Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (2 page)

“Yes, well…”

“Mr. Carpenter, you’re turning red with embarrassment. Please don’t be embarrassed for me. After all, you are the one who informed my husband about my less than promising matrimonial circumstances. I’m well aware my marriage isn’t a love match, but I hope to change that after I arrive at Arden and meet my husband. I have high expectations for the future.”

“Yes, my lady, as do I.” Hollins sighed and reached for a quill with a suddenly unsteady hand. Marlee couldn’t dislike the man, even if he had arranged a marriage between two of his clients to bail her groom out of financial difficulties. Arden might prosper financially, but she’d prosper, too, in the scheme of things. She’d have a husband and a home, no longer existing as an unwanted relation.

It seemed her large fortune was all that mattered to some people, her groom included, she admitted glumly to herself. Arden was as mercenary as Clementina and Jack who had wanted her to live with them after Marlee’s father’s death. Poor, little orphan girl, Clementina had said with misty eyes at William Stafford’s funeral. There must be something she could do for her only sister’s child.

It turned out there was.

William had turned her guardianship over to the McBrides in his will. Marlee had thought her aunt and uncle had truly wanted her—they seemed so pleased to have her—until Mr. Carpenter told them a small stipend would be paid each month for her care. Clementina had declared it wasn’t enough, that poor Jack would have to slave away forever as a bank clerk when an heiress lived under their very roof. Their daughters wouldn’t have the fine silks and satins which a girl as wealthy as Marlee could easily afford. Surely, they should be paid more for Marlee’s care. But Hollins resisted, adamant in following William’s will to the letter.

Each month when the small stipend arrived, Marlee endured her aunt’s hateful gazes, the stinging silences. Every day Marlee prayed that she’d grow up fast and leave the McBrides. They didn’t abuse her but she wasn’t wanted either, and that knowledge hurt as much as any slap or heated retort would have.

When she was seventeen, Tim Lee, the son of the local minister, entered her life. He was a good-looking lad of nineteen and intent upon following in his father’s footsteps. Marlee was friendly with Tim, finding him to be a nice enough person but not truly encouraging his attentions to her when he suddenly expressed more than a passing interest in her. Whenever Tim appeared at the house, she’d dutifully sit with him in the garden under the watchful eye of Clementina. Her aunt wished for a marriage as a way of getting her niece out of the house. But when Tim proposed to Marlee, she refused. There was nothing about Tim that would cause her to want to spend the rest of her life as a pastor’s wife. She gently told him she was unworthy of his affections, and he should seek a bride elsewhere.

Tim took her refusal in good stride, or so Marlee had thought. Two weeks later, Marlee had nearly forgotten the proposal when rumors started circulating about her virtue. It seemed Tim Lee had confided to a dear friend that Marlee refused to marry him because she found herself unworthy. The friend, perhaps with a bit of exaggeration on Tim’s part, put his own connotation on Marlee’s “unworthiness.”

Reverend Lee paid an unexpected visit to the McBrides to declare that he’d not welcome a “Jezebel” into his family and was deeply relieved that Tim had the good sense not to call upon Marlee again.

Weeks later Tim married a preacher’s daughter from Devon, but the damage to Marlee’s reputation had already been done. People whispered behind their hands whenever Marlee went to the village, causing her distress and unease. As far as Clementina was concerned, the worst happened when no young men with money or connections called upon the two McBride sisters. It seemed Daphne and Barbara would remain spinsters—and all because Marlee had rejected a suitor.

Now, with Marlee’s marriage to Lord Arden, she could make up for her cousins’ lack of suitors. She could present the two girls with an opportunity to enter polite circles so they might attract wealthy husbands. She felt she did owe the McBrides something for her care, and perhaps her arranged marriage to a dissolute aristocrat would make up for any inconvenience they’d suffered. Evidently her fall from grace didn’t matter to Richard Arden. He’d married her anyway.

“My lady.” Mr. Carpenter’s voice drew Marlee from her reverie. She blinked and discovered he was holding the quill out to her. “The papers are in order. All that is required is your signature.”

“I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.” She smiled apologetically and glanced to the spot where he pointed on the parchment before her. “What am I supposed to sign?”

For a moment Carpenter appeared almost sheepish, even hesitant. “This document turns over your inheritance to Lord Arden, if you wish. Your father wanted you to decide the matter of your fortune’s disposal for yourself.”

This was news to Marlee. She hadn’t known about such a stipulation in her father’s will until this moment and was disbelieving. “You mean I have a choice in the matter?”

“Well … yes—you do.”

“Why didn’t you inform me about this before now, Mr. Carpenter?” Marlee felt anger and dismay rising within her to have been purposely left in the dark by Mr. Carpenter, a man whom she thought she could trust. No doubt he had feared that if she’d known about the document, she’d have reneged on the marriage contract. Evidently her father had drafted the document to protect her interests by allowing her the choice in turning her fortune over to her husband. Her dear, sweet father was looking after her in death, even if living people weren’t.

“I admit I should have told you.” Carpenter’s forehead broke out in droplets of perspiration. He glanced at his watch fob and some seconds passed before he looked directly at her. “Accept my apology for this oversight, however, I trusted you would feel duty bound to turn your assets over to your husband and hoped you’d regard the document as a mere formality.”

Was Carpenter daft? she wondered. Signing such a document was not a “mere formality” as far as Marlee was concerned. With a few strokes of the quill, she’d be turning over her entire fortune to a dissolute aristocrat, a man who was known far and wide as a debauched rake. Once she signed the paper she had no idea how she’d be treated by her new husband. When she was living under his roof, she’d be at his mercy with no leverage against poor treatment. She’d been willing to put her body and fortune into his hands and hope for the best. She realized there was little else she could do but sign the document since she was legally married. And she would sign—in her own good time. Let Carpenter and her errant baron of a husband stew in their own juices until she was ready. A long wait would serve them right and teach them that she wasn’t a stringed puppet.

It was apparent from the way Carpenter eyed her that he hoped she’d sign the document. Even now, he was pushing the quill nearer to her hand. Marlee took it. Carpenter sighed in apparent relief while Marlee held the quill between her fingers and silently read the document. It was as Mr. Carpenter had told her. If she signed, her fortune was entrusted to her husband, but if not…

“What happens if I don’t sign, sir?”

Her question clearly took Carpenter unawares. “But—you must. Lord Richard married you only—”

“To claim my fortune,” she finished the sentence for him. “Yes, I’ve been reminded about that a number of times today. But this has come as more than a surprise to me and I don’t want to be rushed. You can understand, can’t you?” She placed the quill on the table.

“Yes,” Carpenter countered with a grimace because he understood only too well. Lady Marlee Arden was going to assure herself a place at Arden Manor by not signing immediately. He’d not intended to dupe the young woman, because he was fond of her, at least as fond of her as a solicitor could be of a client. But Arden’s interests meant a lot to him, too. He’d served the Ardens for a number of years and felt duty bound to extricate young Richard out of his latest financial mess. By doing so, he’d also helped Marlee Stafford obtain a husband and a position that few young women in her class could hope to achieve. He already knew that Richard would insist upon an annulment if Marlee didn’t agree to turn her money over to her husband.

Yet Carpenter sensed her hesitancy and decided that delaying the signature might not be a bad idea. Considering the tragedy he’d left behind at Arden Manor, Marlee might be a widow before she was given the chance to be a proper wife. Once again he looked at his watch. “Since you’re unwilling to sign, my lady, I must leave. Lord Arden awaits me.”

Marlee rose when Hollins did. A puzzled expression puckered her forehead when he rolled the document and placed it in his jacket pocket. He started for the door and her voice halted him. “Mr. Carpenter, I’ll pack only a few things and will be ready to leave shortly. Please be seated and wait.”

“I should like to wait, my lady, but the day grows short and I promised Lord Arden I’d hurry back.”

“But surely you’re going to escort me to Arden. Morning will be soon enough to leave.”

“I-I can’t. I must hurry back. When Lord Richard is well, he’ll send a carriage for you. Now, I really must go.”

With a quickness Marlee didn’t know Hollins possessed, he scooted from the room and out of the house like a cat who’d spotted a dog. She stood in stunned silence, not feeling anything, barely thinking until the shocking reality of what had just happened hit her like a toppling house.

She’d been abandoned.

A cry of dismay tore from her throat. She’d been foolish to marry Richard Arden. He must have known about the document all along and played his cards that once he’d married her, she’d have no choice but to sign. But she hadn’t signed and that was the problem.

Carpenter must have been under orders to leave her at the McBrides if she didn’t entrust her fortune to the baron. She’d bet that her husband would allow her to rot here before he did the honorable thing and sent for her. He’d bestowed his name and title upon her but she was nothing to him other than a means to an end. But so was he.

More than anything she wanted a home and a husband. Even a rakish mate was preferable to remaining with her aunt and uncle in a remote village where she had as much chance of finding a husband as capturing a rainbow with her bare hands. And if it meant turning over her assets to the mercenary cad she’d married…

“I’ll sign my fortune away,” she hissed under her breath at the closed front door, “but Richard Arden won’t be rid of me so easily.”

And with that invective hanging in the air, Marlee rushed to her room and began preparations for her trip to Arden Manor.

Lark Arden sat in silent disbelief in the large library at Arden Manor. The dusty tomes lining the shelves hadn’t been perused in years. Lark thought that the last person to touch the vellumed volumes had probably been his grandfather. Most certainly his cousin, Richard, hadn’t spent any time reading to enrich his mind, what little of one he’d possessed when he wasn’t out whoring or gambling away the family fortune. Because of the cobwebs hanging from the corners of the high ceilings and the musty scent permeating the air, Lark surmised that no servants had cleaned or opened the room since his grandfather’s death years ago.

He now knew Hollins Carpenter had told him the truth about Lord Richard Arden, the late Baron of Arden Manor. The man had been penniless.

“Damn the deceitful man!” Lark muttered, his exasperation clear in the way he rose from his chair to savagely pull back the dark green drapes and to throw open the window. Golden sunshine tumbled into the room, highlighting the overall neglect.

Simon Oliver, Lark’s childhood friend, gazed in consternation at Lark and repositioned himself in a large chair, upholstered in a plaid fabric which was so faded it was difficult to determine the original colors. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, Lark. Your cousin is gone and can’t defend his actions.”

Turning from the window, Lark’s ebony hair fell across his forehead and nearly obscured his blacker than pitch-colored eyes. Within the depths of those eyes burned red-tipped flames so angry was he by the unexpected turn of events. “For heaven’s sake, man, Richard was a ne’er-do-well and knew it. If I’d have known the true state of affairs here, I’d never have left Virginia,” Lark admitted before hurriedly amending, “Yes, I’d have come here if only to strangle my cousin and the inept solicitor in his employ.”

“You don’t mean that,” Simon said with a calmness that soon transferred itself to Lark. “You’ve suffered a great shock. You know you wouldn’t have harmed your unfortunate cousin, though I admit he must have been quite a rakish bastard from the tales I’ve heard about him.”

“Yes, yes, he was.” Lark pulled off his brown velvet jacket and threw it onto the back of his chair. The startling white of his ruffled shirt enhanced the remnants of his tan. It had been a long time since he’d been out in the open seas, working alongside his crew in the scorching sun of the Caribbean. He missed the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, longed for the warm sea breezes against his bare skin. He ached once again to see the night sky, filled with billions of twinkling stars and a moon so bright it caused the ship to be bathed in silver. Lark had planned to experience these things again, to feel the swelling surge of the sea beneath his feet as he undertook the most important mission of his life.