The Inconvenient Elmswood Marriage

‘But what is the alternative? I don’t want to employ a stranger and throw you and your father out onto the street, and even though I don’t give a damn about this place, I don’t want to let it go any further down the road to rack and ruin.’

‘You could look to offload it. I’m sure you could find a willing purchaser.’

‘That would make your situation perilous.’ Daniel began to turn over the stone in his hand again, frowning down at it. ‘No, I need a caretaker I can trust implicitly. My sister in Ireland has a son. It seems to me that he is the obvious person to hand the place over to, when he comes of age. Lock stock and barrel, as they say. Of course I can’t pass on the title, but I see no reason why my nephew shouldn’t make use of that too.’

Kate’s mouth dropped. ‘You have a nephew!’

‘So I’ve been informed.’

His tone was one of insouciance, but he could not possibly be indifferent to such news. Or perhaps she’d misunderstood.

‘You didn’t know that your sister had a son? His birth is a recent event, then?’

‘I believe the boy is seven or eight, so it will be a good few years before I can hand the reins over to him.’

‘Seven or eight! Did your father know of his existence?’

‘I have no idea. There was no mention of the boy in his will.’

‘And your sister? What does she think of your plan?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t discussed it with her,’ Daniel answered impatiently. ‘I am no more interested in her life than she is in mine, and I would be obliged to you, Miss Wilson, if you would resist asking the many questions I can see you are desperate to ask, because I have neither the time nor the inclination to discuss the matter further. I would rather my nephew did not inherit an encumbrance. You are the ideal person to ensure that he does not, and yet you’re telling me that, much as you’d like to take on the job, it’s impossible. We both want the same thing here. Surely there must be a way of making the impossible possible.’

There was, and she must speak now or for ever hold her peace, but her head was swimming with the revelations Daniel had so callously announced. But they were all grist to her mill, she reminded herself.

Her hands were clammy. She wiped them surreptitiously on her gown under the desk. She cleared her throat. ‘I do have a plan, as it happens, which will restore the fortunes of both this house and its lands, and make them a fit inheritance for your little nephew.’

Daniel set his turquoise stone down on the desk. He sat back, his hand curling around the crudely polished stone. He smiled suddenly. ‘What a very surprising young woman you are. What is this cunning plan of yours?’

His teeth were very white and even. When he smiled, his eyes lit up. It was a very infectious and unexpected smile. The kind that she suspected one would do a great deal to earn. It changed him, that smile, and it made her uncomfortably aware of him as a very attractive man.

Kate allowed herself a very prim smile in return, but now she was coming to the point her stomach was starting to churn again.

‘It’s a little radical.’ Perspiration prickled her back. ‘In fact it will take a bit of a leap of faith on both our parts.’

‘Now I am thoroughly intrigued. Take a deep breath and spit it out.’

‘Very well. What I’m proposing resolves both our dilemmas—your desire to live abroad unencumbered by responsibility, and my desire to live here with Papa while he is still with me. It would provide me with the natural authority to make whatever significant decisions need to be made without referring to you, including financial ones. It would allow me not only to maintain your lands but to improve them, and to restore the house and gardens too, while you’d have nothing to do save return to your life in darkest Africa, or wherever it is. And then when the time came, you could make the lands over to your nephew and I could—well, I don’t know what I’d do, but we can worry about that when the time comes. What do you think?’

‘To be honest, I think it sounds too good to be true. And when something sounds too good to be true, it is my experience that it usually is.’

Kate shuffled her feet under the desk. She picked up the polished stone, turning it over in her hands as Daniel had done. It was elliptical in shape, smooth and not quite flat, and had a very soothing effect. ‘Is this turquoise?’

‘Yes, it is, Miss Wilson.’

He held out his hand. Embarrassed, she surrendered it. ‘Kate. You may as well call me Kate, since—if we are to—and after all I’m already calling you Daniel.’

‘You’ve come this far without equivocating. Don’t falter now. What is your devilishly clever plan, Kate, and what is the catch? For there must be one.’

‘I suppose you might say I am.’

‘You really have lost me now.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I think we should get married.’

He looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or have her committed to a Bedlam. ‘Right! Anything else I should know?’

‘There is, as it happens,’ she said breezily. ‘In order to protect my father’s pride, I’m afraid it has to be your idea.’

Chapter One

Elmswood Manor, June 1831

With a heavy sigh, Kate pushed aside the letter she had been attempting to compose to Eloise. Her husband’s eldest niece, she had just learned, had given birth to a daughter. She had, it seemed, embraced motherhood with an enthusiasm that was staggering, considering that she had originally wed Alexander with no intentions of consummating the marriage, far less of conceiving a child. But Eloise’s marriage of convenience had turned into a true love match.

Her obvious happiness leapt off the page of the letter Kate had just received, and she was desperate to accept the invitation to her home in Lancashire to meet baby Tilda for herself. For the moment, however, that was sadly completely out of the question.

She had missed so much while she’d been away. How long would this very strange state of affairs continue?

Pushing her chair back from the desk, Kate prowled restlessly over to the window. The morning room faced out to the back of the house. The expanse of lawn had been neatly mown and trimmed, revealing a vast swathe of verdant green. Leaves covered the huge, ancient oak which Eloise had been so fond of climbing when she’d first come to live at Elmswood. On the still waters of the lake a pair of swans were gliding effortlessly.

Had it really been last October when those two distinguished gentlemen had turned up unannounced on her doorstep? ‘Colleagues of her husband’, was how they’d introduced themselves, and she’d thought they were bringing her some long overdue letters. She’d served them tea and cake, and they’d talked about the weather, and the shocking state of the roads, and there had been mention of them having met Eloise socially, she recalled, before they had revealed the real purpose of their visit by informing her that Daniel’s wellbeing was a matter of grave concern.

She’d still been wondering what connection the pair of them might have with Eloise, and why Eloise had never mentioned it, when she realised that their polite smiles had been replaced with another expression entirely.

Then the interrogation had started, with questions being flung at her one after the other in rapid succession, until finally she’d startled them by demanding that they stop bombarding her with demands for information and start providing her with answers. What they told her and what they had proposed had sent her reeling.

They’d given her no time to recover her composure before the younger of the two, Sir Marcus, had started issuing her with a series of concise instructions, including what she was permitted to say to Estelle, whom she’d had no choice but to press-gang into holding the fort. Within three hours of their arrival they had been gone, taking Kate with them, on the start of a journey that had taken her through the end of one year and well into the next.

In the end, she’d been abroad for all of winter and spring, arriving home yesterday with the beginning of summer.

Looking around her now, smelling the sweet perfume of the rose she’d picked only an hour ago, Kate had to remind herself that she really was home, for Elmswood Manor didn’t feel in the least bit familiar. The Elmswood Coven was no more.

For the first time since her husband’s nieces had arrived, more than nine years ago, she was alone, all her beloved wards gone, embracing their own lives without any further need of her.

Eloise had a husband and now a child. Phoebe had not only opened a restaurant in London while Kate had been away, but also married a man Kate had never heard of, never mind met. A man she would not meet for the foreseeable future, and a restaurant she wouldn’t be able to visit, no matter how much she longed to.

For this next, wholly unexpected and hopefully brief stage of her life she would be without the company of any of her husband’s nieces, for even dear Estelle, who had stepped into the breach and held the fort at Elmswood for nine long months, had been obliged to leave.

Not that she’d objected, thank goodness. Quite the contrary, in fact. She’d embraced her freedom and the chance to embark on a long-planned Continental trip, loyally refraining from asking awkward questions or from making what in Kate’s opinion would have been perfectly reasonable demands under the circumstances.

And what circumstances!

Kate sank onto one of the chairs, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Had the last nine months really happened? She had told the girls only the bare bones. Not the story that Sir Marcus had constructed for public consumption but the truth—or a fraction of it. What they truly made of it she couldn’t begin to imagine, but they were fiercely loyal, and she knew that if they talked it would only be amongst themselves.

Now it was over, and it felt like a dream—or should that be nightmare?

However she chose to describe it, it wasn’t over yet. Upstairs, in one of the guest bedrooms, was a very real, lurking reminder of that fact—a simmering volcano which could erupt at any time.

Daniel, her husband of eleven years. The girls’ nearest living relative. A man Kate barely knew and whom his nieces had never met.

The sound of the handle of the morning room door being turned made Kate’s eyes fly open. She was on her feet when the man in question appeared, larger than life and, if not actually bursting with health, very far from death’s door and most certainly not a figment of her imagination.

‘So this is where you hide yourself away.’

‘Daniel!’

Instinctively, Kate rushed to help him, but the fierce frown she received made her sit straight back down again. He was dressed oddly, in a somewhat exotic-looking tunic and loose pantaloons, over which he had donned a rather magnificent crimson silk dressing gown emblazoned with gold dragons and tied with a gold cord. A matching pair of slippers covered his bare feet.

‘Chinese,’ he enlightened her, noting her stare. ‘It seems the powers that be managed to get my luggage back to England ahead of me. Considerate of them, don’t you think? That they moved heaven and earth to make sure my effects were delivered? A small consolation for you, dear wife, in the event that you’d been forced to return here alone.’

‘Don’t say that!’

To her horror, tears welled up in her eyes. Kate blinked them away. There had been more than enough opportunities in the last nine months to shed tears, but she’d rarely taken them.

‘Well, at least you’ll have something to wear, then,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I don’t know how long it would take to send to London for a new wardrobe of clothes, and you’d struggle to find anything more sartorial than a fleece shirt and brogues in the village. There’s your father’s clothes, of course, they are packed up in the attic, but—’

‘I would rather dress as a farmhand,’ he snapped.

There were so many questions raised by that one sentence—questions she’d asked herself over the years since they had married—but now was hardly the time. Perhaps there would never be a time.

The last time he’d been home, eleven years ago, Daniel had remained at Elmswood barely long enough for her to promise to love, honour and obey him. They’d married by special licence, because technically, he’d been was in mourning, though she had known he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of waiting another six weeks for the banns to be read.

This time she hadn’t exactly dragged him back to England kicking and screaming, but if he’d been strong enough to do more than protest weakly then she doubted he’d be here—despite the orders he’d received.

How long would he remain? Lord, look at him—he was hardly in a state to go anywhere. The florid dressing gown was far too large for him. He had, she suspected, put it on in an attempt to disguise his loss of weight, not realising that it merely drew attention to the fact. He had shaved too. She wasn’t surprised. As she had tended to him on their protracted journey from Cyprus to Crete, then on to Malta and Gibraltar, Lisbon, Portsmouth and finally home, one of his biggest bugbears, in the intervals when he had been lucid enough to have bugbears, had been his unkempt beard.

He had not permitted Kate to wield his razor for him, and she had not allowed him to try to use it himself, having visions of him accidentally slitting his own throat, so she had been forced to beg the services of a weird and wonderful assortment of stand-in barbers on his behalf.

‘What? Have I nicked myself?’ he asked her now.

She realised she’d been staring and shook her head.

‘Then you’re thinking that I look like death warmed up.’

‘I’m thinking that you look remarkably well, all things considered.’

Which was true, and if anything an understatement. He looked gaunt, and there were shadows under his eyes, new lines on his brow, but somehow they suited him. It was unfair, for the lines she’d acquired in the last few months simply aged her, while with Daniel the changes served to accentuate the fact that he was a lethally attractive man. Dammit!

‘I didn’t expect to see you up and about so soon,’ Kate said, her tone made acerbic not by his presence but by her reaction to it.

‘You can’t keep me secreted away in my bedchamber, no matter how much you’d like to.’

As he closed the door behind him and made his way carefully over to the chair opposite hers by the empty grate Kate remembered that behind the attractive façade there was an extremely infuriating man, and gritted her teeth.

‘I don’t know why you are so convinced that I want to imprison you here.’

‘Not you—them.’ He showed his teeth. ‘The irony is not lost on me that I’ve been sprung from one gaol only to be forced into another. I will concede that you are a reluctant warder, but you are charged with keeping me here nonetheless.’

‘I trust you won’t put me to the test. Having travelled halfway across the world to bring you home, I’d rather not chase you halfway across Shropshire to drag you back.’

‘Would you really do that?’ He grinned. ‘I’d rather like to see you try.’

‘I won’t have to,’ Kate replied tartly. ‘Go on—why don’t you leave right now? Walk down to the village…hire a post chaise.’

‘I have no need to do any such thing. I have horses and a post chaise of my own.’

‘Actually, you don’t. There’s a carriage, but it’s not been used in heaven knows how long, and aside from my mount, and the pony who pulls the trap, and the farm horses, the stables are empty. So you’ll just have to walk. Please, don’t let me stop you.’ She smiled sweetly at him.

For a moment she thought he might actually call her bluff, but then he gave an exasperated sigh.

‘You know as well as I do that I’m under orders to remain here. Hopefully it won’t be for long, for the terms of our marriage did not anticipate any form of cohabitation. I’m sure you don’t want me here, getting under your feet and treading on your toes, and I assure you that I have no intention of doing so. This is your domain, not mine.’

‘This is your home, Daniel.’

‘No, it’s your home and my gaol, albeit a considerably more comfortable one than the last. I wish to hell they hadn’t embroiled you in this diplomatic mess.’

‘I’m your wife,’ Kate said tightly, ‘the most obvious person to become embroiled, as you put it.’

‘My wife in name only. I married you to look after Elmswood, not me.’

‘You were at death’s door, for heaven’s sake!’

Kate gazed down at her hands, counting slowly to ten. It was the same refrain he’d uttered on and off since he’d first recovered consciousness in Cyprus almost two months ago, and it was beginning to grate. Seriously grate.

‘I won’t apologise for doing what was asked of me. You’re my husband, and it’s my duty to take care of you to the best of my ability. That’s what I did, and as a result you are alive to berate me for it. If that is the price I must pay for what I did, then so be it.’

A tense silence followed, in which they both glowered at each other, and then, to her surprise and relief, Daniel laughed. ‘I’ve married a despot! And I should know—I’ve met a few!’

She didn’t know what to make of that, so instead said, ‘If you would be a little more co-operative and conciliatory then I wouldn’t have to fight you every step of the way.’

‘Ah! So you admit that you have been imposing your will on me? In my book, that’s a despot. Or a tyrant, if you prefer.’

‘I prefer—’ Kate stopped short, narrowing her eyes. ‘Are you teasing me?’

Daniel grinned. ‘Only a little. Do you mind?’

She smiled reluctantly. ‘I suppose if I say yes it will only encourage you.’

‘Which would be extremely churlish of me. I rather think it’s me who’s been the tyrant.’

‘You’ve been very ill.’

‘That doesn’t mean my temper is obliged to follow suit. You’re a diplomat, as well as a despot. Have I said thank you at any point?’

‘There’s no need to thank me. We are married, I was doing my wifely duty.’

‘And your duty to your country, as they doubtless pressed upon you,’ Daniel said, rolling his eyes. ‘But there are very few wives who would have done what you did. Diplomat, despot, whatever other qualities you have, you are a very remarkable woman.’

‘Thank you. I think.’

‘Oh, it is a compliment—you must not doubt it. And as to thanks—it is I who owe you profound gratitude,’ Daniel said. ‘I wish you had not been involved, but I do understand that the powers that be gave you little choice in the matter. I wonder—’ Daniel broke off, shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You wonder how they came to decide that I could be trusted to do what they asked? I have wondered the same myself. I had plenty time to fill, after all, as they shifted me from pillar to post to preserve my cover story. I decided that they must have sounded Alexander out. He would be the natural choice. I presume I am right in thinking his previous position at the Admiralty masked the fact that he was in the same line of business—do you call it “business”?—as you?’

‘What do you know about my line of business?’

‘Next to nothing. They told me you were incarcerated. They did not tell me why or even where you were being held.’

‘Good. The less you know of that business or any future business of mine, the better. I won’t be here long, Kate. Before you know it I’ll be off and you can resume your life as if nothing has happened.’

‘That’s all very well, but while you’re here, Daniel, what on earth are we to tell people? What are you going to do? How will you occupy yourself?’

His expression hardened. ‘I won’t be here long enough to have to worry about any of those things. They’ll come calling, Sir Marcus and his sidekick, believe me.’

‘You’ve only just got here! I’m surprised you made it down the stairs without help. They can’t possibly expect you to return to whatever duties you perform for them already.’

‘I’ve no idea what they expect.’ Daniel slumped, looking suddenly tired. ‘Do you think I could have a cup of coffee? I could sorely use one.’

‘Of course you can—this is your house. Only—do you think coffee is a good idea? Why don’t you go back to bed and rest? I could bring you…’

He shuddered. ‘No more healthy, nourishing broth, I beg you. And I’m not going back to bed. Just coffee, please.’

‘I’ll fetch it myself.’ Kate jumped to her feet. ‘I won’t be long.’

She was gone before he could suggest ringing the bell for a servant, and on reflection Daniel was glad of the brief respite. He felt as weak as a kitten. The act of dressing and making his way from his bedchamber to the morning room had been a comically exhausting struggle. Until he’d put his clothes on, he hadn’t realised just how much weight he’d lost. Shaving had almost defeated him. He’d had to stop and start so many times due to his shaking hand that the water had been cold by the time he’d finished. But he’d done it.

It was a small triumph but a victory all the same.

He stretched his legs out, wriggling his toes in his boots, for they had gone quite numb. He was cold. He could see that the sun was shining outside, and he knew it was June, the start of summer, but he’d become accustomed to much warmer climes. He would not ask for a fire to be lit, though. Kate would be bound to blame his chill on his various sicknesses. Gaol fever, the ague, and heaven only knew what else had laid him low. She would doubtless be right, but he was damned if he’d admit that to her.

She was so capable! He’d thought her unflappable too, until this morning. He’d enjoyed teasing her. She had a reluctant smile, but when she did smile—yes, it was worth waiting for. He’d seen it very rarely, that smile, on their protracted voyage back to England. Truth be told, he couldn’t really make cohesive sense of that journey, for each time he’d thought his fever gone for good it had returned with a vengeance, making it difficult for him to distinguish between his torrid dreams and reality. It sat ill with him, the way he’d been forced to rely on Kate, but in his heart he knew he wouldn’t have made it without her. He would not go so far as to say she’d saved his life, but she had probably saved his health.

He had pins and needles in his feet again—a recurring nuisance even though the wounds caused by the manacles had healed months ago.

Heaving himself upright, Daniel wandered over to the little rosewood escritoire which was positioned to look out of one of the two tall windows. It was neat and tidy, with a fully replenished inkstand, a selection of newly sharpened pens, a fresh sheet of paper in the blotter, various letters and papers in the dockets, neatly filed, a stack of blank paper, a seal and wax, all sitting in readiness. There was a single yellow rose in a silver vase, clearly just picked, for the bud was only partially unfurled.

Was there a rose garden at Elmswood? He couldn’t recall. It hadn’t been the sort of thing to interest him.

There was a comfortable-looking chair positioned in the other window, so he sat down and gazed out at the view. There was the oak tree he’d climbed countless times as a boy, and the lake where he’d taught himself to swim. Over to the left, behind the rose garden—yes, he remembered now that there was one—was his old sanctuary the walled garden. The place where he’d first dreamed his dream of escaping the claustrophobic confines of Elmswood and travelling to far-flung places.

But when he tried to remember the dreams he’d dreamed, tried to recall the experience of climbing, diving, swimming, he could not. It was as if he’d been told the stories by someone else. But then, wasn’t that the case with most of his past life—or should that more accurately be lives? It was one of his strengths, the ability to put one persona behind him and assume another, never looking over his shoulder, wiping one slate clean before he started to write on another. No memories, no ties, no pain.