The Substitute Countess

Jack rarely met a woman he didn’t like, even the guileful ones with nefarious schemes to trap him. Now the shoe was on the other foot, but he knew well all the means of avoiding the nuptial noose should this girl try to use them. He meant to marry her even should it require employing a bit of guile himself. She needed charming and he could do that.

“Aside from your employer’s unwelcome attention, how did you like being a governess? Was the work more difficult than expected?” he asked, assuming his most genial tone. He knew women liked questions about themselves.

“Impossible,” she replied. “The boys were too old for it. What They needed was a male tutor.”

“Or a lion tamer with a whip and chair?”

She laughed and Jack joined her, releasing some of the tension between them. He continued. “Like their father, eh? They had no discipline from that quarter, I’d wager.”

She sobered immediately. “None. He lacked even self-discipline. This was not the first time he behaved so abominably, but I’m certainly glad it is the last. I might have managed by myself, but you certainly were a great help. Thank you for the rescue.”

Jack was not all that surprised Orencio had made advances. Laurel was a fetching little thing, even in that dowdy garb of a governess.

She had handled the issue more than once, so she said. While that was admirable for an innocent with no worldly experience, it might not have turned out so well this time if he hadn’t interfered. It gave him a good feeling to know he had saved her from ruin and she seemed properly grateful for it.

Jack didn’t think it would be much of a sacrifice to marry her, assume her fortune and secure his future. And hers, too, of course. She deserved to be treated decently, especially after being dealt with in such a cavalier manner all her life. There was no reason whatsoever that they shouldn’t both profit from such an alliance.

He might not become the best husband she could have chosen, given his rough upbringing and checkered past, but she would be a countess. That had to appeal to her more than scrubbing floors in a nunnery the rest of her life or herding a passel of spoiled Spanish brats while fending off their lecherous father.

He admitted feeling a certain affinity for her already, probably because they really were cousins. Very distant cousins, he reminded himself. The girl had grit and he really admired that in anyone.

They should get on rather well unless she somehow discovered his motive. He had to make sure she did not. At least not until after the marriage. Even then, he would not want her to know. A trifle dishonest, perhaps, but he would not like to see the accusation in her eyes or the death of trust.

They spoke little more until they reached the coastal town of La Coruña where he had reserved rooms.

“Here we are, Coz,” he told her. It couldn’t hurt, reminding her of their familial relationship as often as possible in order to further her trust in him.

He helped her down, careful to offer no suggestion of interest in her body while his hands were on her waist. A tiny waist, cinched rather firmly, he noted. His hands ached to explore more of her, but he knew self-control and gentlemanly behavior were the keys to this prize.

She clutched her bag with both arms and glanced wide-eyed around the dooryard of the inn.

“We’ll stay the night here and board the ship first thing in the morning. That way we can have a good meal, a hot bath and sleep in beds that don’t rock with the waves. We’ll be at sea for days and will surely miss those comforts.”

“I know nothing about ships or sailing,” she declared.

“Then I’ll see you never take the wheel,” he quipped. He handed the horse off to a scruffy young ostler who stood waiting. “Is something amiss?” he asked her.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked up at him. “Shouldn’t I have a chaperone if we’re to stay the night here?”

“Have you the money to hire someone?” he asked.

“I have never had money of my own. Could you…?”

He feigned a sheepish expression. “I have enough for our rooms and our passage,” he admitted. Quite enough, in fact. “But my funds are limited until I return and assume the title.” Limited to what Hobson had given him, which was an ample amount indeed.

He didn’t exactly lie, he reasoned. Not his fault if she assumed he was nearly broke. He took her bag from her and escorted her inside. “Not to worry, little Coz. We’ll make do, just the two of us.”

He could seduce her tonight to ensure she would agree to marry, but that would define him as an opportunist. He certainly was that, but did not want her to see him in that light. Better to act as honorably as he knew how.

When they entered the inn, he ordered a substantial meal, and they retired to the one private area set aside for dining. Jack lifted his tankard and wondered how to begin conversing with the sheltered heiress about her future.

She didn’t wait for him to start. “Tell me of our family, Cousin Worth. Oh, I forget what’s proper.” She winced prettily at her faux pas. “I should address you as Lord Elderidge.”

“I told you that Jack will do,” he said with a short laugh. “I’m so unused to the title and it sounds so strange, I might not answer to it.”

“Then you may call me Laurel if you like. Now tell me, how are we related through our fathers?”

“We share a great-great-grandfather.” He set the tankard down carefully and smoothed out the tablecloth with the flat of his hand. “Apparently our great-grandfathers were brothers, yours the elder. Their sire was the fourth Earl of Elderidge. Since your father’s passing, I am the only living male descendent, hence the heir.”

She shook her head. “I still can hardly believe it. Who would have thought? And what of my mother? I have been told nothing of her except that she passed away before I was sent to Spain.” Laurel smiled sadly, staring off into the distance. “Yet it seems I remember her. Small things, you know? The scent of her, her voice…”

“Wishful dreams, no doubt, and perfectly understandable. Unfortunately, she died when you were born. The story is not a happy one, I fear.” He drew in a deep breath and began to repeat all that Hobson had told him about her parents.

When he had finished, he drank the remainder of his ale, avoiding her eyes, allowing her time to digest what he had related. She obviously trusted him now, and there was no doubt left in her eyes. The girl was an open book, there for the reading. Her naïveté troubled him, even if it did work to his advantage.

Jack had more to say and needed to get it said. He had only days to accomplish what he must. Might as well be blunt, he reasoned, so he simply stated it without preamble. “We should marry, Laurel.”

She almost choked on her wine. “What?”

Jack wondered what devil urged him to shock her out of that overly tranquil demeanor of hers and stoke the hidden fire he knew was there.

He cleared his throat and looked away, staring unseeing, at the doorway. “Look, I should have waited, made better arrangements beforehand, but when I learned of you, I felt this great need to come and bring you home, to offer you my protection.” He shook his head. “Familial duty seemed paramount at the time, above sensible preparation.”

“Preparation?” Though she appeared a bit rattled, he watched her draw on some inner calm and reserve that he almost envied. And somehow craved to dispel.

“Yes, well, we are to travel together now. As you pointed out, the two of us alone, with no female to accompany you, either here or onboard the ship. I have realized that once we reach England, your reputation will be in tatters unless we are wed.”

“That’s absurd!” Now her color was high, her spirit almost showing itself again. “I hardly know you! You cannot expect me to—”

“Don’t you see? It’s for your own good, Laurel. Aside from keeping your good name, there are other very important considerations.”

“Such as?” she asked, frowning.

He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze with his as he reached for her hand. “You know no one in England. Every female must be under some man’s protection all the while, for that is the law. You could not find employment without proper references. You cannot live alone.”

She remained silent, taking in his explanation and assessing it, probably trying to think of alternatives.

He added the clinching argument. “And if your reputation is sullied in any way, as it would already be if we arrived together unmarried, you can never hope to make a decent match or be accepted in society, even at a lower order. So you see, this is the best way, the only way, really.”

He plowed right ahead. “As for me, I would not be much affected. Some might term me the despoiler of an innocent, but men are seldom ostracized for that. Even so, I would hate the accusation. But you would be considered beyond the pale, quite unsuitable for any man of decent birth, even though nothing inappropriate had ever happened between us.”

“You said yourself we are cousins. There are laws…”

“The king himself wed his first cousin. The Regent did likewise. Ours is not a close kinship at all, regardless of the fact that we share a surname. Perfectly legal, I promise you. We won’t even need dispensation.”

She studied him for long moments before speaking. “And yet your eyes tell me you do not like what you view as the necessity of wedding me, Jack. Is that due to my mother’s… unfortunate past?”

“No! Absolutely not,” he rushed to assure her. “And I’m fine with a marriage of convenience. Really.” He shrugged and smiled. “One must marry, after all. This sort of union is quite the thing in English society, done all the time.”

She inclined her head and paused as if considering that. Finally she spoke again. “That’s true in Spain, as well. I’ve led a sheltered life, Jack, however reading materials were never in short supply at the convent and the nuns are a great deal more worldly than one might imagine. Few of the girls schooled there would stay on, so they had to be made aware of what to expect. The ways of the outside world are not completely foreign to me.”

“Then you must admit, though we aren’t well acquainted yet, this is our best solution.”

She worried her bottom lip with small white teeth as she frowned. “I never expected to marry for love. In fact, I never expected to marry.” She added after a short hesitation, “Now I suppose I shall wed, after all.”

“So you do not object?” he asked, almost wishing that she would. He had more arguments prepared. How could she simply accept his suggestion with such calmness and practicality? There should be some fiery debate over the matter, surely.

“I have no objection on the face of it.” She withdrew her hand and sat back in her chair. “All my life I have dreamed of family, given the absence of one. A husband, children, a home of my own were simply an impossible fantasy I seldom entertained. It seemed so far-fetched, I never even bothered to pray for it. Now here you are, offering all of it on a silver plate.”

“There’s no need to decide on the instant,” he said as the innkeeper approached with a tray. “And here is our food. For now, let’s get you fed.” He watched as she closed her eyes, moved her lips in a silent grace and crossed herself.

Would religious differences cause a problem with what he had planned? Perhaps he was borrowing stumbling blocks. Or searching for some. Damn, but he hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

Instead of pursuing his thoughts on that, he watched her eat. She tucked into the meal like a sailor on shore leave after a long voyage. “Didn’t Orencio feed you?” he asked before thinking how it sounded, that she might think he was criticizing her manners.

She pulled a wry face. “I had little time to eat in peace while I was there. The lads I tended were prone to food fights.”

“A handful, eh? Tell me about them.” Women loved to talk about themselves, he knew, so he deliberately provided the opportunity. Calculating, the way he had been doing since they met, seemed unnatural to him, but also necessary.

She talked between bites, alternately grimacing and laughing softly, pointing for emphasis with her fork. He was glad she felt more at ease in his company, but wondered at it. Perhaps it was only an act, he reasoned, a defense to cover her inner fears.

When they had finished eating, he escorted her upstairs to the chamber adjacent to his own. “Sleep well, little cousin,” he said and raised her hand to kiss the back of it. “I will call you early come morning.”

“I probably won’t sleep a wink,” she said, withdrawing her hand and staring down at it as if it were a strange object. Her next words were a near whisper. “No matter what we choose to do next, I am glad you came for me. Thank you, Jack. You are truly a godsend.”

Well, he had never been called that before. He answered with a brief nod and bade her goodnight. He wondered if he would sleep. Her calm and trusting nature was making it far too effortless for him to take advantage of her, and guilt was nudging him. Not strongly enough to make him cry off the proposal, though. As he saw it, neither of them had another viable choice. Perhaps she simply recognized that, as well.

The next morning, Jack noted that her mood had not changed overnight. She smiled up at him as if he were the Second Coming. Her quiet acceptance of the impending voyage made him wonder again if she were pretending away any trepidation.

At any rate, he was glad to see color in her cheeks and a barely subdued sparkle in those pretty brown eyes. Her features were not that remarkable, rather commonplace when taken individually. Her hair was the color of pale honey, her eyebrows and lashes several shades darker. She had an oval face, pert little nose, bright brown heavily lashed eyes and a sweetly curved and quite mobile mouth. All nice-enough attributes, but it was their combination and her ever-changing expression that lent her beauty.

Though there was nothing static about those expressions, they generally ranged from sweetly accepting to thoughtfully questioning. She obviously avoided excitement, outright anger or anything approaching hysteria. Why that bothered him, he could not say, except that he had seen the fire in her once and wondered how she kept it banked. He should ask her for lessons.

He had, of course, noted her lithe figure, too. What man would not do that if in the company of a woman he might marry.

She was small of stature, a head shorter than he, and not greatly endowed at the top, though her tiny waist made her seem so at first glance.

He could not seem to dismiss his wonder at her composure. It had to be a natural acquisition from the contemplative sisters who had raised her. Yet underneath that calm, he knew there lurked a more passionate streak in her nature. Hadn’t he glimpsed that at Orencio’s? Righteous anger, that had been, and not what Jack wished to stoke. It was the passion in her that he was looking for, of course.

Pretense or not, she treated him like her liberator now, so perhaps he really was. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to think so. And it almost justified in his mind what he definitely meant to do.

Chapter Three

The next afternoon, they stood at the rail of the Minotaur, a trade vessel on which he had purchased their passage to England, and watched the port of La Coruña grow distant.

Jack appreciated the way Laurel adapted to sea travel, as if it were some great undertaking to be quietly savored. He only hoped mal de mer didn’t claim her if the seas grew rough. At the moment she genuinely seemed to be embracing all that was new to her with an equanimity that amazed him.

“You love the sea,” she guessed, staring out at the waves.

“Grew up next to it and then on it,” he said truthfully. “As a child I dreamed of traveling to distant shores, having adventures, sailing my own ship.”

“Did you?” she asked. “And have you seen the world already?”

He inclined his head as he slapped his hands lightly against the rail. “Aye, I’ve seen most of it.”

“Then you must tell me about your travels. Have you had adventures enough?” she asked with a knowing smile. “Ready to settle now?”

“Ready as I will ever be,” he answered ruefully, unwilling to delve too deeply into what life might be like as a land-bound lord stuck with tallying rents and arguing with stuffy peers. Restricting himself to one woman.

His father had never done that, he recalled with shame. While his mother remained in Plymouth producing candles to sell and essentially supporting them with the profits from the family business she had inherited, his father sailed off constantly. He enjoyed adventures and, as Jack had learned when he went to sea with him, cavorted with other women whenever they docked in foreign ports.

Jack was no saint and had taken to bedsport as soon as he was of an age to do so, but he resented his father’s excuse for infidelity. It was an excuse, he had realized early on, not a valid reason to stray, if there existed such a reason. Marriage required fidelity.

Could he remain faithful? Well, he would have to if he was to keep his honor, Jack decided. Though he might have lied a little to attain what he must in this case, he would never cheat. A man had to draw the line somewhere.

He quickly dismissed the thought and changed the topic. “Were they kind to you at the convent?”

“Of course. Our Lady of Cambre is not only a convent, but a convent school and it afforded me an enviable education. Not all of the pupils there came as infants, nor did most of the nuns. While they probably wished for all of us to enter the order, they were aware that most would leave, return to their homes and marry.”

“But you did not expect to do so.”

She shook her head. “Never. But my point is that the sisters took us as individuals, respected and enhanced whatever natural gifts they saw in each and prepared us accordingly. I was given to understand that females are not supposed to have intellect enough to master many of the studies offered there.” She glanced up at him with a grin. “Not to boast, but I excelled at Maths. Numbers fascinate me.”

Jack pressed the heels of his hands against the rail and resisted the urge to push away and pace. He needed to curb his impatience with all of this conversation. A man of action, he would much rather live in the moment than delve into the past as they were doing. “Maths, eh? Well, I suppose you will need that knowledge when counting linens and silver.”

“Not only that. I can help you with accounts as I did Sister Josephina,” she offered with a decisive nod.

Jack felt a stab of foreboding. It would not do for her to examine their finances and discover that he had assumed her fortune. “I’m sure I can manage that on my own.”

He quickly turned from the subject of accounts. “I’ll wager your Spanish is also enviable. You have the barest trace of an accent, did you know? It’s quite charming.”

She smiled sweetly at the compliment. “How nice of you to say so. English was always prevalent, though the nuns and students were a good mix of nationalities. Languages were spoken interchangeably at times, so we received a working knowledge, if not fluency, in several tongues,” she explained. “My French is atrocious, I’m told, and my Italian, little better. What of you?”

“I know enough to get by. Trading required that.” He looked out across the sea, arms folded on the rail, the tense muscles of his legs working against the motion of the waves. How could she simply stand there, unmoving, untrammeled, perfectly tranquil in the face of such an uncertain future? Was that ability inborn or learned, he wondered again. No doubt it came with schoolroom discipline.

Her formal education certainly surpassed his. “I never went to school,” he admitted. “Mother taught me until I was seven, reading, writing, numbers and so forth. Then my father took me to sea with him as soon as he left the navy and sailed with a sea merchant.”

“Well, you had the basics everyone needs,” she said.

“Just so, and my father tutored me on board as did others with learning who had nothing better to do. I had a practical education rather than classic.”

She smoothed back a strand of hair that had come loose in the wind. The gesture was practiced, not out of any coyness, but because those errant golden curls constantly escaped the severe chignon she wore. Jack thought there might be other rebellious attributes in Laurel waiting to slip their carefully schooled containment.

She sighed as she looked out over the seas. “Practicality is a good thing, isn’t it? I never became proficient at those useful things one needs to know. For instance, I loathe sewing. We embroidered innumerable altar cloths and my stitches were always uneven. My fingers are only now recovering.”

Jack turned and lifted both of her hands to examine her fingertips. They were red from the cold so he enclosed them within his to warm them. “You need never sew another stitch. What of music? Can you play and do you dance?”

She wore a faraway expression. “No. Are those accomplishments necessary for a lady? I’ve always thought I should like to dance if I could be taught.”

“Of course you can. We will arrange for lessons,” Jack promised.

“After we are married?” she asked.

“So you are still of a mind to marry me, Laurel?” he asked, determined to keep his tone light and conversational.

She turned and cocked her head to one side. “I think so, yes. We get on well enough, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Do you worry that your soul’s mate is out there somewhere waiting to meet you? Most women hold that hope, so I’m led to believe.”

“I told you that is only the stuff of girlish dreams,” she replied with a soft little laugh. “I will be content with a good match.”

Content and also rich and at my mercy, Jack’s conscience reminded him. Would to God, she never found out his real reason for this marriage. He did not want her feeling betrayed. She might even demand a separation if she ever learned of it. That would free him to pursue his own desires and live as he wished, of course, but at what great cost to her feelings and his honor?

“Shall we marry immediately when we arrive in England before anyone knows we’re there?” she asked.

He dared not wait that long. “The wedding itself could pose a problem,” he informed her in case she had not thought of it. He had. “You are Catholic and I am not.”

“Oh.” She looked crestfallen. Then she brightened. “Perhaps the captain could marry us before we get there. I read of that in a novel once. Is it true captains of ships can perform weddings?”

“Well, that would be a romantic tale to tell, wouldn’t it? But considering our stations, our marriage must be recognized by the Church of England and duly recorded in other than a ship’s log. What I meant to ask is if you will mind if there’s no priest, no Catholic service?”

She shot him a wry look. “Did I not suggest a ship’s captain? So if not the captain and not a priest, what shall we do?”

“There is a vicar on board.” He had seen to that, as well as to obtaining a special license and a ring, before leaving England, in the event things progressed this far. It paid to plan ahead for every contingency.

“Very well, shall we apply to the vicar?” she asked.

Jack looked out across the waves again to avoid her gaze. It could not be this uncomplicated. He was so used to fighting hard, struggling for everything he got, it was hard to accept.

Despite what looked to be trouble-free success, he kept thinking how this would impact his own life. There would be no more nights of delight in foreign ports, no further risk-taking adventures and no indulging in wild investment schemes to increase his fortune. He would be a married man, honor bound to exclusivity, tied to one woman and an estate for which he would be solely responsible. Sobering thoughts indeed, but he had already decided that’s what must be. There were others to think of now besides himself.