A Too Convenient Marriage

‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault her curls are too tight.’

Miss Lambert hid a subdued laugh behind one gloved hand and Justin was heartened by the return of her cheer. Whatever her treatment at the Rocklands’ hands, it hadn’t destroyed her spirit, or her sense of humour. It would be an interesting challenge to draw it out fully, as intriguing as the promise of her alluring curves beneath the straight dress.

* * *

The sunshine piercing the trees along the front path spread over Susanna, melting away the chill of the Rockland house. Despite having more fireplaces than servants, the stone mausoleum was never warm and neither was the company it kept. In the fresh air, Susanna felt as if she could breathe at long last, though Mr Connor’s arm beneath her hand and his tall figure beside her made each breath shallow and unsteady.

‘Lady Rockland is quite the charming lady,’ Mr Connor remarked as he helped Susanna into the vehicle.

She gripped his hand tightly, more to steady herself from the surprise rocking of her body in his presence than at the twitching springs of the chaise. ‘She was practically polite today, though once we’re wed, I don’t think we’ll have many dealings with her.’

If it wasn’t for the promise she’d extracted from her father to help Mr Connor, she doubted she’d ever see her father again after the wedding. It wouldn’t surprise her. Her grandfather and uncle had breathed a sigh of relief when Lord Rockland had arrived to take her away the day after her mother’s funeral. They’d washed their hands of her, just as Lady Rockland would. Susanna didn’t give a fig about the duchess, but her grandfather and uncle’s utter rejection, after she’d been raised in their presence, had nearly shattered her already mourning heart.

‘I assume, then, we won’t have to entertain august guests at Christmas?’ Mr Connor climbed in beside her, raising her mood despite the old pain biting at her. It felt good to laugh with someone who wasn’t afraid to poke fun at her dour relations. It was a refreshing change to the parade of sycophants who usually wandered into the house.

‘I don’t think we’ll tarnish our dining room with their company.’

‘Good, because I hadn’t intended on purchasing a new dinner service this year.’

He winked at her, then snapped the reins over the horse’s back, urging the fine animal into motion. While he focused on the traffic filling the street, she studied him. A fawn-coloured coat and matching hat set off those teasing brown eyes which had nearly made her stumble on the marble staircase. However, it was the approving nod he’d tossed at her when she’d silently challenged Lady Rockland’s sneer which had filled her with more delight than the sight of his light grey breeches stretching over his strapping thighs. This near-stranger had supported her more in one moment than anyone had in the seven years she’d lived with the Rocklands. She drew her spencer a little tighter over her chest, chilled to realise how narrowly she’d missed being tethered to Lord Howsham, who held as little regard for her as anyone else in her life. The promise of freedom from the Rocklands must have been overwhelming to make Susanna ignore all of Lord Howsham’s faults. Hopefully, it wasn’t blinding her to Mr Connor’s.

‘Speaking of dining, my friends, the Rathbones, have offered to host the wedding breakfast. We’re to join them for supper tomorrow night. They’re eager to meet you.’

‘I’d be delighted to meet them.’ And nervous. As much as society looked down on her, those of the class she’d been born to were usually more vocal in their disapproval of her. For Justin’s sake, she hoped his friends would at least be grudgingly cordial and save their most cutting remarks for after she left. It didn’t matter what they said about her behind her back. She was used to the whispering and it had lost most of its sting long ago.

‘They aren’t the only ones I intend to introduce you to before the wedding.’ He shifted his feet against the boards and for the first time in their brief acquaintance, she suspected he might be nervous. It didn’t seem possible, and yet if she were permitted to wager on it, she felt sure she would win. ‘I’d like to introduce you to my father.’

She wondered what it was about his father that disturbed his ease, though she could well imagine. There was little chance of mentioning anyone in her family without it setting her teeth on edge. ‘I’d be honoured to meet him. I’m curious about the man who’s given you your jovial attitude.’

‘It wasn’t him. That came from my mother. She died when I was fifteen and my father’s good nature died with her.’ The small lines between his eyes deepened with a pensiveness she hadn’t thought possible as he explained how he’d gained control of his father’s affairs and how ungrateful his father had been afterwards.

Then the story ended and with it Justin’s seriousness, which was replaced by a devil-may-care attitude which piqued her curiosity. To all, it appeared as if he didn’t possess a single concern, but no amount of flippancy could completely conceal how deeply his father troubled him, or the hole his mother’s death had left in his life. She knew about such grief; she still lived with it, too. ‘You’ll see what an amiable fellow my father is when you meet him. Prepare to be charmed. He’s more Lady Rockland than Father Christmas and I won’t be shocked if he makes you cry off.’

Her hands curled tight over the edge of the seat as he merged the curricle into the crush on Park Lane. ‘I won’t cry off and you needn’t worry about me meeting your father. I’m used to dealing with difficult relations, Mr Connor.’

‘I’m glad to hear it because I need you.’ He slowed the horse as they made a wide turn on to Kensington Gore. ‘And please, call me Justin. Mr Connor reminds me too much of my father.’

‘And you may call me Susanna.’

He slid her a charming smile. ‘A pretty name for a pretty woman.’

His compliment shocked her, adding to her alarm as he turned the curricle into Rotten Row. ‘No, we can’t go in there.’

‘Why not? You’re a duke’s daughter. I thought the toffs loved to see the high born’s progeny paraded about.’

If it weren’t for the boning in her too-tight stays, she’d have slumped with her displeasure. ‘Not the illegitimate ones, at least not without his Grace present to keep the daughters’ tongues firmly in their heads.’

His curricle joined the stream of carriages entering the park and driving down the wide, dirt path. Mr Connor sat up straighter in the seat, motioning at her to do the same, seemingly oblivious to everything but the direction of his horse and the ribbons in his wide gloved hands.

Susanna tugged her small hat a little further down over her forehead, wishing the brim curled like a poke bonnet instead of up to reveal her face. At least then she might tilt her head and hide behind the straw.

‘If you continue to pull on your bonnet, you’ll tear it,’ Mr Connor chided her good-naturedly.

She let go of the brim. ‘We shouldn’t be here. People are staring.’

She had no desire to be made a spectacle of, especially not with Edgar riding by and scowling at them as though they were beggars who’d happened in on his supper and didn’t belong here. She didn’t. She didn’t belong anywhere.

‘I’m not surprised since I’m alongside the most beautiful woman in the park.’

Her heart fluttered at the compliment. It wasn’t flung off or studied as Lord Howsham’s flattery had been when he’d worked to seduce a naive young woman starving for attention.

Then four young married women passed by in a landau, gaping wide-eyed at her before dipping their heads together to whisper.

‘Ignore them. They mean nothing to us,’ Justin instructed.

‘Then why are we here?’

‘I want you to enlighten me about these people. I know many wealthy merchants. It’s my acquaintance with the better sort which is lacking.’

‘I’m not sure what I can tell you. I don’t really know them any better than you do.’ Invitations weren’t regularly extended to bastards, no matter how influential their father.

‘I’ll wager when you’re sitting silently in your fearsome stepmother’s midst, she talks past you to her husband, or her friends as if you weren’t there. During those conversations, some interesting things must slip out.’

‘Careful, you lost our last wager,’ she warned with a smile.

‘I don’t see it as a loss, but a very interesting gain.’ He turned the horse to avoid an oncoming phaeton with its hood open and its springs strained by the very rotund Lord Pallston.

‘I thought these people meant nothing to us,’ she challenged.

‘Their sensibilities don’t, but their business does. If I can claim one or two great men as clients, it might ensure our success.’ It surprised her how easily our, instead of mine, rolled off his tongue. ‘Now tell me, who’s the round gentleman driving the phaeton as ruddy as his nose? He looks like a man whose thirst could make a wine merchant rich.’

‘I thought you already possessed means.’

‘I used to possess a great deal more before my last venture sank.’ The humour in his eyes hardened, telling her all she needed to know about his last attempt at business. It was admirable of him to keep trying, despite what must have been a considerable setback, and it was more than those around them were capable of doing. It was another trait she and Justin shared—the ability to pick themselves up and continue on. The alternative was too upsetting to consider.

‘He won’t make you rich. He’s Lord Pallston and he doesn’t pay his debts. Few of these great men do. They pride themselves on owing almost every merchant in London.’

Justin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I know something of collecting debt. I haven’t let a man run out on Mr Rathbone yet.’

‘It’s not worth the effort or the uncertainty. My grandfather was foolish enough to deal with men like Lord Pallston. All they did was drink the wine while we watched our dinners grow thinner and the bills go unpaid.’ She hated to disappoint Justin’s ambition, but if the business was to be hers, too, she knew better than to build their hopes for success on the fickleness or insolvency of the peerage. A need for money often played a part in all these people’s decisions, including Lord Howsham’s, whose debt was about to consume his family estate. She hoped it did. He deserved to be ruined.

* * *

Susanna warning him off pursuing the nobility as clients wasn’t what Justin wanted to hear. If the voice saying it wasn’t so sweet he might have disregarded it, but he understood her reasoning. Philip employed the same logic, rarely lending to great men. When he did, it was only after they’d laid out the silver for Philip to hold until their debt was paid. Justin wasn’t likely to convince any lord to leave a soup tureen as collateral for wine, not when there were a hundred other merchants willing to risk bankruptcy to supply a peer with his Madeira. He’d planned on using Lord Rockland’s influence to bolster his name and perhaps even match Berry Bros. in their success. Now it was clear this part of his business plan might not work as he’d expected.

With one avenue to expand his trade quickly narrowing, the idea he might not succeed in this venture as his father and Helena believed drifted over him like the faint notes of Susanna’s jasmine perfume, only rather less pleasant. He flicked the reins and guided the horse past a lumbering town coach. No, he would succeed and damn his father and Helena. Justin’s desire to capture the business of the haut ton through Susanna might come to nothing, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have more plans or other possible clients. There wasn’t a pub owner or merchant near Fleet Street he hadn’t had some dealings with and most of them were pleasant. He’d make a go of this if he had to call on every man who owed him a favour from here to Cheapside.

‘Does your grandfather still have his shop?’ Justin asked with some hope for his own venture. It might be good to have contacts outside London.

‘I don’t know, though if he and my uncle were on the verge of sinking, I’m sure they’d deign to write to me begging for money, and to remind me how much I owe them for all of their years of kindness. They’ll get nothing if they ever show up on my doorstep.’

‘They sound as warm as mounting blocks.’ Justin laughed.

‘Just like the Rocklands.’ She sighed.

‘I’m curious—why did Lord Rockland take you in instead of placing you with another family?’ He pulled on one rein to make the horse turn at the end of the row. ‘I have a difficult time believing Lady Rockland was amenable to the idea.’

‘I’ve never really asked.’ She shrugged. ‘Out of gallantry, perhaps, or a desire to prove he’s so far above everyone else he can claim paternity to any child he’s sired no matter how much it irritates his wife or shocks his peers.’

‘I imagine Grosvenor Square was alight with other grand ladies warning their husbands not to follow Lord Rockland’s lead.’

‘And children of questionable parentage all over London breathed a sigh of relief at not being thrust into this world, always hovering on the fringes, a lady and yet not a lady, a duke’s daughter and his bastard all at the same time.’

‘You aren’t to refer to yourself in such a way. Do you understand?’ He refused to hear her speak so meanly of herself.

‘But it’s what I am and how everyone here and in Oxfordshire has always seen me.’ Her green eyes clouded with a loneliness he understood. He knew what it was like to be derided by those who should care for you the most. ‘It’s how Lord Howsham viewed me.’

‘Hang Lord Howsham and all these idiots. It’s not how I see you or how I want you to view yourself. You’re my affianced and very soon to be my wife, a respectable woman who no one has the right to look down on.’

She tugged at the bonnet ribbons beneath her pert chin. ‘About Lord Howsham. I think I should explain.’

‘No, I don’t want to know. Neither of our past amours interest me.’ He gathered her time with the earl hadn’t been good and, despite never having met the man, Justin wanted to pound his face for the insults he’d heaped upon Susanna. How he could have abandoned such a woman, especially after the promises he’d made, he didn’t know. It didn’t bode well for his honour, or that of any other man of his class.

Justin settled his shoulders and his hackles, allowing the more pleasant sensation rising beneath to come over him. He wished he had a man to drive them so he could sit with Susanna and bask in her intelligent eyes and the way she admired him with respect and interest no other woman had ever shown.

If they weren’t sitting in view of all of Hyde Park, he’d lean across the bench, take her parted lips with his and shock everyone passing in their carriages. He was tempted to bring the curricle to a halt near the line of trees, place his hands around her trim waist to help her down, and then feel the curve of her breasts against his chest as he led her behind a tree while he freed her hair from the bonnet. It was a giddy, boyish desire, one she’d sparked the moment she’d appeared at the top of the stairs. He hadn’t experienced a craving like this since his youth and it filled him with an anticipation he’d never known with a woman before, one he wasn’t about to act on.

Soon she’d be his wife and they’d be free to take their pleasure at their ease. He’d make her sigh with passion instead of sadness. She wasn’t a jaded widow or spurned paramour, but a lonely woman in need of affection. He’d see to it she had what she needed both in body and spirit. He looked forward to drawing out the bold woman who’d faced him yesterday, instead of the unsure, hesitant one sitting beside him today.

* * *

Susanna stared out at the passing carriages, thankful Justin didn’t intend to press her or judge her for her mistake with Lord Howsham. Justin’s lack of interest in the matter wiped the slate clean. If only she could brush away the nasty chalk marks of her illegitimacy and the way it tainted her in the eyes of everyone riding past. Justin might urge her to think more of herself, but after a lifetime of being reminded of a sin of which she was not guilty, she couldn’t simply put it aside. The taint was too much a part of her, like her hair colour or eyes, although perhaps in time, with his help she could forget it.

She slipped Justin a curious look, admiring how straight he sat on the seat, the edge of a smile drawing up the corners of his mouth until it seemed he might whistle in delight. Despite his joy, he wasn’t some silly lout with more fluff than brains, or a thug for his employer who thought of nothing more than his own pleasure. There was a depth to him she’d caught earlier in the mention of his father, and again just now, a sense of honour and loyalty to those in his charge, including her.

‘When do you think we’ll wed?’ She was eager for the date to be set and the vows to be spoken, suddenly afraid something would rise up to take this opportunity and the happiness it offered away from her.

‘Eager for the wedding night, are we?’ His subtle, teasing words curled around her and sparked an excitement deep inside her she hadn’t experienced since the time she’d stood alone in the woods with Lord Howsham. With the earl there’d been an edge of uncertainty and danger. With Justin, it was like craving the cool rush of water over burning skin on a hot day. It made her bold and she tilted her head, eyeing him through her lashes.

‘Among other things.’

‘Such as?’ He glanced at her from beneath the shadow of his hat and she licked her lips. She was eager for the wedding night, though she didn’t want to appear like some hussy and admit it, not in the middle of Rotten Row.

‘Having my own house,’ she announced wistfully. ‘It’ll be nice to belong somewhere instead of being made to feel as if I’m some unwanted guest by the Rocklands, and even by my mother’s family.’

The admission itself shamed her as much as the ease with which she’d made it. It wasn’t like her to air her grief because there was never anyone there to listen, or to care, but something about Justin made it difficult for her to be reserved.

‘You’ll never be unwanted at my house, though it isn’t as grand as your father’s.’

‘It could be a hovel for all I care.’

‘It’s not quite so humble.’ He laughed, his good mood lifting hers. ‘But it needs a woman’s touch.’

‘I don’t wish to intrude on your space.’ Outside of the colour Lady Rockland and Edwina’s rooms were painted, her father had rarely allowed Lady Rockland any say in the decor or even the management of the four houses he owned. It was another of the many things which stuck in the woman’s craw and increased her bitterness.

‘Intrude all you want, except in my study.’ He slowed the horse as they made a turn, his mastery of the ribbons as appealing as his confidence in the seat and his openness with her. ‘A man has to have his space, just as you’ll have a room of your own to do with what you please. I want you to be happy with me and for us to work together in both our home and the business.’

‘Thank you.’ She settled her hands in her lap, fingering the fine embroidery on the back of her glove. Of all the things she must soon become accustomed to, his concern for her, not just his physical desire, would be the most difficult. She would offer him the same regard, although it wouldn’t come as easily to her as it did to him. She’d spent so many years hardening herself against attacks, it was difficult to imagine letting down her guard enough to trust another person with her life and possibly her heart, but she must. He offered her a future free of guilt and derision, a future she never could have imagined before today. She would do everything she could to be worthy of it and embrace the life he promised her.

* * *

Darkness began to settle over the city as Justin strolled with Philip through the warehouse set on the banks of the Thames. They examined the casks and bottles they’d seized from the vintner earlier in the day. There hadn’t been time before Justin’s appointment with Susanna for them to take stock of what was about to become Justin’s first inventory. Mr Tenor walked behind them, listening and observing as always. Before Justin’s ship had faltered, he’d been training Mr Tenor to take his place as Philip’s assistant, much to the elder Mr Connor’s grief. Justin’s father had served the elder Mr Rathbone faithfully, prospering under the family as Justin had done, but Justin wanted more for himself and some day his own son. However, judging by the quality of the casks, it would be a while before Mr Tenor received his promotion.

‘The vintages aren’t as good as I’d hoped.’ Justin frowned as he held up the lantern to read a label. When the vintner had run off to escape his debt, he must have taken the best of his stock with him.

‘There are a few fine ones here.’ Philip examined the bottles packed in straw in a crate. ‘They should turn a nice profit.’

‘Not as nice as I’d like. I can sell the rest to public houses and a few merchants of less discerning taste.’ It wouldn’t bring in the money he needed. Those funds would come from Lord Rockland’s order for the masque and whatever other great men’s wishes Justin could fulfil. Despite Susanna’s wariness about cultivating some of the peerage’s patronage, he hadn’t given up entirely on the idea.

‘When I have the shop, I’ll have you transfer these to it,’ he instructed Mr Tenor.

‘Yes, sir,’ the brawny man answered, scratching at the holster and pistol under his thick arm.

Justin looked over the casks. To his amazement, he was more excited for his upcoming nuptials than this first foray into his new venture. The afternoon with Susanna had been far more pleasant than he’d expected, her humour and plain speaking as charming as it was captivating. He wished he hadn’t needed to cut their drive short, but there was as much business to see to as pleasure. Very soon there’d be a wonderful meeting of both.

‘When will you have the building?’ Philip asked as they stepped out into the misty night and Mr Tenor locked up the warehouse.

‘In a few days.’ With it would go the last of the money the sea hadn’t claimed. If he couldn’t make a go of the business, he could sell the building, hopefully at a profit. If his losses were too large, he’d be forced to continue in Philip’s employ. It had taken a great deal for Justin to swallow his pride and apply to his friend when failure had beset him the last time. It wasn’t an option he wished to entertain now, no matter how much he admired Philip.

‘Do you need any assistance?’ Philip asked tactfully as they strolled to the waiting carriage. Mr Tenor fell back to the cart where the other men who worked for Philip transferring goods stood smoking pipes and chatting.

Justin rested his hands on his hips and pushed back the edges of his coat, revealing the butt of the pistol in its holster beneath the wool. Though Philip would never allow him to fall into debtors’ prison, or worse, Justin wanted to be his own man and emulate his friend’s success through his own efforts. ‘You helped me enough the last time and lost a pretty penny in the bargain. I won’t put your money at risk again.’

Nor would he risk Susanna’s dowry until it was absolutely necessary. He wouldn’t use it to fund his business, but keep the money safe. It would be a hedge against his losses, protection against total ruin in case nature decided to flatten his business with a grape blight or a sudden fire. Remaining on land was no guarantee one wouldn’t be sunk.

‘Bastard, you ruined me.’ A man’s voice rang out from the deep shadows between the buildings.

They whirled to see a man rushing at them, pistol raised. His face was black with grime and his long hair reached down to touch the dirty red soldier’s coat with its black shoulder boards.

Justin stepped in between his unarmed friend and the man, brandishing his weapon. ‘Move an inch closer and I’ll take the top of your head off.’

The man jerked to a halt, fear widening his eyes. Justin recognised him as a bookseller who’d used Philip’s loan for drink instead of paying off his debt and whose business had failed last year. He’d since accepted the king’s shilling to feed himself and apparently to buy more gin. Justin could smell it over the stench of the river.