His Makeshift Wife

‘You were evidently very fond of him,’ she remarked, never having considered the relationship between the two cousins before.

‘When a boy, I spent very nearly as much time at Kingsley Hall as I did here at the Manor. Giles and I were much of an age, attended the same school and, as you rightly mentioned, were up at Oxford together. We were more like brothers than cousins,’ he revealed, before he raised his eyes to discover a pair the same shade as cornflowers regarding him keenly.

His response was to grasp the decanter again, smiling crookedly. ‘But, I digress. What you really wish to know is just why I was willing to marry you. And to be brutally frank, m’dear, it was for the simple reason the Manor offered me the perfect retreat, the ideal sanctuary. You see, there is a certain lady of my acquaintance that I’m finding increasingly—er—wearisome.’

The contemptuous curl that instantly appeared at one side of a very shapely feminine mouth revealed clearly enough that snippets of gossip appearing in newspapers had most assuredly been perused under the Manor’s roof in recent months.

He gazed resolutely down into his glass again, doing his utmost to suppress a twitching smile. ‘As I had no desire to be called to account by the understandably aggrieved spouse, thereby causing a major scandal, I decided it might be wise to abandon the metropolis before I was summoned to pistols at dawn, so to speak.’

‘Such an edifying tale!’ she muttered, quite unequal to keeping the derision oozing from each word. She hurriedly got to her feet, deciding it might be wise to leave before she allowed the contempt she felt induce her to say more than was wise.

He made no attempt to stop her this time, and succeeded in bidding her a pleasant goodnight before she had whisked herself quite speedily from the room. The instant the door had been closed quietly behind her, the faintly inane look he had adopted during the past few minutes vanished completely, and the earnest expression of a gentleman contemplating some ticklish problems took possession of his features.

After arriving at the bedchamber that had been her private retreat for so many very contented years, Briony discovered not the young maid Alice awaiting her, as expected, and didn’t attempt to hide her surprise at finding Janet tidying away some freshly laundered garments.

‘What on earth are you doing here? I imagined you would have been putting your feet up, after taking all the trouble to prepare that delicious dinner this evening. No doubt you’ll be pleased to hear your new lord and master thought the meal couldn’t have been bettered,’ she added, seating herself before her dressing-table mirror in order to begin removing the pins from her hair.

‘That was very good of Master Luke to say so,’ Janet responded, appearing well pleased with the compliment on her culinary skills, ‘although no more than I would have expected from such a thoughtful gentleman. But even so …’ She shot a considering look at her young mistress through the mirror, as she lent a helping hand to take down the long chestnut tresses. ‘I—I thought you’d mayhap be grateful for a word or two of comfort from an older woman … this being your wedding night and all, and you not having had a mother to guide you, so to speak.’

It took Briony a moment only to appreciate to what her dear Janet was alluding. It was perfectly true that she had no very real idea of what took place in the marriage bed, her godmother having only ever touched briefly on the subject by divulging that young brides had nothing whatsoever to fear, providing they had married considerate gentlemen.

She wasn’t so naïve as to suppose all females found the married state entirely to their liking. There were several young matrons in the locale, and not all appeared well pleased with their lot. But what did that matter to her? Her union was one of convenience only, therefore she had nothing to be concerned about.

‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account, Janet. I assure you I’m not in the least uneasy.’

‘Well, of course you’re not!’ Janet agreed, smiling reassuringly. ‘As I’ve mentioned before, Master Luke’s such a kind, considerate soul, one of life’s real gentlemen.’

And it’s in his own best interests to act like one if he desires the marriage to be annulled! Briony mused, attaining more reassurance out of this knowledge than any words of comfort the housekeeper might offer an innocent young bride.

‘And the way he looked at you in church!’ Janet continued, oblivious to her young mistress’s highly contrasting thoughts. ‘Fair touched my heart to see how much he cares for you!’

Briony scarcely knew what to say to this. She could hardly dismiss it as arrant nonsense, thereby arousing the housekeeper’s suspicions. Furthermore, Janet wasn’t fanciful as a rule. Evidently she’d seen something to make her suppose that Luke cared for his new bride. Clearly he was doing his utmost to appear the doting spouse. And she must at least attempt to do likewise!

‘I must own to having come to a—er—better understanding with Mr Kingsley soon after his arrival in Dorset.’

‘That goes without saying, mistress, otherwise you wouldn’t have wedded. And I’m so pleased you didn’t allow your head to rule your heart for very long. It’s plain to see you and Master Luke are made for each other.’

Oh, God! Briony inwardly groaned. Maintaining the pretence of a perfect union might well turn out to be far harder than she had ever imagined. How on earth was she going to pretend to be a blissfully contented married woman for a whole six months?

Striving not to dwell on the ticklish problem, she occupied herself with getting ready for bed. Not attempting to make conversation, and her rather business-like approach to changing into a freshly laundered nightgown didn’t appear to arouse the least suspicion in the housekeeper’s breast. It was only when Briony collected the book she had begun to read a day or so earlier, before settling herself in the bed, that the housekeeper’s greying brows shot up in surprise.

‘Why, Miss Briony!’ Dismay had clearly caused Janet momentarily to forget her young mistress’s new status. ‘You’re never thinking of reading … not on your wedding night?’

Briony was nonplussed for a moment. ‘Why ever shouldn’t I?’

Janet spread her arms in a helpless gesture. ‘Well … because I swear I heard the master’s footsteps along the passageway a few minutes ago.’

‘In that case you’d best not tarry,’ Briony advised.

Which had clearly been the right thing to say, for an expression of approval replaced the look of bewilderment on the housekeeper’s face, a moment before she whisked herself out of the room.

Briony released her breath in a long sigh of relief, as she made herself comfortable against the mound of lacy pillows. At last she could relax with her book and forget about all the subterfuge, at least until morning.

No sooner had the comforting thought filtered through her mind than she detected the click of the door leading to the master bedroom and discovered none other than the tall figure of her husband filling the aperture.

More intrigued than unnerved, she found herself studying his attire, or lack of it, for beneath the crimson-brocade dressing gown she strongly suspected he was wearing absolutely nothing at all. Dark curling hairs clearly showed between ornately embroidered lapels, and there was a suspicion of the same dark covering caressing the ankles of unshod feet.

‘Is there something amiss? I was informed all your belongings had been placed in your room,’ she remarked as he slowly approached the bed, all at once seeming far taller and broader in his casual attire. His face seemed different, too—younger somehow, with several locks of waving brown hair tumbling over his forehead—and there was a definite intense, almost hungry look in those grey eyes that never for a second wavered from her direction.

‘Have you misplaced something, perhaps?’ she added, all at once feeling decidedly ill at ease when he seated himself, uninvited, on the edge of the bed and placed one bronzed hand so close to her that his thumb rested against her thigh.

‘Only my bride,’ he returned silkily, sending her unease soaring in an instant.

Her response was to draw up her knees and tug the bedcovers up to her chin, clutching them frantically. ‘You—you f-forget yourself, sir!’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded little more than a choked whisper. ‘Or have you forgotten the bargain you made?’

‘I forget nothing. But for appearances’ sake I felt I must at least—er—pay you a visit,’ he responded, his voice growing increasingly guttural. ‘So whilst I’m here I might as well avail myself of the opportunity to discover if, perchance, you’ve changed your mind and natural maidenly modesty forbids you to reveal that you desire to become a wife in … every sense?’

The response to this was a violent shake of the head, which sent silky chestnut tresses whipping across wide, frightened eyes, and induced slender tapering fingers to clutch more frantically at white linen, as though her very life depended upon it.

Luke wrested the bed sheet from her grasp as easily as if he were depriving a child of its toy and smiled softly. ‘There’s no need to look so terrified, Briony,’ he assured her, reaching out to trace the soft line of her jaw with surprisingly gentle fingers. ‘I’ve never yet forced myself on an unwilling female and I have no intention of doing so now. The marriage will be as you wish … mere pretence.’

Letting his hand fall, Luke rose from the bed. ‘I shall never again enter this room unless bidden to do so. You have my word on that. Goodnight, my dear.’

Briony couldn’t have responded even had she wished to do so. A painful obstruction had unexpectedly lodged itself in her throat, making speech impossible, and her pulse was racing, though no longer through fear. That portion of her face that had been touched by, oh, so gentle fingers continued to tingle strangely, and the unerring feeling that she had just rejected something very precious entered her mind and remained there to torment her long after she had watched the light disappear from beneath the communicating door.

By morning she was once again feeling more herself. Her resolve had reasserted itself and restored her determination to play her part in the mock union in order to secure what promised to be a very comfortable future existence, once the farcical marriage had been annulled.

She woke much later than usual, a circumstance that certainly didn’t seem in any way extraordinary to Janet, who brought in a breakfast tray and cast her young mistress a long, considering look. The smile she received in response appeared to please her because she went about the room humming a ditty as she twitched back curtains to her satisfaction and rearranged several items on the dressing table.

‘I trust you slept well, mistress?’

‘Eventually … yes.’

The housekeeper’s smile widened at this response. ‘Master Luke’s up and about already,’ she revealed. ‘I expect he wants to familiarise himself with all the old property again. People tend to forget that, apart from the large garden, the Manor has quite a bit of land attached to it. Besides which, two of his other people arrived earlier this morning, bringing a whole string of horses with them, not to mention a couple of carriages. The stables must be fair full, I shouldn’t wonder.’

This succeeded in capturing Briony’s interest. She’d always enjoyed riding herself and was curious to see what kind of horses Luke now kept in his stables. Whether she liked him or not—and the jury was still very much out on that particular issue—honesty obliged her to own that he had been a fine judge of horseflesh even in his youth, and she doubted that would have changed. ‘I’ll wander over to the stables presently myself.’

‘Well, you take your time, Miss Briony … Oh, there I goes again! Can’t get used to calling you madam.’

‘Don’t concern yourself, Janet. I don’t object.’

‘You might not. But I dare swear the master would. He’s already taking an interest in your well being, bless him! Said as how you weren’t to be disturbed too early and that you’d be taking breakfast in bed.’

Briony wasn’t altogether sure she cared to have another making decisions for her. She wasn’t accustomed to breaking her fast in bed; although she didn’t object to doing so this morning, she had no intention of making a habit of it just to please the new master of the house. So the sooner she made that perfectly plain the better!

After the wonderful dinner she had consumed the night before, she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry and was soon setting the tray aside and turning her attention to getting herself ready for the day ahead. She had finished dressing and was on the point of seating herself before the dressing table in order to do up her hair in a simple chignon, when she noticed the housekeeper staring fixedly down at the crumpled mound of bedcovers.

‘Something amiss, Janet?’

The housekeeper turned to look at her young mistress, her expression clearly troubled. ‘I trust not, Miss Briony … I sincerely trust not.’

Chapter Four

As Briony approached the stables she discovered her late godmother’s devoted stableman, Samuel Dent, sitting outside the coach house, whittling away on a piece of wood. His face broke into a near-toothless grin when he finally caught sight of her and he made to rise.

‘No, sit yourself down, Sam. It’s all been very hectic out here this morning, so I understand.’

‘That it ‘as, miss. Takes me back years to when Master Luke were a lad. Always kept a string of fine ‘orses ‘ere back in them days, afore ‘e joined that cousin of ‘is up at Oxford. Master Luke always ‘ad an eye for a fine piece of ‘orseflesh. And so ‘e should. Taught ‘im m’self! Sat ‘im on ‘is very first pony not long after ‘e were breeched.’

Although this was news to Briony, it didn’t altogether surprise her. Sam had worked for Lady Ashworth nearly as long as Janet had and therefore had known Luke as a boy. Seemingly he held his late mistress’s nephew in the same high regard.

She cast a speculative glance at the larger stable. ‘Is your master about now, Sam?’

‘No, ‘e be over at the lodge, Miss Briony,’ he answered, thereby revealing that he, like Janet, hadn’t quite grown used to her new status. She wasn’t in the least offended. Had the truth been known, she wasn’t accustomed to it herself yet.

‘What on earth is he doing over there? I recall he did spend a deal of time there when he fancied a day’s shooting and wanted an early start. But the place hasn’t been used for years.’

‘Told ‘im so m’self, Miss Briony. But ‘e said as ‘ow ‘e didn’t expect it would take much to put right and ‘as gone over to take a look at what needs to be done to the place with that servant of ‘is by name o’ Carey. Seemingly this man Carey be going to stay at the lodge to take care o’ the stallion the master’s ‘ad brought ‘ere. Can be summut skittish by all accounts. But, then, they can all act up from time to time, like young men that does need to sow wild oats, so to speak.’

Briony decided it might be wise to steer the conversation into a slightly different direction. ‘Evidently your new master intends to breed horses, Sam.’

‘Seems so, miss. I said as ‘ow the beast could go in the smaller stable away from t’other ‘orses. But master said as ‘ow ‘e’d ‘andle easier if ‘e were kept at a goodly distance. And master should know.’

Leaving Sam to continue whittling in peace, Briony wandered into the larger stable to discover an unknown youth settling four fine bays into their respective stalls. Beside them, already champing happily away on hay, were two fine greys and a handsome chestnut gelding.

Curious to see the other animal that had arrived that day, Briony wandered through the large kitchen garden in the direction of a gate set in a high brick wall, which sheltered the more delicate plants from damaging winds. Beyond the wall were several fields where Lady Ashworth had kept various types of livestock during her lifetime, more than enough to provide meat and poultry for the household throughout the year. Beyond the easternmost field was a small wood. This, too, had been the sole property of Lady Ashworth and had provided her eager young nephew with plenty of game to shoot.

Although she had been taught to handle a gun herself, and was judged to be a fine shot, Briony had never been keen on reducing the number of rabbits and pheasants herself. Even so, she had wandered through the wood on countless occasions during the years she had lived at the Manor, so had no difficulty whatsoever in locating the single-storey, half-timbered structure nestling among the trees, adjacent to a large thicket.

She spotted the tall figure of her husband almost at once, standing outside the stable attached to the lodge. He was in earnest conversation with a man of below average height who, like herself, scarcely reached Luke’s shoulder. As she drew closer she noticed the stranger walked with a limp; noticed, too, that they ceased talking abruptly the instant they detected her footfall. Moreover, unless she was much mistaken, there was a hint of disquiet flickering across Luke’s features, as though he suspected she might have overheard some part of their private discourse, a moment before his expression changed completely and he came smilingly forwards to greet her.

‘Why, my dear!’ He reached for her hand and held it firmly in his own. ‘I didn’t expect to see you up and about so early.’

‘Not so early,’ she returned. ‘And I’m not accounted a slug-a-bed as a rule.’ She cast a brief look at the man who was staring fixedly in her direction, as though attempting to get her measure, and then raised one fine brow in a questioning arch as she turned her full attention back to her husband. ‘I trust I do not intrude?’

‘Not at all, m’dear,’ he returned with courteous aplomb, though whether he truly meant what he said Briony wasn’t altogether sure. ‘In fact, your arrival is most timely,’ he added. ‘It offers me the opportunity to make known to you Ben Carey, who has been with me for a number of years.’

As he touched his forelock politely, he limped a pace or two towards her, thereby drawing her attention once again to his disability. ‘Would I be correct in assuming that you met in the army, and that is also where you acquired your injury, Ben?’

‘That you would, ma’am,’ he answered, in a distinct north-country accent. ‘Got wounded at Oporto—lost part of my knee. Were lucky to have kept my leg, as it happens, but my marching days were over. Would have been sent home and kicked out of the army to live I don’t know what kind of life if it hadn’t been for the Major here. Took me on as his personal servant—his batman, like. Been together ever since.’

Clearly he was devoted to Luke. And understandably so, Briony mused. Evidently her new husband possessed an altruistic streak, which he did his utmost to refute a moment later by announcing that he had profited more by their association.

‘After all, to whom else could I entrust such a fine piece of horseflesh as Vulcan?’

This succeeded in capturing Briony’s attention. ‘Would that be the stallion you’ve had brought to the Manor?’

‘It would indeed. Would you care to make his acquaintance?’

She didn’t need more persuasion than that and eagerly accompanied both men into the stable, which she saw at a glance had already been restored to good order after years of neglect, before her attention was well and truly captured by the magnificent creature pacing his large stall.

‘Part Arabian, part Irish-bred stock,’ he enlightened her, as his much-coveted possession stuck his head over the wooden barrier to receive his customary treat.

Briony couldn’t forbear a smile. ‘I see you spoil him. But I cannot say I blame you. He’s truly magnificent.’

‘He is indeed,’ her husband wholeheartedly agreed, a moment before his teeth flashed in the most wickedly provocative grin Briony had ever witnessed in a member of his sex. ‘And like most virile young males he behaves much better if offered a sweetener.’

Suspecting a double meaning, Briony flatly refused to be drawn and, for the second time that morning, wisely changed the subject by asking if the animal could be ridden.

‘Yes, but only by me and Ben here, who manages him remarkably well considering the stiffness in his leg,’ he responded; although he had spoken lightly, there was no mistaking the clear edge of warning in his voice.

‘Let me assure you I have no intention of attempting to do so,’ she declared with feeling. ‘I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I rode one of your precious horses.’

He was totally bewildered, and it clearly showed. ‘Pray refresh my memory! What did happen?’

‘You tossed me in the lily pond upon my return to the Manor!’

Ben Carey’s shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter only served to ignite one of his master’s occasional lapses into devilment. ‘Upon my word! All I can say is I must have been in a rare good humour that day. You wouldn’t get off so lightly if you attempt the like again!’

This was hardly destined to act as a salve on a young woman’s bruised ego and it didn’t. Nor did the servant’s sudden loud guffaws help to lessen the feelings of ill usage she’d experienced all those many years ago.

A descendent of the famed Celtic warrior queen herself could not have looked more determined in her resolve. ‘You ever lay violent hands upon me again, Luke Kingsley,’ she warned, hands on hips and swinging round to face him squarely, ‘and I would strongly advise you not to sleep in your bed at night without securely locking both doors.’

Once again those white teeth flashed in the most infuriatingly goading smile. ‘Do I infer correctly from that that I might expect a visit from you, my love, should I attempt to play the heavy-handed husband?’ he enquired in an undertone, so that only she could hear. ‘Would that, perchance, lead to a better understanding between us and a—er—more pleasurable way of passing the night hours than in sleep? What a tease you are, to be sure! And after last night’s rejection, too!’ he declared, much to her further combined chagrin and acute embarrassment. ‘But then, I have ever heard it remarked upon that females are fickle and have a tendency to change their minds quite often.’

‘Well, this one does not!’ she hissed through clenched teeth, and swung away in high dudgeon, only to be caught the instant she had set foot outside the stable.

She refused to demean herself by attempting an undignified struggle and merely glanced down at the shapely hand that retained a firm grasp of her upper arm. ‘Unhand me at once, sir!’ She stared up at him, the look in her eyes clearly a challenge. ‘Or are you to prove once again that you are not a man of your word? You swore you would not come near me unless bidden to do so.’

He released her at once, letting his hand drop to his side, almost in a gesture of reluctant acceptance, or even defeat. He even sounded slightly despondent as he said, ‘I admit last night was a grave mistake on my part and I assure you it will never occur again. You’ve decided we’ll not be lovers and I shall respect that decision. But does that mean we may not at least be friends? The next six months shall be bleak, indeed, if we remain aloof strangers.’

All at once she felt ashamed of herself for overreacting to what had been nothing more than, she now felt sure, a bit of ribald teasing on his part. She wasn’t some pampered child who couldn’t take a little playful tormenting from time to time. She’d always prided herself on her sense of humour, for heaven’s sake! So why on earth did she react so negatively to this man’s gentle goading?

‘I—I see no reason why we cannot become … friends,’ she returned softly, and was rewarded with one of his most beguiling smiles. He really was the most attractive man, she decided, most especially when his waving brown hair flopped casually over his forehead, as now, and he was dressed for riding, clothes that suited his muscular frame so admirably.