Penniless until the earl.., p.2
Penniless Until the Earl's Proposal, page 2
‘Come now, that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?’
‘No, it is not. That’s what happens to anyone caught poaching. How could you do that?’
‘I can and I will. I cannot have anyone poaching my game. If he is indeed guilty of the offence and is seen to get away with it, it will send out the wrong message, and I will have all and sundry doing the same. I will not have it.’
‘I can see that,’ she retorted scathingly. ‘You really are the most ill-mannered, inconsiderate man I have ever encountered, Lord Cardell,’ Juliet upbraided him coldly. ‘My mother always told me that such an outward display of temperamental frustration as you have just shown is regarded as a sign of bad breeding.’
His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. ‘Your mother was probably right, and I daresay I am what you accuse me of being. It goes with the title.’
Juliet was in no mood to be mocked, and she could see by the gleam in his eyes that he was doing exactly that. ‘Then with you as an example, I can only hope that you are the last titled Englishman I shall ever meet.’
‘As the sister of an earl, I would very much doubt that. And since we are bandying words, Lady Juliet, you really are the most infuriatingly outspoken woman I have ever met.’
Raising her head, she fixed him with a level gaze. ‘I agree, I am outspoken—be it a failing or a blessing, I care not one whit. I dare say a lot of things to a man who scares children half to death,’ she said, and with good reason, for the terror she had felt as a child locked in a dark cupboard for hours on end by this particular gentleman she had not forgotten—although in his arrogance he would have no recollection of the fact, and she would not humiliate herself by reminding him of the incident. She would not forgive him that act of cruelty. ‘I imagine you also terrify each and every one of your servants so they creep about in fear of you, and that your whole house vibrates with tension that springs from you, Lord Cardell. By the look on your face, I would wager I have hit a sore spot. Please don’t disappoint me by holding your temper. I would hate to see you explode with the effort.’
‘Believe me, Lady Juliet, you would not want to see me explode. I have a temper, I admit it, when I am driven to it. And how I run my household and treat my servants concerns only myself.’
‘Be that as it may,’ she said with a defiant upward tilt to her chin, her voice edged with high indignation, ‘you still have no proof of Joe Ruskin’s guilt. Besides, innocent or guilty, you have no standing here. While my brother is absent, I have the authority on this estate.’
Lord Cardell cocked an arrogant brow. ‘And you are sure of that are you, Lady Juliet?’ Her expression told him that she wasn’t. ‘We will have to wait and see what the law has to say about that. Now I must be away. I have an appointment to keep and I am already late.’
Turning from her, he mounted his horse with an athletic grace that did not surprise her in the slightest. She would have expected nothing less from this arrogant lord.
‘You will find the shortest route back to Mulberry Hall is to ride through the park which belongs to my brother, Lord Cardell. Although if you do so, I must warn you that you could be apprehended for trespassing. But worry not,’ she said, when his expression became one of surprise. ‘I am sure Richard would show you more tolerance and leniency than you have just shown to Mrs Ruskin.’ She switched her attention to his mount pawing its hooves on the ground, clearly impatient to be off. ‘You seem to be having difficulty controlling your horse, sir. Is it not time you taught it who is master?’
‘I assure you he knows who is his master.’ He looked at her closely. ‘What a firebrand you are, Lady Juliet Sinclair. It appears to me that you are in need of some mastering yourself. Should your brother fail to do so, I would be honoured to put myself forward. Teaching a lovely young female how to behave like a lady should be—interesting. I would use the same tactics as I would at taming a horse. I would soon have you doing my bidding and swooning at my feet.’
His hollow chuckle held a note of mockery. A flush of anger spread to the delicate tips of her ears. ‘Why, you conceited, unmitigated cad...’
‘I get the gist,’ he said, cutting her short with a low laugh, noting the icy fire that smouldered in her deep amber-coloured eyes.
Suddenly he seemed to relax in the saddle and his lips curved into a smile, taking Juliet by surprise as she stared at him. It was the most engaging smile she had ever seen, the smile of a man who finds the whole world a delightful place to be. It was a smile that lit his eyes and caused her heart to flutter.
‘You are arrogant if you believe I would ever swoon at your feet. Thank God I am not afflicted by such weakness.’ She stepped away from him and his horse, finding his closeness and the way he towered over her a little intimidating. ‘Be on your way, sir.’
Not yet ready to be dismissed, he hesitated. ‘At least allow me to escort you to Endcliffe House.’
Her chilled contempt met him face to face. She stepped back. ‘I am quite capable of taking myself home. Go away and take that vicious beast with you,’ she snapped, glancing irately at the bay stallion that had begun to snort and stamp impatiently, its vigorous temperament reminding her so very much of its master.
‘Aren’t you taking a risk? You might be set upon by footpads or worse. Anything could happen to a woman travelling alone.’
‘It just did, and I am of the opinion that I’m in less danger of being set upon by footpads than I am from you. At least they may have better manners.’ Turning her back on him, she hoisted herself up into the trap, taking up the reins.
He sighed, feigning disappointment, slowly shaking his head. ‘Such ingratitude.’
‘Ingratitude?’ she gasped. ‘You call me ungrateful after the distress you have caused Mrs Ruskin by accusing her husband of poaching your rabbits?’
His eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Have it your way. You know, Lady Juliet, I cannot believe that here we are crossing swords in this undignified manner, two sensible people arguing about rabbits. If there has been a misunderstanding, then I will apologise to Mrs Ruskin and her husband most sincerely. Rest assured, I shall look into the matter immediately.’ He pulled on the reins and turned his restless horse about. ‘I sincerely hope that when next we meet, this unpleasant issue will have blown over and we behave as acquaintances should. I am certain that as neighbours, we are going to get on famously.’
‘Really? You are sure of yourself, sir—and conceited if nothing else.’
Juliet’s voice held a note of reproof that finally penetrated Lord Cardell’s intensity. He gave her a startled glance, then a disarming smile and impudent honesty.
‘Not always. Only when I see a lovely young woman I would like to know better.’
‘I see.’ Juliet lifted a disapproving brow. ‘And you hope to make a good impression, I presume.’
‘It had occurred to me.’
‘Then you will be disappointed that you have not, sir.’
‘So, am I to understand that calling on your brother is out of the question?’
‘That’s right—at least not until your manners improve. Good day to you.’
‘And good day to you too, Lady Juliet.’
He kicked his horse into motion. His laughter drifted back to her, his mockery infuriating her yet further. Urging her pony on she glared after his retreating figure, muttering all kinds of threats under her breath. She had never met a man who had irritated her as he had just done, and it chafed her sorely to consider his flawless success.
* * *
Riding away, Marcus halted his horse and turned and looked back. He watched with a brooding attentiveness in his eyes and not without a good deal of interest as Lady Juliet Sinclair travelled in the opposite direction towards Endcliffe House. Hostility from ladies in her position was not something he had encountered before. Most young ladies were more than eager to be amiable to him—although perhaps she’d had good reason not to be in her defence of Joe Ruskin. He was, after all, one of her brother’s tenants and Lady Juliet was convinced of his innocence.
Perhaps she was right and his accusation had perhaps been a little hasty, but having been most put out on receiving a letter from his mother forbidding him to bring Adele, his six-year-old daughter who was a sensitive child, to Mulberry Hall until he was more settled and had put his mind to finding himself a wife and mother for his daughter. Adele would remain with her in London for the time being or at the Cardell estate in Sussex.
Continuing his journey back to Mulberry Hall, he became thoughtful. He’d spent a little time in London before coming to Surrey. As soon as word got round of his return, invitations to social events had rained down on him. Before his marriage, his potent attraction to women had been a topic of much scintillating feminine gossip, but marriage and his military career had taken him out of the public eye. Now he was back, a widower and about to take up residence at the fabulous Mulberry Hall estate—a draw for any aristocratic family with a bevy of unmarried daughters.
But age and his experiences in Spain had changed him. Now he possessed a haughty reserve that was not always inviting and set him apart from others in society. He was always careful to choose a mistress whose company he enjoyed. She had to be intelligent and sophisticated, who would not mistake lovemaking and desire with love, and moreover, she had to be a woman who made no demands and expected no promises.
He missed his military life and his fellow soldiers. Since arriving at the house, he realised he would have to give himself up to the day-to-day running of the estate. He had called in the bailiffs to give an account of their management, accounts gone in to, acres of land ridden over and meetings with his tenant farmers. Alone in his elegant house, he restlessly wandered from room to room, unable to escape the throbbing emptiness and his longing to make it a family home once more.
His mother was right. Now he was home he must put his mind to remarrying, his wife, Elizabeth, having died giving birth to Adele. He had been fond of Elizabeth and had mourned her passing, but he had not loved her in the romantic sense. Desire, he understood. It was a more honest emotion. Passion and desire were easily appeased—fleeting—and easily doused. When he chose a woman to be his wife, he would be careful to choose a woman from a good family, whose company he enjoyed. But the most important thing of all was that she would be a good mother to his daughter. Adele was his priority. This was non-negotiable.
With Mulberry Hall within his sights, Lady Juliet drifted back into his thoughts, and a faint sensual smile quirked his lips. Her features had an aristocratic cast to them, and she had an air of good breeding. She had a face of unforgettable beauty, with high delicately moulded cheekbones, a perfect nose and generous lips. It was a strong face but essentially feminine. She had the kind of looks which few men failed to respond to with interest and some women with envy. She had worn a bonnet, but what he had seen of her hair, it was the colour of burnished gold. She was vibrant, vital and bold, but there was also about her a mysterious, almost sweet and gentle allure. Her form was slender and appealing. He smiled, looking forward to their next meeting, for as close neighbours, it was inevitable that their paths would cross in the future.
As for this matter concerning Joe Ruskin, maybe his keeper had been mistaken after all. He would look into the matter.
* * *
As Juliet travelled the well-worn path back to Endcliffe House, she was determined to cast Lord Cardell from her mind. The man was obnoxious, she decided, and not worth thinking about, although he was terribly handsome—she would grant him that. There was also an uncompromising authority in the set of his jaw and an arrogance in the tilt of his head that was not to her liking. But considering the remarks he had made regarding her brother, there was more than a ring of truth in what he had said. She prayed constantly that Richard would exchange the bustle of London for the grace of Endcliffe House. Since the death of their parents, their mother just one year before their father, Juliet had learned not to expect any form of duty from her brother, who was wrapped up in his own self-indulgent world of gambling and all the pleasures London had to offer.
At twenty-one years old Juliet was younger than Richard by three years, but she had always been the sensible, practical one, while he was somewhat reckless and foolhardy and liked to live life to the full and in comfort. She had soon learned that where Richard was concerned, her own wishes were not to be consulted, and she was forced by circumstances to live in genteel poverty, to be the keeper of Endcliffe House and to put all her youthful energies and her loneliness into their home, where she was responsible for all the household matters and the staff—of which only a handful of the old retainers remained. On Richard’s last visit to their home, she had confronted him, begged him, as she had done countless times in the past, to give up his reckless, expensive way of life and return to live in Surrey, for if he did not heed their situation, then ruination would soon be knocking at the door.
Whenever she had broached the subject, Richard was at once defensive and would become angry, finding her persistence to try to reform him extremely irritating. London, with its splendour and corruption, its squalor and excitement, thrilled and entertained him in a way his provincial home in Surrey had never done. His taste for pleasure and his capacity for enjoyment lifted his spirits in the restless, teeming city.
But enough was enough. After his last visit to Endcliffe House, discovering that the only valuables remaining in the house—their mother’s jewels—had disappeared, and knowing Richard must have taken them, and knowing exactly what he intended to do with them—that he would sell them in order to pay for his gambling, she knew they could not carry on like this. An inexplicable weariness and pain lay heavy on her heart. If they had to sell her beloved home, it would tear her apart. She would fight tooth and nail to hold on to it.
Ever since their father had died, leaving them in dire straits, with Richard away in London, she had come up against so many obstacles and had almost worn herself out in the bargain. She was to travel to London shortly to attend a prior engagement. It would be the perfect opportunity to confront her brother. She would try again to make him see the error of his ways, but she did not hold out much hope of success.
As she neared Endcliffe House, she thought how different her life would have been had she married Thomas. The image of his handsome laughing face flashed before her. Everything about him had drawn him to her. She’d been young and with the naivety of a girl who’d had a sheltered, loving upbringing, and being a man from a family with great affluence and a proper lineage, Thomas had been the epitome of everything she wanted her future husband to be.
She remembered the first time they had met at a soiree in London. They had spent the entire evening in each other’s company. They met on several occasions after that night. Her eyes would light up when he came into a room, and she would hang on his every word with a rapt expression on her face. He told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and that he had fallen in love with her the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She remembered the rapture she had felt when he had taken her in his arms and kissed her, then the blessed relief when he’d asked her to be his wife. Both families were in favour of the match, and she’d accepted him gladly, but her happiness led to heartache when, as a young commissioned military officer, he departed for the Peninsular with Wellington’s army.
He’d left with the sun shining on his hair, standing with one hand on his sword in the attitude of a Greek god, appearing to Juliet unbearably heroic. They would have been married by now had he not been killed at the Battle of Albuera in Spain just a few months ago. She would never forget the day when the tragic news had come to her and all the pain and desolation that had come with it. Never had she believed she could feel such pain, such anguish that went deep—deeper than anything she had ever known.
His death had coincided with the death of her father, and with this, combined with the worry that they might lose the Endcliffe estate that had been in the Sinclair family for generations, she had continued to carry on. Richard had suggested she should seriously consider seeking an affluent man to marry to solve their problems. Even though she had a sense of responsibility towards Richard stronger than it should be, it was there and was an intrinsic part of her. But she was unwilling at this time to be made a sacrifice. It was one of the few times she had lapsed into self-pity. She would rather marry a man she had chosen than one forced on her.
Whatever the outcome, she was determined never again to feel for any man the way she had for Thomas, that no man could ever take his place. She had hardened her heart, resolved that no man would ever breach it.
Chapter Two
It was a week after her encounter with Lord Cardell that found Juliet riding alone in the lush green water meadows, interlaced by a network of silvery streams off the winding river where moorhens and swans were gliding gracefully between the rushes and reeds. The day was hot and sultry, and on a day such as this, Juliet had only one purpose in mind. The small lake surrounded by trees was her own secret place, a place where, when things were bad, she could escape to. After making sure that she was quite alone, kicking off her shoes and removing her thin cotton day dress, she waded into the lake, the water bathing her flesh beneath her petticoat like a soothing cool balm.
Dipping below the surface of the warm, clear water she began to swim, stretching her body to its full length. It was a simple exercise, requiring little thought, although she was well aware that if she should be observed indulging in such outrageous behaviour, it would be considered unacceptable and her reputation would be in ruins. But now, with the sun on her back and in dire need of respite from the many problems that beset her and having no wish to marry in the foreseeable future, she thrust these thoughts away. Here she could be herself. It was her secret pleasure.
