offer you one now. I’ll prove to you today I can be an asset to both you and your potential venture. If you’re suitably impressed, you’ll agree to my father’s offer.’
‘And if I’m not?’ He was ashamed to admit it, but she was already halfway to impressing him up the church aisle. However, he wasn’t ready to tie himself to this strange woman, not yet.
‘Then you’re free to go. I’ll leave the decision up to you.’
* * *
Susanna waited for the tall gentleman with the brown hair to answer, ignoring how her chest caught every time his amber eyes caressed the length of her body. Lord Howsham’s hurried, fumbling touch hadn’t made her insides melt as they were doing now with Mr Connor standing mere feet away. He smelled of leather, sawdust and musk, a more masculine scent than the lemongrass preferred by the society fops. It wrapped around her, drawing her to him until she almost forgot it was she who was here to win him over. She was close, her victory revealing itself in the hold of his eyes on hers and the twitch of his jaw above his cravat as he struggled between detached uninterest and desire. For all his rejection of the proposal, he wanted her as much as Lord Howsham had, only this man possessed the self-control to deny himself. She wished Lord Howsham had done the same and not pressed her into an intimacy she hadn’t truly wanted. However, if he’d shown some restraint, she wouldn’t be in this position, with her freedom only a conversation away. ‘What do you say, Mr Connor? Are you willing to accept my challenge?’
He settled his muscled thighs covered by buckskin breeches against the edge of a small table and crossed his arms over his wide chest, his ease of manner both annoying and rousing. He reminded her of a tiger she’d once seen at the Tower lounging in the sun, relaxed but laced with an edge of danger one could almost touch. ‘How do you know I won’t simply say I will and then walk away?’
‘Because you’re the kind of man who keeps his word once it’s given.’
He tilted his head in silent agreement. ‘Are you the kind of lady who keeps hers?’
‘I am.’ She raised her chin, determined, in spite of the actions which had landed her in this muddle, to demonstrate her integrity. She might have made a drastic misstep with Lord Howsham, but she wasn’t a woman to cuckold a man or break her vow once it was given. ‘I promise you, when I change your mind, you won’t regret it.’
He tossed a cocky smile at her which made her toes curl in her half-boots. ‘No, I don’t believe I will.’
She held out her hand to him. ‘Then we have a deal?’
He eyed her fingers with the same amusement he’d demonstrated during their entire discussion. Embarrassment eroded her confidence as her hand hung in the air waiting for him to take it. For all his glib lightheartedness, she sensed the serious streak lying just beneath the humour. He was considering her offer and whether or not she was worth the risk. He wouldn’t be the only one taking a chance with this challenge. She would be, too, but it was worth it if it meant ending her time with the Rocklands and escaping the taint of being a mistake and an unwanted intrusion.
At last he slid his hand in hers, his hold hot and hard. Her heart began to race and she took a deep breath to steady herself, willing her body not to tremble. If he experienced any measure of the heat sliding through her at the joining of their skin, he didn’t reveal it, his eyes crinkling at the corners with an enticing smile. How the woman who’d leapt from his carriage last night could have walked away from such an alluring man Susanna didn’t know, but she was thankful she had.
‘We do.’ He smiled with a wickedness to nearly make her faint. ‘Now do your best.’
Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and strode to the double doors, struggling to make each step sure and to not peek back at him. It felt too much like something Edwina would do in the presence of the Earl of Rapping, gazing longingly at him from across the theatre, making a fool of herself as she all but drooled over a man who barely acknowledged her existence. The same couldn’t be said for Mr Connor. Without turning she knew he watched her and it gave an even greater purpose to her goal. If she succeeded, there’d be no need for all this girlish mooning about. She’d have the rest of her life to stare at his sharp cheeks and strong nose. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought.
She gripped the brass handles hard, as much to steady herself against Mr Connor’s influence as to prepare to face her father, and opened the doors. Everything depended on the success of what she was about to do. ‘Father, please return, we have a few more things to discuss.’
‘You’ve both seen the sense in the proposal, then?’ Lord Rockland asked as he returned, appearing quite pleased with himself.
‘Not until you agree to raise the dowry to two thousand pounds.’
This startled her father out of his usual imperiousness. ‘One thousand pounds is a very generous offer.’
Clearly he hadn’t intended to engage in a negotiation, but to hand her over to Mr Connor with little trouble and no further thought. She wouldn’t allow him to get off so easily. He was the man who’d helped make her a bastard, now he’d make her a legitimate woman, but not without some pain.
‘One thousand, five hundred, and you’ll purchase the wine for Lady Rockland’s masque from Mr Connor and see to it we’re both invited so Mr Connor may make the connections necessary to ensure the growth of his trade.’
‘Lady Rockland will never allow such a thing,’ her father scoffed and she wasn’t sure which he dreaded most, his wife’s wrath or the thought of connecting himself so publicly with his potential merchant son-in-law.
‘If you agree to this, in writing, I’ll marry Mr Connor and create no stir which might result in a scandal where Lord Howsham is concerned.’
Tense silence settled over the room as her father mulled through the points of her demands. She slid a glance at Mr Connor. If her negotiations couldn’t open his eyes to the benefit of having her as a wife and a partner in his business, nothing could. His admiration for what she’d done showed itself in the impressed half-smile he offered her. Freedom was within her grasp.
‘All right, I’ll do what you’ve asked.’ Lord Rockland looked to Mr Connor. ‘Are these terms amenable to you?’
She waited, hands tight at her sides for him to answer. It wasn’t so much the thought of freedom which captured her now but the sun from the window illuminating his hair and falling over the tan wool of the jacket covering the width of his shoulders. She shivered a little at the sight of him, tall, solid, a rock of a man next to her father, yet with a humour to soften his edges. She’d witnessed his strength last night when he’d flattened Edgar, but he wasn’t all unthinking, uncompassionate brawn. When her pain had welled up during their discussion, sympathy had whispered through his eyes. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she knew he understood her loneliness, not in the mocking way Lord Howsham had pretended to understand, but in the way of a man who had shared something of the same kind of experience. If they married, she would come to know both the serious man and the one smiling at her father now, the one she desperately hoped would accept the offer.
‘They are,’ Mr Connor said at last. ‘I will marry Miss Lambert.’
Susanna unclenched her hands, relief sweeping through her followed by a new anxiety that tightened her neck. Her course was set, for good or for bad. Mr Connor was right, she knew nothing about him, but he was now her intended and no matter what, she must make the best of things, although being with him would surely be better than staying here.
Mr Connor turned to her, gracious in his surrender. He reached for her hand, bending his tall frame as he slid his fingers beneath hers and brought them to his lips. He pressed the firmness of them against her skin, raising a chill which raced up her arm to crash inside her against the fire his gentle touch ignited. She’d never experienced such a reaction to a man and she rocked a touch before the squeeze of his fingers steadied her.
‘I’ll call for you later this afternoon for a carriage ride,’ he offered, his breath whispering over the back of her hand.
‘Please do.’ She could barely utter the words through the dryness in her mouth. It wasn’t like her to want a man so powerfully, not after the awkward way Lord Howsham had introduced her to the physical side of love, but Mr Connor was no Lord Howsham. There was tenderness beneath his teasing, something she’d never experienced with the earl. This man wouldn’t be rough with her. It would be smooth and easy like sliding into the warm water of a bath.
‘Until this afternoon.’ At last he released her and with reluctance she lowered her hand, wanting him to take her from this house now, tonight, so she could delight in the fire filling his eyes and the comfort of his good nature.
Mr Connor left with more confidence than he’d entered with, when she’d watched him through the crack in the door, listening eagerly for what he might say.
‘Well, there’s one matter resolved,’ her father sighed with relief once they were alone. Then he turned to her, his expression clouding with the disapproval he’d meted out to her last night. ‘Now you’ve accepted Mr Connor, there’ll be no calling off the wedding, no matter what happens, or I’ll cast you out of this house without a penny. Do you understand?’
‘I do.’ She stared at Mr Connor’s empty glass and the faint outline of his lips along the rim. In her desperation to escape the Rockland house, she’d misjudged Lord Howsham. She hoped she hadn’t misjudged Mr Connor. If he proved even a tenth of the man she gauged him to be, he’d make a good husband. She’d do her best to deserve him and put all of the unfortunate incidents of the previous day, and her life, behind them.
Chapter Three (#ulink_2fae320c-7670-548d-a875-804058fa85db)
‘Was your meeting with Lord Rockland a success?’ Philip asked as Justin strode into his friend’s study.
‘You have no idea.’ He explained to Philip the events of the interview. When he was done, he leaned back against the French door, feeling the sun warming his back through the glass. ‘I suppose you think I’m crazy.’
‘I’m the last person to judge a man for taking a wife so quickly, or for the most ephemeral of reasons,’ Philip admitted from where he sat ramrod straight in the chair behind his desk. Philip had proposed to Mrs Rathbone after she’d held him at gunpoint demanding the return of some collateral. It’d been a strange start to a very successful marriage, one Justin hoped to emulate.
‘Mr Connor, your father would like to see you in the morning room,’ Chesterton, the Rathbones’ butler, announced with more apology than efficiency. This wasn’t the first time Justin’s father had come here in search of him.
Justin looked at the liquor on the side table before eschewing the drink. Smelling alcohol on his breath would only give his father another reason to criticise him. ‘I’ll be back.’
He strode down the panelled hallway of the Rathbones’ house which was situated in Bride Lane just off Fleet Street. Across the street, the bells of St Bride’s church began to toll the noon hour. In a matter of days, he’d have his common licence and a date fixed at the church. It amazed him how the green-eyed hellcat had managed to snare him in a matter of minutes, though he’d rather be back with her than preparing to face the man pacing across the Rathbones’ fine sitting-room rug.
Mr Green, the young man Justin paid to reside with his father and keep him out of trouble, sat on a bench near the front door. He jumped up at the sight of Justin. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Connor, I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted on coming here to see you.’
‘It’s all right, Mr Green. You do your best.’ Justin waved the young man back on to the bench. It was hard for anyone to deal with his father, much less dissuade him from any course, including ruin.
‘’Bout time you came to me,’ his father grumbled as Justin approached. ‘Thought I was going to have to wait here all day.’
‘And a good afternoon to you, too, Father.’ He should have taken the drink.
‘I waited all morning for you to come and tell Mrs Green to stop shoving those damned tonics on me, but you never showed.’
His father’s housekeeper was a saint for putting up with him, as was her son.
‘I’m sorry I failed to arrive for our appointment. I was meeting with a young lady and her father to finalise the details of our engagement.’ There was no other way to make the announcement except the direct one. His father wasn’t one for polite conversation, though once he’d been charming and suave, able to talk a stranger into buying him a drink as well as putting down the pistol when he and the elder Mr Rathbone had arrived to collect a debt.
‘Finally making that little widow your wife, heh?’
‘No. She’s accepted a proposal from another man. I’m marrying Miss Susanna Lambert, the Duke of Rockland’s illegitimate daughter.’
Shock lengthened the deep lines of his father’s face before he drew them tight into his usual scowl. He marched up to Justin. He was a good head shorter than his son, but it didn’t stop him from waving one thick finger in Justin’s face.
‘So a widow of your own class ain’t enough for you—you want to raise yourself up. Think you’re too important for your station and the life I’ve given you. Well, you aren’t. Reach too high and you’ll fall fast enough.’
‘Your faith in me is astounding.’ Justin laced his fingers behind his back. The insulting man was his father and he’d honour him, but no commandment could make him like him. The most he could do was tolerate him, much as he’d seen Miss Lambert tolerate her father. He’d admired and revered him once, but his father’s acerbic tongue had killed those feelings ages ago.
‘What have you ever done to give me faith in you except drink, lay about with easy widows and squander your money on ridiculous shipping schemes? How much of my blunt did you lose in that harebrained venture of yours?’
‘Not one ha’penny. Now, as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, I must ask you to get to the point. Mr Rathbone and I have business to attend to this afternoon.’
‘Well, la-de-da.’ His father made a mock curtsy, his hands trembling as he held them out. It was lack of alcohol which made them shake, a situation he’d soon remedy. ‘Knew sending you to school was a waste. I’ve come for money, since you think me too great a fool to manage it myself.’
Justin withdrew a few coins from his pocket and handed them to his father. He didn’t bother to point out he was acting in his father’s best interests. The older man wouldn’t understand any more than he understood Justin’s desire to emulate Philip and be more than another man’s assistant.
‘Taught ya’ everything ya’ know and this is how ya’ repay me, handing out a pittance as if I was a child.’ His father scowled as he plucked up the coins and shuffled into the hall. ‘Come along, you,’ he barked at Mr Green. ‘No-good son of mine thinks he’s better than his old father.’
A trail of mumbling curses followed him out the door until Chesterton closed it and brought the noise to an end.
Justin turned his hand over, studying the dark bruises on his knuckles. He wasn’t sure he should subject Miss Lambert to his father, but judging by the brief treatment he’d seen meted out to her by Lord Rockland, she more than anyone might sympathise with the necessity of managing a difficult relative.
‘Is your father gone already?’ Mrs Rathbone stepped into the sitting room, concern for Justin in her caring eyes. Her infant son slept on her shoulder, one small hand curled tight by his tiny mouth.
‘Not even pleasant company with me could keep him from his other errands today,’ Justin said glibly, hating to be pitied. This wasn’t the first spat Mrs Rathbone had witnessed between father and son. They were a regular occurrence.
‘You must recall the better times and ignore his taunts,’ she urged, rubbing the sweet baby’s back.
‘I do.’ He sighed out the lie, barely able to remember his father from before his mother’s death. Afterwards, his father had turned to drink, growing more callous and quarrelsome with each passing year. It’d come to a head last summer when Justin had taken over the management of his father’s finances after the older man had woken up in a ditch in Haymarket with no memory of the night before and a nasty bruise under one eye. His father had been so enamoured of his son’s desire to help him, he’d turned on Justin like a wounded dog.
‘I know he still loves you.’ Mrs Rathbone laid an encouraging hand on his arm. ‘But he has his demons to struggle with.’
‘Don’t we all?’ Justin flashed Mrs Rathbone a wide smile, stamping down on the anger and pain chewing at him.
‘On a happier note, I understand congratulations are in order.’ Mrs Rathbone beamed as her son snored lightly.
‘Indeed they are. I’m about to join you and Mr Rathbone in wedded bliss.’ Although the idea he might not enjoy a union as happy as theirs taunted him. Hopefully, the force to be reckoned with he’d witnessed this morning wouldn’t turn into a haranguing fishwife once they were married. He could only tolerate one person calling him a failure at a time.
Mrs Rathbone tapped a finger to her chin. ‘I understand it was a most peculiar proposal.’
Justin matched her sideways smile with one of his own. ‘It wouldn’t be the first in this house now, would it?’
‘Certainly not.’ Mrs Rathbone laughed, the cheerful sound driving away the curses still ringing in his ears and making the baby let out a small cry before he settled back to sleep. ‘I only hope Jane doesn’t surprise us like that some day.’
‘If our examples are anything to judge by, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.’ Jane, Philip’s fourteen-year-old sister whom he had raised since their mother’s death, was too precocious and sure of herself for her own good, just like her brother.
Philip stepped into the room, dressed in his redingote and carrying his walking stick. ‘Shall we be off?’
‘We shall.’ A vintner had fled back to France to avoid repaying a loan. They were going to seize his stock, the wine which Justin would purchase from Philip and use to establish the business his father and Helena had so callously dismissed.
‘Be careful,’ Mrs Rathbone cautioned, squeezing Philip’s arm.
‘I always am.’ Philip laid a kiss on his son’s little forehead. Then he pressed his lips to his wife’s, in no obligatory peck, but a deep meaningful kiss. Philip, the most rational man Justin knew, had raced headlong into his union and all had been well. Hopefully, Justin would enjoy the same luck in his hastily negotiated engagement.
Chesterton handed Justin his gloves and he tugged them on. He flexed his fingers beneath the supple leather and pushed away the memory of Miss Lambert’s hand in his. She’d transfixed him as much with her ability to bargain as with her presence and the faint catch of her breath when they’d touched. As much as he enjoyed the charms of women, they usually didn’t have such power to sway him. If they had, he’d have failed to seize half the collateral from Philip’s clients. Yet with a few glances from beneath her dark eyelashes, and a walk to mesmerise him, she’d wrangled him into one of the most binding contracts he’d ever entered into. He looked forward to discovering more of her hidden charms.
He tapped the pistol in the leather holster beneath his coat, the agitation biting at him fuelled by more than the task facing him and Philip. He didn’t usually relish the physical aspects of his position as Philip’s assistant, but today he wouldn’t mind if a man took a swing at him and he could swing back. It would take a row, or an hour at his pugilist club, to work off the frustration from his encounter with his father, and the more pleasant tension roused by Miss Lambert.
He followed Philip to the waiting carriage, ready to be done with business and enjoy his drive with Miss Lambert. He wished to discuss with her tonight the vintner’s inventory and his plans for it. She’d wrestled a duke for his support of Justin’s venture while his own father and previous paramour had dismissed it. If nothing else, it was a positive omen for what their future life together might entail. She’d share his success and he would succeed, despite what anyone else believed.
* * *
‘I think French silk would be beautiful for the dress,’ Mrs Fairley, the young modiste, suggested as she draped a sample of the fine cream-coloured fabric over Susanna’s shoulder.
‘English silk will do,’ Lady Rockland barked from her place on the sofa where she watched the fitting. Lady Rockland had grudgingly summoned the modiste at Lord Rockland’s command to discuss Susanna’s wedding dress and a suitable costume for the masked ball. If only he’d ordered her to be pleasant. ‘The future wife of a merchant won’t need such an expensive gown.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’ Mrs Fairley folded the sample and laid it with the others in her case. Lady Rockland hired Mrs Fairley to dress Susanna while she and Edwina patronised a much more fashionable and expensive French modiste.
Susanna exchanged an awkward glance with the comely Mrs Fairley, who blushed on her behalf. It wasn’t the first time the kind young woman had witnessed this sort of conversation, but it would be the last. Even if Susanna’s desire for freedom had made her misjudge Mr Connor, surely the life of a merchant’s wife must be better than a duke’s unwanted bastard daughter.
‘I don’t see why you’re buying her a new dress for her marriage when one of her old ones will do for a wine merchant.’ Edwina, Susanna’s half-sister, selected another sweet from the box on her lap and popped it into her round mouth.
‘He won’t even be a merchant until he’s received your father’s money,’ Lady Rockland was kind enough to point out, looking down her nose at a man she hadn’t even met who probably had more honour in his right hand than she possessed in her entire stick-thin body.
‘Then why are they coming to the masque?’ Edwina whined, her exasperation as annoying as the way she chewed her sweet. ‘We’ve invited no other common people.’
‘It doesn’t matter if they come. Everyone will be wearing masks—no one will recognise them anyway,’ Lady Rockland explained, as though Susanna were not standing in her suddenly too-tight stays and chemise right in front of them.
‘I hear Cynthia Colchester is going to have the finest French silk gown and a ceremony in St George’s in Hanover Square.’ Edwina licked the tips of her fingers with a smacking noise before smiling smugly at Susanna.
‘She’s having it because her family can afford it, unlike her husband-to-be. Lord Howsham is up to his neck in gambling debts and on the verge of losing his estate.’ Susanna bit down on her irritation at her half-sister. It was she and not Lord Howsham who’d gained the most from him breaking his promise. He’d wanted her money; now he had someone else’s.
‘He still has his title, as does his wife, which is more than some people possess.’ Edwina smirked, her pudgy face squishing up with her arrogance.
‘Edwina, leave us,’ Lady Rockland commanded.
‘Whatever for?’ Edwina rubbed a bit of marchpane from her cheek.
‘Don’t question me,’ the duchess snapped.
Edwina, who was only one year younger than Susanna’s twenty, stomped from the room like a toddler.
Lady Rockland didn’t dismiss Mrs Fairley, who knelt on the floor packing up her box. The woman was too far beneath Lady Rockland’s notice for her to believe whatever she was about to say needed to be kept from her.
Susanna prepared herself, imagining this exchange would be no more pleasant than any of their previous encounters. Her expectations weren’t disappointed.
‘Given your behaviour with Lord Howsham, I assume I needn’t tell you what will pass between you and your husband on your wedding night,’ Lady Rockland blurted out with all the concern of a fish.
Mrs Fairley paused in her packing before returning to her work.
‘My mother was kind enough to explain it to me when I was thirteen, before she died,’ Susanna answered, the idea of this woman acting in any kind of motherly way as revolting as her haughty attitude.
‘Yet another of the many mistakes she made in regards to you, mistakes others are now forced to endure.’ Lady Rockland screwed up her face as if smelling something foul. ‘When you and Mr Connor are wed, and after the masque, don’t think you’ll be allowed back into this house. I’ve endured the shadow of Lord Rockland’s marital weakness and been forced to parade it in front of all of society for the past seven years. I won’t do it any longer.’
‘You needn’t worry. I won’t pollute myself with the taint of society by coming back here as a married woman.’
The duchess’s lips drew back across her teeth. ‘Oh, you’ll come crawling back eventually. Men of Mr Connor’s class never forget where they can obtain money, but you’ve both got all you’re going to get out of Lord Rockland. I’ll see to it you don’t get a shilling more.’
Her imperious dictate given, Lady Rockland gathered up the hem of her skirt and swept from the room.
Susanna let out a low, frustrated sigh. If she could pack up her things and make for Scotland tonight. she would, but Mr Connor had been guaranteed her father’s help and she’d make sure the duke kept his word. Then she’d do everything she could to help Mr Connor succeed and prove Lady Rockland’s nasty prediction wrong. She only needed to bear this a little while longer, then she’d be free of the woman for good.
‘Congratulations on your engagement,’ Mrs Fairley offered as she rose. ‘Did Lady Rockland say you were to marry a Mr Connor?’
‘I am.’
‘Is he the associate of Mr Rathbone, the moneylender?’
‘I believe so.’ They hadn’t discussed many details of their lives and, in fact, she knew very little about him except for his ambition in the wine trade and his willingness to accept a deal on which both of their futures hinged.
‘I’m familiar with the man and his employer and they’re both very honourable gentlemen.’ She picked up her case, holding it in front of her. ‘You’ll be very happy with him.’
‘Thank you. I’d like to retain your services, if I can, when I leave here.’
‘I should like that.’ With a polite curtsy which made her light-gold curls bob, Mrs Fairley took her leave.
Susanna slipped on her banyan and began to pace. It boded well that Mrs Fairley thought highly of Mr Connor. During the fittings in which Lady Rockland had been absent, Susanna had shared many confidences with the young woman who understood as well as Susanna what it was like to be looked down on by a duchess. The modiste was the closest person to a friend Susanna possessed. Lady Rockland had seen to it there were no other people on whom Susanna could hang the title.
Despite the fact she’d lived with the Rocklands since her mother’s death, they’d only grudgingly treated her as a member of the family within their home. Outside of it, she was virtually ignored. At the few teas or country parties she’d been allowed to attend, the duchess had always given her strict instructions to keep her mouth shut and make herself as invisible as possible. It wasn’t the most ideal way to forge friendships with other young ladies, though most daughters of the other country families didn’t deign to talk to her. They were too afraid the taint of bastard would rub off on them to attempt so much as a discussion of the weather with Susanna.
She went to the wardrobe and began to rifle through her dresses, looking for one to wear for tonight’s ride, as eager to see Mr Connor as she was to escape this house for an hour or two. She’d thought of little besides him since he’d taken his leave this morning, and had eaten even less at nuncheon than she’d been able to choke down over the last two weeks. It wasn’t just his commanding presence or the deep roll of his voice, which was both powerful and playful, but what the agreement they’d entered into meant. She’d be his wife, his property as much as a helpmate in his business.
Her body would be his, though she doubted he’d fall on her as Lord Howsham had done in the forest at Rockland Place. There’d been something distasteful in Lord Howsham’s pressing need for intimacy and the speed with which he’d slaked his lust and left her confused and wanting. Mr Connor wouldn’t rush through the bedding; she’d felt it in the smooth slide of his hand beneath hers, the gentle pause when his lips had met the back of her hand and the drawing humour in his eyes which had invited her, instead of forcing her, to think of what was to come.
She clutched the dress to her chest, shivering at the idea of his broad chest and flat stomach against her skin, wondering what it would be like to linger with him in the dark, the sheets tangled around them as their bodies melded together. Though there was more to a marriage than the bedchamber to consider. The hours between rising and sleep were long ones in which a man could ignore his wife, much as Lord Rockland did to his, giving rise to a bitterness of spirit Susanna had felt the brunt of many times.
She sagged down onto the edge of her bed, releasing her tight grip on the muslin. With any luck, the isolation she’d known at Lady Rockland’s hands and the indifference of her father were about to end, assuming Susanna hadn’t made a grave mistake. Even if she’d chosen poorly and Mr Connor turned into a monster, she’d have to stand beside him at the altar or find herself penniless on the London streets.
Rising, she rang the bell for her lady’s maid, ready to dress and face her intended. This wasn’t a poor choice, but the best she could make. She’d have a home of her own and a respectable husband and at last a station in society where people couldn’t look down on her or whisper behind her back. She’d already proven to Mr Connor she could be useful to him and had gained something of his admiration. If he never grew to love her, or even cherish her, she’d at least earn his respect. It was the most a bastard like her could hope for in a marriage. If something more came of their union, it would be a gift of providence, although providence had never been so generous to her before.
Chapter Four (#ulink_1fcd81ef-c705-5bac-8e6c-7914dcda5846)
‘I believe you have no more business here with the family, sir.’ The balding butler looked down his crooked nose at Justin as though he’d been discovered sleeping on the Duke of Rockland’s front step. Apparently, between this morning and this afternoon, the family had failed to inform the man of Justin’s change in status or his appointment to ride with Miss Lambert.
‘Miss Lambert is expecting me.’ He tried to step around the lanky man who shuffled to stay in front of him. This wasn’t the first time a servant had tried to rebuff him at the front door. Usually it meant their master was slipping out the back with the best of his goods, where Justin’s men were sure to be waiting for him.
‘Let him in, Netley. Mr Connor and Miss Lambert are engaged.’ Lady Rockland’s voice slid out from behind her dedicated servant, the announcement made with as much enthusiasm as if Justin had arrived to clean the chimneys.
Netley offered no congratulations, but grudgingly stepped aside to allow Justin entrance.
Justin dismissed the overly pompous fop whose pedigree was probably no better than his and approached the duchess. She stood on the landing in the middle of the grand marble staircase like a crow on a gable, her dark dress as thin as the risers were high. ‘Your Grace.’
He swept off his hat and bent into a deep, well-executed bow. When he straightened, she arched one eyebrow at him, betraying her surprise at his manners. More than likely she’d expected to find a lout with the grease of his cart and the smell of fish clinging to his coat. Ah, the better sort were such a charming lot. ‘I’ve come to take Miss Lambert for a drive.’
The woman’s gaze shifted from Justin to the large windows on either side of the door. Outside sat Philip’s curricle with the hood down, the chestnut horse pulling it held by a well-tipped boy. There was nothing about the vehicle to bring down the tone of the house or the occupants. Again Lady Rockland’s eyebrow twitched and Justin wondered if she’d swoon from the shock of having her lowered expectations so utterly confounded. An examination of the tall woman with the rigid back, square chin set in a long face and hair arranged in tight rows of curls against the front of her head told him she wasn’t a swooner, but a silent striker. Like a snake, this lady would take a quick bite, then slither off to let her wounded victim suffer a slow death. A most charming woman.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Connor.’ A more melodious voice carried over the crow’s stony silence as Miss Lambert came down the stairs. The pale blue muslin swung about her thighs as she moved and the pastel colour heightened the subtle hue kissing her cheeks. Pert breasts gave shape to the fitted bodice of a matching blue spencer which was cut away at the chest before dipping in to fasten just under those tantalisingly full mounds. Elegance marked her movements, but something of Lady Rockland’s lineage was missing, betraying a childhood spent among more humble people, her airs and graces learned too late to make them completely natural. Still they captivated Justin, weaving a spell around him which took away his speech and all awareness of Lady Rockland eyeing him as though he were a rat about to be smacked with a broom.
‘Miss Lambert.’ Justin bowed again, but more shallowly this time, unwilling to cease watching her.
She paused and reached for the banister as if to brace herself before she pulled back her hand and resumed her steady descent. With each drop to the next step, the curls along the arch of her neck just peeking out from beneath her bonnet shivered and he flexed his fingers, envious of the way the locks brushed her smooth skin.
Lady Rockland was not so enamoured of her ward’s regal entrance and scowled at her as Miss Lambert passed by on the way down. Miss Lambert met the woman’s contemptuous sneer with a challenging glance of her own. To Justin’s astonishment, it was the duchess who flinched first.
Justin nodded his silent congratulations to Miss Lambert. She lifted her chin a touch, taking on an air of confidence, but the shift of her green eyes betrayed the vulnerability he’d caught in his conversation with her earlier. In a flash, compassion rose up to overwhelm his desire. He’d been like her once, trying to appear brave while struggling to stand firm against those who wanted to tear him down, especially his father.
‘Shall we?’ Justin proffered his elbow when she reached him.
‘Please.’ Miss Lambert laid a gloved hand on his arm, the expectation in her wide eyes helping him to dismiss his sour memories. He’d learned long ago to laugh and not care what others thought.
‘Try not to embarrass the family while you’re out,’ Lady Rockland warned as she snatched up the edge of her skirt, flung it behind her and flitted off to whatever business consumed her day.
‘I’m sorry,’ Susanna mumbled, the excitement fading from her bright eyes as they left the house. The door nearly slammed shut behind them, Netley clearly as eager as his employer to see the back of them.
‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault her curls are too tight.’
Miss Lambert hid a subdued laugh behind one gloved hand and Justin was heartened by the return of her cheer. Whatever her treatment at the Rocklands’ hands, it hadn’t destroyed her spirit, or her sense of humour. It would be an interesting challenge to draw it out fully, as intriguing as the promise of her alluring curves beneath the straight dress.
* * *
The sunshine piercing the trees along the front path spread over Susanna, melting away the chill of the Rockland house. Despite having more fireplaces than servants, the stone mausoleum was never warm and neither was the company it kept. In the fresh air, Susanna felt as if she could breathe at long last, though Mr Connor’s arm beneath her hand and his tall figure beside her made each breath shallow and unsteady.
‘Lady Rockland is quite the charming lady,’ Mr Connor remarked as he helped Susanna into the vehicle.
She gripped his hand tightly, more to steady herself from the surprise rocking of her body in his presence than at the twitching springs of the chaise. ‘She was practically polite today, though once we’re wed, I don’t think we’ll have many dealings with her.’
If it wasn’t for the promise she’d extracted from her father to help Mr Connor, she doubted she’d ever see her father again after the wedding. It wouldn’t surprise her. Her grandfather and uncle had breathed a sigh of relief when Lord Rockland had arrived to take her away the day after her mother’s funeral. They’d washed their hands of her, just as Lady Rockland would. Susanna didn’t give a fig about the duchess, but her grandfather and uncle’s utter rejection, after she’d been raised in their presence, had nearly shattered her already mourning heart.
‘I assume, then, we won’t have to entertain august guests at Christmas?’ Mr Connor climbed in beside her, raising her mood despite the old pain biting at her. It felt good to laugh with someone who wasn’t afraid to poke fun at her dour relations. It was a refreshing change to the parade of sycophants who usually wandered into the house.
‘I don’t think we’ll tarnish our dining room with their company.’
‘Good, because I hadn’t intended on purchasing a new dinner service this year.’
He winked at her, then snapped the reins over the horse’s back, urging the fine animal into motion. While he focused on the traffic filling the street, she studied him. A fawn-coloured coat and matching hat set off those teasing brown eyes which had nearly made her stumble on the marble staircase. However, it was the approving nod he’d tossed at her when she’d silently challenged Lady Rockland’s sneer which had filled her with more delight than the sight of his light grey breeches stretching over his strapping thighs. This near-stranger had supported her more in one moment than anyone had in the seven years she’d lived with the Rocklands. She drew her spencer a little tighter over her chest, chilled to realise how narrowly she’d missed being tethered to Lord Howsham, who held as little regard for her as anyone else in her life. The promise of freedom from the Rocklands must have been overwhelming to make Susanna ignore all of Lord Howsham’s faults. Hopefully, it wasn’t blinding her to Mr Connor’s.
‘Speaking of dining, my friends, the Rathbones, have offered to host the wedding breakfast. We’re to join them for supper tomorrow night. They’re eager to meet you.’
‘I’d be delighted to meet them.’ And nervous. As much as society looked down on her, those of the class she’d been born to were usually more vocal in their disapproval of her. For Justin’s sake, she hoped his friends would at least be grudgingly cordial and save their most cutting remarks for after she left. It didn’t matter what they said about her behind her back. She was used to the whispering and it had lost most of its sting long ago.
‘They aren’t the only ones I intend to introduce you to before the wedding.’ He shifted his feet against the boards and for the first time in their brief acquaintance, she suspected he might be nervous. It didn’t seem possible, and yet if she were permitted to wager on it, she felt sure she would win. ‘I’d like to introduce you to my father.’
She wondered what it was about his father that disturbed his ease, though she could well imagine. There was little chance of mentioning anyone in her family without it setting her teeth on edge. ‘I’d be honoured to meet him. I’m curious about the man who’s given you your jovial attitude.’
‘It wasn’t him. That came from my mother. She died when I was fifteen and my father’s good nature died with her.’ The small lines between his eyes deepened with a pensiveness she hadn’t thought possible as he explained how he’d gained control of his father’s affairs and how ungrateful his father had been afterwards.
Then the story ended and with it Justin’s seriousness, which was replaced by a devil-may-care attitude which piqued her curiosity. To all, it appeared as if he didn’t possess a single concern, but no amount of flippancy could completely conceal how deeply his father troubled him, or the hole his mother’s death had left in his life. She knew about such grief; she still lived with it, too. ‘You’ll see what an amiable fellow my father is when you meet him. Prepare to be charmed. He’s more Lady Rockland than Father Christmas and I won’t be shocked if he makes you cry off.’
Her hands curled tight over the edge of the seat as he merged the curricle into the crush on Park Lane. ‘I won’t cry off and you needn’t worry about me meeting your father. I’m used to dealing with difficult relations, Mr Connor.’
‘I’m glad to hear it because I need you.’ He slowed the horse as they made a wide turn on to Kensington Gore. ‘And please, call me Justin. Mr Connor reminds me too much of my father.’
‘And you may call me Susanna.’
He slid her a charming smile. ‘A pretty name for a pretty woman.’
His compliment shocked her, adding to her alarm as he turned the curricle into Rotten Row. ‘No, we can’t go in there.’
‘Why not? You’re a duke’s daughter. I thought the toffs loved to see the high born’s progeny paraded about.’
If it weren’t for the boning in her too-tight stays, she’d have slumped with her displeasure. ‘Not the illegitimate ones, at least not without his Grace present to keep the daughters’ tongues firmly in their heads.’
His curricle joined the stream of carriages entering the park and driving down the wide, dirt path. Mr Connor sat up straighter in the seat, motioning at her to do the same, seemingly oblivious to everything but the direction of his horse and the ribbons in his wide gloved hands.
Susanna tugged her small hat a little further down over her forehead, wishing the brim curled like a poke bonnet instead of up to reveal her face. At least then she might tilt her head and hide behind the straw.
‘If you continue to pull on your bonnet, you’ll tear it,’ Mr Connor chided her good-naturedly.
She let go of the brim. ‘We shouldn’t be here. People are staring.’
She had no desire to be made a spectacle of, especially not with Edgar riding by and scowling at them as though they were beggars who’d happened in on his supper and didn’t belong here. She didn’t. She didn’t belong anywhere.
‘I’m not surprised since I’m alongside the most beautiful woman in the park.’
Her heart fluttered at the compliment. It wasn’t flung off or studied as Lord Howsham’s flattery had been when he’d worked to seduce a naive young woman starving for attention.
Then four young married women passed by in a landau, gaping wide-eyed at her before dipping their heads together to whisper.
‘Ignore them. They mean nothing to us,’ Justin instructed.
‘Then why are we here?’
‘I want you to enlighten me about these people. I know many wealthy merchants. It’s my acquaintance with the better sort which is lacking.’
‘I’m not sure what I can tell you. I don’t really know them any better than you do.’ Invitations weren’t regularly extended to bastards, no matter how influential their father.
‘I’ll wager when you’re sitting silently in your fearsome stepmother’s midst, she talks past you to her husband, or her friends as if you weren’t there. During those conversations, some interesting things must slip out.’
‘Careful, you lost our last wager,’ she warned with a smile.
‘I don’t see it as a loss, but a very interesting gain.’ He turned the horse to avoid an oncoming phaeton with its hood open and its springs strained by the very rotund Lord Pallston.
‘I thought these people meant nothing to us,’ she challenged.
‘Their sensibilities don’t, but their business does. If I can claim one or two great men as clients, it might ensure our success.’ It surprised her how easily our, instead of mine, rolled off his tongue. ‘Now tell me, who’s the round gentleman driving the phaeton as ruddy as his nose? He looks like a man whose thirst could make a wine merchant rich.’
‘I thought you already possessed means.’
‘I used to possess a great deal more before my last venture sank.’ The humour in his eyes hardened, telling her all she needed to know about his last attempt at business. It was admirable of him to keep trying, despite what must have been a considerable setback, and it was more than those around them were capable of doing. It was another trait she and Justin shared—the ability to pick themselves up and continue on. The alternative was too upsetting to consider.
‘He won’t make you rich. He’s Lord Pallston and he doesn’t pay his debts. Few of these great men do. They pride themselves on owing almost every merchant in London.’
Justin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I know something of collecting debt. I haven’t let a man run out on Mr Rathbone yet.’
‘It’s not worth the effort or the uncertainty. My grandfather was foolish enough to deal with men like Lord Pallston. All they did was drink the wine while we watched our dinners grow thinner and the bills go unpaid.’ She hated to disappoint Justin’s ambition, but if the business was to be hers, too, she knew better than to build their hopes for success on the fickleness or insolvency of the peerage. A need for money often played a part in all these people’s decisions, including Lord Howsham’s, whose debt was about to consume his family estate. She hoped it did. He deserved to be ruined.
* * *
Susanna warning him off pursuing the nobility as clients wasn’t what Justin wanted to hear. If the voice saying it wasn’t so sweet he might have disregarded it, but he understood her reasoning. Philip employed the same logic, rarely lending to great men. When he did, it was only after they’d laid out the silver for Philip to hold until their debt was paid. Justin wasn’t likely to convince any lord to leave a soup tureen as collateral for wine, not when there were a hundred other merchants willing to risk bankruptcy to supply a peer with his Madeira. He’d planned on using Lord Rockland’s influence to bolster his name and perhaps even match Berry Bros. in their success. Now it was clear this part of his business plan might not work as he’d expected.
With one avenue to expand his trade quickly narrowing, the idea he might not succeed in this venture as his father and Helena believed drifted over him like the faint notes of Susanna’s jasmine perfume, only rather less pleasant. He flicked the reins and guided the horse past a lumbering town coach. No, he would succeed and damn his father and Helena. Justin’s desire to capture the business of the haut ton through Susanna might come to nothing, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have more plans or other possible clients. There wasn’t a pub owner or merchant near Fleet Street he hadn’t had some dealings with and most of them were pleasant. He’d make a go of this if he had to call on every man who owed him a favour from here to Cheapside.
‘Does your grandfather still have his shop?’ Justin asked with some hope for his own venture. It might be good to have contacts outside London.
‘I don’t know, though if he and my uncle were on the verge of sinking, I’m sure they’d deign to write to me begging for money, and to remind me how much I owe them for all of their years of kindness. They’ll get nothing if they ever show up on my doorstep.’
‘They sound as warm as mounting blocks.’ Justin laughed.
‘Just like the Rocklands.’ She sighed.
‘I’m curious—why did Lord Rockland take you in instead of placing you with another family?’ He pulled on one rein to make the horse turn at the end of the row. ‘I have a difficult time believing Lady Rockland was amenable to the idea.’
‘I’ve never really asked.’ She shrugged. ‘Out of gallantry, perhaps, or a desire to prove he’s so far above everyone else he can claim paternity to any child he’s sired no matter how much it irritates his wife or shocks his peers.’
‘I imagine Grosvenor Square was alight with other grand ladies warning their husbands not to follow Lord Rockland’s lead.’
‘And children of questionable parentage all over London breathed a sigh of relief at not being thrust into this world, always hovering on the fringes, a lady and yet not a lady, a duke’s daughter and his bastard all at the same time.’
‘You aren’t to refer to yourself in such a way. Do you understand?’ He refused to hear her speak so meanly of herself.
‘But it’s what I am and how everyone here and in Oxfordshire has always seen me.’ Her green eyes clouded with a loneliness he understood. He knew what it was like to be derided by those who should care for you the most. ‘It’s how Lord Howsham viewed me.’
‘Hang Lord Howsham and all these idiots. It’s not how I see you or how I want you to view yourself. You’re my affianced and very soon to be my wife, a respectable woman who no one has the right to look down on.’
She tugged at the bonnet ribbons beneath her pert chin. ‘About Lord Howsham. I think I should explain.’
‘No, I don’t want to know. Neither of our past amours interest me.’ He gathered her time with the earl hadn’t been good and, despite never having met the man, Justin wanted to pound his face for the insults he’d heaped upon Susanna. How he could have abandoned such a woman, especially after the promises he’d made, he didn’t know. It didn’t bode well for his honour, or that of any other man of his class.
Justin settled his shoulders and his hackles, allowing the more pleasant sensation rising beneath to come over him. He wished he had a man to drive them so he could sit with Susanna and bask in her intelligent eyes and the way she admired him with respect and interest no other woman had ever shown.
If they weren’t sitting in view of all of Hyde Park, he’d lean across the bench, take her parted lips with his and shock everyone passing in their carriages. He was tempted to bring the curricle to a halt near the line of trees, place his hands around her trim waist to help her down, and then feel the curve of her breasts against his chest as he led her behind a tree while he freed her hair from the bonnet. It was a giddy, boyish desire, one she’d sparked the moment she’d appeared at the top of the stairs. He hadn’t experienced a craving like this since his youth and it filled him with an anticipation he’d never known with a woman before, one he wasn’t about to act on.
Soon she’d be his wife and they’d be free to take their pleasure at their ease. He’d make her sigh with passion instead of sadness. She wasn’t a jaded widow or spurned paramour, but a lonely woman in need of affection. He’d see to it she had what she needed both in body and spirit. He looked forward to drawing out the bold woman who’d faced him yesterday, instead of the unsure, hesitant one sitting beside him today.
* * *
Susanna stared out at the passing carriages, thankful Justin didn’t intend to press her or judge her for her mistake with Lord Howsham. Justin’s lack of interest in the matter wiped the slate clean. If only she could brush away the nasty chalk marks of her illegitimacy and the way it tainted her in the eyes of everyone riding past. Justin might urge her to think more of herself, but after a lifetime of being reminded of a sin of which she was not guilty, she couldn’t simply put it aside. The taint was too much a part of her, like her hair colour or eyes, although perhaps in time, with his help she could forget it.
She slipped Justin a curious look, admiring how straight he sat on the seat, the edge of a smile drawing up the corners of his mouth until it seemed he might whistle in delight. Despite his joy, he wasn’t some silly lout with more fluff than brains, or a thug for his employer who thought of nothing more than his own pleasure. There was a depth to him she’d caught earlier in the mention of his father, and again just now, a sense of honour and loyalty to those in his charge, including her.
‘When do you think we’ll wed?’ She was eager for the date to be set and the vows to be spoken, suddenly afraid something would rise up to take this opportunity and the happiness it offered away from her.
‘Eager for the wedding night, are we?’ His subtle, teasing words curled around her and sparked an excitement deep inside her she hadn’t experienced since the time she’d stood alone in the woods with Lord Howsham. With the earl there’d been an edge of uncertainty and danger. With Justin, it was like craving the cool rush of water over burning skin on a hot day. It made her bold and she tilted her head, eyeing him through her lashes.
‘Among other things.’
‘Such as?’ He glanced at her from beneath the shadow of his hat and she licked her lips. She was eager for the wedding night, though she didn’t want to appear like some hussy and admit it, not in the middle of Rotten Row.
‘Having my own house,’ she announced wistfully. ‘It’ll be nice to belong somewhere instead of being made to feel as if I’m some unwanted guest by the Rocklands, and even by my mother’s family.’
The admission itself shamed her as much as the ease with which she’d made it. It wasn’t like her to air her grief because there was never anyone there to listen, or to care, but something about Justin made it difficult for her to be reserved.
‘You’ll never be unwanted at my house, though it isn’t as grand as your father’s.’
‘It could be a hovel for all I care.’
‘It’s not quite so humble.’ He laughed, his good mood lifting hers. ‘But it needs a woman’s touch.’
‘I don’t wish to intrude on your space.’ Outside of the colour Lady Rockland and Edwina’s rooms were painted, her father had rarely allowed Lady Rockland any say in the decor or even the management of the four houses he owned. It was another of the many things which stuck in the woman’s craw and increased her bitterness.
‘Intrude all you want, except in my study.’ He slowed the horse as they made a turn, his mastery of the ribbons as appealing as his confidence in the seat and his openness with her. ‘A man has to have his space, just as you’ll have a room of your own to do with what you please. I want you to be happy with me and for us to work together in both our home and the business.’
‘Thank you.’ She settled her hands in her lap, fingering the fine embroidery on the back of her glove. Of all the things she must soon become accustomed to, his concern for her, not just his physical desire, would be the most difficult. She would offer him the same regard, although it wouldn’t come as easily to her as it did to him. She’d spent so many years hardening herself against attacks, it was difficult to imagine letting down her guard enough to trust another person with her life and possibly her heart, but she must. He offered her a future free of guilt and derision, a future she never could have imagined before today. She would do everything she could to be worthy of it and embrace the life he promised her.
* * *
Darkness began to settle over the city as Justin strolled with Philip through the warehouse set on the banks of the Thames. They examined the casks and bottles they’d seized from the vintner earlier in the day. There hadn’t been time before Justin’s appointment with Susanna for them to take stock of what was about to become Justin’s first inventory. Mr Tenor walked behind them, listening and observing as always. Before Justin’s ship had faltered, he’d been training Mr Tenor to take his place as Philip’s assistant, much to the elder Mr Connor’s grief. Justin’s father had served the elder Mr Rathbone faithfully, prospering under the family as Justin had done, but Justin wanted more for himself and some day his own son. However, judging by the quality of the casks, it would be a while before Mr Tenor received his promotion.
‘The vintages aren’t as good as I’d hoped.’ Justin frowned as he held up the lantern to read a label. When the vintner had run off to escape his debt, he must have taken the best of his stock with him.
‘There are a few fine ones here.’ Philip examined the bottles packed in straw in a crate. ‘They should turn a nice profit.’
‘Not as nice as I’d like. I can sell the rest to public houses and a few merchants of less discerning taste.’ It wouldn’t bring in the money he needed. Those funds would come from Lord Rockland’s order for the masque and whatever other great men’s wishes Justin could fulfil. Despite Susanna’s wariness about cultivating some of the peerage’s patronage, he hadn’t given up entirely on the idea.
‘When I have the shop, I’ll have you transfer these to it,’ he instructed Mr Tenor.
‘Yes, sir,’ the brawny man answered, scratching at the holster and pistol under his thick arm.
Justin looked over the casks. To his amazement, he was more excited for his upcoming nuptials than this first foray into his new venture. The afternoon with Susanna had been far more pleasant than he’d expected, her humour and plain speaking as charming as it was captivating. He wished he hadn’t needed to cut their drive short, but there was as much business to see to as pleasure. Very soon there’d be a wonderful meeting of both.
‘When will you have the building?’ Philip asked as they stepped out into the misty night and Mr Tenor locked up the warehouse.
‘In a few days.’ With it would go the last of the money the sea hadn’t claimed. If he couldn’t make a go of the business, he could sell the building, hopefully at a profit. If his losses were too large, he’d be forced to continue in Philip’s employ. It had taken a great deal for Justin to swallow his pride and apply to his friend when failure had beset him the last time. It wasn’t an option he wished to entertain now, no matter how much he admired Philip.
‘Do you need any assistance?’ Philip asked tactfully as they strolled to the waiting carriage. Mr Tenor fell back to the cart where the other men who worked for Philip transferring goods stood smoking pipes and chatting.
Justin rested his hands on his hips and pushed back the edges of his coat, revealing the butt of the pistol in its holster beneath the wool. Though Philip would never allow him to fall into debtors’ prison, or worse, Justin wanted to be his own man and emulate his friend’s success through his own efforts. ‘You helped me enough the last time and lost a pretty penny in the bargain. I won’t put your money at risk again.’
Nor would he risk Susanna’s dowry until it was absolutely necessary. He wouldn’t use it to fund his business, but keep the money safe. It would be a hedge against his losses, protection against total ruin in case nature decided to flatten his business with a grape blight or a sudden fire. Remaining on land was no guarantee one wouldn’t be sunk.
‘Bastard, you ruined me.’ A man’s voice rang out from the deep shadows between the buildings.
They whirled to see a man rushing at them, pistol raised. His face was black with grime and his long hair reached down to touch the dirty red soldier’s coat with its black shoulder boards.
Justin stepped in between his unarmed friend and the man, brandishing his weapon. ‘Move an inch closer and I’ll take the top of your head off.’
The man jerked to a halt, fear widening his eyes. Justin recognised him as a bookseller who’d used Philip’s loan for drink instead of paying off his debt and whose business had failed last year. He’d since accepted the king’s shilling to feed himself and apparently to buy more gin. Justin could smell it over the stench of the river.
‘I’ll kill you both for what you did to me.’ The man kept the pistol aimed at them, refusing to back down, too drunk to be afraid.
‘Drop your weapon and walk away and we’ll all forget this ever happened,’ Justin suggested, not wanting trouble with either this man or the constable.
‘Not until you’ve paid for ruining me.’
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