Bought: The Penniless Lady Page 6

  “I’m too late, aren’t I?” She stopped in front of Hadrian, gasping for breath. “I’ve missed the wedding?”

  “It just got over, I’m afraid. Are you a friend of the bride?”

  “You might say that.” The girl fanned her flushed face with her hand. “Her sister was my best friend in the world. When I heard from the servants that she was to be married today, I felt I must come. Are you Mr. Northmore?”

  “I am.” Hadrian gave a stiff, wary bow. “And you are…?”

  “Susannah Penrose.” She curtsied. “Lady Kingsfold’s sister. I am sorry we did not get an opportunity to meet the other day when you called at Hawkesbourne.”

  “Of course. I see the resemblance now.” Had the Dearing sisters looked alike, too? Hadrian found himself suddenly curious about the girl who had been his brother’s downfall. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, Miss Penrose. If I’d known you wished to attend the ceremony, I would have asked the vicar to wait.”

  “That was not my only reason for coming here this morning.” Miss Penrose hesitated, as if gathering her courage. “I know you are angry with Ford over what happened to your brother, but please do not blame him! He tried to talk sense to the Dearings, but they refused to listen. That was the day Mama died and Ford had to go all the way to Brighton to fetch Binny and Sidney home. Then—”

  “Talk sense to the Dearings about what?” Hadrian demanded as soon as he could squeeze a word in.

  “About allowing your brother to court Daphne. Laura told me what happened. Lord Henry was furious with them for interfering and said some beastly rude things.”

  Her words rocked Hadrian. “Are you saying my brother wanted to court Lady Daphne…to marry her?”

  He’d assumed the marquis had called Julian out for refusing to marry the lass after he’d bedded her. Even if that had been the case, Hadrian still considered death far too harsh a penalty. But if Julian had been killed simply because he’d aspired to a lady above his station…

  Susannah Penrose bit her full lower lip. “I cannot say for certain if he meant to marry her. I do know he admired her a great deal and she was madly in love with him. When we first met your brother, I was quite envious of his interest in Daphne. It is my fault her sister found out she’d gone to meet him in secret. I never meant any harm, I swear! If she’d only confided in me, I would have kept her secret to my grave.”

  The young lady’s pretty features crumpled, making her look like a tearful child. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began to wipe her eyes.

  “Do not blame yourself, Miss Penrose.” Hadrian struggled to relax his stiff scowl. “It is clear where the responsibility for my brother’s death lies. I wish Julian had set his sights on you rather than your friend.”

  Would Julian have known that? A spasm of guilt gripped Hadrian as he recalled the advice he’d asked Ford to convey to his brother, about the sort of wife he should seek. One with good breeding and useful connections who can help the lad continue his rise in the world.

  Had Julian pursued Lady Daphne in a misguided effort to please him?

  “Forgive me.” Miss Penrose contorted her lips into a feeble smile. “I did not mean to stir up painful memories. I only wanted to say a few words in Ford’s defense and beg you to make up your quarrel with him.”

  Hadrian hated to disappoint the girl, but he was still not convinced Ford had done all he might to avert this tragedy.

  Miss Penrose clearly sensed his reluctance. “Surely you can forgive Ford if you could forgive Lady Artemis enough to marry her.”

  “Our marriage has nothing to do with forgiveness.” Especially now that he had a clearer understanding of what had happened. “It is only for the sake of the child.”

  “I was certain it must be.” Susannah Penrose stuffed her damp handkerchief back in her reticule. “It is very good of you to rescue the poor babe from that cold, crumbling old mansion. It grieved me to think of him growing up in such a place. Daphne hated it. She used to say genteel poverty was the worst kind. It must have been a wrench for Lady Artemis to leave, though. She was devoted to the horrid old place.”

  “Genteel poverty?” Hadrian gave a harsh, mirthless chuckle. “What is that—having only five carriages instead of ten?”

  “There may be a dozen carriages at Bramberley,” Miss Penrose replied, “but that hardly signifies if they are too old to be of use and there is only a single pair of horses to pull them. Ask Ford if you do not believe me. He says all the Dearings’ income goes to keep up appearances and prevent Bramberley from falling into total ruin. Lady Artemis and the child will be far better off with you.”

  As the girl’s words sank in, a fever of rage swept through Hadrian. No wonder Artemis Dearing had been willing to wed him in spite of her obvious aversion. The wretched manipulator, pretending their marriage was for her nephew’s sake when she had only been using the child to secure her own comfort! And he had been so gullible, assuming she could have no mercenary motive for wedding him.

  His countenance must have betrayed some of the indignation seething inside him, for Miss Penrose backed away, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and alarm. “Since I am too late for the wedding, I should be getting home. I hope you will consider what I said about Ford. I know he would be glad to make up your quarrel, though he might not be willing to make the first move.”

  Hadrian made an effort to better hide his feelings. “I promise you, I will think carefully about everything you have said, Miss Penrose.”

  His response seemed to satisfy her. “Good day, then, Mr. Northmore. Tell Lady Artemis I wish you both joy.”

  Joy? The moment Susannah Penrose was out of sight, Hadrian let his features lapse into a bitter sneer. That was the last thing he expected his marriage to bring him.

  “Where are we going?” Artemis tightened her hold on her nephew as their post chaise flew past the local inn without even slowing. “I thought we would be staying here for tonight at least.”

  Since it appeared they would be going farther, she edged over as far as possible on the carriage seat. She did not want to risk getting jostled against Hadrian Northmore, their hips forced into brief contact or her knee brushing against his. Any such friction might excite the disturbing undercurrent of awareness she fought to suppress.

  “We are going to Durham,” Mr. Northmore announced in a tone that brooked no opposition.

  “Durham?” Artemis prayed she had heard him wrong. “But that is hundreds of miles away!”

  Hundreds of miles from the safe, familiar countryside where she had lived her whole life. Where her family had lived for generations.

  “Three hundred.” Mr. Northmore seemed to take grim satisfaction in conveying the information. “That is why I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible.”

  “On the road?” Artemis hoped that did not mean what she feared it might. “Surely you do not propose we travel all the way to Durham in this carriage. It would be much faster and more comfortable to go by sea.”

  “I just spent four months on a ship coming from Singapore.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I do not intend to set foot off dry land again until I go back.”

  “My comfort and Lee’s mean nothing, I suppose.” As Artemis contemplated days spent bumping over rough roads and nights trying to sleep in a succession of unfamiliar beds, her lip threatened to quiver. She bit down on it hard, determined not to give Hadrian Northmore the satisfaction of knowing how his imperious plans dismayed her.

  His lip curled. “Your comfort is very important to you, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You don’t understand me?” His sneer darkened into a scowl. “Then I had better make myself plain, hadn’t I? You lured me into marriage to help yourself to my fortune and you used that child to do it! I wonder if your sister meant to do the same thing to Julian?”

  If he had struck her a bruising blow with the back of his hand, Artemis could not have been more
shocked or outraged. “How dare you?”

  “You’ve said that to me quite often in the past few days. How dare I do this, how dare I say that, as though I have no business questioning anything you do?”

  Unfolding his arms, he leaned toward her until they were almost nose to nose. Under other circumstances, Artemis might have thought he intended to kiss her.

  Instead he dropped his voice to a low, menacing rumble. “I dare say it because it’s true and your fine title doesn’t change that. You put on a good show the other day when you came to see me. Dressed to the nines with your carriage and your servant. Pretending you were conferring a great favor upon me by accepting my proposal. But it was only a show, wasn’t it? Your proud family has no fortune, just a big, old house that’s crumbling away and a name that once meant something.”

  How had he found that out? Much as it galled Artemis to hear him say such things about her family, she could not deny them.

  He drew back abruptly, leaving Artemis with the bewildering sense that something had been ripped away from her.

  Shaking his head in disgust, he muttered, “Who would suspect a marquis’s daughter of being no better than a common fortune hunter?”

  She longed to fire back an indignant retort, but indignation was the privilege of innocent people who had been wrongly accused. “I…regret misleading you about my family’s circumstances. I was afraid if you knew the truth, you would exploit my position to take Lee away from me. I could not let that happen.”

  She braved his direct gaze, hoping he might see she was telling the truth. Instead, a volatile awareness crackled between them.

  “You must believe me.” She felt exposed and vulnerable, overwhelmed by the potent hostility that radiated from him. “I had no intention of deceiving you for mercenary reasons. I want nothing from you except to be able to raise my…our nephew.”

  “Why must I believe you?” he growled. “Because you order me to?”

  “Of course not. It is only a manner of speaking.” Now that he had this one misdeed to hold against her, he seemed determined to cast everything she said or did in the wrong. “What I mean is I hope you will believe me because I am telling the truth. I may have misrepresented the urgency of my situation, but I never told you an outright falsehood.”

  It was clear from his dubious look that Mr. Northmore did not believe a word she’d uttered. Artemis told herself she did not care what he thought of her, but she could not bear to have him speak ill of Daphne.

  “You cast an ugly slur upon my sister by implying she let herself get with child to snare your brother. I assure you, that was not the case. Daphne may have been naive and impulsive, but she was never mercenary. She would not have…lain with your brother if she had not fancied herself in love with him and believed he loved her.”

  “You reckon she only fancied herself in love with him. Why is that? Because his blood was not blue enough to mingle with the likes of a Dearing?”

  “Because they hardly knew each other.”

  “Whose fault was that?” His eyes flashed with fury. “Your family would not receive him. They forbade your sister to see him, even after Lord Kingsfold tried to intervene.”

  “It was none of Lord Kingsfold’s business!” Artemis protested. “He had no right to question my family’s decisions. Swaggering back into the neighborhood with his new-made fortune and his progressive ideas, thinking his money gave him the right to dictate what everyone else should do.”

  “Which did you resent more?” asked Hadrian. “That he meddled in your family’s private affairs or that he made a success of himself and that estate of his? Or was it the greatest sin of all—that he was right? Did you ever think that if you’d heeded him, three young lives might have been spared?”

  “Did I ever think?” The question jolted Artemis out of her accustomed reticence. “Only every night, the moment I lay my head on the pillow. That and everything else I might have done to contribute to my brother and sister’s deaths.”

  Desperate to escape this painful subject before she betrayed any more of her secret shame, she abruptly changed tack. “May I ask why you propose to drag Lee and me all the way to Durham?”

  Throughout their confrontation, Lee had remained unusually quiet, looking around the carriage box and at the swiftly changing panorama visible through the windows. Artemis knew better than to suppose he would remain so contented for the next three hundred miles.

  “A few years ago I had a house purchased up there for Julian to use. While I was in London, I sent a message for the servants to make the place ready for us. I want my brother’s son brought up there.” A severe, brooding expression clenched Hadrian’s features. “Away from the softness and bad influences of the south. I want my nephew to know where he comes from and what he’s meant to do with his life. I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made with his father.”

  The man was not only taking them to that strange, distant place—he meant to make them stay there! A wave of nausea rocked Artemis’s stomach. What had possessed her to wed a man she had every reason to mistrust? Had she fallen under the spell of his compelling looks, dynamic presence and stirring kiss? How many times must she let herself be deceived before she learned her lesson?

  The anger she had sought to suppress for the past several days came boiling to the surface. A lifetime of aloof restraint was no match for it. “So you admit you made mistakes with your brother? You are responsible for turning him into an incorrigible rake who ruined my innocent sister!”

  “No!” he thundered, as if she had accused him of the most monstrous crime imaginable. The instant that word erupted from his lips, he immediately moderated his tone. “I only meant that, with the benefit of hindsight, there are things I will do differently this time. Having the lad raised up north is one of them.”

  His outburst made Artemis shrink back in her seat. But Lee chortled as if his uncle were Punch, in a puppet show, flailing the hapless Judy with a stick. Was that the sort of relentless conflict she must endure for the next eight months?

  Artemis prayed the time would pass as quickly as the past few days had flown by. She could hardly wait for Hadrian Northmore to sail out of her life!

  Chapter Six

  He had made a mistake, Hadrian fumed as the post chaise headed northward through Surrey. An error much more grievous than any he might have committed in his brother’s upbringing.

  When he’d departed for the Indies, seventeen years ago, he had been only a lad himself. One who’d never been to Newcastle or York, let alone London. How could he have known what trials and temptations awaited young Julian in the south?

  But he was a man of the world now. He should have known better than to rush into marriage with Lady Artemis Dearing. During his years abroad, he’d seen plenty of designing women at work, including Simon Grimshaw’s unlamented late wife. He should have been on his guard, rather than taking the lady’s word that she despised his vulgar fortune. Her sudden turnabout from abuse and insults to a suggestion of marriage ought to have roused his suspicion, as should her insistence on a hasty wedding.

  But he’d been blinded by his damnable fascination with her. She was so different from any other woman he’d ever met—so self-contained, so indomitable. Those qualities, together with her subtle, elusive beauty, had piqued his interest. Now that he understood her mercenary motives, he must nip his dangerous fancy in the bud.

  For the next several hours, they sat side by side on the narrow seat of the post chaise with a barrier of hostile silence bristling between them. Their nephew was as good as gold for a while, content to nestle on his aunt’s lap. He watched the countryside roll by, crowing with delight whenever he spotted a herd of cows or sheep. In time that diversion lost its charm and he grew fussy.

  “Are we going to stop for the night?” asked Lady Artemis as she strove to quiet the child. “Or must we race straight on to Durham like the mail coach, only pausing long enough to change horses and bolt a cold lunch?”

  �
�Of course we’re going to stop.” Hadrian bridled. What sort of brute did she take him for? “I wanted to get through London today. But if you’d rather, we can put up at the next inn we come to.”

  “I’m sure we would not want to interfere with your plans.” She lifted the little boy to her shoulder. “Hush, now. London is not much farther. When we get there you will see plenty of novel sights—bridges, tall buildings, boats on the river.”

  Hard as he tried, Hadrian could not deny the note of playful warmth that crept into her voice when she spoke to the fretful child.

  She managed to keep him quiet until they’d crossed the Thames and stopped at a large coaching inn near the start of the Great North Road.

  “You see? That was not so bad.” Hadrian spoke in a hearty tone as he helped her from the carriage. Her mention of him dragging them off to Durham had troubled his conscience. But he was not about to let his bride dictate his actions from the very first day of their marriage. “Traveling by ship might be faster, but spring storms can stir up rough seas. I would prefer a full day’s carriage drive to a single hour of seasickness.”

  He ruffled his nephew’s fair hair. “Besides, I do not want to take any chances with this young gentleman’s safety.”

  “Nor do I!” Lady Artemis shot him an offended yet defiant look. “Lee behaved much better than I expected today. I doubt he will be so obliging for the entire journey.”

  Dismissing her warning, Hadrian strode off to arrange their accommodations. He returned shortly to announce, “I booked us a pair of rooms with a private dining parlor in between. I hope that will suit you.”

  Lady Artemis replied with a strained nod, “I would sleep over the stables as long as I have a place to feed Lee, change his linen and put him to bed.”

  Half an hour later, while Hadrian was washing for dinner, an impatient knock summoned him to the door between his bedchamber and the parlor.

  The instant he opened it, Lady Artemis thrust his squirming nephew into his arms. “He will not sit still in a chair to be fed. When I try to hold him on my lap, he wriggles about so much that I spill half the food before I can get any into his mouth.”