The Earl's Inconvenient Wife Read online

  ‘We concede,’ Giff said. ‘Life isn’t fair.’

  ‘Shall we move from the philosophical to the practical?’ Gregory said briskly. ‘As you may know, Christopher, since a presentation in London this Season would be...awkward at best, Aunt Gussie offered to take the girls to Bath. Where at least they could go out a bit in society, maybe even meet some eligible gentlemen.’

  ‘I have no desire to wed some elderly widower and spend the rest of my husband’s life feeding him potions and pushing his chair to the Pump Room,’ Temper declared.

  ‘And as you might suspect,’ Gregory continued after Temper’s interruption, ‘practical Pru agreed, but intransigent Temper insists on remaining in London and brazening it out. Much as I love you, sis, I really would like to see you out of this house and settled in your own establishment.’

  ‘Since I don’t plan to marry, why must I even have a Season?’ When none of the gentlemen bothered to reply to that, she sighed. ‘Very well, but if I must have one, I’d rather have it straight away and not delay yet another year. Most females make their bows at sixteen and, what with one catastrophe or other occurring to forestall a presentation, Pru and I are pushing two-and-twenty, practically on the shelf! The Season will be a disaster, of course, but maybe after that, everyone will leave me alone and allow me to do what I wish.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to press forward this year?’ Gifford said. ‘If you are cut by most of society, you will have few invitations to balls or entertainments or dinners. Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait another year and try then, after this scandal has been buried under a host of new ones?’

  ‘What’s to say there won’t be a new scandal next year?’ Temper objected. ‘Paying court to Mama’s beauty is practically a...a rite of passage among the idiots coming down from university. Though she doesn’t go about in society nearly as much as she used to, she’s still as beautiful as ever. And as fascinating to gentlemen.’

  ‘Perhaps even more so, since she doesn’t encourage any of them,’ Gifford acknowledged with a wry smile. ‘The lure of the Beauty Unattainable.’

  ‘The lure of knowing she hasn’t always been “unattainable” and the arrogance that makes some man think he might be the one to succeed with her,’ Temper corrected.

  ‘Let’s get back to the point,’ Gregory said. ‘I’d just as soon not wait to settle your future until next year, either. But if you insist on having your debut here, we shall need some eminently respectable female to sponsor you, since Aunt Gussie will be in Bath with Pru. Obviously, Mama can’t do it.’

  ‘Ellie is out, too, for equally obvious reasons,’ Christopher said. ‘But...I could ask Maggie. As the daughter of a marquess and wife of a viscount, she might have enough influence to manage it.’

  ‘No, Christopher, I wouldn’t want to ask her, even though she would probably agree. She’s still fully occupied with the baby and, let’s be honest, attempting to sponsor one of the “Scandal Sisters” won’t enhance the social standing of whoever attempts it. Maggie is too important as a political hostess for Giles, helping him in his efforts to move the Reform bills forward, to risk diminishing her effectiveness, tarnishing her reputation by sponsoring me.’

  ‘But society knows how close we are all, almost as close as family. They will understand the loyalty that would have her stand by you.’

  ‘They might understand her loyalty, but they’d certainly question her judgement. No, if I press forward with this, I shall need a sponsor whose reputation is so unassailable that no one would dare oppose her.’

  ‘How about Lady Sayleford?’ Gifford suggested.

  ‘Maggie’s great-aunt?’ Temper said, frowning. ‘That connection is a bit remote, don’t you think? I don’t doubt that Maggie would take me on, but why should Lady Sayleford bother herself over the likes of me?’

  ‘Maybe because I ask her.’ Before Temper could sputter out a response, he grinned. ‘She’s my godmother. Didn’t you know? My mother and her daughter were bosom friends.’

  While Christopher and Gregory laughed, Temper shook her head. ‘I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. Thick as a den of thieves, the Upper Ten Thousand.’

  ‘You can’t deny she has the social standing to carry it off,’ Gifford said.

  Temper smiled. ‘If Lady Sayleford couldn’t get her protégée admitted wherever she chose, London society as we know it would cease to exist. But even she would have to expend social capital to achieve it. I wouldn’t want to ask it of her.’

  ‘Knowing Lady Sayleford, she might see it as a challenge. She’s never marched to anyone’s tune, knows everything about everyone and has fingers in so many pies, no one dares to cross her.’

  ‘I’ve never met her, but she sounds like a woman I’d admire,’ Temper admitted.

  ‘If you could secure her agreement, Lady Sayleford would be an excellent sponsor,’ Gregory said, looking encouraged. ‘If anyone can find an eligible parti to take this beloved termagant off my hands, it’s the Dowager Countess.’

  ‘Need I repeat, I have no intention of ending a Season, even one sponsored by the redoubtable Lady Sayleford, by marrying?’

  When the gentleman once again ignored her comment, Christopher agreeing with Gregory that Lady Sayleford would make an excellent sponsor and asking Gifford again if he thought he could coax her into it, Temper slammed her hand on the table.

  ‘Enough! Very well, I admit that Lady Sayleford has a better chance of foisting me on society than any other matron I can think of. But don’t go making your plans yet, gentlemen. Let me at least approach Papa and see if I can convince him to release funds from my dowry for me to set up my own establishment—and get out of your house and hair, dear brother.’

  The men exchanged dubious glances.

  ‘If I can persuade him to release my dowry,’ Temper persisted, ‘you’ll have no “situation” to discuss.’

  ‘Yes, we would,’ Gifford said. ‘We’d be figuring out a way to rein you in before you organised an expedition to the Maghreb or India, like Lady Hester Stanhope.’

  ‘Riding camels or wading in the Ganges.’ With a beaming smile, Temper nodded. ‘I like that prospect far better than wading through the swamp of a Season.’

  ‘Well you might, but don’t get your hopes up,’ Christopher warned. ‘You know Papa.’

  Despite her bold assertion, Temper knew as well as Christopher how dim were her chances of success. ‘I do,’ she acknowledged with a sigh. ‘I’ll be lucky if he even acknowledges I’ve entered the room, much less deigns to talk with me. At least he’s unlikely to bellow at me or throw things. With all the sabres and cutlasses and daggers he’s in the process of cataloguing now, that’s reassuring. Well, I’m off to pin him down and try my luck.’

  ‘If I leave before you get finished, let me know what happens,’ Christopher said. ‘I’ll be happy to return for another strategy session.’ Planting a kiss on her forehead, he gave her a little push. ‘You better go now, so you won’t miss saying goodbye to Pru.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Temper said, glancing at the mantel clock. ‘Aunt Gussie could arrive at any minute. Very well—I’m off to the lion’s den!’ Blowing the others a kiss, she walked out—feeling Gifford Newell’s gaze following her as almost like a burn on her shoulders.

  Chapter Two

  Gifford Myles Newell, younger son of the Earl of Fensworth, watched his best friend’s sister walk gracefully out of the room. Just when had she changed from a bubbly, vivacious little girl into this stunning beauty?

  A beauty, he had to admit, who raised most unbrotherly feelings in him. Sighing, he fought to suppress the arousal she seemed always to spark in him of late.

  Unfortunately, one could not seduce the virginal sister of one’s best friend, no matter how much her face and voluptuous figure reminded one of the most irresistible of Cyprians. And though she made an interesting and amusing companion—one nev
er knew what she would say or do next, except one could count on it not being conventional—when he married, he would need a mature, elegant, serene lady to manage his household and preside with tact and diplomacy over the political dinners at which so much of the business of government was conducted. Not a hoyden who blurted out whatever she was thinking, heedless of the consequences.

  Sadly, when he did marry, he’d probably have to give up the association that had enlivened his life since the day he’d met her when she was six. He chuckled, remembering the rock she’d tossed and he’d had to duck as he entered the back garden at Brook Street, her explaining as she apologised that she’d thought he was the bad man who’d just made her mama cry.

  Her body might be the stuff of a man’s erotic dreams, but she was still very much that impulsive, tempestuous child. A mature, elegant, serene wife would be a useful addition to his Parliamentary career, but he would miss the rough-and-tumble exchange of ideas, the sheer delight of talking with Temperance, never knowing where her lively mind or her unexpected reactions would take one next.

  He wished the man who did end up wedding her good luck trying to control that fireball of uninhibited energy! Regardless of her childish protests that she never intended to marry, she almost inevitably would. There was no other occupation available for a gently bred female and he sincerely doubted her father, Lord Vraux, would release her dowry so his daughter could go trekking about the world, alone. How would she support herself, if she didn’t marry?

  She was too outspoken to become anyone’s paid companion and no wife with eyes in her head would engage a woman who looked like Temperance Lattimar to instruct her children, unless her sons were very young and her husband a diplomat permanently posted at the back of beyond.

  Fortunately, figuring out how to control Temperance Lattimar wouldn’t be his problem. Until the day some other poor man assumed that responsibility—or until he bowed to the inevitable, gave in to his mother’s ceaseless haranguing and found a wealthy wife to remove the burden of his upkeep from the family finances—he would simply enjoy the novelty of her company.

  And keep his attraction to her firmly under control.

  He looked up to find both Christopher and Gregory staring at him. Feeling his face heat, he said, ‘She’s still as much a handful as she was at six, isn’t she?’

  Gregory and Christopher both sighed. ‘Pru will do what she must to fit in, but I’m uneasy about Temper,’ Christopher said. ‘That’s one female who should have been born a man.’

  Suppressing his body’s instinctive protest at that heresy, Gifford said, ‘I would love to see her on the floor of the house, ripping into the Tories who natter on about how disruptive to Caribbean commerce a slavery ban would be.’

  ‘She would be magnificent,’ Christopher agreed. ‘But since female suffrage is unlikely to occur in her lifetime, we had better be thinking of some other options. I don’t think she’s going to have much luck squeezing any money out of Vraux.’

  Knowing how much tension existed between Christopher and the legal, if not biological, father who had ignored him all his life, Gifford said, ‘Probably not. But I’d love to be the parlour maid dusting outside the library door when she tries to talk him into letting her equip a caravan to journey to the pyramids!’

  * * *

  As it turned out, Christopher had left, but Gifford was just striding down the hallway towards the front door when Temper, with an exasperated expression, descended the stairs from the library that was Lord Vraux’s private domain.

  ‘I take it the response wasn’t positive.’

  She let out a frustrated huff. ‘As I feared, he barely noticed I’d entered the room. You know how he is when he’s in the midst of cataloguing his latest acquisitions! I stationed myself right in front of him and waved my hands until he finally looked at me, with that little frown he has when he’s interrupted. In any event, he listened in silence and then motioned me away.’

  Gifford knew from Gregory’s descriptions how averse the baron was to being touched. Still, it must hurt his children that their father seemed unable to give—or receive—any sign of affection.

  ‘Did he say...anything? Or just go back to cataloguing?’

  She shook her head in disgust. ‘He said I needed to have a Season so I could “get married and be protected”. That women need to be protected. I couldn’t help myself—I had to ask if that was why he’d married Mama. But he didn’t respond, just returned his attention to the display table and picked up the next dagger.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Rather made me wish I could have picked up a dagger!’

  Despite the baron’s staggering wealth, which meant Gregory had never, as Giff had when they were at school together, gone hungry or had to get his clothes patched instead of ordering new ones, Gifford had always felt sorry for the Lattimar children. Possessed of a mother who, though loving, had made herself such a byword that her daughters’ acceptance in society had been compromised, and a father who acted as if they didn’t exist.

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t grab a dagger,’ he said lightly, trying to ease her disappointment. ‘The news that you’d stabbed your father, coming on top of the scandal of the duel, would further complicate your debut.’

  She gave a wry chuckle. ‘Thank you, Giff, for trying to cheer me up. I guess I shall be cursed with a Season after all. But I can’t bear thinking about it right now, so please don’t summon Gregory and call another strategy session just yet.’

  She heaved another sigh. ‘I’d rather have a shot of Gregory’s brandy, but I’ll settle for tea. Won’t you take some with me?’ she asked, waving him back towards the parlour. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk with you since you took up your seat in Parliament.’

  When had he ever been able to turn her down? Curiosity over what she might say always lured him in—as it did now, despite his unease over the physical response she sparked in him. ‘I suppose I can spare a few more minutes.’

  ‘Giff, a serious, sober parliamentarian,’ she said in wondering tones as, after snagging a footman to send for tea, she led him back to the parlour. ‘That’s a notion that takes some getting used to! Wasn’t it just last year that seeing you at this time of the morning would have meant you and Gregory were returning from your night’s revels?’

  Laughing, she gazed up at him, her glorious eyes teasing, her smiling mouth an invitation to dalliance. Sucking in a quick breath, he slammed his eyes shut. This is your friend’s little sister. You can’t let yourself think this way about her.

  Maybe it would help if he didn’t look right at her. Or sit close enough to smell the subtle jasmine scent that surrounded her, whispering of sultry climes and sin.

  Seating himself a safe distance away, he protested, ‘Not last year!’

  ‘Well, maybe the year before. Gregory was just turned five-and-twenty when he inadvertently discovered what a muddle the estate books at Entremer were in and decided the heir must sort things out, since Papa obviously had little interest in doing so.’

  ‘And you must admit, he’s done an admirable job.’

  ‘Who would have thought it? His most admirable achievement up to that point had been drinking three bottles of port in a night between entertaining three ladies. While in your company, as I remember, although he didn’t divulge your totals.’

  ‘How did you—?’ Giff sputtered, feeling his face heat.

  Temperance chuckled. ‘Greg and Giff, what a pair, the two of you! When you staggered into our front hallway at eight in the morning, singing ribald songs, Gregory boasting of his prowess at the top of his lungs... In euphemisms, of course, but Pru and I knew very well what he was referring to.’

  ‘Sometimes you girls are too perceptive,’ Giff muttered.

  ‘If we learned at an early age about dealings virginal maidens should have no knowledge of, that wasn’t exactly our fault, was it?’ she argued, an edge in her voice.


  The footman returned with the tea tray and, for a moment, conversation ceased while she poured. Once they both had a cup of the steaming brew, she continued, ‘I must say, I was rather surprised when Gregory told us you’d decided to stand for Parliament.’

  ‘Young men must sow their wild oats, I suppose, but eventually one must consider how one intends to make his mark on the world. Especially we younger sons, who can’t look forward to having an estate to run.’ Especially younger sons who’ve been virtually shut out by their family, all the attention of father and mother lavished on the son who would inherit, he added silently, feeling a familiar slash of pain at that stark reality.

  ‘Joining the Reform politicians is a choice I can admire! Are you finding the workings of Parliament as stimulating as you’d hoped?’

  Gratification at her praise distracted him from both his pain and the smouldering anger her unfortunate situation so often sparked in him. Honest, direct and highly intelligent, Temper never flattered, and offered praise sparingly. Despite her youth, of all the females of his acquaintance, she was probably the one whose approval meant the most to him.

  ‘I have to admit, I was dubious when Gregory and Christopher first urged me, but...it is stimulating.’

  ‘You’ve found your calling, then.’

  He smiled. ‘I think I have. To stand on the floor of the House and realise that what you do there, calling for an end to slavery or for restricting the employment of children in factories, will better the lives of thousands, here and across England’s possessions! It’s both humbling and thrilling. Even if change doesn’t go as far or happen as quickly as we’d like.’

  ‘Yes, Christopher tells me that it will be difficult enough to hammer through the right of all men to vote, that I shouldn’t look to see suffrage extended to women any time soon. Unless “women” are added as a class in the bill to end slavery,’ she quipped.