Marriage Under Siege (7 page)

She glanced up, her eyes
wide, her hands suddenly curled into fists, hidden in the folds of her black
skirts. Objectionable? Oh, no. How could any woman find an alliance with this
virile, formidable man anything but acceptable? Those magnificent eyes, which
gleamed silver in the light. The strong wave of his dark hair. The strength
and power of his lean body. How could she resist such an offer? And yet she was
afraid. Lord Edward had taught her well that... And how could she possibly tell
Francis Brampton of her fears?

She
is actually thinking about it?
His smile had a sardonic
edge as he waited. Finally he gave up.

'If I lacked for
self-confidence, my lady, you would just have destroyed it utterly. Would you
reject me as being unsuitable? Do you dislike me so much that you could not
consider matrimony with me?'

She shook her head,
flushing vividly. 'No, my lord. Never that. But I cannot imagine why you would
show such concern for my future. There is really no need.'

As she spoke, the answer
came to her with all the clarity of a lightning strike.
Think, you fool. Don't be lulled by a masterful face and imperious eyes. Think
of how he would assess the value of Ingram House and Leintwardine Manor. Of
course he would not turn his back on such a gain, offered to him on a silver
platter, at so little cost to himself Of course marriage would be acceptable to
him! Even marriage to me! Perhaps he is no different from Edward after all and
simply sees me as far too valuable an asset to be allowed to go free.

'It is my thought that I
could do no better for a bride. I would be honoured if you would accept my
offer.' He tried for a persuasive tone.

'Perhaps you have not
considered, my lord. Perhaps you would not choose to marry again so soon after
your sad bereavement.' There, she had said it. Poor lost Katherine. She awaited
his reply, her breath shallow, barely stirring the bodice of her gown.

Mansell considered his
reply for a long moment. 'It is now more than a year since Katherine's death. I
have grieved for her. And the son I never knew.' The lines around his mouth
were deeply engraved as he frowned down at the tankard in his hands, but his
words were gentle enough. 'But you must not think of her as an impediment to
our marriage, a shade who will tread upon your heels at every step. She does
not govern my future decisions, as Lord Edward must not influence yours. Is
that what you wish to hear?'

'I think so.'

'Then will you accept my
offer? Will you give yourself into my keeping, Honoria? Together we will hold
the estates of Brampton and
Laxton
secure, against
all comers?'

At least he had not made
empty protestations of love. She knew exactly where she stood. A desirable mate
to bring power and wealth to the union of two important families. As an heiress
she had expected no more and no less. And yet it was very tempting. Could she
really take the risk? Her eyes searched the flat planes and firm lines of his
features as the warnings of her mind struggled against the desires of her
heart.

He stood with impatience,
driven by her silence so that he strode around the table, taking her hand in
his and drawing her abruptly to her feet before him. He was instantly aware of
Morrighan lifting her head, the low growl in her throat.

He chose to ignore it. 'Well,
Honoria? Shall we make the bargain?'

Honoria looked at him for a
moment, head angled to one side, expression unreadable. Then, 'Very well. On
one condition, my lord.'

'Of course. If it is within
my power.'

'Will you give me free rein
to improve this...this house?' 7
his terrible
monstrosity!

His brows rose at her
unexpected request and his quick smile released the tension between them.

'Lord Edward refused to
consider any changes,' Honoria explained, 'even those that would bring comfort.
Apart from this room, which he gave me for my own.'

'I see. I have no objection
if you wish to take on such a Herculean task. I admire your fortitude.' Mansell
grimaced at his surroundings. 'The solar shall remain yours, of course. And, as
long as you do not beggar me with French fashions and Italian works of art, I
will give you the free rein you desire. God knows, the place needs some improvements.
So, yes—I will give you free rein, with my blessing. But in return I too have a
request, my lady. No, not a request, but a demand.'

'Which is?' The instant
suspicion on her face almost made him laugh, if the flash of fear in her eyes
had not shocked him with its immediacy.

'If you agree to marry me,
my lady, I will accept on no condition that you wear black!'

'But I am in mourning!' She
smoothed her damp palms over her silk skirts. Why should it matter to him how
she looked, what she wore? He was not marrying her for her beauty!

'You have mourned Lord
Edward long enough, I think. If you marry me, you are a bride again. I will not
have a bride who looks like a crow. And an unhappy one at that!'

Honoria's shoulders
stiffened at this slight to her vanity, however well deserved it might be. No
one, after all, was more aware than she that she did not look her best. But
that did not mean that she must accept criticism from this arrogant man who had
just turned her world upside down. 'As my betrothed I expect that it is your
right to express an opinion!' She raised her chin in challenge to such a right.
'I suppose that I must accept your less-than-flattering observation.'

'But will you obey it?' His
lips twitched at the flash of spirit in her eyes, the challenge in her voice.
There was more to this lady than his first impression.

'I...' She dearly wanted to
refuse him. But... 'I will agree with you on this occasion, my lord. I will not
wear black.'

'So. Will you wed me?'

'Very well, my lord.' She
took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm her erratically beating heart. 'I
will.'

He looked at her for a long
moment, pale skin, gold-flecked eyes, recalling the emotion that had stretched
taut between them not an hour ago. It had touched him, moved him, disconcerted
him with its intensity. Then he raised her hand to his lips, pressing his
mouth against her soft fingers, holding her hand tightly when she would have
pulled away. He would not allow her to withdraw physically now, whatever
thoughts, whatever doubts, were in her head. They were committed to this
unexpected union. And he was still unsure of his motives— unless it was simply
to support and protect a lady who appeared to be beset by a multitude of
faceless but vicious personal demons.

Finally he released her and
with a formal little bow turned towards the door. He pulled it open and then
halted to turn back towards her still figure. 'We shall make it work, Honoria.'

'Yes, my lord.'

'Francis.'

'You are very determined,
my lord.'

'I believe it is in my
nature to be so. Does it disturb you?'

'Perhaps. I do not know you
well enough.' She raised her chin a little. 'I will consider it.'

He smiled at her solemn
pronouncement. 'Then whilst you consider such a momentous matter, I must inform
Lawyer Wellings of our decision before he leaves. And I think that I shall
invite Josh Hopton for the occasion. He can give me some much-needed support in
this den of
Royalism
! It should be soon. Would next
week be acceptable to you, if I arrange for a special licence from the Bishop
of Hereford? More expedient than calling the banns in this instance, I think.'

'Yes, my lord.' Honoria
felt as if she were being swept along by an irresistible force, against which
she was helpless.

'And I will suggest that
Josh bring his youngest sister with him. Perhaps you might value some female
companionship. Mary is close to your own age, I would think. Would it please you?'

'Why, yes. I think it
would. I...I am very grateful.' She failed to hide her surprised pleasure at
his thoughtfulness.

'Then I will arrange it.'
He was intrigued at her low opinion of him—or perhaps it was of men in
particular. It would be interesting to learn.

'Thank you, my lord.'

'It is my pleasure. I
believe I have one more request of you. Notice my choice of words!' He grinned,
a sudden flash of pure charm that lit his stern features and forced Honoria to
take another deep breath. 'I would be grateful if you could persuade that
animal, which guards your every step, that I am not the enemy. I sometimes feel
that it would enjoy me for breakfast, particularly when I touch you. She is
well named as the fiercest of battle goddesses. I hope that both you and the
dog would come to an understanding that I intend you no harm.'

As he left the room, he
actually heard her laugh, a soft, pretty sound that lifted his heart. He had
been wrong. The widow could indeed laugh. So there was one victory.

What
have I done?
Honoria pressed her hands to her mouth, excitement
warring with anxiety, anticipation with fear, causing her stomach to churn and
her pulse to race.
Will I regret it?

She pressed her lips
against her fingers, to the exact place where his mouth had burned against her
skin. She could find no answer.

Francis Brampton, in his
new authority as Lord Mansell, rode hard and fast over the following days.
Sometimes alone, more often accompanied by the estate's agent, Jonathan
Leysters
, underemployed by Lord Edward, now much in demand
and grateful for it. The new lord learned little that was not already obvious
to his keen eye and inquisitive mind. The land that he had inherited provided
good pasture, fertile soil for grain and a wealth of timber. It should bring in
a high yield and high rents, but the neglect was shameful. The land was
underused, weeds rife, wooded areas overgrown and neglected, hedges and roads
allowed to decay; tenants lived with leaking roofs, crumbling walls and voices
raised in complaint against a landlord who demanded much and gave nothing in
return. Nothing good was to be heard about the old lord.

The weather was chill and
changeable, but Mansell was not to be deterred from his self-imposed task.
Sometimes he spent a night away from Brampton Percy. More often than not he
returned wet, muddied and more than a little depressed to refuel, catch a
night's sleep and set off again next morning. He would see the extent of his
new possessions, their strengths and weaknesses, and make himself known as a
landlord who would be involved in the well-being of his estate.

The manor of Leintwardine
was much as he expected and had been warned, a pretty timbered manor house with
gardens and substantial outbuildings. No wonder Honoria remembered it with
pleasure, he mused, enjoying a sweep of snowdrops beneath the bare beech trees.
But there was no hope of protecting it against serious hostile intent.
Buckton
,
Aylton
and
Eyton
were even worse, lacking defences and investment. In
the event of an attack from his neighbours, Mansell knew that he must leave
them to take their chance, removing the servants to Brampton Percy at the first
sign of danger; in effect, handing the property over to the Royalists. It was
not a decision that sat well with him, but what choice did he have without an
army at his back?

Leysters
made no excuses for the neglect, pointing out the worst of it with blunt
honesty, but neither did he shoulder any blame. Lord Edward had been content to
collect the rents, albeit sporadically, but he refused to listen to pleas for
assistance or sink any money into the estate. At least the servants who tried
to hold the scattered, dilapidated manors were pleased to see agent and lord
working together. Perhaps the news of Mansell's largesse at Brampton Percy had
spread, and presumably lost nothing in the telling.

A rapid ride through the
crown land at Kingsland proved that it could be used to better purpose than its
present fallow state. Then a long journey up to Clun. The sheep from the vast
flocks were spread over the common land, but the elderly shepherd, who assessed
Mansell with a critical eye and all the confidence of seven decades, assured
him that they were in good heart and would have a fine stock of lambs to sell
to the local markets in late spring, if they were all still alive to enjoy the
profits. Mansell agreed, promising to do his best to ensure that they were,
then turned wearily for Ludlow to spend a night at the Brampton town house.

Here there was much to
raise his spirits. He discovered it to be an extensive property set in an
excellent position in
Corve
Street, its panelled
rooms and plastered ceilings warm and pleasing to the eye. He immediately had a
vision of Honoria putting it to rights and making it a home again. She would
enjoy it, he thought. If she were willing to expend her energies on the castle,
how much more rewarding it would be to take this more manageable property in
hand. He must convey her to his estates in Suffolk, he decided, as he walked
through the sparsely furnished rooms. And to see his mother in London, of
course. A twinge of guilt assailed him as he realised that he had failed to
communicate his intentions to his family. And then shrugged. It could wait.
There was simply so much to do.