The Sleeping Beauty. Jacqueline Navin
I’m afraid.” What a clever response.
“Ah, who does?” Lord Rathford paused again, taking his time to consider the man before him. “Why don’t you come into my study, since you’ve traveled all this way and Helena won’t receive you? I’m of a mind to wet my throat a bit. You might be in need of a nip yourself.”
Helen gasped. “Father!”
Mr. Mannion, Esquire, stopped and turned to peer at her over his shoulder as he followed Lord Rathford. His dark eyes nearly twinkled and the thick slashes above them lifted tauntingly. He said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to await your turn, my lady.”
And then he joined her father as they entered a paneled door off to the right, the one that led into her father’s masculine retreat, the library.
She looked at Kimberly. The Irish servant’s eyes were narrowed as she stared at the closed door. Helena grew frightened at that look. She was afraid of Kimberly.
To her utter dread, the servant turned that thoughtful gaze on Helena.
“Come upstairs,” Kimberly ordered.
Chapter Two
“Sit down,” Rathford ordered gruffly.
If Adam was bewildered by the man’s abrupt change of mood, he knew he had better not show it. Selecting a chair, he slouched slightly and crossed his ankle on his knee. Propping his elbows on the armrests, he weaved his fingers together over his chest.
This room was only a bit more cheery than the cold hospitality offered in the shadow-shrouded hall. There was light, at least. Lots of books, gray as ghosts with thick layers of dust on them, lined every shelf. The furniture was comfortable, though, constructed of studded leather that softly absorbed the body’s weight.
Rathford filled a tumbler with whiskey. “Are you of a mind for whiskey or port?”
“Whiskey will be fine.” Adam looked around him. “Thank you for giving me your time and your hospitality. It’s comfortable in here.”
Rathford scowled at him and drawled sarcastically, “I am so glad you like it.”
Adam took the jab without retort.
“I could ask you what you want with Helena, but you’d probably tell me a heap of manure.” Handing him the whiskey, Rathford took a seat by the window and looked out at the ravaged garden. “So let me tell you what you want with Helena. You want her fortune.”
Adam, who had been taking his first sip of the whiskey, nearly choked. Rathford smiled, never taking his gaze off the window. “She knows it, too. Do you think you’re the first? Well, you ain’t, boy. And you can forget trying to charm her. She’ll have nothing to do with you.”
Adam didn’t reply at first. Running his forefinger across his top lip thoughtfully, he asked, “Then why not just send me away?”
“Because I may have some use for you, you arrogant pup.”
The bitterness of the old man’s response gave Adam pause. “What is it you want?”
Rathford started to laugh. Glancing at Adam, he raised his glass. “Why, the same goddamned thing as you do.”
Adam puzzled over that one, but refused to rise to the bait and ask the old curmudgeon what he meant.
“I see you know when to shut up and listen,” Rathford said after a while. “I like that. It’s something, at least. A man hopes to have some respect for the man his daughter marries.” Rathford glared at him. “You came here to marry her, didn’t you?”
There was no sense in prevaricating. “Y-yes,” he managed to reply.
“You need money?”
Adam tossed back a hearty gulp of the whiskey. “Yes.”
“What is it? Demanding mistress? Gambling debts? Too much drinking?”
“The fickle blessings of Lady Luck have deserted me at this time,” Adam said carefully. “My skill at the tables has proved inadequate without it.”
“Cards? Horses? Or are you not particular?”
Adam shrugged. “Mostly cards. I’m usually good enough to live off my winnings, but lately I’ve run into a bit of trouble.”
“How deep?”
“Four thousand.”
“Good God. Well, it would have to be a goodly sum to hie you all the way up here.” Rathford drew in a deep breath and expelled it, as if bracing himself for a particularly difficult duty. “You can have five thousand to cover your debts. I can give it to you today. Another fifteen hundred each quarter with which to amuse yourself. You might be able to use that if your ‘bit of trouble’ continues.”
A hot flood of excitement spread through Adam like a stain on linen. “I could use it even so.”
“And in return…” Rathford faltered. The whiskey hadn’t dulled his senses enough that a dull gleam of pain wasn’t detectable in his eyes. “In return, I shall require something of you.”
“Yes, my lord. I understand.”
“You want to marry my daughter. I will allow it. But for your part, you will promise me three things.” He finished the whiskey. His sadness grew, it seemed, evident in the slump of his shoulders, the weary bow of his head.
Adam studied the man gazing dolefully into his empty glass. The whiskey he had just downed in a startlingly short amount of time was surely not his first today. Nor was his binge an unfamiliar activity. One could always tell by the bulbous nose, the tiny red spider veins tracing over the face, when a man was too fond of drink.
But there was a cunning here as well. And something else, something more…urgent. With his chin resting on his thumb and his forefinger caressing his top lip, Adam waited.
“The first,” Rathford began, “is that you must not abandon Helena here. You will swear to visit at least twice a year, before and after the illustrious season, if you wish, so that your enjoyment of high society is not interrupted. You will stay for two months each visit.”
Adam frowned. He hadn’t counted on so frequent a journey up to these cold climes. He hadn’t necessarily intended to return at all.
“You will not leave her all alone—” Rathford broke off, his voice choking a bit. “You will come. The second promise is to be that you will do what you must as a husband to provide my daughter with a child. As many children as she desires. During these visits, you and she will be man and wife in all senses of the term.”
What it cost him to say this was evident in the rapid blinking of his eyes, in the way his jaw worked. His jowls began to tremble, so that his next words warbled more noticeably. “The final promise is that you will always treat her with kindness. Never speak to her in anger, never raise a hand. I will have you not only cut off without a ha’penny to comfort you, but thrown in the darkest of cells in a place where no one will find you. And I’m not talking through legal means, boy. I will—” His voice finally gave way.
This, at least, Adam had no compunctions about. “My lord, I assure you your daughter will be met with kindness. Never will I do a thing to harm her, body or spirit. I am not a cruel or unkind man.”
“Money changes men,” Rathford said prophetically. Bowing his head, he nodded, however, accepting Adam’s vow. “And the rest?”
Shifting in his chair, Adam admitted, “I do not care for so frequent journeying. But I will do it. Twice a year, just as you request. I suppose.” His lack of enthusiasm he didn’t bother to hide. “As for the other…I will provide my duty as husband as long as the girl is well. Her thinness may prevent—”
“No!” Rathford slashed a hand through the air. “No qualifications on it. You will…bed…her.