Chapter Eight
During the coming days, Jasper tried to busy himself with business matters. He spent a considerable amount of time with his secretary and man of affairs, but the men were so competent, and Lord Fairhurst so organized, that they quickly ran out of items to discuss.
He reviewed accounts from his country estate in York, Haverford Grange, which produced a sizable portion of his income, and then read several reports on various business ventures that were actively searching for investors. Most were far too risky for his tastes, and under normal circumstances would never have been considered, but Jasper welcomed the distraction and read every page.
Though he told himself it was merely a precaution, Lord Fairhurst also deliberately avoided Claire. The house was large, so chance meetings were rare, but to ensure his seclusion, he began taking his meals at odd times of the day and night in the privacy of his study or his chambers.
For the first time in his life, he felt uncomfortable and uneasy in his own home.
It would have been a relief to throw himself into the distraction of social events, but that too was to be avoided. Lord Fairhurst was unprepared to answer any questions from friends and subtle inquiries from acquaintances about the state of his relationship with Rebecca.
He sent Miss Manning flowers daily, together with a note of remembrance, yet she never acknowledged the receipt of either. He thought her silence most telling and was beginning to wonder if he would be given a chance to make things right between them. Or, on the days when he felt more tired than a man his age should, if he really wanted to set things back on course.
And that revelation distressed him most of all.
The one person that he was anxious to see, his solicitor, Walter Beckham, was puzzlingly unavailable. Never being one who tolerated inefficiency, Jasper summoned the lawyer to his home for a meeting, composing the missive so that it would be impossible for it to be ignored or refused.
When Mr. Beckham was announced, Jasper remained seated behind the leather-topped desk that dominated the far end of his private study. Through hooded eyes, he watched as the solicitor advanced across the room, his uneven gait betraying an elevated level of nervous agitation.
Jasper feared that meant the news would not be good. Unfortunately, he was correct. Yet it was not only the disappointing progress that Mr. Beckham had achieved that distressed Lord Fairhurst, it was the manner in which he delivered the information.
“Your complacency in this matter has me worried, Mr. Beckham. Have I inadequately expressed my desire to see this problem swiftly resolved?”
“Not at all, my lord. You have been most clear about your wishes.” The solicitor darted him a nervous grin; then concentrated on shuffling the numerous papers in his lap. “This is a highly unusual, complicated case. It will take time to maneuver around the many legal obstacles.”
“I am not expecting miracles,” Jasper replied, though his tone suggested that was precisely what he expected. “Nor do I profess to understand all the complications of the law. Still, I am a logical man, and it seems that it should be fairly simple to prove that I cannot be married without my consent, even if the person involved in the incident is my twin brother and heir.”
The solicitor bowed his head closer to the papers in his hand. “As you said, my lord, the law is complicated.”
“But I must know my legal position as soon as possible.”
“Yes.”
“I am a man caught in limbo, Mr. Beckham. I cannot move forward until this matter is settled.”
“I understand.”
Lord Fairhurst lowered his voice. “Then do something about it.”
Mr. Beckham cleared his throat. “Yes, my lord.”
With a slight frown, Jasper watched him leave. The meeting had not gone at all the way he had hoped. Plus, there was something about Mr. Beckham’s nervous attitude that was troubling. The usually talkative lawyer had been miserly in his answers and had had difficulty meeting Jasper’s eyes when speaking.
Lord Fairhurst had never questioned the solicitor’s skill or honesty, yet he was left with the distinct impression that the man was hiding something.
“Am I interrupting?”
Jasper glanced up and spied his brother-in-law, the Marquess of Dardington, standing in the doorway. “No, come in. I need a distraction to keep this day from becoming totally soured.”
“I noticed Beckham leaving,” the marquess remarked. He seated himself on one of the more comfortable chairs near the fireplace. “I take it the news was not encouraging?”
Lord Fairhurst scowled. “Hardly.” Jasper strode to the sideboard, greatly feeling the need for the mellowing aspect of alcohol. Deciding it was more than necessary to break his restrictive rules on spirit consumption, he poured two glasses of port, then silently handed one to the marquess.
There was no comment from his brother-in-law about the early hour or the generous serving, and Jasper was reminded why he liked the man so damn much.
“The Bow Street Runners I hired on your behalf have confirmed that the marriage between Jasper Barrington, Lord Fairhurst, and Claire Truscott is duly recorded in the village registry. They also noted that the Truscott family is well respected and liked within the community,” the marquess reported.
“What about my brother?”
“He left Wiltshire directly after his wedding, presumably to come to London to assist with a family crisis. Since we know that is not what happened, the runners are investigating other possibilities, but it will take time and more than a dash of luck for them to find him. The trail has gone cold.” The marquess shot him a look over the rim of his glass. “Do you think Jason has come to harm?”
“’Tis too early to say. My brother has disappeared for long periods of time on several occasions.” Lord Fairhurst took a sip of his drink, then let out a bark of laughter. “Of course, he has never before left me with a wife.”
The marquess quirked a brow. “So she is yours?” he asked. “Is that what the solicitor told you?”
Jasper gazed down at the dwindling contents of his glass. “Not directly, but his nervous agitation made it abundantly clear that it will not be easy to disengage myself from her. I fear it will most likely have to be an annulment. Or, God help me, a divorce.”
“Rotten luck.” The marquess shook his head sympathetically. “Though I cannot see it coming to that, given these circumstances. Actually, I cannot believe a legal marriage truly exists between the two of you. Would you like me to ask my father’s solicitor to look into the matter? He has a reputation for a sharp legal mind and is very discreet.”
“ ’Tis a very tempting offer, but I would rather not involve anyone else at this stage. However, if Beckham fails to produce satisfactory results by next week, I shall ask you to arrange a meeting with the duke’s attorney.” Lord Fairhurst gulped down the last of his drink and deposited the empty glass on the edge of his desk. “And now I must make a visit to the Manning household. I have to tell Rebecca that things remain in a legal coil and our plans to become engaged must wait.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Exactly.” Lord Fairhurst pushed himself from the chair and stalked to the sideboard. The temptation to refill his glass was strong, but he resisted it. Being a good host, he did offer a refill to his guest, who also declined.
Rising to his feet, the marquess extended his hand. “I wish you luck.”
Jasper stepped forward and shook his brother-in-law’s hand. “Thank you. I have a sinking feeling that I am going to need it.”
Lord Fairhurst was kept waiting for fifteen minutes before being admitted to the Mannings’ formal drawing room. As he paced the hallway, he wondered if the slight had been ordered by Rebecca’s father, but when he entered the drawing room, he discovered that only the two women of the household were present. Mr. Manning was not in attendance.
Rebecca sat stone-faced in an armchair by the fire. Her sister Anne was on the nearby chaise. After a somber greeting, Jasper was rather reluctantly offered a seat. He sat on a chair that offered him a clear view of his intended bride. Refreshments were not offered nor was any concession made to see to his additional comfort.
Jasper grimaced inwardly. This chilly reception was a far cry from what he usually received. Much had changed since slipping from his role as potential suitor. Now he was rightfully viewed with suspicion and distrust.
“I met with my solicitor earlier today,” Lord Fairhurst began.
Rebecca’s chin rose abruptly, and her eyes flared with hopeful excitement. “Is it over? Are you at last free of that horrid woman?”
Jasper tried to ignore the feeling of dread that slid through him. “I am afraid the news is not very encouraging.”
“Oh.” Rebecca sagged against her chair.
Her face was the picture of disappointment. If she was trying to make him feel guilty, she was doing a first-rate job.
“Though it has not yet been confirmed, the marriage my brother undertook using my name appears to have legal substance. It must be dissolved before we can proceed with our own nuptials.”
“Will you have to seek an annulment?” Anne asked.
“That is the preferred course, but if it is not granted, then I must petition for a divorce.” Though he spoke to both women, his eyes never left Rebecca’s face.
“Divorce?” She spat out the word like a bitter pill. “I cannot marry a divorced man. The scandal would be unbearable. I shall be cast out of society. Forever. No person of social standing would ever receive me.”
“I do not believe it will come to a divorce, though I must in good conscience warn you of the worst difficulty we might face. Our circumstances are so unique that many are bound to show us sympathy and consideration. It might be rough going initially, but I am certain we can weather the storm. Together.” He looked into her eyes. “The ton has a short memory, and I have powerful and influential relatives and friends. I am confident that we will gradually be accepted again in the finest homes of the beau monde.”
“And what are we to do in the meantime? Rusticate in the country?” Rebecca made a dismissive sound. “That is not acceptable.”
Lord Fairhurst weighed his words very carefully. “We are not officially betrothed. I still have high hopes that we will make a match, but I cannot say with any certainty when that may occur.”
For a moment Rebecca did nothing but stare at him, and he almost wished she would open her mouth and shout. At least that would release some of the tension that was suffocating them all.
“I am sorry this has been so difficult for you, Rebecca,” he added quietly.
“Difficult?” The flash of her eyes startled Jasper. He expected her to be upset, but the depth of her rage was an unwelcome surprise. “I have been humiliated, my lord. Waiting in near seclusion like a docile servant, while you parade about Town with that female on your arm.”
“That was a most unfortunate incident,” Lord Fairhurst replied, defensively. “And entirely innocent. If you would allow me to explain, I—”
“Unfortunate for whom?” Her frozen eyes narrowed. “You, my lord? Getting caught with your lady-love?”
“Rebecca!” Anne’s appalled voice echoed through the room. “Lord Fairhurst is a gentleman. He would never do anything so vulgar.”
“Did my eyes deceive me the other day on Bond Street?” Rebecca asked.
“What you saw and what was happening appear to be very different,” Jasper said, trying to remain calm and patient. “In your distress, you have jumped to numerous exaggerated conclusions and turned an innocent, insignificant incident into a melodrama. There is a simple explanation that—”
“How dare you!” An angry flush crawled up her neck. Rebecca raised her hand and slapped it across his cheek. “Do not make light of my suffering. You have no idea of the anguish I have been forced to endure.”
She lifted her arm higher, poised to strike again, but when she swung toward him, Jasper grasped her wrist and held it tightly, preventing contact.
“One I will allow, given your heightened emotional state. But only one.” He bent his head and spoke softly, so only she could hear. “I know this is distressing, but try to remember you are a lady.”
She paled. “How dare you cast aspersions on my character?”
“I cast no aspersions, Miss Manning. Your actions and attitude are testimony to your lack of character.”
He probably should not have stated it so bluntly, but Jasper’s patience had reached its limit. He had expected her to be upset, but he was unprepared for such an emotional, vicious attack.
“Remove yourself at once, Lord Fairhurst.” She rose, her face a rigid mask. “And do not bother to ever return, for you shall not be received.”
“Oh, Rebecca.” Anne’s voice was a wail of remorse.
“Good-bye, Lord Fairhurst.”
Rebecca’s dismissive tone should have produced a bleakness inside him, but instead Jasper felt an odd sense of relief, as if he had just dodged a bullet.
Jasper gave a curt nod to the footman who held the door as he exited the Manning household. For the final time. Once on the street, he pulled his hat down and eased on his driving gloves.
Years ago, he had always driven his own team about Town, but when he had decided he needed a more conservative, respectable image, Jasper had abandoned the task. Deciding the activity might calm him and help him consider his next move, Lord Fairhurst relegated his surprised driver to the back of the coach and took up the reins.
When he arrived home, Jasper did not immediately go inside, but instead circled around the house and entered the rear gardens through the back gate. Even in hibernation the rose garden was a thing of beauty. The neat rows of bushes, surrounded by well-tended, formal shrubbery, were healthy and lush, covered with tight buds that seemed ready to burst into bloom at any moment.
He strolled down a gravel path, then turned the corner of the hedge and saw Claire. She was sitting on a garden bench in a secluded alcove of greenery; a leather bound book rested beside her. She had removed her bonnet, and the full rays of afternoon sunlight were directly upon her head.
Claire clearly enjoyed the sensation, for her head was tilted toward the sky and her eyes were closed. To offset the warmth of the sun, she was slowly fluttering a fan near her face to create a small breeze.
She looked content and relaxed, with nothing in her face betraying the strain of the last few weeks. Jasper hesitated a moment. It was not proper for them to be alone, especially in a secluded area, yet it seemed cowardly to turn tail and run.
He was still a few yards away when he spoke. “Good afternoon. I see that you are enjoying the sunshine.”
Claire’s head whirled in his direction. Her eyes popped open in surprise. She quickly tugged on her bonnet and straightened her skirts, knocking the book to the grass in her haste.
“Lord Fairhurst, you startled me.”
“Sorry. May I join you?” he asked, as he lifted the book from the ground and held it out to her. He sensed her indecision, her surprise at his request. After all, he had done everything he could to avoid her the past week.
“Of course.” She moved to the edge of the stone bench to make room. “This is your garden.”
He had not intended to sit so close beside her, but it would seem rude if he ignored the place she had created for him.
“’Tis very peaceful back here,” Jasper mused.
“Yes, it is rather amazing how a touch of quiet, natural surroundings can provide a wonderful escape.” She turned toward him. “And it looks as if you are very much in need of one, my lord.”
He could not suppress an ironic smile. “So, it is that obvious?”
She nodded. “Bad day?”
“Challenging. I have just come from calling upon Miss Manning. Earlier in the afternoon, I met with my solicitor.”
“The expression on your face and the tone of your voice tells the rest of the story.” She let out a quiet sigh. “The news is not good, is it?”
“We might need a divorce,” he said glumly.
“Oh, goodness, I am so sorry. How perfectly dreadful for you.”
“And you.”
For a moment, she looked perplexed. Then, amazingly, she smiled. “Oh my, I believe I shall become quite notorious in Wiltshire. I will be the first divorcée to ever set foot inside the village square.”
“This is very serious. Divorced women are often shunned by polite society.”
“Then I am fortunate not to live in polite society. A small community does have its share of gossip-hungry folks, but I already know that those who are rigid and intolerant will be loudly disapproving and those who are loyal friends and family will support me.” A stricken look crossed her face. “I fear you will have a much harder time than I. Can we try for an annulment instead? ’Tis hardly ideal, but carries far less scandal.”
“We have no grounds. If you were underage or it could be proven that you were forced against your will to take your vows, then the marriage could be easily annulled.”
“What about non-consummation of the union?”
Her cheeks had heated to a bright red. She was clearly mortified at the notion, but had raised the topic in hopes of aiding him. Jasper was touched by this selfless act.
“I appreciate that you would be willing to subject yourself to such acute embarrassment for my sake, but non-consummation is not a guarantee of annulment. It would have to be proven that the husband was incapable of performing the marital act.” Jasper cleared his throat. “I believe my pride has suffered enough without subjecting myself to official court documents stating such a lie.”
“No one would believe it anyway,” she muttered.
The compliment brought a smile to his lips. “Thank you.”
The color in her face deepened when she realized he had heard her remark. He marveled again at how sweet she was, how genuinely kind and considerate she was, and how, despite his determination not to, he liked her. Very much.
She had the power to stimulate his mind and his senses, but more importantly, she made him laugh. Sometimes at himself.
“I am sure your solicitor will be able to find an easier, less shocking way to dissolve this union,” Claire said. “Even if it is your name on the marriage license, I can testify that Jay was the person who signed it, making it a forgery. There must be a legal contingency to dissolve a union under those circumstances. If not, women all over the country would be marrying themselves to powerful, wealthy men by forging names on marriage certificates. I imagine the Regent alone would have hundreds of wives.”
“Hundreds?” Jasper smiled as he pondered that absurd notion. “I have met the Regent on numerous occasions, and I can assure you that any female with an ounce of common sense runs in the opposite direction when she encounters our prince.”
“Oh, dear.” Claire’s eyes widened, and they shared a quiet laugh. “Still, we must leave it to the lawyers to sort out, though I’ll own it feels like time has been suspended.”
Her statement gave him pause. It was past time he remembered that he was not the only one affected by this situation. “Are you longing to return home?”
“Not really.” She dipped her chin for a moment, seemingly embarrassed by her answer. “Before arriving here, I had never ventured more than a few miles away from the village where I was born. Though I have seen only a glimpse of the city, I am enjoying my time in London.”
“You have done some sightseeing?”
“Oh, yes. Both your mother and sister have been excellent guides. I have been to the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey and have also viewed the paintings on display at the Royal Academy. They were marvelous and proved to be a wonderful distraction from my worries.” Claire’s brows knit together in a small frown. “But I should return home, so that you may assume your normal routine and restore some order to your life.”
It was probably better if she did leave, but Jasper discovered the notion unsettled him. Though he had been avoiding her, there had always been an odd comfort in knowing she was near, available almost instantly.
What would await her upon her return to Wiltshire? How would she explain the bizarre change in her circumstances to her family and friends? Though she joked about the notoriety of being a divorced woman, he knew it would not be an easy road.
Jasper’s mind raced forward to an impulsive idea that his highly developed common sense immediately rejected. Yet the idea lingered, persistent and possible, nagging at his brain.
His connection with Rebecca Manning was severed. His need and desire for a wife remained. Though she would likely claim otherwise, his family owed Claire some protection. His brain twisted and turned as he tried to decide what they could do for her.
There was only one answer. And it was now within his power to act upon it. If he dared. Common sense, be damned!
“Are you in love with my brother?”
It was the most direct question anyone had ever asked her. And, in some ways, one of the easiest to answer, for the truth was abundantly clear. Yet, Claire hesitated. The moment dragged on, and as Lord Fairhurst continued to stare at her and wait, she knew she would have to say something.
“I have a great affection for Jay,” she hedged.
“Affection?”
“Yes. And a deep regard.”
“You once told me that you were a romantic,” Lord Fairhurst said, his eyes never leaving her face. “I would think a woman with such a nature would require far more than regard and affection from her husband.”
The intensity of that stare made Claire hot and a little nervous. “What we require is not always possible to receive,” she whispered. “I needed a husband and Jay needed a wife, and thus we agreed to marry.”
“Yet somehow my idiotic brother made a mess of it.” Lord Fairhurst reached out and adjusted the brim of Claire’s bonnet, exposing her face more clearly to his gaze. “Do you still need a husband?”
Claire gulped. What did he mean? His face was calm, almost remote, but his gaze was intense. Claire shivered. He could not possibly be offering himself in the role of husband? Could he?
Her heart pounded at the very thought. Marriage to Jay had been a practical, business arrangement. Marriage to Lord Fairhurst would be completely different, for reasons she did not fully understand. What was it about him that made her knees weak? That made her burn to reach out and touch him? That made her long to brush her fingers tenderly along his square jaw and press her lips against his?
“I married to secure a modest inheritance from my grandmother,” Claire said, in a voice far softer than she liked. “And to avoid the persistent advances of a neighboring squire, though in truth it was Jay who felt strongly that the man was a danger who could not be ignored.”
Lord Fairhurst grimaced. “My brother has a talent for rescuing fair maidens.”
“Apparently.”
“But now it is my turn to be the hero.” A sudden, inexplicable gleam shone in his eyes. “Would you consider becoming my wife?”
Claire was glad that she was seated, for if she was standing, surely her knees would have given out. “What about Miss Manning?”
The viscount frowned. “She has decided it would be best not to continue an association with me.”
“I am so sorry.”
“There is no need.” Remarkably, Lord Fairhurst sounded almost cheerful. “I warned her that I might be facing a divorce and she found the notion very distressing. Can’t say that I blame her. I do not find the idea very palatable, either.”
“I see.” Claire was surprised at how strongly the disappointment rushed through her. Lord Fairhurst was nothing if not a practical man. Now that he was no longer beholden to Miss Manning, the easiest way to avoid a scandal and a messy, public divorce would be to stay married to her.
“If you marry me, you can legitimately keep the title of Lady Fairhurst. In fact, one day you will become the Countess of Stafford. In addition to my rank, you will be entitled to a considerable portion of my wealth.”
Claire smoothed her skirt over her knees. “And what of Jay? How can I so callously abandon him?”
“You are not abandoning him. If Mr. Beckham is correct, you never were married to my brother.”
It was not what Claire wanted to hear. It made the reality of her situation too bleak and distressing. Yet she knew it was the truth. “Jay and I shared a unique relationship, agreeing from the first to live separate lives, apart from each other. Is that also what you desire?”
He stared at her, expressionless. “No, I do not wish to have a marriage of convenience. As firstborn and heir, I have far greater responsibilities than my brother. In addition to the more mundane household duties, I need a wife who is comfortable in society and is willing to attend important social engagements, as well as host similar events.”
“I am hardly qualified,” Claire protested. “I have neither the training nor the necessary connections to move in aristocratic circles.”
“Nonsense. You are a lady of good character, breeding, and intelligence. My mother and sister can guide you through the more intricate and delicate rules of the ton. I have no doubt you will be a great success.”
His confidence in her ability was flattering. But there were other aspects of this proposal that needed to be clarified. Claire drew a breath to speak and discovered she could not inhale enough air. “Will you want children?”
“That is something we will need to consider.” He broke his granite expression and smiled quite charmingly. “Jason is my heir, so the Barrington line is secure, though I will confess I have never thought needing an heir was a good reason to produce offspring.
“One only has to look to my sister Meredith to see the fault in that reasoning. She has birthed three children, all girls. Not an heir in the lot. The decision to have children must be mutually agreed upon. I am not opposed to it, but I would like to leave that discussion for the future, when we have come to know each other better.”
Claire curled her fingers into the hard stone of the garden bench. It was not a bad bargain. He was offering her far more than she ever dreamed possible. She had discovered that she liked living in London, at least for part of the year, and she was eager to explore the world of glittering society.
She was not as confident in her ability to take the beau monde by storm as Lord Fairhurst was, but Claire was shrewd enough to realize that with the proper guidance, and his connections, she could at the very least be a modest success.
And what about her ever-growing feelings for him? Was it folly to let herself believe that someday he could come to care for her? That they could have a real marriage, based on companionship, respect, and affection? That there might even be children to love and nurture?
Claire licked her dry lips. “I shall need some time to decide. I must consider everything you have said most carefully, my lord.”
“Of course. ’Tis a big step.” He smiled encouragingly, seemingly relieved that she had not rejected him outright.
“There is something, however, that I must tell you.”
“Yes?”
A lump caught in Claire’s throat. For an instant, her voice froze, but with effort, she pushed the words out. “I am not a virgin.”
“I see.” His left eyebrow lifted. “Apparently, my brother remained with you at least one night after the wedding.”
“Oh, no. ’Twas not Jay. He and I never, that is, we did not even—” Claire ceased speaking abruptly when she realized she was babbling. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and feared she must be nearly crimson with embarrassment.
“If not my brother . . .” Lord Fairhurst’s voice trailed off as he left the rest of the sentence unspoken. Silence loomed, then Lord Fairhurst suddenly straightened. “Was it that young man? The one who was killed on the Peninsula?”
“Yes.”
The single word seemed to echo through the garden. It took a great effort, but Claire kept her head high. She had never breathed a word to anyone about the extent of her relationship with Henry, always believing she would take this secret to her grave. Though she knew it was necessary, it felt ridiculously intimate to confess it to Lord Fairhurst.
His prolonged silence made her lift her shoulders defensively. She wished he would say something. “Perhaps you would like to withdraw your offer, my lord?”
“No.” He turned toward her. “Though I would expect that once taken, you will honor the vow of fidelity.”
Claire bristled. “Of course. As will you.”
“Me?”
“I know it is fashionable for men of noble birth to keep mistresses and dabble in affairs with other married ladies. But I cannot respect a man who conducts himself in that manner. And I cannot marry a man I do not respect.”
“I assure you, there will be no cause to worry about my fidelity,” Lord Fairhurst insisted.
Because you will keep me sexually satisfied and utterly sated.
Claire blinked and shook her head, knowing such shocking words had not been uttered from his lips. They were in her thoughts.
And his smoldering gaze.
A fleeting madness gripped her, and Claire had to fight hard against the urge to lift herself toward him and press her lips to his. Thankfully, there was no opportunity to act upon her wild impulse.
“I await your answer to my offer,” he declared.
Lord Fairhurst executed a cordial bow, then walked off toward the house, the sunlight gleaming on his blond hair and his long-legged stride confident and strong. Though he did not turn and look back, Claire sensed he was very aware that she watched his every step.