‘You must be very fond of her?’
‘I have many relations, but she is the only one I care for.’
‘I see…’ Lottie wondered what he had been going to say before his godmother arrived, but no doubt he would tell her later.
As it happened, Lottie did not learn what had been in the marquis’s mind that evening. Dinner had been served in what was more usually the breakfast room because, as he explained, there were so few of them.
‘Tomorrow evening I shall invite some of our neighbours,’ he said as they all rose at the end of the meal. ‘I had intended a period of quiet time for us to get to know one another, Lottie—but now that the countess has seen fit to join us we must entertain.’
‘Please do stay and enjoy some port,’ Lottie said. ‘You need not accompany me to the drawing room. I think I shall visit your godmother and then go to bed. If I want a drink, I am sure Mrs Mann will have a tray sent up.’
‘As you wish.’ Nicolas frowned. ‘I had thought we might talk?’
‘Tomorrow morning if you wish,’ Lottie said. ‘I am a little tired myself and would wish to retire after I have visited the countess.’
‘Very well,’ he replied, inclining his head.
Lottie sensed that he was not best pleased. She was not sure why she was putting off the evil moment, because she could surely not delay it much longer.
It would be embarrassing, but there was really no alternative. Lottie had been feeling guilty enough about deceiving the marquis himself, even though he did deserve it in a way, but to deceive the lady who had just arrived would be unforgivable.
She would simply go in for a few minutes and explain that she was too tired to talk this evening. It was clear that the countess expected an intimate heart to heart, but that could not happen. Not until Lottie had told the marquis the truth.
If he truly had no preference for her sister, he might be satisfied with her in Clarice’s place—but he must be given the choice.
Nicolas frowned over his brandy. He had offered to give Sir Charles a game of billiards but his future father-in-law had declined. They had talked in a desultory fashion of the King’s madness, which had resulted in the prince being called on to become the Regent once more, then discussed the price of corn and the weather. Then, after smoking a cigar, Sir Charles had excused himself and gone to his room.
Nicolas sat on alone in his library. He was not sure why his thoughts were so disordered. The day had not gone as he expected at all and he was still undecided what to do about the situation he had created.
He should, of course, have spoken to Sir Charles as soon as he realised what a fool he had been, made some settlement and withdrawn. It was clearly too late now. Bertie would have spread the news all over the neighbourhood—besides, Henrietta had rushed here as soon as she had his letter. The delight on her face when she saw his fiancée had struck him to the heart.
Lottie gave the appearance of being a modest charming woman, exactly the kind of person who would grace his home and make his relatives welcome. He knew that at heart she was a scheming adventuress, but for the moment she seemed determined to play the part of an innocent—why? What could she hope to gain?
His fingers drummed against the arm of his comfortable wing chair. What a dilemma! And he had only himself to blame. He frowned as he recalled the laughing words he had overheard outside the parlour—so she had a fancy to become the next marchioness, had she?
Well, would it be so bad? He had considered she would do before he had witnessed the theft of those guineas. It was that that rankled, he admitted—and the suspicion that she had been making love with—or at least been prepared to be seduced by—Ralph.
The thing was that he found he did not dislike Lottie. He was not sure he could trust her—and he would have to send her father packing after the wedding. Yet he did need a wife and if Henrietta liked her…he supposed she would do.
Nicolas groaned. He was such an idiot to have become embroiled with a pair of adventurers.
Why did he have the feeling that Lottie was playing a part? Had she decided to reform her ways now that she had a chance to move up in society?
Nicolas knew that he would not find it difficult to play his part in this strange marriage. It would be no hardship to make love to her—and her morals could be no worse than some of the ladies he had made his mistresses in the past. His last mistress had been grasping and selfish, which was why he had felt no remorse in finishing his arrangement with her. He would at least start his marriage without a clandestine attachment. He would certainly not tolerate being played false by his wife. If she imagined he would turn a blind eye to any future indiscretions, she would soon discover her mistake!
‘Damn it!’ he muttered and stood up. He would not find the answer in the bottom of a brandy bottle.
In the morning he would make it clear that, if they went through with this marriage, he would expect Lottie to be faithful—at least until she had given him a son or two.
Feeling unaccountably tired, he realised that for the first time in a while he would sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
It must be the country air.
Lottie rose early, as was her custom. She sat up and looked over at the kitten lying on her bed. She had left it in the basket that Rose had provided for her, but it seemed that Kitty had other ideas. Reaching out, she picked the tiny creature up and stroked it, kissed its head and then climbed out of bed and placed it back in the basket.
‘That is your place, little one. You must not form bad habits, for I might roll on you in the night and suffocate you.’
Lottie found some water left over from the previous evening and washed her face and hands. She would have a proper wash before breakfast, but she wanted to go for a walk first.
Going downstairs, she surprised a maid already hard at work polishing the furniture.
‘I beg your pardon, miss. We did not know you were awake. Do you wish for something?’
‘Not until I return. I am going for a walk. I shall be back in time to dress properly for breakfast.’
A sleepy footman opened the door as she approached. She flashed a smile at him and went out into the early morning air. The dew was still on the grass and silky cobwebs hung between the perennials in the mixed border.
Walking across the lawns in the direction of the park, Lottie felt a sense of peace. The marquis’s estate was a lovely place to stay and she would have liked to live here, but she had decided that she must tell him the truth this morning.
She entered the park, reflecting that some of the trees here must be very ancient. One particular oak tree had grown so large that she thought it must have stood here for well over a hundred years. Lost in thought, she was startled by the sound of a shot somewhere to her right. Whilst it had come nowhere near her, she was concerned—she was certain that the marquis had said he did not hunt or shoot. Who could be shooting on his lands?
Without consideration, she turned towards the sound and a moment or two later came upon an unpleasant scene. A man had been shot in the leg. He was clutching at his wound, and the blood was trickling through his fingers. He lay on the ground and looked up at the man with the gun standing over him.
‘What is going on here?’ Lottie asked, walking up to them. ‘Why has this man been shot?’
‘He was poaching on his lordship’s land,’ the man who she instantly realised was a gamekeeper said, and touched his hat. ‘We do not allow poaching here, miss.’
‘My wife is starving. I only wanted a rabbit for the pot…’ the poacher whined looking at her hopefully. ‘Tell him it ain’t right,