The Irish Earl Page 6

  If only it did not feel so much like he was running away.

  Six

  Felicity was furious. How dared Kilgarvan leave London, with nothing more than a note? How dared he leave her alone to face down the rumormongers on her own?

  She should never have let Kilgarvan goad her into agreeing to such a brief engagement. It had only given the gossips more grist for their mill. But she had never expected that their engagement would create such a controversy. Their union was seen not as a minor sensation, but as a full-fledged scandal, the details of which grew more outrageous with each telling.

  And it was their misfortune that this Season had been particularly dull. There was no new scandal to distract everyone from her marriage to Kilgarvan, and as the wedding day drew nearer, the gossip grew ever more outrageous.

  She knew Kilgarvan had found the gossip difficult to endure, but that did not excuse his leaving her to face it alone. Even a child knew that one had to face gossip head-on. Kilgarvan’s disappearance was seen as confirmation of the worst of the rumors.

  So much for his promise to remain with her. He had not returned to Ireland, but neither had he stayed with her. She knew now what his word was worth.

  In the first days after his departure her anger burned white-hot. If she could have found Lord Kilgarvan, she would have broken the engagement in an instant, never mind the consequences to her reputation or his. In time society would forgive her, and if Lord Kilgarvan could not find another bride, well, he would have brought it on himself.

  Eventually her temper cooled, and she realized that she did not really want to call off the wedding. She still wanted what Kilgarvan had: the security of a place that was wholly her own. A chance to watch the seasons come and go, and to really get to know the people around her for a change. A chance to be a part of a community, rather than merely an eternal guest.

  She could still have that with Kilgarvan. She knew that. But she also knew that she needed to protect herself. She had counted on Kilgarvan showing himself a reasonable man, willing to be guided by her. The last week had shown this to be a foolish assumption. Now she needed to take steps to make certain that her intended husband could not abandon her lightly again.

  That afternoon she left word that she wished to see her uncle when he returned from his club. It was late in the day when he finally sent for her.

  After exchanging pleasantries, her uncle came right to the point. “Still no word from that fiancé of yours?”

  “No, but I did not expect any,” she said. “Lord Kilgarvan has much to do if we are to be ready to leave England after the wedding.”

  It was the same excuse she had repeated over and over again for the last week. For all she knew, it might even be the truth. But she hated having to dissemble.

  “Humph.” Her uncle gave her a sharp look, but did not dispute the truth of her words.

  “I do have a favor to ask,” she said. “When the marriage settlements are drawn up, there are a few…conditions that I wish added.”

  “There is no need for you to worry over such things. I will make sure your interests are well represented. A suitable allowance for pin money, provisions for the children, and the like. You can leave it to me.”

  Her uncle’s tone was sharp, as if she had accused him of laxness in his responsibilities, and she hastened to reassure him. “I know you will do what is best for me,” she said. “But I am not quite comfortable leaving the bulk of my inheritance in Lord Kilgarvan’s hands. He has done wonders with the little he has, but he has no real experience in managing capital. And given the example of his father…”

  She gave a delicate shudder, as if the prospects were too horrible to contemplate.

  “If you have such doubts, then perhaps it would be best to postpone the wedding. Or to cry off and tell Lord Kilgarvan that you have changed your mind. In a week’s time it will be too late for second thoughts.” There was a moment of silence, and then he added diffidently, “Just say the word, and I will take it upon myself to break the news to your aunt.”

  It was a kind and generous offer, and it warmed her heart. Lady Rutland had thrown herself into the wedding preparations with fervor, trying to compensate for the gossip surrounding her niece with the lavishness of the wedding preparations. It was clear that Lady Rutland could not wait to be free of the care for Felicity, and it would take a brave man indeed to inform Lady Rutland that Felicity had changed her mind.

  “No, I do not wish to change my mind. I still think Kilgarvan and I will suit. But there is no harm in being cautious.”

  Her uncle nodded sagely, stroking his chin with his right hand. “I see what you mean. Lord Kilgarvan struck me as a responsible gentleman, and yet one can never be too careful in such matters.”

  In a few sentences she outlined her plan to her uncle. He agreed to add the clauses to the marriage contracts, but warned that Lord Kilgarvan was unlikely to view these changes well.

  “You may leave that to me,” she said.

  Kilgarvan returned to London two days before the wedding was to take place. He had been away far longer than he had intended, and knew that Felicity was likely to be annoyed with him. He consoled himself with the knowledge that this had not been a mere pleasure trip. On the contrary, he had put his time to good use, going to Basingstoke to see the new canal being built, up to Birmingham to inspect their cloth mills, and over to Bedford to see the canal works. Everywhere he went, he had been impressed by the industry he had seen. England had moved forward into the nineteenth century, seizing the advantages of progress, while Ireland lagged woefully behind.

  He vowed that Kilgarvan would not remain a rural backwater. Once he returned, he would bring the best of what he had seen, and put it to good use.

  A note in his quarters directed him to call on Lord Rutland’s solicitor to sign the marriage settlements.

  As he entered the solicitor’s offices, a young clerk greeted him, and asked his errand. Upon learning his identity, the clerk immediately showed him in to see the senior partner, Mr. Clutterbuck.

  Mr. Clutterbuck proved to be an elderly man, thin and stooped as if he had spent his life bending over desks and papers. As Kilgarvan was shown in, Mr. Clutterbuck rose from his seat, using the arms of his chair to lever himself upward.

  “Lord Kilgarvan, it is indeed an honor,” he said, attempting a bow.

  “Mr. Clutterbuck,” Kilgarvan said, acknowledging the bow with a nod of his head. “I must apologize for not responding to your missive sooner, but I have been away from town.”

  “Of course. Quite understandable. Please have a seat, my lord.” He waited until Kilgarvan had taken a seat, and then lowered himself slowly into his own. Then he turned to the young clerk. “The Winterbourne papers, William.”

  In a moment the clerk returned bearing a sheaf of papers tied round with a red ribbon. He handed the roll to Mr. Clutterbuck, and then took his leave.

  Mr. Clutterbuck looked at him inquiringly. “I assume you will want to review these with your man of affairs?”

  Kilgarvan repressed a smile. The nearest he had to a man of affairs was Dennis, his friend, valet and occasional voice of reason. But Dennis would hardly be of use in this situation.

  “My family’s affairs are handled out of Dublin,” Kilgarvan said.

  “Oh, quite. I had not thought of that.”

  “I am certain I will be able to review these for myself.” He had never seen a marriage settlement before, but how complicated could it be?

  Mr. Clutterbuck untied the ribbon with trembling fingers, and then handed the papers to Kilgarvan. “As you will see, my lord, there are a few conditions. Perhaps you could read it over, and then I can explain any parts that appear confusing.”

  Kilgarvan smoothed the documents out and began to read.

  It was most enlightening. He learned that his intended’s full name was Felicity Sarah Caroline Winterbourne, and that she would turn one and twenty in less than a month. His eyes widened as he saw that her dowry was
nearly two hundred thousand pounds, far more than rumor had reported. In addition to sums invested in the funds, Lady Felicity had inherited shares in shipping lines and canal companies, had a respectable sum invested with the East India Company, and owned a copper mine somewhere in Wales. And those were just the major items. The full list of her interests covered more than a page.

  He felt the first twinge of unease. He had no idea how to manage such interests. It had been naive of him to expect that Felicity’s dowry would come wrapped up in a neat package. One did not keep two hundred thousand pounds in gold coins, after all. He reminded himself that there was no need for him to manage these affairs himself. He could hire a competent agent to manage these investments until he decided which ones to keep and which to sell off.

  And then he came to the section specifying how the largesse was to be divided. There was a substantial but not unreasonable sum set aside for Felicity’s personal use, for pin money and the like. Their oldest son would inherit Kilgarvan, but provisions were made to provide dowries for any daughters they might have, and a competence for the younger sons. An entire paragraph was devoted to describing the widow’s jointure that Felicity would receive upon his demise.

  All this was as he had expected, and represented the prudent provisions that he had expected the duke to make for his niece’s marriage. But as he read the next paragraphs, his brow furrowed in thought as he puzzled out the legal phrases. Anger grew as he realized what Felicity and her uncle had tried to do.

  He threw the papers back on the desk. “What is the meaning of this outrage?” he demanded. “Did you really think I would just sign this, like a lamb led to slaughter?”

  Mr. Clutterbuck wilted under his wrath. “I admit the clauses are a trifle unusual—”

  “Unusual? It’s damn slavery—that’s what it is.”

  “Perhaps you would care to discuss your concerns with his grace, the Duke of Rutland,” Mr. Clutterbuck said in a quavering voice.

  Kilgarvan rose. “Hardly likely. It seems Lady Felicity is calling the tune, so it is she whom I will see. Good day to you, sir.”

  As he stormed into the Rutlands’ town house, he could not help remembering how nervous he had been on his first visit, only three short weeks ago. Had he known then what he knew now, he would never have come calling.

  Lady Felicity was taking tea with her aunt. Both women looked up as he entered the room without waiting for a footman to announce him.

  “Lord Kilgarvan, what a surprise to see you. When did you return to London?” Lady Rutland asked.

  Felicity’s eyes swept over him. She seemed to realize his anger. Turning to her aunt she said, “If you will excuse us, Aunt, I believe Lord Kilgarvan wishes to have a word with me in private.”

  Lady Rutland looked from one to another. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I trust it is nothing serious.”

  Kilgarvan did not trust himself to reply.

  Lady Rutland rose, and with a worried glance left the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Lady Felicity fixed him with a fierce glare. “I thought we had an understanding,” she said.

  “So did I,” he replied, taken aback by her vehemence. He was the injured party, not she.

  “Then why did you abandon me here in London, to go gallivanting around the countryside like some schoolboy on holiday? Do you have any idea what it has been like this last fortnight?”

  Her words pricked his conscience. “I didn’t abandon you,” he said. “There were things I needed to attend to before I left.”

  “And when did these matters come to your attention? Before or after you learned of the gossip?”

  “I was only trying to protect you,” he said. “I could see no way to put an end to the gossip, and I could hardly challenge every man jack in society to a duel. Leaving London for a while seemed the best course. For both of us.”

  His explanation seemed only to make her angrier. “I see,” she said frostily. “You had such care for me that you left me on my own to face down London society—without any idea where you were, or when you would return. If you had remained, our engagement would have been a nine days’ wonder. Your leaving was seen as confirmation of the very worst of the rumors. You are either the most selfish man I know, or a fool.”

  He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He had been so happy to escape London that he had given little thought to how his actions would be construed. His sense of guilt warred with the sense of outrage that had brought him here in the first place.

  “I apologize if you had to suffer any unpleasantness. I assure you, that was not my intention.”

  “I accept your apology.”

  “And I believe you owe me an apology as well, for the trick you tried to play on me.”

  “Trick?”

  “Did you really expect me to sign those preposterous settlement papers?”

  “They are more than fair,” she said.

  “Fair? It leaves me nothing at all.”

  She shook her head. “On the contrary, it gives you a great deal. Your father’s debts will be settled, and the mortgages redeemed. Any personal debts you have will be settled as well; you merely need to give a list of your creditors to Mr. Clutterbuck and he will see to it.”

  “And this is supposed to please me? What about the rest of the dowry?”

  Felicity gave a grim smile. “I did not deceive you. The funds are there, and you may have access to them. Upon my approval.”

  So she had known it all along. He had nursed some faint hope that the scheme had been instigated by her uncle, but Felicity’s attitude made it clear that whoever had first thought of the restrictions, she was quite pleased with them.

  “Why not simply put me in shackles and be done with it? You do not want a husband, Lady Felicity; what you want is a lapdog.”

  “There is no need for you to take umbrage with me. Should your judgment prove sound, in a few years we can amend the terms of the agreement.”

  In a few years? She was crazy to think he would ever agree to such a thing.

  “When have I ever given you cause to doubt my judgment?”

  “When you left me,” Felicity cried. Spots of anger dotted her cheeks, and her hands were clenched in anger as well. “If you do not like these arrangements, then tell me, and I will send the notice to the papers informing them the wedding is off. I understand Miss Sawyer has been taken off the market, but no doubt there will be another like her, whose family is too blinded by your title to see your character.”

  Every ounce of pride demanded that he put an end to this match and let Lady Felicity suffer the consequences of her own conceit. The words trembled on the tip of his tongue, but he did not utter them. Felicity had him over a barrel, and they both knew it. It was either marry Felicity or return to Kilgarvan in disgrace and stand by as the mortgage holders took away everything that he held dear.

  “Very well, Lady Felicity,” he said, stressing her title. “If this is what you want, then I will sign that bloody document. But know this: You have chosen this way to start our marriage. Do not be surprised to find that you are getting exactly what you paid for.”

  Seven

  The wedding ceremony was held in the tiny chapel of St. Luke’s. With so little time to plan the event, even Lady Rutland’s influence had not been enough to secure the availability of the more fashionable St. George’s. As a result, the ceremony was small and private by necessity, a fact that Lady Rutland deplored, but which pleased Felicity.

  Felicity did not remember much of the wedding. She recalled standing in the rear of the chapel, wondering if she could bring herself to go through with the ceremony. What was she doing? She was putting her life, her happiness, in the hands of a stranger whom she did not know.

  And yet, was she any different from any of the brides who had gone before her? Today, all across London, young women were marrying men whom they had met only this Season. Felicity, at least, had the security of knowing that she was not wholly dependent upon her husband. She had her own comp
etence to fall back on.

  Lady Rutland informed her when Lord Kilgarvan and his groomsman arrived. Felicity breathed a sigh of relief, even as she tried to convince herself that she had never really doubted that he would come.

  Her uncle escorted her down the aisle, and then placed her hand in Lord Kilgarvan’s. She felt herself tremble, and forced herself to hold her chin high, trying not to reveal how nervous she was.

  Lord Kilgarvan was dressed in a dark blue coat and buff pantaloons. His appearance was all that was elegant, but his face could have been carved from stone. His eyes were hooded, giving no hint of his emotions. She could not tell if he was angry or simply resigned. He might have been a complete stranger to her.

  There was only one moment when she felt a connection to him: when the minister instructed her to promise to “love, honor and obey” her new husband. Kilgarvan’s eyebrow rose upward as she repeated the word obey. Her eyes met his, and for a moment she knew that he saw the humor in her promising to obey him.

  The moment passed as swiftly as it had come. In no time they were accepting the congratulations of the attendants, and then being escorted to the vestry, where they signed their names in the marriage registry.

  And with that, it was done, and she was now a married woman. The wedding party returned to her uncle’s house for the traditional wedding breakfast. Dozens of guests who had not been able to fit in the chapel had been invited to the breakfast. Felicity stood next to Kilgarvan, accepting their congratulations. From time to time she took a sip of tepid champagne.

  A sumptuous repast had been laid out, but there was no chance for the bride and groom to dine—not when so many present wanted to express their good wishes. Felicity endured it as well as she could, ignoring the speculation that she saw in their eyes.