Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (5 page)

Both men responded warmly to Barbara who curtsied beautifully. “I hope you don’t mind my bringing Barbara along, my lord. I assumed she would be welcome,” Marlee said with a bit of defiance in her tone. Arden wouldn’t dare not allow Barbara to stay, not when this was Marlee’s home now as well as his.

A delighted smile split Arden’s sensuous lips. “Your cousin is most welcome.”

“Thank you. You’re most generous with your hospitality.”

“Arden Manor is your home too, my lady. You may do as you will.”

This was an unexpected turn of events. Marlee was a bit put off by Arden’s willingness to allow her free rein. A strange warmth suffused her at his words, at the sudden smile he threw her way. Perhaps—perhaps things might work out for the best. Maybe he truly was going to settle down and be a proper husband. However, the warm glow dissipated a second later when Arden said to her, “Mr. Carpenter is in the library and is eager to speak with you. Do you wish to speak with Carpenter now about anything or would you and Miss McBride prefer to rest first?”

Of course “anything” was her money. Marlee heaved a ragged and defeated sigh. She forced herself to remember he didn’t want her for any other reason than her money and was now eager to have her sign her fortune away to him. Why else would Carpenter be there? No doubt he was waiting in the library with quill in hand, ready to dip it in the ink pot for her. Well, let him wait, Marlee decided defiantly. Let them all wait! She belonged there and would take her good time in signing anything. “We should like to rest,” she said to Arden with a sweetness which belied her true feelings. “The journey was long and tiring.”

A shard of triumph gleamed in her eyes at Arden’s momentary look of disappointment, but in a flash he was smiling charmingly again. “Mrs. Mort will show you to your rooms. As soon as you’re both rested, please join us for a late supper.”

“Thank you, my lord,” was her polite reply.

Mrs. Mort appeared, followed by the surly carriage driver who disappeared into the rain outside. Marlee couldn’t help but notice the odd expression on Mrs. Mort’s plump face when Arden told her to escort them upstairs. The old woman curtsied stiffly and turned her back to him in what seemed a clear gesture of disdain. Moments later when the three women were treading down the threadbare carpet in a long, dark corridor, Mrs. Mort turned kindly eyes upon Marlee. “If there’s anything you want, my lady, you or Miss McBride, just ring for me. Might take me awhile to answer but I’ll come, never fear.”

“I appreciate your kindness, ma’am. In fact I realize you need some help, so I shall speak to Lord Arden about hiring a decent staff. Rest assured, I intend to make changes at Arden Manor.” Marlee had hoped her reassuring statement would bring a bright smile to the old lady’s face. Instead the woman bit down upon her lower lip, almost as if she fought the urge to cry. She flushed and looked guiltily away.

“Oh, my lady, if only you knew the changes that have been wrought already.”

Marlee barely had time to ponder Mrs. Mort’s strange words before she was led into a bedroom. As the housekeeper carefully lighted a number of candles to illuminate the room, Marlee and Barbara gasped at the scene before them.

“How utterly lovely,” Barbara commented, but Marlee found herself unable to speak.

Before her on a dais stood the largest and most elaborately carved bed she’d ever beheld. Fashioned from a sturdy oak, the bed’s massive posts, complete with green and gold hangings, nearly touched the ceiling. Ensconced in two corners of the room were double wardrobes, crafted from the same wood; on an opposite wall was a delicately etched looking glass above a dressing table. A Persian carpet, so extravagantly beautiful that it resembled a painting and so thick that Marlee feared to tread upon it, lest she drown in its softness, covered the floor.

Had she entered a princess’ chamber from a fairy tale? Was this bewitching room truly hers? She’d never expected anything this lovely or so richly appointed. But she’d never been in a mansion which resembled a castle or had a clear idea of how the aristocracy lived. If this room was any indication of how the manor had been in the past, then indeed, it must have been magnificent.

“Is this my room?” she found herself asking Mrs. Mort, still unable to believe such a splendid room could possibly be meant for her.

“Yes, my lady. I hope all meets with your approval.”

“Oh, it does! This is a very fine room.” And that was an understatement.

A wisp of a smile appeared on Mrs. Mort’s face as she lit the last candle. “This room belonged to Lady Helena, the old baroness. I served her a number of years. She was a fine lady and pretty like you. Ah, the times we had before a ball in the old days. Lady Helena would be primping and prancing before yon mirror hours before the musicians struck up. The baron, Lord Michael that is, would pace the hall and poke his head round the door, raising a fuss for her to hurry and decide on a gown. What a pair they were!” She chuckled heartily. “Then after the ball, they’d come upstairs with their arms wrapped around each other and lock themselves away in here.

“No one heard nary a peep out of them, sometimes not for a day and a half, which some people who stayed over said was rude, but I knew the baron and his lady had eyes for only each other. Made no difference if the house was filled to overflowing with fancy guests; they didn’t come out of this room until they were ready. It was like that until the day my lady died. And then Lord Michael had a falling out with his son, and nothing was the same—ever again.”

The old woman’s eyes misted and she rapidly blinked away her tears. “There I go woolgathering again. My husband always said ‘tis a sign of aging.”

“Oh, no, I don’t believe that,” Marlee said with understanding. “I know how wonderful it is to relive happier times.”

“Ah, my lady, you’re kind, how very good you are.”

“Now what about Barbara’s room?” Marlee asked, seeing how awestruck her cousin was and feeling the very same way. She doubted she’d ever believe this room was truly meant for her. She might be the new baroness but at heart she was still a tin miner’s daughter.

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Barbara. Follow me.” Taking up her candle, Mrs. Mort gestured to Barbara, but Marlee’s voice momentarily halted them before she’d properly phrased her question.

“Does Lord Arden sleep in this room, Mrs. Mort?”

“No, my lady. He sleeps in the state bedchamber on the opposite side of the house.”

Marlee grimaced at the swift riposte and couldn’t stop her face from coloring to realize what she’d asked. Mrs. Mort was a housekeeper and knew her place. The very vehemence expressed in her reply left no doubt in Marlee’s mind that something as personal as Lord Arden’s sleeping arrangements wouldn’t be discussed with the new baroness.

Marlee bit down on her lower lip, wondering what sort of a dolt Mrs. Mort must think her. But she had no one to ask about the sleeping arrangements. She couldn’t very well walk up to her new husband and inquire if he’d be sharing a bed with her. Maybe Lord Michael had stayed in the same room as Lady Helena because he had loved her, but Marlee didn’t think Richard Arden would consider sharing a connubial bed with his new bride. Lord Richard didn’t love his wife, and that was that. Still, might he not want children—legitimate ones?

The door to the room closed behind the housekeeper and Barbara. Marlee stood in the candlelit bedroom which was almost too beautiful to touch and uncertainty engulfed her. She was a baroness but what did the title mean? What did it mean to be Lord Arden’s wife? She was woefully ignorant of what her new positions entailed. At that moment she wished she’d accepted Tim Lee’s marriage proposal. Being a minister’s wife didn’t seem so terrible now.

There was a man downstairs who was her husband, a man who had seen what a clumsy goose she was. Her fortune had bought him but she realized no amount of money would keep the man from wandering, if he wished to chase a skirt or two he would. The dazzling smile he’d shot Barbara during the introductions hadn’t gone unnoticed by Marlee. It was only now that she was alone did she put a name to how she’d felt when he’d welcomed her cousin.

Jealous. She’d been jealous of the way he’d looked at Barbara, a way he hadn’t reserved for his bride.

A loud clap of thunder caused her to jump, and she chastised herself for her nervousness and distracted musings. Of course Arden would be taken with Barbara, as any man would be with a pretty female. And many men had told her that she, Marlee Stafford, was pretty, too. So, why did it suddenly seem so important for Arden to find her attractive?

“Because you’ve already started to fall under his spell, you idiot,” she mumbled aloud in disgust.

She couldn’t put out of her mind that her new husband possessed a godlike physique, that his face was endearingly rugged and well formed, or forget how perfectly smooth his lips had looked or how they felt like warm velvet on her skin when he’d kissed her hand earlier. How difficult life would be for her, now that she was married to such a man. But she wouldn’t fall under Arden’s spell as gossip claimed many other women had done. Somehow she’d put a stop to her own feelings where he was concerned.

Arden wanted her only for her money, nothing else, and she must remember that he was mercenary at heart. He might try to charm her, and perhaps he would succeed somewhat. There was no denying he was an unusually handsome man, and she was human enough to be susceptible to flattery. But she mustn’t forget it was her hefty purse which had bought her as his bride, not her looks. Arden wouldn’t forget, either.

And she wouldn’t forget that as Lord Arden’s wife, she owed him obedience and respect and she’d give him children, if he so wished. But never would she give her heart to the rogue.

It was all that was left to her.

As the storm raged unceasingly outside, Marlee sat in the protective warmth of the library before Hollins Carpenter. His smile seemed a bit forced to Marlee, but as always, he exuded a politeness with which she couldn’t fault. She longed to dislike the man but she didn’t. In his own efficient way, Carpenter had seen to the varied wants of his clients and made her a baroness in the process.

However, she’d been seated before him for ten minutes and he hadn’t brought out the paperwork for her to sign. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all about it, concentrating instead on social amenities and inquiring about Daphne’s health. Marlee couldn’t help but wonder what Hollins Carpenter was about.

“I do hope you’ll be happy here, Lady Arden,” he said to her.

“I trust I shall be,” she responded and was more than a bit surprised when he rose from his chair to usher her to the doorway. “Is our conversation at an end?”

“Yes, my lady. Supper awaits and Lord Arden gave explicit instructions that we were to dine promptly at seven. I promised him that I’d keep you only a few minutes.”

“But … but what about the document? Shouldn’t I sign it now? I thought that’s why you wished to see me.”

Behind his spectacles, Carpenter blinked steadily. “Whenever you’re ready to sign, my lady, send for me.”

And that was all he said to her.

They joined Lord Arden in the dining room where Simon had already engaged Barbara in conversation, and where it seemed everyone was waiting for Marlee’s appearance before being seated. Arden came forward from the shadows of the room and offered his black-clad arm to her. Marlee absently took it, feeling a bit confused from her encounter with Carpenter. She didn’t know why the man hadn’t pressed her to sign away her fortune as she’d expected, why suddenly the very reason for her marriage didn’t seem as important. But then she gazed into Arden’s handsome face and suddenly forgot the document. Instead she noticed the fiery amber gleam in his eyes and realized that he possessed the most adorable cleft in his chin. She was mesmerized by him, unable to concentrate on anything but him.

“You look beautiful tonight, my lady. Very beautiful.”

His compliment took her unaware and she blushed, stumbling over her own words as she mumbled an indistinct remark. God! He must believe her to possess a speech impediment as well as being a clumsy bumpkin. What was there about this man that always left her feeling completely vulnerable, that caused her to forget her own good sense?

The group sat down to eat at the longest table Marlee had ever seen. According to tradition, Arden was seated at the head of the table and the mistress of the house at the opposite end—and that was where he had seated her. A large golden candelabra, glittering with lighted candles, sat in the center of the table and obscured Marlee’s view of her husband while Mrs. Mort hobbled around the table to serve a delicious crab stew and bread, warm from the oven.

After everyone had eaten, Simon and Barbara withdrew to the far end of the parlor, engrossed in each other’s company. Mr. Carpenter bade a good night and retired to a guest room. Marlee waited uncertainly beside Arden. Her flushed cheeks matched the color of a pink satin rose on her gown. When Arden touched her hand, she giggled like a nervous school girl.