Nicola Cornick - Deceived

Marcus had never had much to say to Freddie, Lord Standish. It was an accident of marriage that had made them cousins-in-law and their paths had seldom crossed. In fact he had once sensed a dislike of him in Freddie, all the stronger for remaining unspoken, and had steered clear of the man with an indifferent shrug.

He had a warmer regard for Isabella’s sister Penelope, a fearsome bluestocking who had the misfortune to share a small house with Freddie in an unfashionable part of Town. But Pen Standish never went into society, so he did not know her well.

“I could not see Standish choosing to live at Salterton,” Marcus said. “Town is his natural habitat.”

“He could always have sold the house,” Alistair pointed out.

“Which was no doubt one of the reasons Lady Jane chose to leave it to another member of the family,” Marcus said. “She wished it to go to someone whom she thought cared for it.”

Alistair looked quizzical. “Not to you, Marcus? The old lady was monstrous fond of you.”

“No,” Marcus said, shaking his head a little. “She did not leave it to me.”

“Then whom?”

“I believe her heir is Princess Isabella Di Cassilis,” Marcus said.

Alistair pursed his lips into a silent whistle. His eyes were bright. “So that was why you wished me to check on the princess’s debts! I had heard that she had returned to London. The papers have been full of the news.”

Marcus hesitated. Despite asking Alistair to discover the information on Isabella’s debt to Henshalls, he had not confided the truth of his marriage to his oldest friend. Alistair, who had been his groomsman at the ill-fated wedding twelve years ago, would be astonished to know that Marcus had offered marriage to Isabella now. No, he would be beyond astonishment. He would imagine that Marcus had lost his mind. And for Marcus to admit that his motive was a stark and ruthless revenge seemed somehow ignoble. It was not the sort of thing one man confessed to another. Nevertheless, he could not keep his friend in ignorance any longer. The whole of London would soon know of the match.

“There was another reason that I was interested in the princess’s situation,” he said slowly. “We were married on Tuesday.”

He waited while Alistair blinked owlishly, looked at the brandy bottle and then back at him. Alistair’s lips moved silently, forming the words princess and married. Marcus grinned.

“Damned if your brandy hasn’t been tampered with after all, Marcus,” Alistair said, after a moment. “Either that or I’m touched in the attic. I thought you said that you were married to the Princess Isabella. Must be hearing things.”

“You heard aright,” Marcus said. He smiled slightly. “I realize that the news of my nuptials is somewhat sudden.”

“And unexpected.” Alistair was frowning at him. “I had no idea that you were so attached to Salterton Hall that you were prepared to marry the heiress to gain it,” he added. “Why could you not simply make Lady Jane an offer to buy the house? Or was that too easy for you?”

“It was not like that,” Marcus said ruefully.

“A whirlwind courtship in the Fleet, was it?” Alistair said sarcastically. “Ah, the pure romance of it all!” He sat back in his wide armchair, looking resigned. “Damn it, Marcus, I hate the way you spring these surprises.”

Marcus sighed. “In truth there is little to tell. We met, we married and now I am come to claim my bride.”

“As one does,” Alistair said dryly. He shifted, rubbing his brow. “I suppose you are aware that Fleet marriages were made illegal nigh on fifty years ago?”

“I am aware.” Marcus stood up and dusted the sleeves of his jacket in an attempt to make the ancient evening outfit look a little less shiny and a little more acceptable for wearing in polite society. If he was to make a show of claiming Isabella, then he wanted to look his best to do it. His efforts were unsuccessful, however. He mused that perhaps he should visit his tailor as well as his barber on the morrow.

“This marriage, however, is not illegal,” he continued. “It was celebrated by a proper priest and authorized by special license. It is signed and sealed. You may trust Princess Isabella to have made sure of that. She could not afford for the marriage to be overset.”

Alistair nodded. “Of course. The debts.”

“Precisely.”

Alistair’s mouth turned down at the corners with deep disapproval.

“I do believe that one of us is mad here, Marcus, and I am not sure that it is I. How could you even countenance such an arrangement, given the history between yourself and Princess Isabella?” He caught Marcus’s sleeve and compelled him to sit down. “Cease fussing over that jacket, Marcus. Nothing will make it look any better. Instead tell me what is going on.”

Marcus sat back with a sigh. “It is a marriage of convenience,” he said. “Princess Isabella needed a husband to keep her debtors at bay and on the strength of our brief, previous acquaintance she approached me for assistance. Which I was—” He hesitated. “Persuaded to give.”

Alistair narrowed his eyes. “Of all the rum starts, Marcus! Brief, previous acquaintance indeed!”

“I appreciate that it must appear strange,” Marcus said. He sat forward, feeling the constriction of the jacket across his shoulders. “Hmm. I require a new wardrobe—”

“To go with your new wife, I suppose,” Alistair said. “You are not making sense, Marcus. I thought that no one but I knew of your sojourn in the Fleet. How did Princess Isabella find you?”

“By happy chance,” Marcus said, a little grimly. “As I said, she needed a debtor and I was available.”

“The devil you were! Does she know that you were in the Fleet by your own choice?”

“Not yet,” Marcus said. “It is one of the many surprises that I have in store for her tonight. I cannot pretend that she will be pleased to see me, but that cannot be helped.”

Alistair peered at him. “I always thought that weddings were supposed to be happy affairs,” he said. “You do not seem very enamored of your bride, Marcus. Furthermore, this is not like you at all.”

Marcus fidgeted restlessly. He felt irritable and rather suspected it was with himself.

“On the contrary it is very like me. I become bored with the conventions of society—”

“So you arrange to be locked in the Fleet and then marry a shady princess into the bargain,” Alistair said.

“Exactly.” Marcus paused. “The marriage is a secret for the time being, however. I should be obliged if you would keep it so, Alistair.”

“Why?” his friend asked bluntly. “I mean, why is it a secret, not why should I help you keep it so, which goes without saying if you wish it of me.”

“There are various reasons,” Marcus said. “Firstly, my wife is unaware that I have achieved my release from prison and I wish to discuss the matter with her before our marriage becomes common knowledge. Secondly…” He hesitated. “Well, I have said that it is a match of convenience. It may be that the marriage will not endure long.”

Alistair was shaking his head. “Dashed irregular. The more I hear, the worse it becomes. Hope you know what you’re doing, Marcus.”

“I am not certain that I do,” Marcus conceded. “However, if I could ask you to keep the secret for now…?”

“Mute as an undertaker’s boy, I promise you,” Alistair said. He shook his head. “Lord, but I’d give a monkey to see the Dowagers’ faces when they realize another earl is off the marriage mart! And caught by a lady with such a scandalous reputation—” He stopped. There was a short and very pointed silence. The bleakness in Marcus’s heart was matched only by the pity in Alistair’s eyes.