The Reluctant Bride Read online

  'Had you forgot, my love?' she asked sweetly. 'The vicar is to call tomorrow. He would take it ill indeed if you were not at home.'

  It was the first that either girl had heard of the proposed visit, but India understood at once. She was to be prevented at all costs from discussing Isham's offer with the forthright Hester. She turned to her uncle.

  'You are certain that we have nothing left—not even a single guinea, Uncle James?'

  'No, my dear, and I am sorry for it, but there is nothing more to be done.' For some reason the question had disturbed him more than any of India's previous questions. He gave her a sharp look. India was no fool. She must never guess that to pay off her father's debts he himself had had to find the balance. It meant that repairs to his own roof must wait, but this was a matter of family honour.

  She did not question him further. Instead she turned to her mother.

  'Mama, shall you object if I see Lord Isham on my own tomorrow? You won't be well enough to receive him, and there is no need for Uncle to be present"

  Isabel Rushford looked alarmed. 'Nonsense, it is out of the question. It would not be seemly. Besides, I am feeling better already...'

  'I thought that if I got to know him better...?'

  Her mother eyed her with suspicion. 'You are inclined to speak out much too freely, India. Remarks such as those you've made today would cause him to withdraw at once.'

  'I promise not to cause him to withdraw...' India was playing for time. She was suffocating beneath the pressure brought to bear upon her.

  'That's my good girl!' Isabel beamed upon her daughter. 'You always had good sense, and after all, it is not as though your affections are engaged elsewhere.' She turned to her brother-in-law. 'Sadly poor India did not receive a single offer during her Season.'

  'Then that must show a want of taste in our young men,' Sir James replied gallantly. 'Now I must take my leave of you, but, my dear girls, do consider carefully. This could be a splendid match for one of you.'

  Letty could scarcely wait until she and her sister were alone. Leaving the radiant Mrs Rushford to her dreams of glory, she seized India by the hand and dragged her downstairs to the parlour.

  'What are we to do?' she cried in anguish. 'Mama has set her heart upon this marriage.'

  'I don't know,' India admitted. 'Letty, did you see Uncle's face when I questioned him about the money?'

  'Oh love, you don't believe that he would lie to us? He would not withhold a penny that-was due to us...'

  'Of course not, but I suspect that all our assets have not met the debt. I think that he has paid the rest himself.'

  'Oh no! That is truly dreadful! But, India, you must not let it sway you. Why did you agree to see Lord Isham? You dislike him so...you can't be thinking of accepting him?'

  'I had to say something. Mama was in a state and getting worse, and Uncle hated all the fuss...' She sighed. 'I suppose that I am hoping for a miracle, but we must have more time. How I wish that Giles were here. He might think of something, and Mama will listen to him.'

  'What could he do? Like the rest of us he has nothing now. The loss of the estate has been a bitter blow. He longed so much to manage it.'

  'I know.' India was lost in thought. 'Love, shall you mind if I retire? It's early, but my head is pounding.'

  Letty was all sympathy, but sensibly she refused to fuss. She knew her sister well. India needed time alone.

  'You'll think of something,' she announced with confidence. 'You always do...' Dropping a kiss upon India's brow, she left the room.

  India's mind was in turmoil. Letty's confidence, she felt, was totally misplaced. For her own part she could see no solution to their problems other than to agree to this repugnant marriage. The Rushford family must no longer be a drain upon the stretched resources of her kindly uncle.

  Her hope now was that Isham would find her unacceptable, but there she was torn with indecision. That might mean that Letty would be forced to wed him. That must not happen. Her gentle sister would be no match for that arrogant creature. He would make her life a misery.

  Perhaps she herself could find a way to make him pay for the ruin he had brought upon them. It was a tempting thought, and revenge would be sweet.

  There were other considerations. As Lady Isham she would have her own establishment, with the powers that an ancient title and vast wealth brought always in their train. And she could help Giles. Her mother would live out her days in comfort, and Letty, with her portion restored, might yet attain her heart's desire. The reasons for accepting his lordship's offer were overwhelming.

  Yet every instinct warned her against it. She could not banish the darker side of the bargain from her mind. Isham was everything she detested in a man. He was an inveterate gambler, a roué and above all, one who had little regard for women. Was this to be her destiny, and the end of all her dreams of happiness?

  She lay awake for hours, staring into the darkness, but by morning her decision had been made.

  Next day her mirror revealed little evidence of her sleepless night, apart from a trace of shadow beneath the clear hazel eyes. Her creamy skin glowed with its usual health. As she tugged a brush through the heavy mass of auburn hair she sighed. What would she give now for the services of that fashionable London hairdresser with his gifted way of winding her locks into a style which emphasised her high cheekbones and the clean lines of her profile.

  She did her best, but the result left much to be desired.

  Still, it would not matter to Isham, she decided. He was not looking for a mistress, merely some female who would not disgrace his name and would provide him with an heir.

  Well, she would not disgrace him. Her looks were not in the common way of fashion, but no one would mistake her for anything other than a woman of breeding. An unfortunate turn of phrase, she admitted to herself. It would not be pleasant to be regarded as a broodmare.

  The implications made her stomach churn, and she found that she was trembling. How could she let Isham touch her? Every sense recoiled from the idea. Stifling her fears, she hurried down to the parlour.

  There she found the Vicar in conversation with her mother. William Perceval, Sir James's younger brother, held the living, and had done so for many years. A kindly man, he was a favourite with both the Rushford girls.

  India kissed him warmly, and asked about his family.

  'Your Aunt Elizabeth is well,' he smiled. 'Though she dislikes these cold, dank days of winter. The girls, of course, do not notice. That is one of the advantages of youth.'

  India smiled. Her aunt made no secret of the fact that she detested winters spent in the draughty vicarage, try as she might to bear the conditions with Christian fortitude.

  The Vicar shot a keen glance at his niece's face. 'Your mama has been speaking of Lord Isham's offer,' he continued. 'I was surprised to receive her message asking me to call so early...'

  India did not look at her mama. As she had suspected, the story of the Vicar's proposed visit had been a lie, designed to prevent her visiting Hester.

  'We are always glad to see you,' she said truthfully.

  'And this offer? How do you feel about it?'

  'It came as a shock to us.' India would go no further, but the Vicar was concerned.

  He had never had much time for Mrs Rushford—a hysteric and a hypochondriac if ever he saw one. He was well aware of the means she used to get her way. Not for the first time, he gave thanks to heaven that his brother had chosen her sister rather than herself to be his wife.

  As for the girls... Poor Letty was looking distraught and India, though controlling her emotions, was clearly under a great strain.

  There was little he could do to help them, without appearing to interfere too obviously. For the moment he contented himself with observing that as marriage was for life even the dazzling prospect of this unexpected offer should be given a great deal of thought.

  Mrs Rushford frowned at him. 'Why, Vicar, as their uncle I expect you to have the
welfare of my girls at heart. What is there to think about? Such a chance is unlikely to come their way again...'

  'And do my nieces agree?' he asked lightly, aware of the air of tension in the room.

  The ensuing silence gave him his answer, and Mrs Rushford gave him a dagger-look, which she then attempted to hide.

  'What do young girls know of these things?' she asked. 'They must be guided by their elders.'

  'I see.' It was no more than the truth. He saw very well how matters lay. The girls were to be hounded until one or the other accepted Lord Isham. Well, in the last resort he would refuse to marry an unwilling bride, however wealthy her suitor.

  Mrs Rushford saw his set expression and made haste to change the subject. 'Have you heard no more of the Marchioness?' she asked. 'That is a strange business.'

  Indeed it is. Rumour is rife, but we cannot place any reliance on such gossip. So many months have passed since she was seen that we must pity that no harm has befallen her.'

  'It is said that Sywell himself has murdered her,' Mrs Rushford announced with relish.

  'A rumour entirely without foundation, Isabel. The Marquis is ill-tempered, and capable of violence, but I cannot believe that he would visit it upon his wife. He doted on her.'

  'Then where can she be?'

  'No one seems able to answer that question. I attempted to question the Marquis, but I am unwelcome at the Abbey. As you know, I was against this marriage from the start. The union of May and December will never serve, and Louise Hanslope was little more than a child when she took it into her head to marry a man three times her age. It could only lead to disaster.'

  'You think it important then, for both parties to be in complete accord?' India asked quietly.

  'I do.' The Vicar smiled at her. 'Marriage is a difficult state at the best of times. In the first flush of passion most people do not think it so, but it demands self-control, tolerance, and sometimes heavy sacrifice. Such qualities are not common in our society. Best of all, a life partner should also be a friend.'

  'It seems idyllic, but almost a fantasy,' she agreed.

  'It can happen, my dear. And when it does nothing can be more fulfilling. Well, I must save my sermon until Sunday, but you must come to see me if you feel the need.'

  The door had scarcely closed upon him before Isabel Rushford voiced her displeasure.

  'Why, I wonder, would your uncle consider that either of you girls might wish to see him privately? Your own mama is the person to advise you.'

  'I think he meant only to be kind,' Letty murmured. 'After all, it is his calling...'

  Mrs Rushford sniffed. Her regular attendance at the Abbey services owed nothing to religion, but she enjoyed her role as the tragic widow, and the opportunity to gossip. Now she turned on India.

  'I must hope that you intend to change your gown before his lordship's visit,' she snapped. 'That bombazine is positively dreary.'

  'It is the warmest thing I have,' India told her simply. 'Mama, the weather is so bitter, and this house is very cold. You will not expect me to freeze to please Lord Isham?'

  'Must you defy me at every turn? I know that the black silk with the inset trimming has been turned and dyed, but it is more becoming. You will please wear it.'

  Delighted though she was by Isham's offer, Mrs Rushford viewed his coming visit with some apprehension. Privately she expected him to choose Letty as his bride, in spite of his suggestion that the girls should decide between them. At all costs India must be prevented from seeing him alone. She had given her promise not to cause him to withdraw, but would she be able to keep to it?

  She now felt that she must play her highest card. 'Think of your brother,' she coaxed. 'He is sure to learn of something through Isham. His lordship must have several livings in his gift.'

  Even Letty giggled. 'Giles as a parson, Mama? He would not hear of it!'

  'Hold your tongue, you foolish child! Giles will decide for himself.'

  'Most certainly he will!' India gave her sister a speaking glance. The transformation in their mother was extraordinary.

  Vanished was yesterday's shrinking invalid. Mrs Rushford was already relishing her position as mother of the future Lady Isham. Naturally, her influence would be welcomed by her powerful relatives.

  'Isham does not strike me as a man who will be easily persuaded,' India murmured.

  'Perhaps not at the moment, but a wife is in a privileged position. Then it will be different, mark my words!'

  The prospect gave India no comfort. The sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach was increasing by the minute as the dreaded interview approached. Now she prayed that his lordship had reconsidered his outrageous proposal. He had had time to sleep on it. Perhaps he had already changed his mind.

  She could not rely upon such a happy outcome, and she could do no more than pick at the simple meal of cold meats which awaited them.

  'Eat up, my girl!' her mother urged. 'A lack of food will cause you to feel faint. Isham must not believe you to be subject to fits of the vapours and you are already much too pale. It is such a pity that we are still in mourning. I wonder if you should change again... perhaps the grey?'

  India rebelled at that. 'Mama, it cannot matter. What we wear is not of the least importance. Lord Isham met us yesterday, when we wore our plain round morning-gowns. He can be under no illusion as to our looks.'

  'Do as I say!' came the furious retort. 'Letty must change too. At present you remind me of nothing so much as washerwomen.'

  There was nothing more to be said, but when they reached Letty's room she seized India's hand and looked at her with anguished eyes.

  'India, I beg of you! Do not go through with this! You should not sacrifice yourself for me.'

  'I don't know what you mean,' India lied gallantly. 'Nothing has been decided yet. You know that I hope to win more time...'

  'Pray don't try to deceive me. I know you too well... You mean to take him, don't you?'

  'I mean to talk to him. As I said, we do not know him. Possibly he is more reasonable than we imagine. I may be able to persuade him to wait, at least until Giles returns.'

  'But how will that help us?'

  'Giles may have heard of some position which would restore our fortunes...' Privately, India thought this unlikely, but she refused to give up hope. 'Meantime, I must see Isham on my own. Mama will not hear of a delay. One of us will be handfasted to that insolent creature before we can blink an eye.'

  Letty still looked troubled. She only half believed her sister, but she promised to talk their mama into allowing India a private interview with his lordship.

  'But only if you will give me your word...?'

  'Letty, I am not the stuff of martyrs. If all else fails I might agree to an engagement. I could break it later.'

  'I suppose so.' Letty gave her a watery smile. 'I feel so selfish, dearest, to have refused outright.'

  'Never that.' India looked at the clock. 'Help me now. Isham is sure to be on time...'

  She was right. They had not long to wait. As the clock struck four Isham was announced and shown into the parlour.

  As he bowed to her mother India stole a critical look at him. He had exchanged his riding garb for more formal garb, but the perfect tailoring of his plain blue coat served only to emphasise his massive, heavily muscled frame. There was nothing of the dandy about him and she guessed correctly that once dressed he gave his attire no further thought.

  His manner was correct, his bow perfection, but his presence shattered the genteel atmosphere in the parlour. India had the impression that a strong wind had blown away all the conventions of polite society.

  There was no obvious reason for this. An aristocrat to his fingertips, like many big men he moved with ease and grace. To her relief she was spared his penetrating stare on this occasion.

  Instead, he engaged her mother in conversation. 'I hope I see you much recovered, ma'am,' he murmured. 'I was distressed to learn of your indisposition.'

&nbs
p; 'It was nothing, my lord.' Mrs Rushford waved aside all mention of her previous ailments. 'Merely a headache brought on by this bitter weather. Sir, it is a pleasure to welcome you to Abbot's Quincey.'

  Isham bowed again. 'You know this part of the country well?'

  'I was born here, and so were my girls at...at the Grange.'

  'Ah, yes!' Isham betrayed no trace of embarrassment at this mention of his recently acquired property. 'I have just come from there. There is much to be done, I fear. Perhaps you will be good enough to advise me?'

  India glanced at her sister. His lordship had found a sure way to her mother's heart. For the next half-hour she was forced to listen to a discussion about the necessary improvements to the Grange, and the merits of the various workmen in the village.

  She glanced down at her hands and found that they were trembling. She hid them at once in the folds of her gown but nothing could remedy the leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had summoned all her courage for the coming interview but it was deserting her fast. Now she longed only to get it over with.

  It seemed an age before her mother rose and summoned Letty to her side.

  'Will you excuse us, sir?' she said. 'India would like to speak to you.'

  Isham merely bowed and held the door for them. As it closed he turned and leaned against it. For a panic-stricken moment India felt trapped. Once again she was forced to suffer that long, assessing stare.

  'So you are to be the sacrificial lamb?' his lordship drawled at last. 'What a fate, my dear!'

  Chapter Three

  It was an unfortunate beginning, but India kept her eyes fixed firmly on the carpet.

  'You speak in riddles, sir,' she said. 'Won't you sit down?' Her shaking hands she kept well hidden. It was impossible to think with that large figure looming over her.

  Isham sank into a chair. 'Demure, Miss Rushford? The role does not suit you. I prefer the termagant who barred my entrance yesterday...'

  India longed to tell him that his preference was not of the slightest interest to her, but she refused to be drawn. There was too much at stake. 'You wished to speak to me, I believe?'