The Rake Takes a Wife Page 3

  “Yes, your grandfather pointed that out. I plan to surprise him and actually read it to him.”

  Mr. Tatum chuckled. “You astonish me more and more each day. How did you learn Greek when Captain Hallewell can barely speak proper English?”

  “I enjoy learning new things.” With so little to occupy her time, she thirsted for something new to study and keep her mind busy.

  “Let’s go into the village,” he said unexpectedly.

  “Is that wise? Shouldn’t we stay close to the estate so we don’t draw attention to my visit?”

  He led her from the room. “Nonsense. I must entertain my guests. Invite your mother to join us, if you wish. Unless you’d rather practice your Greek.”

  Nothing could be more dull. “I see your point. I shall be ready by the time the carriage comes around.”

  Barbara loved going into Great Yarmouth. The variety of building styles, from ancient stone churches to modern Georgian homes, added so much character to the streets. The fishy odor near the docks was unavoidable, but when one stepped into the bakery or sweets shop, all unpleasantness was gone.

  Mr. Tatum led her into the sweets shop, his first stop each time they went into the village. “Lemon drops, again? Or peppermints? Or both?”

  “You spoil me.” She shouldn’t allow him to spend so much money on her, but having simple luxuries was hard not to enjoy. She gave in to her desires. “Mama loved the anise drops you bought last time.”

  Poor Mama hadn’t been herself since they’d arrived, and once again she remained behind, sending a maid to chaperone them. As much as Barbara enjoyed not having her mother hovering over them, guilt weighed on her for putting Mama through the stress of this scheme.

  “Miss Hallewell, what a surprise to see you again,” the shop owner said when they approached the counter.

  “Sir Waldo releases me from my chains once a week.” She giggled and stole a glance at Mr. Tatum’s grinning face.

  “My grandfather is much kinder than everyone give him credit for.”

  Shaking his head, the shopkeeper scooped the anise drops into a small box. “I’ll trust your word, as he never comes into the village. Even when he was healthy, he sent a servant for his purchases.”

  “He worked too hard,” Mr. Tatum said.

  Barbara had expected Mr. Tatum to spend long days at work, but he came home by mid-afternoon on the days he went in to work. Was that due to her presence, or was that his normal schedule? What foolishness. He wouldn’t spend any extra time with her despite how much he wished to convince Sir Waldo of their affection for each other. His mind was always on business, as it should be.

  When they had their packages, they strolled down the street with no direction. Mr. Tatum seemed in no hurry to get anywhere. “Do you need any ribbons? A new bonnet, perhaps?”

  “Only if you allow me to spend my own money. It’s not proper for you to buy me gifts.”

  “It’s not proper for you to live in my home, either, but you’re doing that.”

  Butterflies scurried about in her stomach. “Hush! Someone will hear.”

  “If you were my fiancée I could buy you anything you wish.”

  If he was her fiancé she’d have relegated herself to a loveless marriage, which she refused to do. Well, she’d consider it only as a final option. The important thing was to assure she and Mama would be taken care of. Gilbert’s income as a captain would never support the three of them, and if he decided to marry, there’d be even less money. “We agreed you wouldn’t give anyone the impression you wanted to marry me, so I won’t have trouble finding a real husband.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t tease that way.” Mr. Tatum sighed and patted her hand where it lay on his arm. “I have enjoyed our time together, though.”

  “It’s been more pleasant than I expected,” she admitted, then chewed her lip when she heard what she’d said.

  “Did you think I was an ogre?”

  Barbara wracked her brain to find a way out of her predicament. “No, I meant your grandfather. He’s beginning to like me, I think.”

  “Astounding. I don’t think he’s ever liked anyone. It’s hard not to like you, though.”

  “This will sound insensitive…” She drew in a breath before continuing. “He, er, doesn’t seem to be near death, as you’d suggested. How do you plan to explain my leaving?”

  “We’ll worry about that when it happens. As long as he doesn’t insist on being present at the wedding, you can safely escape to London as we agreed upon. I’ll find excuses whenever he asks.”

  That didn’t sound promising. Sir Waldo was bound to learn the truth, and from what little she knew of him, he’d likely banish Mr. Tatum to Timbuctoo. “Are you positive this ploy will work out in your favor?”

  “Let’s not discuss that today. Let’s just enjoy being in each other’s company. Can you bear to keep up that pretense?”

  That part was easy. While somewhat reserved, he was very comfortable to be around. The only negative part about staying at Three Gables and enjoying Mr. Tatum’s friendship was how difficult it would be to leave.

  ***

  Late one night, Barbara was awakened by the sound of a door. Startled, she looked about the room in the dim candlelight, trying to remember where she was. She’d fallen asleep while reading in the morning room, and the fire had burned out.

  Picking up the shawl she’d snuggled under, she picked up the candle and headed to her bedchamber. When she reached the landing, footsteps rang out behind her on the steps. She turned and saw Mr. Tatum. “Good evening.”

  He was too well dressed to have been working this late. His cravat was in disarray, his hair a mess. “I’m surprised to find you up so late.”

  Smelling liquor on his breath, she stepped back to let him pass. As he did, an expensive floral perfume followed in his wake.

  Her stomach dropped, yet her blood boiled. He’d been with a woman. He couldn’t be faithful to Barbara for as long as it took to act out their farce. Not that he owed her anything of the sort, but he was taking a chance of revealing the truth about their proposal.

  She couldn’t bear spending her days with a mean old man―and spending her nights dreaming of a love that would never be―any longer. Why had she agreed to this without agreeing on a date when she could go home?

  ***

  Walking to the dining room for his breakfast, Jonas couldn’t contain the happiness that had grown in the past few months since Miss Hallewell arrived. Grandpa was pleased, both with Jonas’ choice of bride and the way Tatum & Company continued to thrive. Once he signed the bill of sale for Willoughby Shipping, Grandfather’s company would nearly double.

  Having Miss Hallewell eat breakfast with him was a habit he would miss once she left. Each morning she sat with her mug in her hands, her eyes a bit puffy from sleep, but looking more beautiful than the day before. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she said. “Today I start reading book five of the Aeneid.”

  “In Latin.”

  “In Latin. It’s horribly dry, but Sir Waldo has become kinder toward me and my suitability as a gentleman’s wife.”

  Jonas refused to acknowledge how much the word “wife” warmed him. “How could he not?”

  A footman entered and they both went silent. Had the young man overheard them? His valet insisted no one gossiped about the extent of Jonas and Miss Hallewell’s friendship, but she’d been there too long to be merely the sister of a friend.

  When they were alone again, she whispered, “I must be more careful.”

  “Don’t fret over it. They must suspect something by now. Tell me what you have planned after reading to Grandfather.”

  She detailed a list of small activities that would have bored him silly, making him grateful for his work. Once he arrived at his office, all that gratitude left.

  One of the men making up the “company” part of the title, Mark Curtis, thrust a handful of papers under Jonah’s nose before he ever reach
ed his desk. “What is this?”

  Grabbing the papers, Jonas glanced over them. “They’re exactly what they say they are. I told you I was purchasing Willoughby. It’s final now.”

  Curtis’ face was so red it looked as if it might explode at any moment. “I don’t remember approving this.”

  “It’s likely you never did.” Jonas leaned closer, nose to nose, and narrowed his gaze. “None of you acknowledge my presence, much less listen to my suggestions. I purchased this with my own funds. The rest of you may invest in it if you wish, but the deal is done.”

  “What does Sir Waldo say about this? Or did you keep it from him, too?”

  “My grandfather doesn’t tell me what I may do with my money. He’ll have the same opportunity as you to invest in Willoughby. Spread the word to the others not to scold me over a business decision that doesn’t include any of you. Just remember that when I assume Sir Waldo’s share of Tatum & Company, things will be different.”

  Slamming his office door behind him, Jonah scoured his fingers through his hair. He paced the small space as his muscles vibrated with anger. All the pleasure he’d felt at breakfast evaporated. Most days he felt like nothing he did would ever convince these men he was their equal, if not in experience then in capability to make carefully thought out decisions.

  He must work harder still, even if it took twenty-four hours a day. He’d lost focus. Miss Hallewell distracted him too much. It was time to make plans for her departure.

  ***

  Closing her book and setting it on the table beside her, Barbara exhaled softly. “That’s the final volume of Aeneid. Shall we take a break and read something lighter?”

  Sir Waldo mumbled something before saying, “Novels are a waste of time.”

  “If they bring one enjoyment, the time isn’t wasted,” she argued. That was a change that had come over her only in the last month. No longer did she take the old man’s abuse and belittlement. There was a difference between being a good wife and being a malleable piece of lead, and she’d never be malleable.

  “I’m tired of your company. When is your wedding? Have the banns been read? It’s quite clear I was correct in my first assumption. You have no intention of marrying my grandson.”

  Barbara bit the inside of her cheek. His outbursts were becoming tiresome and she was more than ready to leave. She and Mama had already ordered some of their spring wardrobe in preparation of her Season. Sir Waldo was no nearer death’s door than when she first arrived, so how was Mr. Tatum going to explain her departure? “Nothing has changed, sir, since the last time I answered you. As you are tired of my company, I’ll leave you now. Would you like me to have tea sent up?”

  “No, just go.”

  And go she did, as quickly as she gracefully could.

  She found Mama in the library and sat in a nearby chair. “I wish I knew when we were leaving.”

  “Has Mr. Tatum said anything?”

  “No, it’s Sir Waldo. Again. I feel like a vulture hovering over his bed waiting for him to die. It’s horrid, Mama. I wished I’d never agreed to this.”

  Mama set aside her book. “I feared this might happen. I’ll tell him it’s time we left for Town. Sir Waldo might live for several more years. You can’t remain here any longer without people assuming there’s an arrangement between you. It’s time he either propose or set you free.”

  Set her free. She wasn’t a caged bird called upon at will to sing a pretty song, but more an indebted servant, a paid companion to a crotchety, decrepit fossil with a sour demeanor. Each afternoon reading session took years off her life. At this rate, she’d be too old to marry anyone but a widower in need of a mother for his children.

  The notion became less dreadful with each passing week. She could easily love another woman’s children. It might prove a more agreeable task than loving some men she knew in Hambledon.

  No! She wouldn’t allow self-pity to creep interfere with her future. “I will speak to him this evening, Mama. No need for you to do so. We’ll need to wait until he’s notified his aunt of our pending arrival, but if he writes tomorrow we can be there next week.”

  One week until she arrived in London! Throughout the rest of the afternoon she was buoyed with giddiness brought on by imagining what the insides of the homes of the ton like. The local modiste assured Barbara that the fashion plates were current, and she praised their choices of fabric, so hopefully she wouldn’t stand out in any gathering.

  Only able to contain her excitement until after dinner, Barbara knocked on Mr. Tatum’s study door. “Do you have a moment?”

  “Of course.” He rose and waited for her to sit. “How pleasant to have your company this evening.”

  She refrained from pointing out that her company was available to him any evening, but he’d chosen not to seek her out. “We need to discuss my leaving for London. Sir Waldo is getting more insistent about the wedding. I don’t enjoy lying to him. The servants would be foolish to think there was any other reason than marriage for my extended stay.”

  “I see.” His warm expression chilled to politeness. “I have presumed a lot of you by letting my grandfather demand so much of your time. Forgive me.”

  “I agreed to as much. Is your aunt expecting us?”

  Shuffling papers on his desk, he appeared to search from something. Eventually, he spread a letter in front of him and skimmed the text. “Yes, she’s looking forward to your visit. She asked me to name a date, but I haven’t done so yet.”

  “Would it be too soon to leave within the week?”

  Mr. Tatum’s hands trembled slightly and he pressed them flat on the desktop. “I’ll write to her tonight. If you think of anything you need before you leave, make a list and I’ll have the purchases made. And of course, I’ll have accounts arranged in London. Aunt Granderson will know which are the best shops. I’ll tell my grandfather you received word that Captain Hallewell has been injured and requires your aid.”

  He was all business. She expected no less, but held on to a small hope he might miss her when she left. Just the slightest bit. He clearly had no fondness for her, but he might return the friendship she’d begun to feel toward him.

  But no, he showed no emotion at the fact of her leaving him for good. She couldn’t depart soon enough for her liking. The less chance she had of becoming attached to him, distant though he was, the better.

  4

  THE RAKE TAKES A WIFE

  May 1817, Great Yarmouth, Norfolk

  * * *

  JONAS STARED PAST the trees skirting the walled garden, watching a bird silently float on a current. With its wings spread, it hovered in the sky as if held there by some invisible hand.

  That same hand pinned Jonas to a piece of linen under glass―an insect to be examined, a lifeless shell with no purpose other than to be displayed when the right callers visited, except that no one called now that Grandfather was bedridden.

  Even after a year at Tatum & Company, Jonas was a figurehead, leader in name only. No one cared to hear his opinions on how the end of the war might influence the fishing market, or they still chided him for diversifying into shipping. He might as well be carved from wood and bolted to a ship’s bow for all that was required of him.

  Boot heels clambering on the marble floor outside Jonas’s study announced Ringley’s approach. Jonas stiffened, expecting a continuation of the rather loud discussion they had over breakfast.

  “Rather pleasant out today, isn’t it?” Ringley stopped at the desk, picked up the latest issue of The London Gazettethat arrived in the morning post and shuffled through the pages.

  “I’m sure the breeze is as cold and damp as always.”

  “No worse than the one indoors,” muttered Ringley, glaring at him around the newspaper. “When do you leave?”

  Jonas spun around and pierced his friend with his gaze. “Leave? For where?”

  “London, of course. Where Miss Hallewell is. Didn’t you have some urgent news for your dear Aunt Grand
erson? Something so important it needs to be spoken in person?”

  “I have no such news, urgent or otherwise. What are you going on about, man?” Jonas bristled. His friend could be the most aggravating man when he chose.

  Ringley sank into a chair and snapped the newspaper open again. “I’m talking about the reason for your trip to London. If you wait too long, you’ll miss your chance.”

  “I am not having this discussion. I don’t have any business in Town that can’t be handled by my solicitor.” He stiffened his hands to keep from fisting them.

  “Ah yes, it’s much wiser to remain in the country and brood like a lovesick swain than actually pay a call on the lady in question.”

  “I am not lovesick,” Jonas barked. When he heard his words echoed off the glass doors of the bookshelves, he ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. Ringley was quite accurate in his description, whether Jonas wanted to admit it or not. The brooding portion, not the lovesick swain. Jonas hardly knew what love looked like, much less how it felt. Never had the thought of love arisen in those weeks Miss Hallewell spent at Three Gables. Nor did anything resembling lust come into the picture. He considered her a friend now, nothing more. “My mood is due to this foul weather we’ve been suffering. I miss the warmth of Spain.”

  “The warmth, the explosions in the distance, and the shrapnel flying past. Those were the days.” Chuckling, Ringley shook his head. “You may make all the excuses you wish, but I believe your best remedy is a trip to London.”

  “London? During the Season? Don’t be daft. I would rather poke a stick in my eye. I’d no more enjoy myself there than I do those soporific board meetings at Tatum & Company.” He stomped away from the window and threw himself into the desk chair in front of the pile of papers awaiting his perusal.

  “Come, I shall join you there. We’ll spend some time in the clubs, and you may find your Miss Hallewell and beg her to end your misery.”

  “I might consider it if I were at all miserable,” Jonas muttered. “Or had I any interest in a wife.”