Hardly a Husband

  "I was under the impression that your niece does," Jarrod said.

  "She may say that, but Sarah was meant to be married," Lady Dunbridge confided.

  "I agree," Jarrod replied. "But apparently Sarah does not."

  "She says she prefers to do her own choosing and would rather pursue a career as a courtesan than marry, but look where that's gotten her. She's had no practical experience with men other than her father. And her judgment is flawed. Sarah chooses with her heart instead of her head. Why else would she choose you? I know that she's known you for years and that she feels safe and comfortable with you. But that's no way to judge a prospective husband."

  "She didn't want me for a husband," Jarrod said. "Only as a lover."

  Lady Dunbridge threw up her hands and shook her head. "All the more reason for her not to do the choosing.

  Lovers take what you have to offer and promise you the moon and the stars in return. But they rarely deliver the goods. And when the love affair is over, they fob you off with a few jewels and move on to the next conquest. Answer me this, Lord Shepherdston, what good would having you as a lover be for a girl in Sarah's position?"

  "I happen to be a very generous lover." Her criticism stung and Jarrod was eager to prove Lady Dunbridge wrong.

  Lady Dunbridge made a clucking sound with her tongue. "I beg your pardon, Lord Shepherdston, but that's exactly my point. You are no doubt a very generous lover. And I'm sure my niece would be very happy with the fabulous pieces of jewelry you would give her to mark special occasions, but would you care enough for her to provide for her future when the affair was over?"

  "I am very fond of Sarah," he protested.

  "Of course you are," Lady Dunbridge said. "But you're fond of her in the way a child is fond of a puppy or a kitten."

  "I offered to buy her a house."

  "And I'm sure she was most appreciative of your grand gesture, but what good is a house when she has no one to share it?" Lady Dunbridge countered.

  "She would have you to share it," Jarrod said. "I proposed buying a house for the two of you. Sarah refused it."

  "Of course she did." Lady Dunbridge nodded. "She's unmarried. She can't accept a gift like that from you. And she wouldn't even if she could."

  "Why not?" he demanded. "It would be a roof over her head."

  "It would also be the worst kind of charity," Lady Dunbridge pronounced. "And you know it. She offered you the gift of herself. You refused her."

  Jarrod frowned. "You know I couldn't take what she offered."

  "Other men would have."

  Jarrod nodded. "Yes, I know, but I couldn't." He looked up and met Lady Dunbridge's steady brown-eyed gaze.

  "Other women would have accepted the house," she said simply. "But Sarah couldn't. She wants you. But since you have an aversion to marrying her…"

  "I don't have an aversion to marrying Sarah," he corrected. "My aversion, as you put it, is for marriage in general."

  "I'm sure my niece will be delighted to learn that your rejection of her wasn't personal," Lady Dunbridge retorted dryly.

  "It wasn't personal," he insisted. "Except to her."

  "It doesn't matter," she said. "The fact is that you've no wish to wed her for whatever reason and you've proven yourself too honorable to take her outside the bonds of marriage. Sarah will have to readjust her thinking and learn to accept someone else as her husband or as her lover."

  Jarrod focused his gaze on the tablecloth, glaring at it as if he wished to burn a hole in it with his eyes. "What if Sarah doesn't want to rearrange her thinking?"

  Lady Dunbridge arched a brow and eyed Jarrod in a speculative manner. So, Lord Shepherdston didn't like the idea of Sarah readjusting her thinking in order to accept someone else as her husband. "She won't, of course, but we don't always get what we want in life. Life is made up of compromises, disappointments, and changes in one's outlook. Sarah says she'd rather pursue a career as a courtesan than settle for less. But I think she protests too much and I intend to see that she becomes the wife of someone who won't think of her as a sort of bothersome younger sister." She looked up at Shepherdston from beneath the cover of her lashes to gauge his expression.

  "I don't think of her as a sort of bothersome younger sister," Shepherdston corrected. "I don't think of her in any way at all except as a young lady of my acquaintance." As soon as the words left his mouth, Jarrod knew he'd lied to Lady Dunbridge. He'd thought of Sarah quite a bit in the past few hours and most definitely not as a younger sister.

  "Then it's a good thing you've an aversion to marriage in general, because thinking of her as a young lady of your acquaintance is much worse than thinking fondly of her." Lady Dunbridge drew her brows together. Poor Sarah! The marquess hadn't a drop of romance in his soul and didn't know the first thing about courting a woman.

  He started to protest, but Lady Dunbridge held up her hand to halt his flow of words. "You needn't worry about explaining," she sympathized. "You cannot help your feelings any more than Sarah can help hers. And that makes everything worse for us because Sarah risked her reputation to pay her call on you. And would-be suitors take a dim view of things like that. If word of it ever reached the ears of the ton…"

  "I assure you that no one will ever hear a word of Sarah's visit from me."

  "I'll hold you to that," Lady Dunbridge promised. "Because you know we aren't going to breathe a word of it. Gentlemen — especially would-be suitors — tend to become very annoyed when their intended's virtue comes into question." She paused long enough to moisten her mouth with a sip of tea. "I suppose it would be different if Sarah were a great beauty or a great heiress. Suitors are generally willing to overlook tiny flaws in a girl's virtue if she's beautiful and rich, just as most people in the ton overlook the flaws in your virtue because you're a handsome, rich marquess. But Sarah is none of those things."

  "I think your niece is quite beautiful," Jarrod said.

  "I know you do." Lady Dunbridge pretended not to understand his compliment. "I do, too. But that's because we know her inner beauty. Most people never see past her red hair and freckled complexion. But there's no mistaking the fact that she will never be a great beauty. And unless she marries a fortune, Sarah will never be rich."

  "Madam, believe me when I tell you your niece is already a great beauty. Her red hair is her crowning glory and the few freckles she has across the bridge of her nose are quite endearing." He frowned at Lady Dunbridge. How could the woman look at Sarah and not see how beautiful she was? "And as for marrying wealth, I was given to understand that she's betrothed to your nephew by marriage, Lord Dunbridge."

  "You heard the gossip." It was a statement, not a question.

  "I did."

  "Is that why you refused her offer?" Lady Dunbridge demanded.

  "No."

  "Good." She nodded. "Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me where you heard about Sarah's alleged betrothal."

  "I heard it from the horse's mouth, so to speak. I had coffee and conversation with Lord Dunbridge this morning."

  "Sharing coffee and conversation with Reggie must have been a trial," Lady Dunbridge sympathized. "You poor man."

  Jarrod gave a graceful shrug of his shoulder. "Actually, he had coffee. I spent the majority of my time trying to persuade him to relinquish the Helford Green living."

  "Were you successful?"

  Jarrod shook his head. "He wouldn't hear of parting with it. In fact, your nephew by marriage appears to hear only what he chooses to hear."

  Lady Dunbridge widened her eyes in a show of surprise. "Then you understand our dilemma. Sarah is not Reggie's betrothed. She flatly refused his suit, as did I." She rolled her eyes. "Not that he asked me. But…"

  "He's a reasonably attractive, wealthy viscount," Jarrod commented, "with a country house in Somerset and a fashionable address in London. I'm sure there are ladies who would be thrilled to become the next Lady Dunbridge."

  "I'm sure you're correct, Lord Shepherdston, but
Sarah isn't one of them." She pinned him with a look. "You met Reggie. Would you want him as husband for my niece?"

  Jarrod grimaced. "I can't recommend him for his fashion sense or his veracity, but I suppose she could do worse."

  "You didn't answer the question," Lady Dunbridge pointed out.

  Jarrod gave her a mysterious half-smile. "No, I didn't."

  "Why not?" She took a sip from her teacup and nibbled on another biscuit.

  "I think you know the answer to that," he replied.

  "Suppose I want to hear you say it aloud."

  "No, Lady Dunbridge, I have no wish to see your niece marry a liar who prides himself on his nightmare of a wardrobe and the fact that he's forced her hand by evicting her from her home."

  "If you understand that about Reggie Blanchard, then you understand that he's the sort of man who pulls the wings off butterflies for amusement. He would be the death of a girl like Sarah."

  "I did what I could, ma'am," Jarrod said. "I spoke to him about the Helford Green living. He refuses to sell it, lease it, or rent it to me for any price. He confessed to enjoying owning the rectory because it kept me from owning everything in the village. I did everything in my power to persuade him to change his mind, including telling him that I was in the process of purchasing it from the Church." He stared at the tablecloth once again.

  "Are you?"

  "Not yet. But I'll be requesting an audience at Lambeth Palace first thing in the morning."

  Lady Dunbridge nodded. "Thank you for trying, Lord Shepherdston. I don't know that seeking an audience with the archbishop of Canterbury will do any good, but I appreciate your attempt at persuading him."

  "You don't have to thank me, Lady Dunbridge," he told her. "I promised Sarah I would speak to Dunbridge about the living and I've kept my word. Unless the archbishop grants my request, I've done all I can do."

  "No, you haven't…"

  Jarrod knew what she was going to say and held up his hands as if to ward her off. "I'm not interested in marrying any woman or in making her my marchioness."

  "I'm not asking you to marry her," Lady Dunbridge protested, playing her trump card, "or make her your marchioness. I'm asking you to smooth the way so that someone else might marry her."

  "Why do you need me for that?"

  Lady Dunbridge sighed heavily once again, as if she despaired of Jarrod's understanding of the unwritten rules of society and the ton. "I need you to do something about Reggie's lies. No one is going to pay court to Sarah if they believe she's already betrothed to Reggie."

  Jarrod frowned. "You do realize that if I go around London contradicting Lord Dunbridge it's tantamount to calling him a liar."

  "He is a liar," she insisted.

  "Yes, he is," Jarrod agreed, "but my pointing that out in public may result in his calling me out in order to save his honor."

  Lady Dunbridge pursed her lips. "Can you best him?"

  "Yes."

  "Then there's no reason to worry," she said.

  "Perhaps not," he replied, "but I'd prefer not to engage in a duel in order to save my honor or protect your niece's."

  "That's understandable," Lady Dunbridge agreed, "and we wouldn't want that either. Especially if there's the slightest chance that he could best you, because we're already in mourning."

  "And…?" Jarrod was curious to see where Lady Dunbridge was leading him.

  "How many calling cards and invitations do you think we'll receive while we're here?"

  "Very few."

  "Unless the powerful, well-connected, and well-respected Marquess of Shepherdston lets it be known that the late Reverend Simon Eckersley's last request was that his daughter find a suitable husband from among the members of the ton."

  "Was that his last request?"

  "In a manner of speaking," Lady Dunbridge hedged.

  Jarrod leveled his gaze at her. "In what manner of speaking?"

  "Simon professed a desire to see her happily wed."

  "Close enough."

  "Then you'll make it known that we're doing what Simon wanted?"

  "I'll let it be known." He hesitated a moment, then reached across the table and covered her gloved hand with his own. "Rest assured, Lady Dunbridge, that I am a man of my word. I will use what influence I have to see that you and Sarah are invited wherever there are young men seeking wives."

  "Thank you, Lord Shepherdston." Lady Dunbridge stood up. "I knew we could count on you to do the right thing."

  "I am glad I can be of service," he murmured, standing up and bowing low over her hand.

  "There is one other small matter," Lady Dunbridge drawled.

  "Oh?"

  "Sarah and I will require an invitation to Lady Garrison's gala tonight…"

  "Ma'am…" He clenched his teeth.

  "And an escort." Lady Dunbridge smiled at him. "To go about town alone will only add fuel to Reggie's lies and provide him with an excuse to stand at our side and legitimize his fiction," she said. "Having you as our escort would do just the opposite."

  "Lady Dunbridge, I — "

  "Oh, thank you, Lord Shepherdston, I knew you would understand."

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

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  These widows, sir, are the most perverse creatures in the world.

  — Joseph Addison, 1672-1719

  Jarrod wasn't quite certain how or why it had happened, but he knew without a doubt that it had happened. Lady Dunbridge had bested him. He had been expertly outmaneuvered by a woman he'd never imagined might be capable of doing it.

  Jarrod exhaled. He had to admire the way Lady Dunbridge had handled him, turning every situation from disadvantage to advantage, patiently maneuvering him into agreeing to do her bidding. It was brilliant strategy. And it had worked because he'd never seen it coming. Jarrod squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. She was to be commended for doing the near impossible.

  In the space of an hour he had gone from being his own man to becoming little more than an entree into the rarefied world of the ton, an escort assigned to garner invitations, protect Sarah and her aunt from rogues like Reggie Blanchard, and open the ton's doors — and keep them open — despite the fact that the ladies from Helford Green were in mourning.

  "I don't know how she managed it." Jarrod looked into his shaving mirror and met his butler's gaze as he detailed the results of his meeting with Lady Dunbridge. "One minute I was adamantly informing her that I had done everything in my power to help her and in the next moment, I found myself hoodwinked into escorting her and her niece to a ball this evening."

  "Females have a way of doing that, sir," Henderson commiserated. "I'm not sure how they accomplish it either, but I suspect they do it with their tongues…"

  Jarrod groaned at Henderson's description, for the mention of tongues brought back a vivid memory of kissing Sarah, of plundering the depths of her mouth, of tasting her thoroughly.

  "They talk us to death," Henderson continued, explaining his theory. "They use so many words in so many different ways that we get tired of listening. And the minute we stop listening to every word, they turn the tables on us and take control of everything."

  Jarrod eyed his butler with newfound respect. Henderson had spent a lifetime in service and his insight into the nature of men and women was uncanny. "I believe that's exactly how it happened," Jarrod admitted. "Although I thought I was listening to every word, it's now quite apparent to me that I missed a few vital ones."

  "You could always beg off," Henderson suggested. "Plead a previous engagement or an emergency of some sort."

  "I could," Jarrod agreed. "But I won't." He looked at Henderson. "I gave Lady Dunbridge my word and I intend to keep it."

  "Then send a note 'round to the members of the ton who covet your presence at their gatherings and ask that as a personal favor to you, they include the ladies in all your invitations just as they would if the ladies were your relatives or your houseguests."

  Jarro
d nodded. "That's an excellent way to ensure the ladies receive invitations to all the coveted events of the season, Henderson, but they'll still require an escort to keep Lord Dunbridge at bay."

  Henderson frowned. He'd seen the invitations to tonight's events. He knew which society ladies were hosting balls. "May I inquire to which ball you intend to escort the ladies?"

  "Lady Garrison's."

  "Lady Garrison's, sir?" Henderson's frown grew fiercer. "Are you certain you wish to attend that ball?"

  "I don't wish to attend any ball," Jarrod answered. "But the ladies would like to attend Lady Garrison's."

  "Do you have to take them, sir?" Henderson asked, handing Jarrod a towel as the marquess finished shaving. "You're still dead on — " Henderson caught himself. "You look exhausted."

  "I'll be fine." Jarrod took the towel and wiped the remnants of shaving soap from his face before swiping a trickle of water from his chest and tossing the towel aside. "I slept."

  After leaving Lady Dunbridge at Ibbetson's Hotel, Jarrod had returned home and spent an hour catching up on his correspondence. He'd written a note to Bishop Fulton offering a generous donation to fund a new addition to the cathedral in Bath in exchange for the bishop's recommendation that the Church sell him the Helford Green benefice and glebe. Then he'd written to the archbishop of Canterbury requesting an audience at Lambeth Palace following morning services. He had sent a note to Lady Garrison informing her that he would be escorting Lady Dunbridge and her niece to Lady Garrison's ball that evening. He'd read a stack of correspondence from Pomfrey at Shepherdston Hall, then sent a coded message to Daniel at Sussex House, telling him of the Free Fellows League meeting that evening. After completing those tasks, Jarrod had retired to his bedchamber and slept for a couple of hours. He'd ordered a hot bath upon awakening, then bathed, shaved, and begun dressing for the evening ahead.