Two Wrongs Make a Marriage

But it was far too late for a change of heart. Her mother had seen the whole thing and clapped hands enthusiastically across a matronly version of the bosom that her daughter had inherited, tossing her dark-red curls as she looked heavenwards. ‘Thank you, Lord Kenton, for protecting my little girl.’

‘What the devil?’ Unlike his statuesque and lovely wife, the diminutive Sir William Banester needed to push his way through the crowd for a better view. ‘Kenton, you ass. Get up off the floor. If you want her, you can have her, of course. But you could have asked in the parlour, like a normal gentleman. Now enough of this nonsense. We can settle it in the morning. Thea, come away.’

‘Yes, Papa.’ His betrothed did her best to look both contrite and happy, but cast one last glance back at him, as though still a little surprised that her plan had succeeded.

He could hardly blame her. He was surprised as well. ‘Until the morning, my love,’ Jack said, holding out a hand in a farewell gesture. There would be time to sort out the details, he was sure. ‘I will visit properly, if your parents will receive me. We have much to discuss.’ He gave Lady Banester a look worthy of any hopeful Romeo.

‘Of course, Lord Kenton. We would be honoured.’ She offered a sweeping curtsy so imbued with grace that Jack nearly stammered the truth: he was the one honoured to be received by such a lady and to be marrying her equally beautiful daughter.

Then he remembered himself. He was not the humble Jack Briggs, itinerant actor. He was Lord Kenton and he was the catch of the Season. The Banesters should be happy to have him. And he was happy as well, for tonight he would write to the earl and announce the impending and successful completion of his scheme.

Chapter Two

Trying to catch the best light in the shop window, Cynthia Banester flourished the two pieces of lace she held, admiring their drape and softness, but unable to decide between them. Vieux Flandre was beautiful, but expensive, and a bit heavy for the face of a girl with nothing to hide. In comparison, the Brussels seemed almost too simple for such a special event. ‘Which is better?’ she asked, holding the two veils up to her mother for approval.

‘Take them both,’ Lady Banester answered without a second thought.

‘I am only marrying once and therefore have no need of a second veil.’

‘But if you should change your mind later …’

‘About Kenton or the veil?’

‘Either, dear. It is always wise to have an understudy waiting in the wings.’

Thea sighed. It had been foolish of her even to request her mother’s input, for she should have guessed what the answer was likely to be. Father had often joked that he would not trust her to choose the lesser of two evils, should the devil decide to open a shop on Bond Street. ‘Mother,’ Thea said gently, ‘I must make a selection. We no longer have the money for unnecessary extravagances.’

‘Perhaps we do not, but Kenton does. Once you are married, you have but to send him the bills. He is a viscount, after all. He will take care of everything.’

Thea winced. That had been her plan from the first. And it was all going much too well. It had been three weeks since she had waylaid the poor man, plucking him out of the card room at Lady Folbroke’s ball with promises of a moonlight stroll in the garden and an urgent need for private conversation. He had gone, like a lamb to the slaughter, and they were engaged before midnight. Since then, he had made regular visits to her home, each one properly chaperoned to prevent the ardour he had displayed when they were alone. He had danced with her when they met at balls, escorted her to musicales and behaved like a complete gentleman on each outing.

The church had been reserved, the banns read, the invitations sent and the menu chosen for the wedding breakfast. Had she written the script for a perfect engagement, she could not have done better.

And Kenton had offered no objections to the lack of intimacy, nor shown any sign of waking to the realities of his situation. Why was he not bothered by the fact that she had tricked him? That she had drawn her little pistol and waylaid him like a highwayman stopping a coach? She deserved outrage or ostracism in response. She had feared a total failure, if Kenton measured the worth of her family connections as she did lace veils. A sensible man should have been more eager to take a bullet than her hand.

Her mother tapped her hand with an ivory fan, then replaced it on the haberdasher’s counter. ‘You are thinking about him again, aren’t you?’

‘No, Mama.’

Her mother smiled knowingly. ‘Of course you are. When you try to conceal your feelings, my darling, you are as transparent as glass. But you have no need to hide these. It is only natural to think of such things, when one is young and in love …’

‘Do not put too fine a point on it, Mother,’ Thea said firmly. ‘You know my reasons for seeking him out and they have nothing to do with love.’

Her mother cast a sidelong glance in her direction. ‘Judging by his speech to us when we discovered you, you’ve charmed him. He was most fulsome in his praise. And I have seen the way he looks at you since.’

Her mother was right in that, at least. Her betrothed bathed her in respectful but doting attention, taking her driving in Hyde Park, escorting her to the opera and behaving as though they had known each other for years and not days. She should be flattered. She was flattered—and excited—by his attentions, but they also filled her with a strange combination of guilt and unease. At last, she blurted, ‘That is just the problem, Mother. Why does he behave so? I have done nothing to earn even a jot of his affection.’ Anyone who had been in town for any length of time had at least formed suspicions about the Banester family, its eccentricities, profligacy and rumoured bugbears. But it seemed Lord Kenton was too new to the country to know why they could not marry. Or perhaps he was too rich to care.

Her mother gave a quick scan of her body and toyed with the lace on her own bodice. ‘You have inherited certain assets that make even strong men malleable. When I was your age, I had admirers aplenty. When I performed, half the young lords of the day threw roses on the stage and the rest sought out my changing room. But then I met your father …’

‘No stories, please.’ Thea dropped the lace in her hands and put them over her ears to forestall any more of her mother’s ridiculous anecdotes about the ardent courtship of young Sir William. Her mother’s previous career was not quite a secret amongst the ton. But it had taken all her charm and much of Father’s money to make the truth fade into insignificance. Now that the fortune was gone, they could not afford to have the old scandal resurrected.

‘Very well.’ At forty, her mother’s pout was every bit as pretty as a girl half her age. ‘But allow me some pride. If you have charmed Kenton without effort, it shows that the apple has not fallen far from the tree, no matter how we wished to change your nature.’

‘I am no actress, Mother. I have no desire to dazzle the man with illusion.’ It was why she had brought the gun. Using a weapon had not been fair, but at least it had been cold, hard and real.

Her mother sensed her weakening and took up the fan again to give her another tap on the wrist. ‘Do not waste time feeling sorry for him, Thea. A gentleman should have seen the risks of taking a young lady out in the garden alone. What happened to him after was his own fault.’

‘Perhaps he is not quite right in the head,’ Thea suggested. That made more sense to her than his sudden, willing attachment. ‘His behaviour has been rather odd, has it not? So many men seem to return from India with tales of fever and malaise. But he is tanned and hardy.’ And very handsome, if Thea truly wished to be honest.

‘His complexion indicates nothing more mysterious than a strong constitution,’ her mother replied. ‘It guarantees virility, which you will appreciate soon enough, if you do not already. If the kiss I interrupted was any indication …’

‘Mother!’

Her mother gave her an innocent smile and laid a finger to her lips to indicate a shared secret. She had been hinting since the first night that she had caught more than a brief glimpse of the way Kenton had behaved and the eager way Thea had responded to him. Her approval was no more maternal than Thea’s response had been maidenly. It was all very inappropriate.

‘I meant,’ she corrected, returning the conversation to a safer topic, ‘that Kenton’s stories of his travels are almost too grand to believe. All wild adventures, narrow escapes, tigers and tea.’ And, more worrisome, he spoke of bejewelled ladies and hinted at romantic escapades while veiling the details with Oriental silk. The stories were very exciting, but she’d had more than her fill of exaggerated anecdotes from her mother. She should have learned better and sought something more mundane in a marriage partner. Instead, she was sighing over Kenton like the silliest girl in London. ‘If his life was as wonderful as it seemed, then what brought him home?’

‘I expect it was his father,’ her mother answered. ‘The Earl of Spayne is seldom in town, though he lives only a county away. His health is rumoured to be failing. He could not have been comfortable with his heir spending half a lifetime away from home. Continental education and exotic travels are quite all right, but they should be taken in moderation.’

Thea raised an eyebrow at the disapproval in her mother’s voice. It was a rather parochial sentiment from a woman who’d spent her formative years in a travelling band of players. ‘I merely wonder if he exaggerates the happiness of his past. He seems a most contented fellow. Perhaps he is simply choosing to ignore or forget some hardship.’ Or else he was too stupid to understand the things that had befallen him. Her pathetic attempt at kidnapping had made no impact on his mood, unless one could count this total and inexplicable infatuation.

Even more frustrating was her illogical desire to believe him. Before forming her recent plan, she had thought herself immune to his looks and charm. She had managed to resist them the better part of the Season. It had been easy when she could keep a distance from him. In close quarters, his speeches inflamed her curiosity and she’d become a rapt listener.

And his kisses inflamed something else entirely. Had she ever thought that her first kiss would be accompanied by reverent and impassioned poetry? She did not dare to share the details with her mother, who was already too willing to give her advice on the matter, based on the scene she’d witnessed. Thea could imagine the frank response she would receive if she announced that the man she intended to marry had heaped praise on her breasts and demonstrated his approval of them so strenuously that her heart had almost hammered its way out from under them.

Of course, then she might learn if all men kissed as Kenton did. His lips had been as hot as the Indian sun and had left her just as dazed. She did not really need a husband for anything other than the fortune he possessed, but she could not help but be a little grateful that he offered so much more.

She felt another prod from the fan. ‘And you are gone again. Really, my dear. I said it was normal to be so distracted, but that did not mean I encouraged it. You must keep your wits about you when you meet the man’s family. Perhaps you did not realise that Kenton’s uncle is Mr Henry de Warde. If you could manage to make him aware of the difficulty he’s placed us in …’

‘The idea had crossed my mind,’ Thea said, all thoughts of romance fleeing from her mind. ‘It will be a challenge not to tell him what I really think of him, when next I see him face to face.’

‘You must exercise diplomacy, my dear. And perhaps just a touch of the charm you used to snare Kenton.’

Thea thought of the pistol, which must still be tucked between the cushions of the gazebo bench, unless Kenton had retrieved it for her after Mama had hustled her away. ‘If I am given the chance to make my case to Mr de Warde, I shall use persuasion even stronger than that.’ She would gladly put a ball between the man’s beady eyes if it meant that she could restore even a fraction of the money that he had swindled from her father.

‘I doubt your new husband would allow that, dear. Much stronger persuasion than you used on Kenton would have you uncovered to the waist.’

‘Mother!’

Lady Banester sighed. ‘I merely approve of your choice of gown when you finally decided to arm yourself for the hunt. It was quite lower than your usual necklines and you notice it had the desired effect on your quarry. We must choose lingerie for you with similar results in mind.’

Thea blushed. ‘Surely once we are married that will not be necessary.’

Lady Banester held a swatch of champagne silk to the light, so that Thea could see her hand clearly through it. ‘This should do the trick. And remember to stand with the firelight at your back. Once you are married, you must still keep the man’s attention, my dear. It is so much easier when they do not stray. You have only to look at your father …’

‘… to see just how horribly wrong that plan might go,’ Thea said firmly. ‘It is high time that he thought of more serious matters, Mother. Both of you. Really. You are very near to forty.’

‘And still you have no brother,’ her mother pointed out. ‘Not for want of trying, of course. But with all the money caught up in the entail, we might as well have nothing at all to call our own. I was at a loss as to where we would get a dowry now that we can hardly pay our own bills. Thank goodness you have saved us that worry.’

‘You will not have to worry about anything. I swear.’ She would get the money from Kenton to make things right for her parents, no matter what was required of her.

Her mother took note of her silence and held up the silk again. ‘As I said before, we will shop for nightclothes and you will be breeding in no time. That is what Lord Kenton wants, and Lord Spayne as well. The future must be provided for. A round belly is the quickest way to win the heart of the father. And what the son wants …’ Her mother smiled as though that should be quite obvious. ‘Once you have given it to him, perhaps you can persuade Kenton to talk to Mr de Warde. If we explain the situation …’

‘No!’ The whole story was mortifying in the extreme. She could not imagine sharing the worst details of it with her new husband. ‘I will tell him as much as he needs to know, so that he will pay the debts we have incurred. And then I will go to Mr de Warde and appeal to his sense of decency. He will surely return the bulk of the sum he has taken once he realises that we are now family. And there will be no further need for trickery or seduction.’ Or even pearlhandled pistols in the moonlight.

‘Of course, darling,’ her mother said in a soothing voice. ‘There is no need to become overwrought. Let us collect our things and go have an ice.’ And then, with a shake of her head, she added the transparent silk to the pile of purchases.

Chapter Three

Miss Cynthia Banester was a beautiful bride. Of course, she was Lady Kenton now. She had Jack to thank for that. And she did seem inordinately pleased. Since they’d been seated, she’d made sure that his plate and cup were never empty as though seeking any way possible to show her devotion. ‘Champagne, darling?’ She smiled up at him.

‘Thank you, love.’ He smiled back as she saw to the filling of his glass. Jack felt a not entirely appropriate swelling of pride at how well things had turned out. The ceremony had felt real enough, with a licence and a vicar, and the good wishes of her family heaped upon them.

But she was his wife for only as long as he played at being Lord Kenton. Then he would go on his merry way and they would both be the better for his departure. He would have the money. She would be safe in the keeping of the earl, who was a fine old gentleman, for all his quirks. And she would be spared a lifetime of him as a husband. Jack doubted that she would continue to smile after she learned of his true character. Other women had assured him that he was fickle, shallow and faithless. He doubted that money, a false title and an equally false marriage would change that.

But that was a future he need never face. Today, his darling Cyn was frowning into her glass. She gave the smallest of pouts and he felt a sudden urge to kiss it away. He had to force himself to remember that he was as likely to grow tired of her as she would of him. The feelings of infatuation seemed real enough at the moment, but there was no way that they could outlast the honeymoon. He must be sure to be gone before they faded. Better that she should have bittersweet memories of the dashing Lord Kenton, the adoring husband who was taken too soon, than any introduction at all to plain old Jack Briggs.

Today, he was still Kenton and eager to show his mutual admiration. ‘Is something the matter, my sweet?’

‘I had hoped that we would see your father for the wedding. I quite looked forward to meeting him.’

It was a predictable expectation on her part and Jack answered it smoothly. ‘He was detained in Essex. Business with the estate, I think. Travel is difficult for him. But I have written to him about you. He is very pleased with the union and eager to meet you. He sent the ring you are wearing now.’ He paused dramatically to make the next words sound more like sentiment than a quickly constructed lie. ‘It belonged to my mother. It was a great favourite of hers. I remember it well, though I was so very young, when she …’ He sighed.

She looked around for something with which to distract him from his grief. ‘Toast, Lord Kenton?’

He grinned at her and accepted the proffered bread. ‘Thank you, Lady Kenton. And no need to be formal, now that we are practically as one. Kenton is fine. Or you might call me by my Christian name.’

‘John?’ she said hesitantly, as though trying the word for the first time.

He gave a silent thank you to the late John de Warde for being so conveniently named. ‘Or you might call me Jack. It is what my friends call me. And I very much wish to be your friend.’ He glanced down the table. ‘I wish to be friends with your family as well. I must talk to your father before the day is through. He has spoken of a settlement, but we could not manage to find time to discuss it until now.’

‘Tongue?’

Hells, yes. She was leaning forwards, over the tray of cold meats, in rapt concentration as though it took any great thought to choose the best piece for him. The tip of her own pink tongue protruded ever so slightly from between her teeth, and the set of her body gave him a tantalising glimpse down the front of her gown.

His body shot to attention as his mind instantly focused on the wedding night, which, as far as he was concerned, could begin any time after noon. Was it normal to be so utterly fixated on bedding one’s own wife? There was probably some quote in Shakespeare’s canon about delayed pleasure being sweeter, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of it.

Because his wits were addled by lust. It had been three long and very respectable weeks since he’d offered for her. In that time he had done nothing to shock or annoy. He had played the part of a perfect gentleman and played it to the very hilt. Now, if they could just get this interminable breakfast behind them, he would get Cynthia Banester alone and fall on her like a condemned man at his last meal.

At least Jack Briggs would have done so. Lord Kenton would be a connoisseur. And if ever there was a dish to be savoured, it was the new Lady Kenton. There would be plenty of time later for risky and hurried couplings, after he had initiated her into any of the conventional arts that she was not yet familiar with. If the lady proved willing and true to her initial response, they might have no end of fun together before it was time to part from her. Several months as a doting husband to this redheaded pocket Venus was almost, but not quite, an ample payment for his services to the earl.

She stood beside him now, looking up through gold-tipped lashes, a shy smile on her face. ‘My dear,’ he said, surprising himself with a sincere sigh.

‘Jack.’ She leaned forwards again, giving him an even better look down the front of her bodice.

He leaned closer to speak into her ear. ‘Have I thanked you yet for bringing me to this pass? I had not thought to offer for you, but now I cannot imagine my future with another.’

‘I am relieved to hear you say that,’ she said, sighing as well. He could not help but admire what a deep breath did to his wife’s anatomy.

She reached out a finger and traced it lightly down the back of his hand. ‘Many men would not have been so forgiving of my impudence. I very nearly tricked you into this marriage.’

He put an arm about her shoulder and pulled her close, planting a kiss upon her forehead, even though they were still in plain sight of both her father and the vicar. ‘Let us speak no more of that … unless it is as an amusing story to tell our children.’

For a moment, the woman cuddling at his side seemed to evaporate and was replaced by a harder, shrewder but equally beautiful version of herself. ‘I’d rather die. I mean …’ she dissolved into softness and innocence again ‘… children often find tales of their parents’ courtship to be more shocking than romantic. And describing the interlude in the gazebo with any sort of detail …’ She stopped again. ‘You are a compelling storyteller, Kenton, but some things should be kept secret.’

So she was embarrassed by her ardent response to his wooing. It was really quite flattering. ‘As you wish. The circumstances of our meeting shall stay a secret.’ The point was moot, after all. If there were children, it was not as if he would be there to spin tales for them.

And there would be no risk of them at all if he could not manage to say farewell to the girl’s plaguey family and get her alone. He took a final sip of his wine and wiped his mouth with the napkin. ‘I think it is time I spoke with your father, my dear. And then we shall retire to the Kenton town house and you may begin your new life.’

Her hand tightened on his suddenly and he patted it in reassurance. ‘You have nothing to worry about, sweeting. Did I not promise you, on the night we met, that I would give you nothing but pleasure?’

‘It is not that.’ She attempted another melting gaze and leaned so close to him that he could feel the side of her breast pressing against his arm. ‘Can we not go now? You may speak to my father on another day, when things are not so busy. I swear, he would hardly notice if we left together right now.’

From his other side, he heard Lady Banester give a knowing chuckle. ‘The eagerness of young love.’ The older woman touched his other arm, and for a moment Jack had to remind himself of the marriage that had just taken place and the sublime beauty of his bride. It was clear that Cynthia had inherited the charms of her mother. The woman was a stunner in her own right. And though clearly devoted to her husband, she was not afraid to wield her beauty like a weapon. ‘You must forgive my daughter’s impetuosity, Lord Kenton. Although with such a handsome husband, I can certainly understand it.’

‘Thank you, Lady Banester,’ he replied, remembering not to be too flattered. ‘And your daughter has done nothing in need of forgiveness.’

‘But it is plain that she wishes to see her new home. And you gentleman have things you must discuss.’

‘Mother.’ The single word from his wife was clearly a warning, although damned if Jack knew what it meant. The air between the two women crackled with tension. Occupying the space between them was like being caught in a battle of sirens.