The Irish Earl Read online

  The carriage drove into a small square and halted before a modest three-story residence. There was nothing to distinguish it from its fellows save the color of the door, a deep marine blue, and the brass numeral twenty-seven affixed to the wall.

  Kilgarvan helped her alight, and they walked together up the steps.

  A maid met them at the door and escorted them to a small parlor. There were three people in the parlor—two ladies, one of whom had graying hair and a trim figure, and the other whose hair was darker brown and decidedly plump. But there was a certain resemblance in the shape of their faces, to proclaim them sisters. There was also a stout middle-aged gentleman with bushy eyebrows that contrasted oddly with his gleaming bald pate.

  The gentleman rose, as did the older of the two ladies. “Dear Gerald, how good it is to see you again,” she said. She stepped forward and took both his hands in hers.

  She must be Kilgarvan’s mother, for he kissed her on the cheek as he said, “It is good to see you looking so well.”

  The countess was a thin woman, nearly frail, with graying hair. Her eyes were tired, but her high cheekbones indicated that she must have been a beauty in her youth.

  “May I present Lady Felicity Winterbourne? This, of course, is my mother, the Countess Kilgarvan,” he said.

  The countess smiled at her daughter-in-law. “Lady Felicity is now also the Countess Kilgarvan, is she not? But under any name I am pleased to welcome her to the family.”

  Kilgarvan looked embarrassed as he realized his mistake.

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Felicity said.

  “Please, you must call me Eleanor,” the countess urged. “And this is Mr. Throckmorton, my brother-in-law.”

  “Your servant,” Mr. Throckmorton said.

  “And my sister, Mrs. Frances Throckmorton.”

  “Charmed,” Mrs. Throckmorton said.

  Kilgarvan and Felicity found seats for themselves, and the company resumed their seats.

  The ladies chatted pleasantly for a few minutes, Mrs. Throckmorton inquiring about the London fashions, while the countess delicately probed Felicity regarding her background.

  “You must excuse my curiosity,” the countess explained. “It is just that my son is such a poor correspondent. He wrote little of you until the note he sent announcing your engagement.”

  Mr. Throckmorton snorted. “What my sister-in-law means to say is that your wedding came as quite the surprise, my boy. Thought you were all set to marry that Sawyer chit. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard you were to marry a duke’s daughter. I thought you had decided to marry someone of solid worth, rather than a flighty noblewoman who most likely expects you to keep her in the highest style.”

  Such an insult could not pass unchallenged.

  “Uncle—” Kilgarvan began.

  Felicity placed her hand on his arm, forestalling whatever reply he intended to make.

  “I do not believe that Kilgarvan owes you any explanations, and I most certainly do not,” Felicity said frostily. “It is but for you to wish us to be happy, and to have the common decency to keep any reservations to yourself.”

  Mr. Throckmorton’s monstrous eyebrows drew together as he attempted to stare her down. Felicity returned his stare, not breaking her composure. After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Throckmorton was the first to break eye contact. “You have spirit—I will say that for you,” he said.

  Felicity realized that his words had been a deliberate test to see how she would react. Miss Sawyer would have fled the room in tears, but she was made of sterner stuff.

  “My father raised me to know my own worth, and to speak my mind,” Felicity replied. “And I have always found plain speaking is the wisest policy. Since you are a man of business, I am sure you would agree.”

  Mr. Throckmorton looked from her to Kilgarvan and back again. “Stubborn, that’s what you are. And proud. Just like my nephew here. Never takes a word of advice from anyone. I begin to think you may suit him after all.”

  “Thank you,” Felicity said, as if she had just received a great compliment.

  The dowager countess broke the uneasy silence. “Tell me, how long will you be in Dublin? Your note did not say.”

  “I will be returning home presently,” Kilgarvan said. “But Felicity—”

  “Our plans are not yet fixed,” Felicity interrupted. She knew Kilgarvan had been about to say that she was not to accompany him. She had no wish to quarrel with her husband in front of her new relatives, but neither would she let him assume that she was willing to remain behind.

  The meeting with his family had gone better than he had hoped. Felicity had charmed his mother and his aunt. And as for his uncle, he had expected Mr. Throckmorton to dislike Felicity, as a product of the useless titled classes. Indeed, his uncle’s cutting remarks had come as no surprise. Kilgarvan, all too aware of how much he owed to his uncle’s charity, would never have dared speak to him as Felicity had done. But rather than being offended, Mr. Throckmorton appeared delighted to find Felicity a woman of spirit. He’d even taken Kilgarvan aside when they were leaving, and complimented him on finding a wife of such good sense.

  It seemed Felicity had the power to charm everyone in her circle. Everyone except him, that was. He wondered how she would take the news that he planned to leave her behind in Dublin.

  He broached the subject that evening, as they were dining at their hotel.

  “I must admit, I had not thought to find Dublin such a modern and fashionable city,” Felicity remarked, delicately spearing a piece of fish with her fork. “But I suppose I listened too much to my aunt, who thinks that the world revolves around London and the Season.”

  “Indeed, I am glad to hear you say so,” he said, seizing the opening she had provided. “You will find that Dublin society is the equal of any. My mother will be happy to introduce you, and I think you will find it quite diverting.”

  “I am sure Dublin can be quite pleasant. But I had thought you were quite anxious to return to your estate. Or do you intend to linger in Dublin?”

  He glanced down at his plate. A salmon stared up at him, its glassy eyes seeming to reproach him for what he was about to propose.

  “There is much that needs to be done in Kilgarvan. And, of course, the servants will have much to do to make the great house habitable again. So I think it best if you remain in Dublin for the summer, while I see to the renovations.”

  Felicity laid down her knife and fork. He braced himself for an explosion, which did not come.

  “I see.” She gave him a look that seemed to bore right through him. He felt guiltily aware of how eager he was to be free of his unsettling wife. And while it was true that Arlyn Court would need much work before it was fit for a lady’s residence, he knew that it was not the reason why he wished her to remain in Dublin.

  Felicity’s presence, with all the attendant awkwardness, would only prove a distraction when he very much needed to focus all his energies on his estate. It would take years to bring Kilgarvan to rights, but after waiting so long, he begrudged every day that he had to wait.

  He knew this, and yet there was a part of him that still felt as if he was running away.

  Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “Very well, if that is what you wish, then I will remain in Dublin. I am certain I can find something to amuse myself. Although I would have thought that you would find the arrangement inconvenient, I suppose you know best.”

  “Inconvenient?” What could be more inconvenient than their present arrangement, which forced them into a pretense of domestic harmony?

  “Certainly. After all, you will need to return to Dublin to secure my approval for your projects. Of course, you could write to me, but then if there was anything that was unclear, or if I had any suggestions, then I would need to send a return letter, and you would need to write back, and…” She shook her head. “I really think it a most awkward and bothersome arrangement, but if this is wha
t you want…”

  It took a moment for her words to sink in. “What do you mean, your approval?”

  A waiter cleared their plates and brought the next course, a fricassee of veal. Felicity waited until the waiter had left before replying.

  “Any expenditures for the estate require my approval. You do remember the documents you signed, do you not?”

  She couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t. “This is blackmail!”

  Heads throughout the dining room turned to stare at them.

  “No, my lord, this is what you bargained for. You did not acquire a bank account. You acquired a wife. And now you have a choice. You can leave me in Dublin, or take me with you to Kilgarvan and convince me of what needs to be done.”

  Anger roiled inside him as he realized how neatly she had him trapped. There was nothing he could do. He needed her agreement to release the funds from her dowry, and if he left her in Dublin, he knew full well that no matter how many letters he sent, or how many pages of explanations, that there would be no funds forthcoming.

  He wondered why she seemed so bound and determined to stay with him. He had done nothing to encourage her; on the contrary, after the last days he had been sure she would be glad to be rid of his presence. And yet she seemed determined to bedevil him. Was this some subtle form of revenge for the hurt he had inflicted on their wedding night? He tried to read her face, but he did not see triumph, merely determination.

  He lifted his napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. In a breach of courtesy he rose, not caring that the meal was only half over. “You know I cannot gainsay you,” he said. “But I tell you, it is a miserable journey. Before you are ten miles out of Cork City you will be wishing you had the sense to follow my good advice.”

  “Nonsense. You will find that I am a far hardier creature than you give me credit for,” she said.

  He glared at her, but she seemed immune to his displeasure. He strode off. As he left the dining room, he saw Lady Felicity calmly signaling to the waiter to bring her more wine.

  Her icy calmness infuriated him, and he promised himself that he would make her regret her attempt to force herself where she was not wanted.

  Nine

  Kilgarvan and his new bride spent a week in Dublin. He chafed at every minute of delay, and yet there was so much to be done. He and Felicity met with the bankers who would oversee the trusts that had been established, and then he interviewed solicitors to find an agent to handle his affairs. The process would have been concluded sooner, but Felicity had objected to the solicitor he had chosen, claiming the man was too young and inexperienced, and so Kilgarvan had to begin the selection again. Finally a Mr. Perry was chosen as acceptable to both of them.

  Mr. Perry’s first task would be to redeem the mortgages, and then to draw upon Kilgarvan’s accounts to pay off his other debts. Including the debt to Mr. Throckmorton. Kilgarvan spent a day closeted with the solicitor, until he was certain that both he and Mr. Perry understood the full extent of his financial situation.

  In the end it was both better and worse than he had supposed. The money he had received in the marriage settlements would clear the mortgages and his personal debts, and leave a balance left over for the day-to-day running of the estate. But for any significant improvements or projects, Kilgarvan would still need the concurrence of his wife to release the funds.

  Such a reminder of his situation made him short-tempered, but Felicity seemed unaffected by his moods. She treated him with equanimity, suffering his occasional outburst with the patience of a parent humoring an ill-tempered child. But the more she exercised her patience, the more frustrated he became.

  From Dublin they sailed to Cork City. There he made one last attempt to persuade Felicity to stay behind.

  “I do not understand why you wish to come with me,” he said.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “It will be a miserable journey. Once we leave Cork City, the roads quickly dwindle to mere donkey paths. Inns and decent houses are few, and when we cross the Bheara Mountains, we may not count on even these for shelter. It is scarcely a trip for a lady.”

  Felicity merely raised one eyebrow and gave him a smile as if she could see right through him. “Your mother made the trip, did she not? Or did the countess arrive by heavenly chariot?”

  Her barb hit home. “My mother has not been to Kilgarvan for nearly a decade. Even then the journey was a difficult one, and without funds for upkeep, the roads have grown steadily worse.”

  He complimented himself on his quick thinking. And his explanation was true, in a roundabout sort of way. He had not exaggerated the condition of the roads. The trip from Cork City to Kilgarvan was one only the hardiest of travelers would attempt.

  Of course, there was another way. One could sail to the mouth of the Kenmare River and disembark at the town of Nedeen. From there the journey to Kilgarvan was still difficult, but far shorter. Not that Kilgarvan would have chosen that way himself. He’d had business in Cork City, and he’d made the difficult journey over the Bheara Mountains on more than one occasion. He knew he could make the trip in far less time than it would take to wait for a ship bound to Nedeen. If Felicity could not keep up, so be it. He would send her back to Cork City with a clear conscience.

  But his wife was not so easily dissuaded. “I daresay if you can make the journey, then so can I,” she said. “It will not be the first time I have traveled in rough conditions. And it will be worth it to see my new home.”

  He felt a sudden stab of apprehension as he heard her say the word home. Kilgarvan was not her home. It was his—his and his people’s. And yet Felicity was a force to be reckoned with. He was already handicapped by her control of his purse. Who knew what schemes she might come up with once she was in Kilgarvan? She could easily upset his carefully made plans.

  But he could not say no. Not when Felicity held the upper hand. All he could do was try to discourage her. “It will not be as you are used to. There is no grand society, no neighbors for a day’s journey, save the local people. There are many projects that will need my attention, and I will have little time to keep you company. Even Arlyn Court needs restoration to make it habitable.”

  “All the more reason for my presence,” Felicity countered. “If you are busy with the estate, then I must be there to supervise the renovations on the manor.”

  He ground his teeth in frustration. Why couldn’t she see reason? Any sensible woman would have eagerly remained behind, after the grim picture he had painted. Yet the more obstacles he put in her path, the more determined Felicity was to accompany him.

  “At least let me journey ahead and begin the work,” he temporized. “And then you can join me in a few months, once things are more settled.”

  For a moment he thought it might work. But she shook her head no.

  “Are you ashamed of your home?”

  “No!” The question was absurd.

  “Then you must be ashamed of me. Is that it? Are you so ashamed of your wife that you are afraid to introduce me to your people?”

  “Of course not.” But how could he explain what was truly troubling him? It was not that he was ashamed of Felicity, but rather that he feared her influence. Living with her, day and night, it would be hard to keep to the vows he had made not to consummate the marriage until there could be no doubt of the paternity of his heir.

  It was a hellish bargain he had made. He had sold his soul to save his land. He had given up his own freedom, knowing that doing so would preserve Kilgarvan. But he had not counted on having to share Kilgarvan with his new wife.

  “Then there can be no real objection to my accompanying you on the morrow, can there?”

  She had him trapped, and they both knew it.

  “I bow to your superior logic, madam,” he said frostily. “We will leave tomorrow at first light.”

  “I will be ready,” she promised.

  She smiled at him, the picture of cool, well-bred elegance.

  He tr
ied to comfort himself with the knowledge that he still had one more card up his sleeve. Only he knew the route to Kilgarvan, and he would pick the most difficult path he knew. Surely after a day or two of discomfort his wife would be inclined to see reason.

  But looking at his wife’s self-confidence, he had the terrible lurking suspicion that nothing short of a plague of locusts would deter her from her goal.

  On the morning they were to depart, Felicity rose early and breakfasted alone on a tray sent to her room. She knew that her husband was liable to be in a foul temper, and she was in no mood to humor his crotchets.

  She did not understand the reason for his obstinacy. She had accused him of being ashamed of her yesterday, but even as she said the words she knew they were not true. If he was ashamed of her, he would never have introduced her to his family, or pressed so hard for her to remain with them in Dublin.

  But if he was not ashamed of her, then what was his motive? Did he simply long to be free of her presence and the reminder of the mercenary bargain he had made? Or was there something more? Was there something or someone at Kilgarvan that he did not want her to see? And yet when he spoke of his land it was with such love and pride that she could not understand why he would not want her to see it.

  Her imagination conjured up myriad explanations for his behavior, each more outrageous than the last. Perhaps Kilgarvan was in fact a prosperous estate, and Kilgarvan’s tales of poverty were a ruse. Or maybe Kilgarvan was already married, and when she arrived she would find herself confronting his common-law wife, and their dozen children.

  Of course, that would mean that he had found a woman who was willing to put up with his ill temper and capricious starts. After these last weeks Felicity very much doubted that there was a woman in the civilized world who would cheerfully link her fate to that of the Earl of Kilgarvan.

  Still, she set aside her misgivings and paid no heed to her husband’s attempts to discourage her. On the contrary, his attempts served only to increase her determination. She would brave the Irish wilderness and prove to her husband that she was no hothouse flower. And perhaps, in time, they would rekindle the friendship they had once shared.