The Accidental Countess

As far as Stephen was concerned, something terrible had happened. The vicious scars upon his chest weren’t imaginary wounds. And yet he had no memory of the pain. Whether they were caused by common thieves or something more sinister, he couldn’t know.

‘Someone tried to kill me,’ he admitted. ‘And I don’t know why.’

A flash of concern crossed Quentin’s face before his brother mustered a teasing smile. ‘I’ll admit, I’ve wanted to murder you a time or two. It isn’t so difficult to imagine.’

‘I’m being serious.’

‘I could be the heir to all of Father’s fortunes,’ Quentin continued, gesturing grandly at the breakfast table.

‘You are welcome to them.’ Despite Quentin’s joking claim, Stephen knew his brother far preferred the freedom of being the youngest son. He himself had known the same independence until the tender age of nine.

‘But there’s something else.’ Glancing at the door, Stephen removed his coat and loosened his shirt. ‘Would you have a look at this?’ He revealed the tattoo beneath his collar.

At the sight of the symbol, Quentin’s face grew concerned. ‘What is it?’

‘I haven’t the faintest notion. Do I look like the sort to get a tattoo?’

Quentin laughed, but there was uncertainty in it. ‘Perhaps you lost a wager.’

Stephen righted his clothing. ‘Perhaps.’ But he didn’t think so.

‘It looks like an Oriental language. Possibly Sanskrit.’

Had he travelled to India? Or had his attackers done this to him? He intended to question several sources until he learned what it meant.

Stephen turned the conversation to a more neutral topic, and his brother filled him in on the details of a particular shipping investment.

‘The profits from the cargo were stolen,’ Quentin admitted. ‘We lost a great deal of money.’

Stephen fetched a pen and paper and began taking notes. ‘What was the name of the ship?’

‘The Lady Valiant.’

At the mention of its name, he’d hoped for a flash of memory. Something that would point toward answers. Instead, there was nothing. He recalled making the investment, but nothing struck him as different from any other ship.

He began jotting down names of the investors who might have been affected by the loss. The Viscount Carstairs was one. Himself.

And Hollingford. Emily’s brother had also invested in The Lady Valiant. Somehow, he was sure of it.

‘Not another of your lists,’ Quentin protested. ‘This is a conversation, not the time for record-keeping.’

‘I prefer keeping detailed records.’

‘And thank heaven you are the one to manage the estates and not me. If I had to keep the number of lists you did, I should run screaming from the room.’

‘You would simply pay the bills and not worry about where the money came from,’ Stephen said.

‘Precisely. As long as you and Father support me, that is all that matters.’ Quentin raised his cup of tea in a mocking toast.

Stephen frowned. In two lines he estimated profits and potential losses for each ship, the numbers flooding through him. Thank God for something familiar. Orderly and logical, just as he liked them.

He sobered, thinking of how Emily had taken his orderly life apart. He’d never expected to be responsible for a wife and children. Not so soon.

‘Does anyone else know I am married?’ he asked suddenly, looking up from his list.

‘Possibly,’ Quentin replied. ‘The servants do talk. But Father wants to keep silent about it.’

If the servants knew, then it was likely that half of London knew it by now. Stephen grimaced, just imagining the gossip.

‘We’ve been invited to attend Lord Yarrington’s musicale,’ Quentin continued. ‘And I’d best warn you—Miss Hereford will be there.’

Stephen held back a curse. If he attended the musicale, he couldn’t possibly avoid Miss Hereford, despite his desire to do so. She had somehow fallen into the belief that he cared for her, after he’d done little to encourage her. He blamed his parents for leading her astray.

If he arrived with Emily at his side, it would put matters to rest, however. He tried to envision his wife in a ball gown, her fair hair twined with pearls and diamonds.

Instead, it was easier to see her with hands covered in flour, an apron tied about her waist. Tight desire wound up inside him, for he didn’t remember making love to her. Was she still a virgin? Had he known the softness of her body beneath him?

Right now, finding out the answer to these questions seemed far more important than meeting with his father and enduring another lecture.

‘If you will excuse me.’ Stephen rose and bid his brother farewell.

Before he could leave, James Chesterfield entered the dining room. The Marquess raised his hand to halt Stephen. ‘Where are you going?’

He met his father’s accusing eyes. ‘I am returning home to my wife.’

‘She cannot remain your wife for long,’ his father warned. ‘Emily Barrow is an unsuitable Countess. Her family was penniless, and after that scandal—’

‘Enough.’ Stephen’s fists curled, and he kept a firm rein upon his temper. ‘It is a legally binding marriage. You can do nothing to end it.’

He didn’t know why he was defending Emily or the impulsive move he’d made. A part of him still questioned whether he even wanted her to remain at his side. He hadn’t decided whether he wanted a wife at all.

But he’d never let his father know it.

The Marquess’s face turned crimson with fury. ‘If you persist in this farce, I shall cut off your funds.’

‘I have investments of my own.’ Stephen kept his voice deliberately calm.

‘Do not presume to introduce her into society as your wife. I am warning you. You will not like the consequences.’

‘Good day, Father.’ Stephen brushed past the Marquess, not bothering to hide his anger. James thrived upon authority and controlling others. He enjoyed arguing, which was precisely why Stephen refused to engage in it. It was his own small measure of power.

For now, he would return home to Emily. Now that he knew the truth, there were decisions to be made.

Namely, whether or not he wanted to remain married to her.

Emily strolled into Mayfair, enjoying the late morning sunshine. She had coerced two footmen into escorting her instead of her maid, preferring their protection. Stephen had left her funds to purchase whatever she might need, but the coins made her uncomfortable.

It reminded her of how much she was bound to him. He truly had rescued her family, providing for Royce and Victoria. Her throat constricted, even as she stiffened her spine.

She’d been so distraught when the men had delivered Daniel’s body. And then to learn that her husband was missing, after being seen last with his mistress…It had been too much to absorb.

She’d lived in a state of numbness, not knowing whether Stephen was alive or dead.

I won’t let myself fall under his spell again.

She’d been weak before, letting herself dream of him. She knew better now, didn’t she? He hadn’t loved her. He didn’t even remember her.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

She gripped her reticule, pushing her mind back to the task at hand. Today she would go shopping. The children needed new clothes, and it would take her mind off her worries.

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