Louise Allen Historical Collection (43 page)

That must be an excuse. Rafe had mentioned his London home; he could hardly have been living in squalor. Presumably Elliott did not want her exposed to his relatives until she had acquired some of the polish a viscountess required, or he was embarrassed because her pregnancy would show by then.

It was lowering that he was ashamed of her, but, under the circumstances, hardly unexpected. And perhaps he had his mistress in London, another lowering thought. Fashionable marriages accommodated such unsavoury realities, she knew. She must learn to accept it and not embarrass Elliott with her provincial attitudes.

‘Very well, Elliott.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw him give her a quizzical look, but he did not challenge this meekness. ‘Then your relatives at the Dower House are on your mother’s side?’

‘Yes. Great-Aunt Alice is my mother’s older sister, Lady Abbotsbury, and Dorothy her unmarried daughter. There are three other daughters, all married and living some distance away. I expect you will soon make acquaintances in the area.’

‘Is local society congenial?’ The thought of new friends, probing and becoming intimate, was unsettling. They would be more people to hide the truth from.

They were back at the Royal Oak and the carriage was waiting. ‘Congenial? I hardly know. They came to the funeral, of course, and made duty condolence calls, but I cannot say I know any of them.’

‘But surely you know the neighbourhood very well?’ Bella settled back against the squabs, thankful for the physical comfort after the aching misery of the stage the day before.

‘I have not lived at the Hall since I went to university.’

‘But you must have visited frequently?’

‘No.’ It seemed he had not intended to expand on that monosyllable, but the surprise must have shown on her face. ‘My mother died just before I went up and then my father had a hunting accident while I was at Oxford. I assumed Rafe would want me to manage the estate—he had no taste for that kind of thing and had made it plain often enough that it bored him. But it appeared he felt more…territorial about it than I had foreseen.’

‘He rejected your offer of help?’

‘He accused me of wanting to take over, usurp his position in local society. For some reason he appeared to find me a threat. I was young enough to be hurt, and for that to appear as temper. We had a blazing row, I punched him on his very beautiful nose—you may have noticed the slight bump—and that was that. We hardly exchanged a civil word for eight years and I was
persona non grata
at the Hall.’

‘How awful. I cannot imagine being at odds with Lina and Meg. And you were both very young—if only you had been reconciled later.’ How strange of Rafe. Surely he would have welcomed a brother’s help with the country estate he seemed not to have cared for? Without thinking, Bella put her hand over Elliott’s. It was stiff and unresponsive and she lifted her own away, feeling she had erred.

‘It was doubtless good for me, as things turned out. I was forced back on my own small inherited estate. I learned to run that and how to invest wisely. Then I turned to speculation—mines, canals, housing—and found I had the knack for it. Rafe felt I dabbled perilously close to trade for one of our class and made that clear whenever our paths crossed in Town.’

‘Rafe seemed unused to rural life,’ Bella murmured. ‘He was out of place in the country, I thought.’ Elliott made no response, so she blundered on, ‘I expect he was much happier in Town. He was so sophisticated in our little village. He seemed to be polished, somehow, like a gemstone, all hard glitter.’
Stop talking about him. I don’t want to remember, Elliott does not want to hear this.

She had been nervous at the thought of London society. Then Rafe had told her that she made rustication in the sticks bearable, that she would convert him to country living, to the fresh purity of the simple life, and she had believed him and been comforted. Now she saw his lies like layer after layer of deceit.

‘Oh, yes, Rafe was polished. You will find that I am less so. Less polished, more direct. I belong to the Corinthian set—sportsmen. I box, I drive, I race. I attend prize fights.’ That explained the lean, hard look of him. ‘Do you find the thought of those kind of activities distasteful?’ Bella shook her head. If truth be told, she found the idea rather exciting. The picture of Elliott, stripped to the waist, fists raised, made her pulse race.

‘And perhaps I am even more demanding than he was.’ She was unsure how to respond to that—was it a threat or a warning? ‘Here we are at Mr Lewisham’s offices.’

Bella leaned back against the squabs and stared rather blankly at the passing countryside. Her heart still felt hollow, as though Rafe, wrenching himself from it with his harsh words, had left it wounded. But now his face was becoming mercifully blurred with Elliott’s; his voice was lost in the other man’s. She wished she could tell Elliott everything, bring herself to talk about that dreadful afternoon in the tithe barn, tell him what Rafe had said and done and how she had felt. But she must hide her deepest feelings from his brother, who had his loss to contend with. Elliott clearly knew how badly Rafe had let her down, but however much Elliott might have been estranged from Rafe, he had wanted to make peace, she was sure. How could she tell him how foul his brother had really been to her?

And, besides, he did not need the fact that she was plain and naïve and unsophisticated reinforcing. Rafe had made that clear; Elliott had eyes, too.

She sat up straighter and tried to take an intelligent interest in the scene outside. It appeared they grew a great deal of fruit, hereabouts. She saved that observation up to make conversation later. A lady discussed neutral subjects of interest and she very much doubted that she had as many of those as a viscountess ought to be able to muster.

It would help if she did not keep thinking about those piles of clothes. Elliott was right, of course, she had to look the part, but even so, he could hardly have been expecting to outfit a wife who did not even bring her own trousseau with her.

‘What is worrying you now?’ Elliott asked, making her jump.

‘How do you know I was worrying?’ she asked to put off answering.

‘Your teeth were caught in your lower lip, and you were frowning. Is there something you want to ask me?’

‘I wanted to thank you for all the lovely clothes.’

‘I told you, it is necessary that you look the part.’ He sounded a little impatient.

‘I know. The gowns and bonnets and so on, I understand about that. But the other things.’ She could feel her cheeks warming. ‘The…undergarments and the nightgowns. I have never had pretty things like that before; it was kind of you to buy those for me.’

Elliott’s mouth twitched, she could see out of the corner of her eye. Bella turned on the seat so she could look at him directly. ‘Why are you smiling? Have I said something amusing?’

‘No, forgive me. It is just that a man really needs no praise for buying things that contribute to his own pleasure.’

The amusement had been replaced by a curve of his lips that reminded her acutely of Rafe, just before he kissed her, and it took a sick moment for his meaning to sink in. The carriage went through a deep cutting in the road and shadow fell into the small space, almost hiding Elliott’s face. It gave her courage to utter the question. ‘You mean you expect a…a real marriage?’ she said all of a rush as they emerged into sunlight again.

‘A
real marriage as opposed to what, exactly?’ Both Elliott’s dark brows winged upwards.

‘What we will be doing. Or not doing. I mean, we are marrying in the expectation that the baby is a boy, your heir. So we would not need to…to share a bed afterwards. If it was. A boy, I mean. If it is a girl, I can see you would want an heir, so…’ But that was a long time away, she did not need to think about that now.

‘Arabella, are you suggesting that I do not come to your bed until after this baby is born and that if it is a boy that I never do?’ Elliott demanded.

‘Well, yes. I mean, you do not want to marry me because you love me, or anything like that, so…’

Elliott twisted on the seat to face her, but she turned away abruptly and stared out of the window, presenting him with the rim of her new bonnet and what she knew was a pink-flushed cheek.
How did I ever get into this conversation? I am ready to sink…

She heard him draw breath in through his gritted teeth. ‘Arabella, we are getting married. I am prepared to do my duty by Rafe’s child and by you, but I am not prepared to become a monk in the process!’

His voice deepened to a growl and she turned back, even more flustered by this sign of the temper she had suspected lurked beneath that calm and controlled exterior. ‘Oh! But I thought—but I do not know you!’ And, surely he did not
desire
her? Elliott showed no sign of finishing her sentences now. He sat and watched her flounder, his expression unyielding.

Eventually he said, ‘How long did you know Rafe?’

‘Eight days,’ she confessed.

‘You were constantly in his company? You became intimate in every way, understood him, mind and soul?’

‘Why, no. We could only meet in a clandestine way, snatch an hour here and there. How many couples know each other mind and soul before they marry? I
loved
him. I mean, I thought I loved him. I did not know him at all, of course,’ she added with wrenching honesty.

‘You fell in love with a man you had known for a handful of days, if you add up those snatched hours,’ Elliott said remorselessly. ‘Rafe was complex and complicated, just like any other human being. You could not possibly have thought you knew him any better than you know me.’

‘But I do not love you!’ she threw at him.

‘True.’ Elliott nodded. ‘What was it that so destroyed your judgement, your instinct for danger? Were you were dazzled, desperate, beguiled or seduced?’

‘No! Yes, I mean I was all of those things. But haven’t you a mistress?’ Bella asked rather desperately. She had to know, she realised.

‘No, not just at the moment.’

‘But you could get one,’ she suggested. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
Please take one. Then I will not have the humiliation of my ignorance, my clumsiness. My fear.

It was obviously entirely the wrong thing to say. Elliott looked thunderous. ‘Then you should mind,’ he growled. ‘Why should I in any case, when I will have a wife? As it happens, I believe in marital fidelity.’

‘Then you would want to come to my room.’ Best to be quite clear. ‘Next year, I mean, after the baby is born?’

‘I was rather expecting to do so tomorrow night,’ Elliott said. His voice was dry, but she could hear his temper tightly reined beneath it.

‘
Tomorrow
night?’ Her insides seemed to have become entirely hollow.

‘It is usual on a wedding night to consummate the union.’

‘But you do not love me,’ she protested.
How naïve, this is not some greenboy, this is an experienced man who expects to gratify his physical desires. He thinks I have been Rafe’s mistress so I will know what to do. And what if he is just as angry as Rafe was when he realises how inept I am?
And Elliott did not think her pretty. How could he, looking as ill and drawn as she was? So this was duty, as he saw it. No mistress, faithfulness to his inconvenient, unsuitable wife. A nightmare and twenty-four hours to anticipate it in.

‘Love is not a necessity, you know,’ Elliott said, confirming her thoughts. ‘You are not repelled by me?’

She shook her head. No, of course she was not repelled by him. Part of her looked at him and ached with a very shocking and basic desire to touch him. To be touched by him. He was big and strong and very masculine and she needed to be held and comforted. But that was nothing to do with what a man and woman did in bed. Marital intimacy was quite another thing.

‘Or frightened of me?’ Another shake, a little slower that time. Bella kept her eyes fixed on the reticule she was holding in a death grip. She was terrified, but how could she tell him? The humiliation would be even worse than keeping silent. ‘We will consummate this marriage.’

‘Must we?’ It came out as a whisper.

‘Yes. There is no way I am going to contemplate a sham marriage. This is for the rest of our lives. I am doing my duty, Arabella—I am asking you to do yours.’

He was quite right, of course he was. She understood duty and she understood obligation and she must pay the price. This man was saving her from poverty and shame and her innocent child from all the stigma of its conception. ‘Yes, you are right, of course. You will require an heir if this is not a boy and you are entitled to a proper marriage whatever happens.’ Could she counterfeit whatever was necessary for him to be satisfied with her?