Chapter Two
For a moment, Lord Fairhurst feared the young woman would faint. She certainly was pale enough. Even her lips were colorless. She was taking in deep lungfuls of air, seeming to concentrate carefully on each breath. Her hands were clinging to the edge of his mother’s favorite gilt chair as if it were her only lifeline. Jasper reasoned, if he tried, it would take all of his considerable strength to pry those fingers loose.
He supposed he should ask her to sit down, but he did not want in any way to encourage her to remain in the house. Her untimely interruption had already disrupted his schedule, and Jasper hated any disruption in his carefully planned day. Especially when later this evening a most important, life-altering event would occur.
“I shall have my butler fetch you a hackney coach,” Jasper declared, deciding the best way to get rid of her was to provide a convenient mode of transportation. “In recognition of your worthy performance, I shall even pay the fare.”
Feeling pleased with his more than generous offer, Jasper leaned his head out the open salon room door. But before he could summon his servant, a flutter of movement caught his eye. He turned his head and watched the woman slowly sink into the seat of the chair she had been holding so tightly. Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes remained fixed on the floor in front of her. Even at that angle, he could see her face was still alarmingly white, her expression incredulous.
He hesitated, trying not to be pulled in by her acting. Yet, her distress seemed disturbingly genuine. Jasper sighed loudly, and against his better judgment, shut the door and approached her.
She lifted her chin slowly, until their eyes met. “I have nowhere to go,” she said quietly. “The only acquaintance I have in London is Great-Aunt Agnes. I dismissed her carriage when we arrived. I am certain by this time she has already returned home.”
“It should not be a problem for the coach to deliver you to your aunt’s residence.”
The woman let out a short yelp of irony. “But I do not know her address.”
Egad! Would this joke never end? It had gone far beyond its limited bit of humor ten minutes ago and was now beginning to reek, like three-day-old fish. For a moment, Jasper wondered who had decided to put this ridiculous prank in motion, but he soon concluded it was not worth the effort trying to establish blame. It was more important to end it. Immediately.
“Then I will instruct the coach to bring you to an inn.” Jasper lifted his brow and could not resist adding, “Or would you prefer to be brought directly to Drury Lane?”
“I am not an actress!”
She gazed at him with stormy indignity. Lord Fairhurst was taken aback by this sudden burst of spirit and wondered if this show of temper was a direct result of the red-brown strands of hair he could see escaping from her unflattering bonnet. In his experience, the old cliché about women with red hair having a formidable disposition was alarmingly true.
Despite her somewhat plain appearance, that lovely hair sparked a thread of interest, and he took a moment to assess her female attributes. She was far too tall for his tastes, her face was too pointed and angular, and she had the most appalling taste in clothes. The color, quality of the cloth, and style were all wanting, though perhaps her outfit was a costume, part of her instructions to look like an affronted country maiden.
Her coloring, however, was pleasing: auburn hair; fair, creamy complexion; and startling blue eyes. Her lips were full and soft and seemed ripe for kissing. She carried herself gracefully, but with no overt awareness of her femininity.
Yet, her heavy traveling cloak could not disguise the fact that she had a well-curved figure and possessed a glorious bosom. He was surprised she was not flaunting it, for it was, in his opinion, her best feature. Under different circumstances, he probably would not have afforded her a second glance, unless she were wearing a low-cut gown.
A prickle of annoyance moved up Jasper’s spine. He should not be ogling this woman’s breasts. It somehow seemed disrespectful and boorish, not only to this poor creature, but to sweet Rebecca, the lovely young woman who would soon become his fiancée.
This type of behavior was more reminiscent of the old Jasper, the wild youth who cut an infamous path through the drawing rooms of society and the gaming hells of London. He had been a headstrong, unruly young man, flouting convention and public opinion at every turn. The more outrageous and scandalous the stunt, the more willing he had been to execute it.
It had been a passionate, dangerous, and wasted youth that surprised no one of the ton. This sort of hell-raising behavior was almost expected of a Barrington. He often imagined that society would have been disappointed if he had not been such an irresponsible young buck and had not provided the gossipmongers and disapproving matrons with hours upon hours of juicy tidbits of scandal to share and savor among themselves.
For years he did not know how it felt to enter a drawing room or ballroom without hearing the cluck of disapproving tongues, the swell of shocked gasps. The buzz of conversation usually hushed considerably as heads turned to watch him, hoping they would be able to witness firsthand the latest spectacle he would make of himself.
Jasper was the offspring of a couple labeled odd and eccentric by a closed and unforgiving society. His ancient family lineage, noble title, and substantial wealth had protected him from complete ostracism, and that knowledge had made him even more cynical and dangerous.
His older sister Meredith, a beautiful and accomplished woman, had practically been shunned by society until she unexpectedly married the Marquess of Dardington. Supported by her father-in-law, the Duke of Warwick, Meredith had unwittingly conquered and tamed the most stodgy and straitlaced London matrons.
It was Meredith’s marriage that had opened Jasper’s eyes to the possibility of change. He currently held the lesser title of viscount, but was, in fact, his father’s heir and one day would become the Earl of Stafford.
Taking this responsibility to heart, Jasper emphatically decided it would be his mission to restore integrity to his family name, to show all of his critics that he not only knew the rules that governed polite society, he was more than willing to follow them.
For the most part, he had been successful in his task, over the years slowly and steadily erasing the memories of the past and replacing them with correct, proper behavior and attitude. The culmination of his plan was about to be achieved—marriage to a most suitable young woman, the type of individual he had always mocked and scorned in the past.
He supposed that is what made this ridiculous prank so amusing to his friends. The woman now claiming to be his wife was not merely unsuitable, she was a disaster. In her guise of a genteel country lady, she was everything he wanted to avoid.
Jasper consulted the ornate mantel clock. Damn, he was now significantly off his schedule. At this very moment he should be soaking in the bathtub, letting the steaming water ease the tension in his shoulders and back. Instead, he was being stonewalled by a barely attractive actress with a magnificent bosom.
What he really needed was a drink, but for the past few years Jasper drank only wine, and sparingly. He glanced down and realized he was drumming his fingers on the table.
“It appears we have come to an impasse, Madame,” Jasper declared. “We both know full well you are not my wife. Perhaps if you tell me truthfully how you came to be here, we can end this little surprise visit on an amicable note.”
The young woman tipped her head. She was chewing on her lower lip, turning it a deep, sensual rose color. “I am not an actress,” she stated firmly.
Jasper ruefully considered it a measure of her talent that he nearly believed her. “Fine, you are not a professional woman of the theater, but rather a woman looking to earn an honest bit of coin. I do not judge you, Madame, but I am fast losing my patience. If you do not withdraw voluntarily, I shall have to remove you by force.”
“You would not dare.”
She glared at him with flared nostrils. The reaction surprised him. He had expected her to wilt back in her chair and raise a lace-bordered handkerchief to her watery eyes.
“This is my home. I shall dare anything I choose.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” she insisted. “Nothing. I do not understand what is happening. You are Lord Fairhurst, and you look and sound like Jay, yet you most assuredly do not act like him. I do not understand.”
Her anxiety and confusion made him feel a twinge of guilt, and that annoyed him further. Plus, he really had no idea how to proceed. Though he had threatened her with bodily removal, he could not imagine himself hoisting her up like a sack of grain and carrying her out of the house, nor could he imagine watching several of his footmen perform the unpleasant duty.
Exasperated with the entire bizarre situation, Jasper threw himself into the chair directly opposite the beguiling stranger. After a moment, he lowered his chin and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand.
He should just throw her out of the house and be done with it, but there was something about her attitude and manner that stopped him.
As he was trying to gather his thoughts, Jasper heard the gentle swish of a silk skirt. Someone else had entered the room. Another wife, perhaps? Or was it the master of the joke coming to gloat?
Hoping it was the latter, so this nightmare would end, Jasper lifted his head.
“Forgive my intrusion, Jasper,” a surprised female voice declared. “Cook wanted to consult with you about a change in tonight’s dinner menu. Since Mother was busy, I volunteered to discuss it with you but was unaware you had company.”
Lord Fairhurst sighed loudly. Perfect. Now his older sister Meredith was here to witness this debacle. Not believing his bad luck, Jasper tipped back his head against the top of his cushioned chair and placed the back of his hand over his eyes. Maybe if he pretended this was all a bad dream, when he lifted his head the two women would be gone.
Meredith had always been the constant, steady force in the family, the voice of calm and reason until he had decided it was his turn to assume that role. As a young man, she had gotten him out of more scrapes than he could count. It was rather lowering to realize he had not yet gone completely beyond that point.
“This is not a good time, Merry,” Jasper declared. “Kindly tell Cook I shall deal with the menu later.”
It was, of course, too much to hope that his inquisitive older sister would discreetly withdraw. Wincing at the intrusion, Jasper locked his jaw, lifted his head, and wryly observed Meredith settle herself on the adjacent brocade settee.
His sister was a stunningly beautiful woman. Age and birthing three children had not diminished, but rather enhanced, her looks. She was wearing a simple, yet fashionable, gown of lavender silk that set off the color of her eyes and the sheen of her blond hair.
The stranger was staring at Meredith with barely concealed astonishment, no doubt mesmerized by her striking looks. She seemed very conscious of her own dowdy appearance, realizing how the country mouse paled in comparison to the older, sophisticated beauty.
Once seated, his sister gave him a speculative look, then shifted her attention from him, to the woman, and back to him. Finally, she cleared her throat loudly. “You are being appallingly rude, dear brother. Please, introduce me to your guest.”
Jasper’s mouth tightened. There was no possible way to comply with his sister’s wishes, for he did not know the woman’s name. Still, there was no way to avoid the inevitable.
Lord Fairhurst let out a loud sigh and announced quite dryly, “My sister, Meredith Morely, Marchioness of Dardington, begs to be introduced. Regretfully, I cannot comply, since this young woman has not offered her last name or her Christian name.”
Meredith’s brow knit into a tiny frown. “Is she the relative of an acquaintance?”
“No,” Jasper drawled lazily. He paused, pensively tapping a finger against his chin. “Apparently, she is my wife.”
There was a brief moment of utter silence.
“How delightful,” the unflappable Meredith replied. “I must ask, is this a sudden occurrence, or have you been keeping this marriage a secret for a long time?”
Jasper peeked over at the stranger, wondering if she would finally admit the truth, but she maintained a straight face, exuding remarkable calm under intense scrutiny.
“’Tis a prank, Merry,” Lord Fairhurst replied. “One I find not in the least bit amusing. Summers is the most likely suspect, though Monteguy might have had a hand in it, too.”
“What unusual company you keep, brother.”
Jasper shrugged, trying to remain unruffled by his sister’s perceptive eyes. Over the years, he had greatly modified his inner circle of friends, but many of his youthful companions were now also men of rank, privilege, and power. It was impossible to avoid them, and their ridiculous idea of humor.
“When Hastings became engaged, they got him drunk and had a leg shackle, complete with a ball and chain, fastened to his ankle. It cost him a pretty penny and took nearly half the day to have it removed.” Jasper’s lips curled into a wry grin. “For some peculiar reason, it seems whenever the parson’s mousetrap hovers around one of us, the rest of the bachelors get a bit nervous.”
“So, acting like a bunch of imbeciles calms one’s nerves?” Meredith inquired sarcastically.
“I did not say I approve or endorse these antics,” Jasper replied defensively. “And since this prank was pulled on me, I can hardly be held responsible.”
Meredith lifted her eyes to the heavens. “What happens now?”
“I wait for the orchestrator of this madness to reveal himself and pretend it was a hilarious and clever scheme, thus illustrating to one and all what a good sport I can be. In the meantime, my little wife departs so I can speak with Cook about the menu and attend to any other last-minute details for this evening’s festivities.”
Jasper turned his head and glowered at his “wife”. She had remained silent and motionless for the past few minutes, but he did not doubt that she was listening attentively to each and every word. “Though getting this young woman to leave is a far more difficult task to accomplish than it sounds.”
Being reminded of his lack of success in that area galled Lord Fairhurst into action. Jasper stood and narrowed the short distance between himself and the stranger. He reached down and took the young woman’s hand in his, intending to assist her from her chair. But at his touch, she came alive. She shook off his grasp, then shot to her feet as if she had been fired from a pistol.
“I am not leaving until this mystery is solved, my lord,” she said loudly. “My name is Claire Truscott Barrington, Lady Fairhurst. Or rather Viscountess Fairhurst. You, sir, are my husband. We were married three months ago at the village church. Reverend Clarkson presided over the ceremony, and he was so nervous he nearly misread the lines. We laughed about it together in the carriage on the way to the assembly that was held in our honor. You threw coins to the children who ran alongside the coach, and when they chanted and teased, you kissed me, ever so gently, on the cheek.”
“Madame—”
She shook her head frantically and kept on speaking. Jasper remained silent, reasoning she would eventually run out of energy. He cocked his head to one side, folded his arms across his chest, and waited. Her breathing was short and shallow, and the words rushed, tumbled, and spewed from her lips like a waterfall.
“As bride and groom we led off the opening set of country dances. It was warm that day, despite the time of year. Nearly everyone in the village came to wish us well. We all ate and drank too much, and you made everyone laugh and then tear-up when you gave a toast to the health and happiness of your new bride.”
She raised her arm and pointed an accusing finger directly at his chest.
“Your birthday is the tenth of June. Your favorite color is green. You like roasted guinea fowl, dislike peas prepared in any way, and insist upon having something sweet at the end of each meal, even breakfast. You have a large scar on your left wrist, shaped like a crescent moon. You told me it was a momento of a boyhood prank when you decided to try your luck posing as a highwayman.
“Amazingly, the driver of the coach took an eight-year-old boy seriously and halted the vehicle at your command, but when he realized you were merely a child, he struck the reins and took off. That sudden movement spooked your horse and you fell, hitting a sharp stone and cutting your wrist badly.”
The last bit stopped Jasper cold. She continued speaking, but he had ceased listening. Something very strange was going on. There was too much truth and intimate detail for this woman to be reciting a script. His birthday was indeed on June 10th, and he did enjoy a good roasted guinea fowl, though it was not his very favorite meal.
He did not have an incurable sweet tooth, or possess a large, crescent scar on his left wrist as a result of a short-lived career as a highwayman. However, Lord Fairhurst was very well acquainted with someone who did—his identical twin brother, Jason.
Flabbergasted, Jasper turned and met his sister’s eyes. They were round and wide, reflecting the same shock that was at this moment coursing through his body.
“My God,” Meredith whispered. “This dear girl is married to Jason.”
Releasing a steady stream of rambling dialogue had eased some of the tension throbbing in Claire’s head. Speaking the words out loud had somehow made it real, had reenforced the memories of what she and Jay had shared, had assured her that their bond was solid and strong, even though she knew that something was very wrong.
It had been difficult to maintain a blank expression and remain calm when Lady Meredith had entered the room, especially since she and her brother had proceeded to discuss her as if she were not sitting right beside them.
Though not overtly derogatory, it had been a lowering and uncomfortable experience. Claire was pleased that she had been able to keep both her pride and temper in check, for each had been sorely tested.
Yet, the ordeal was far from over. They had listened to her tirade of memories because she gave them no choice. Yet, mercifully, something she had said must have struck a chord, for they were exchanging looks and remarks at a frantic pace.
Calling on all her willpower, Claire reined in her racing heart and schooled her features into an expression of interested detachment. It gave her a perverse sense of gratification to turn the tables on her reluctant host and his sister. For it was now the viscount and Lady Meredith who wore nearly matching confounded expressions.
“We have all had a great shock, but I believe that Jasper and I have managed to solve the mystery,” Lady Meredith finally announced. She sank down gracefully on a chair and indicated that Claire should do the same. Lord Fairhurst remained standing, taking a position directly beside his sister.
Lady Meredith adjusted her skirts and gave Claire a friendly, encouraging look. “Now then, Claire. May I call you Claire?”
Claire nodded her head.
The marchioness smiled. “Good. And you must call me Meredith. We are, after a fashion, sisters.”
Claire drew in a sharp breath and turned to Lord Fairhurst. He affected a grimace. She tilted her chin a little higher even as she felt the warmth flood her face. Though she had been insisting for the past twenty minutes that this man was her husband, more and more Claire was doubting that was true. It was an equally maddening, frightening, and utterly confusing situation.
“What do you wish to tell me, Lady Meredith?” Claire asked.
The older woman nodded eagerly. “It appears that you have made an honest and understandable mistake, for you are clearly not aware of all the facts. You claim that Jasper is your husband, yet he claims he has never before set eyes on you and believes you are part of an ill-advised prank.”
Claire twisted the fingers resting in her lap tightly together. “There is no prank.”
Lady Meredith clucked her tongue. “The prank, I fear, was played on you, Claire.”
“What?”
“Lord Fairhurst and I have deduced that you are indeed married to a Barrington, a man who is a member of our family,” Lady Meredith continued. “However, your husband, scoundrel that he is, neglected to mention that he has a twin brother.”
Twins? They were twins? Claire felt her jaw go slack. She turned her head, but when her eyes met Lord Fairhurst’s, she hastily lowered her chin. She had never in her life felt more embarrassed.
Twins! It was such a simple, logical explanation, yet it did not produce a simple, calm resolution to her situation. Instead, it presented another bizarre truth that made Claire’s mind whirl with even greater confusion.
“I had no idea Jay had a twin brother. He rarely spoke of his family, and when he did, it was only in very general terms.” Claire tried to let out a nervous laugh, but instead made an odd, mirthless sound. She could feel Lord Fairhurst’s eyes focused upon her.
“Ah, so now you finally realize I am not your Jay,” he said in a smug tone. “And by-the-by, your husband’s name is Jason.”
Feeling at a total loss, Claire slowly sank against the cushioned back of her chair. Her cheeks grew warm with heat, and for a moment, she felt completely disoriented. Jay, or rather Jason, had a twin brother! It was almost too much to absorb. This newest revelation put an odd and most unexpected crimp in her situation.
“Stop gloating, Jasper,” Meredith admonished. “You are frightening Claire, and the last thing she needs is more distress.”
“Sorry.” Though he readily apologized, Lord Fairhurst’s expression barely altered.
“’Tis remarkable how much they look alike, is it not?” Lady Meredith grinned. “As boys they seldom had difficulty fooling their nannies and foisting the blame on each other for their misdeeds and raucous behavior, though they both got into trouble so often, I think they usually forgot which one was responsible.”
“The nannies were easy,” Lord Fairhurst interjected. “We were even able to fool Mother and Father on occasion. But never you, Merry.”
“I caught on fast to your tricks.” Lady Meredith let out a charming laugh. “It was more a matter of survival than skill. You were so wild and unpredictable, first as boys and even worse when you were young men. As I have told you more than once, the numerous gray hairs on my head are a testament to what I was forced to endure.”
Claire was astonished to notice that Lord Fairhurst’s eyes had warmed considerably. He leaned eagerly toward his sister, his posture more relaxed, his demeanor less threatening. There seemed to be real affection and regard between the siblings. Yet not, Claire suspected, between the brothers.
“I can see this has all been a great shock for you, Claire,” Lady Meredith remarked in a sympathetic tone.
“Yes, it has, Lady Meredith,” Claire answered. “As I mentioned, Jay spoke briefly of his family, and then only in very general terms. I do recall a reference he made to his brother, but the way he spoke of him led me to believe this brother was a much older man. A serious, dour, almost morose individual, nearly the exact opposite of Jay. A stickler for rules and propriety who was intolerably stuffy and quite a bo—”
Claire halted abruptly when she realized what she was saying and who she was insulting. Lady Meredith was regarding her with open amusement, a sweet grin on her lovely face. Lord Fairhurst looked ready to chew on nails.
“I imagine my brother portrayed me as a bit of a stuffed shirt,” Lord Fairhurst said. Though his voice was calm, his nostrils flared in an expression that might have been anger. “What else would one expect from a grown man who has never experienced a crisis of conscience? Jason has always taken great delight in deliberately keeping the word responsibility absent from his vocabulary and his actions.
“He has repeatedly brought disgrace and dishonor to our family name, basking in his rude and vulgar behavior, despite our pleas to have a care for his reputation. We have recently reached the alarmingly low point where revealing his name to others is now explanation enough for most of his rakehell antics. ’Tis a miracle, indeed, that any respectable family in society even bothers to acknowledge any of us.”
“Jasper, enough,” Lady Meredith chided.
Lord Fairhurst huffed for a moment longer, but held his tongue. Claire concluded this was hardly the first time this bone of contention between the siblings had been discussed.
“I need to see Jay as soon as possible,” Claire declared, hoping the brothers would at least be able to conduct themselves civilly when they were in each other’s company. She had worried that her sudden arrival would create an uncomfortable situation for her husband, but she never imagined how unpleasant things could become.
Lady Meredith turned a frowning face toward her. “Jason is not here.”
“When is he expected home?”
“When the mood strikes him, I suppose.” Lord Fairhurst replied. His tone held a mingling of mockery and scorn.
“Actually, I do not believe Jason is in Town,” Meredith said. “Was he expected at the party this evening, Jasper?”
“No.” Lord Fairhurst’s expression darkened further. “Naturally, it would be too much for us to hope that our brother would be available to take charge of this messy situation. He always thinks ’tis best to leave that arduous chore to others.”
“Jasper!” Lady Meredith exclaimed.
“I mean no insult, but this young woman is Jason’s responsibility, not mine, thank the good Lord. However, something must be done with her.” He removed a watch from his breast coat pocket and consulted the time. “I am horribly off schedule and have numerous items that need my immediate attention. Can you please handle this, Meredith?”
Claire’s breath hitched in her lungs. How ridiculous to feel so rejected. She did not know this man; there was no reason to care about his opinion of her. Yet somehow it stung to be so soundly dismissed.
Still, she felt rather certain he would be singing a different tune once he knew the entire truth. Claire fleetingly pondered how to bring up the one extraordinary fact that would in essence change everything. The viscount’s current state of annoyance would seem tame when he learned that astonishingly she really was his responsibility.
Hoping to soften the blow, Claire cowardly began by apologizing.
“Though as you clearly now know this was an honest mistake, I feel I must apologize for the difficulties I caused both of you this evening.”
Lord Fairhurst’s faint laugh held little humor. “Think nothing of it.”
He bowed curtly, then pivoted on his heel and stalked toward the door. Claire followed behind him, scurrying to match his long strides.
“We seem to have put this rather odd puzzle of my marriage into place, my lord; however, there is one item I fear I must point out.”
Lord Fairhurst stopped and turned his head, glancing at her over his shoulder.
“Yes?” His voice was vague and impatient, as if he had already dismissed her from his thoughts.
Claire looked back and forth, at Lord Fairhurst and his sister, wishing there was some way she could avoid telling them the entire truth. She knew the reaction to her news was going to be extreme, but there was no way to keep it from being revealed.
“Though I believe we have established it was Jason, and not you, who spoke the wedding vows, the name that is entered on my marriage license is Jasper Barrington, Lord Fairhurst.”
She heard the marchioness gasp, but Claire’s eyes remained riveted on Lord Fairhurst. Two spots of color appeared on his face, marring his handsome cheeks.
“What are you saying?”
“The same thing I have been repeating all afternoon,” she replied miserably. “You are my husband. I confess I do not for the life of me understand it, but in the eyes of the world, I am Claire Truscott Barrington, Lady Fairhurst. Your lawful wife.”