Hardly a Husband
Rebecca Hagan Lee
Hardly a Husband
Rebecca Hagan Lee
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
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Also by Rebecca Hagan Lee
Something Borrowed Gossamer
Whisper Always
A Hint of Heather
Once a Mistress
Ever a Princess
Always a Lady
Barely a Bride
Merely the Groom
Hardly a Husband
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
HARDLY A HUSBAND
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation edition / October 2004 Copyright © 2004 by Rebecca Hagan Lee.
Excerpt from Truly a Wife copyright © 2004 by Rebecca Hagan Lee. Cover art by Leslie Peck. Cover design by Lesley Worell.
All rights reserved.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 0-425-19879-0
BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
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BERKLEY SENSATION and the "B" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
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Dedication
For my friend Dena M. Russell,
who wanted Jarrod's story and
who always knows just when to call.
With love.
* * *
Official Charter of the Free Fellows League
On this, the seventh day of January in the year of Our Lord 1793, we, the sons and heirs to the oldest and most esteemed titles and finest families of England and Scotland, do found and charter our own Free Fellows League.
The Free Fellows League is dedicated to the proposition that sons and heirs to great titles and fortunes, who are duty bound to marry in order to beget future sons and heirs, should be allowed to avoid the inevitable leg-shackling to a female for as long as possible in order to fight the French and become England's greatest heroes.
As charter members of the Free Fellows League, we agree that:
1) We shall only agree to marry when we've no other choice or when we're old. (No sooner than our thirtieth year.)
2) We shall agree to pay each of our fellow Free Fellows the sum of five hundred pounds sterling should any of us marry before we reach our thirtieth year.
3) We shall never darken the doors of any establishments that cater to "Marriage Mart" mamas or their desperate daughters unless forced to do so. Nor shall we frequent the homes of any relatives, friends, or acquaintances that seek to match us up with prospective brides.
4) When compelled to marry, we agree that we shall only marry suitable ladies from suitable families with fortunes equal to or greater than our own.
5) We shall never be encumbered by sentiment known as love or succumb to female wiles or tears.
6) We shall sacrifice ourselves on the altar of duty in order to beget our heirs, but we shall take no pleasure in the task. We shall look upon the act in the same manner as medicine that must be swallowed.
7) We shall install our wives in country houses and keep separate establishments nearby or in London.
8) We shall drink and ride and hunt, and consort with our boon companions whenever we are pleased to do so.
9) We shall not allow the females who share our names to dictate to us in any manner. "We shall put our feet upon tables and sofas and the seats of chairs if we so choose and allow our hounds to sit upon the furnishings and roam our houses at will.
10) We shall give our first loyalty and our undying friendship to England and our brothers and fellow members of the Free Fellows League.
Signed (in blood) and sealed by:
The Right Honorable Griffin Abernathy, 17th Viscount Abernathy, aged nine years and two months, eldest son of and heir apparent to the 16th Earl of Weymouth.
The Right Honorable Colin McElreath, 27th Viscount Grantham, aged nine years and five months, eldest son of and heir apparent to the 9th Earl of McElreath.
The Right Honorable Jarrod Shepherdston, 22nd Earl of Westmore, aged ten years and three months, eldest son and heir apparent to the 4th Marquess of Shepherdston.
League member added on this seventh day of January in the year of Our Lord 1812:
Daniel 9th Duke of Sussex, aged six and twenty years and ten months.
League member added on this seventh day of January in the year of Our Lord 1813:
Jonathan Manners, 11th Earl of Barclay, aged six and twenty years and ten months.
Alexander Courtland, 2nd Marquess of Courtland, aged five and twenty years and one month.
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Prologue
Contents - Next
Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow:
but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.
Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can
one be warm alone?
And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him;
and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.
— Hebrew Bible, Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
Knightsguild School for Gentlemen January 1794
"Our Father who art in heaven, thank you for this horrid hell-hole of a school and for old Norworthy who runs it. Thank you for the canings and for the forfeiture of the puddings I've suffered since I came here. Thank you for the Marquess and Marchioness of Shepherdston, my father and mother, who've never agreed upon anything except that I am, as my father's heir, a necessity, about which something must be done so that they need not be bothered overmuch by my presence. And thank you ever so much for giving Esme Kelverton's father the power to break the betrothal between Esme and Colin. I know his doing so broke Colin's heart, but if Lord Kelverton had not taken such a drastic measure, I would not have discovered Colin crying and he would not have punched me in the nose and called me a 'bloody, rich English lord who ought to mind his own business.'" And if Colin had not punched me in the nose, I would not have had to blacken his eye and Griffin would not have taken it upon himself to separate us and received a split lip for his efforts. The three of us would not have been sent to Norworthy or received a caning before the whole assembly. If these things had not happened, there would be no Free Fellows League and I would not have Colin and Griffin as my friends. The Free Fellows League is celebrating our first anniversary, so thank you, Heavenly Father, for providing me with friends — at last.
"And thank you, Father, for making me the oldest and for giving me a higher rank so that Colin and Griffin would naturally look to me for leadership — despite the fact that I am only nine months older, have no experience leading friends or companions of any sort, and would rather have a lower rank and parents who love me the way Lord and Lady Weymouth love Griffin and the way Lady McElreath, and when he's not gaming and drinking, Lord McElreath, love Colin. Guide me, Heavenly Father, and grant me the strength to always do what's right, to be the leader my brothers in blood expect me to be, to use the League so that we may become the greatest heroes England (and Scotland) have ever known and make it possible for good to always triumph over evil. Above all, please make it so that I never disappoint Colin or Griffin or cause them to regret choosing me to be their friend. Amen.
"Oh, and Heavenly Father, if you're still listening, thank you for Jonathan Manners who sleeps in the cot next to mine and cries for his nanny every night. I grumble about it. But I don't really mind. He's only seven so it's only natural for him to whine and fret. And I suppose it's only natural for him to plague me with his constant questions and by trying to tag along. Griffin and Colin are assigned to the other dormitory and although I try to comfort him, I am secretly thankful for Manners's wailing. His crying prevents me from feeling alone in the darkness. So, Heavenly Father, I'm not asking you to stop Manners from crying if that's what it takes for him to learn to endure life here at Knightsguild, but it will be quite all right by me if you'll let him know that while I don't want him hanging on to my coattails at every turn, I'll protect him from the monsters he fears are hiding under our cots. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, this is Jarrod Shepherdston saying thank you, good night, and amen."
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Chapter One
Contents - Prev | Next
All is flux, nothing stays still.
— Heraclitus, c.540-c.480 B.C.
Village of Helford Green Bedfordshire, England May 1813
"Good-bye, Miss Eckersley. And you, Lady Dunbridge."
"Wait, please!" Sarah Eckersley stood with her aunt beside the front gate feverishly tugging on the drawstrings of her reticule as the Reverend Tinsley, his wife, and children bade them farewell.
The reverend pretended not to hear her as he waved good-bye, then shepherded his wife and children inside before resolutely closing the front door, shutting Sarah out.
"I forgot to give you the key…" Sarah withdrew the brass door key.
"Don't worry about it," Lady Dunbridge advised, fastening a leash on her little spaniel, Precious, as they walked to the front gate. "He may be a rector, but he doesn't appear to know that charity begins at home."
"We don't need their charity," Sarah said. "Nor do we need to be accused of stealing the front door key." She took a step forward. "I should go give it to them."
"After the way they treated you?" Sarah's aunt was outraged. "After the way they shoved our belongings onto the front lawn? And tried to steal Precious? And Budgie. Hang it on the gate," she suggested. "They'll find it."
Sarah hesitated. "Someone else might find it first."
"So what?" Lady Dunbridge dismissed her niece's concern. "It isn't as if anyone in Helford Green locks their doors anyway. Unless a desperate highwayman or a gang of sneak thieves finds its way here, you can be certain the reverend and his family will be safe. Callous, but safe."
"I've never seen anyone get so angry so quickly," Sarah said. "Certainly not a man of the cloth. I don't know how you managed to calm him. He appeared almost pleasant by the time I arrived with Squire Perkins."
"The only reason I was able to calm him was because I told him you would be returning with your father's close friend the magistrate, who wouldn't tolerate your mistreatment by anyone," Lady Dunbridge explained, patiently waiting while Precious squatted beside the wrought-iron fence.
"His pleasant demeanor was merely an act for Squire Perkins's benefit," Sarah concluded.
"Precisely."
"Then I don't suppose it will matter if I do leave the front door key hanging on the front gate." Ignoring a lifetime of her father's sermons about the meek inheriting the earth and turning the other cheek, Sarah took a deep breath and hung the brass key on the center point of the wrought-iron gate. "Besides, what self-respecting thief would bother with a rectory when Shepherdston Hall is just down the way?"
"My point exactly," Lady Dunbridge agreed.
The sleepy little village of Helford Green was three miles off the main road. Sarah had never heard of any type of crime in the community and she doubted the rectory would present much of a target for would-be thieves. Not when magnificent Shepherdston Hall sat between the village and the main road.
Sarah smiled for the first time since Reverend Tinsley and his family had arrived at the rectory without warning, entering the front door and descending like biblical locusts, where they immediately began laying claim to the things they wanted and casting aside everything they didn't without regard to the rectory's current residents.
Sarah had watched in horror as one of the Tinsley daughters shot past her. Precious, Aunt Etta's little spaniel, began to bark as the little girl ran past her basket, through the parlor, and up the stairs where she headed for Sarah's bedroom.
"Pippa, you mustn't run up the stairs," her mother had scolded.
But Pippa already had.
Sarah bounded up the stairs after her with the child's mother close on her heels. They arrived just as the little girl announced, "This shall be my room," and grabbed hold of Budgie's cage, pulling it off the stand before exclaiming, "Oh, look, Mama, what a darling little bird! I believe I shall keep him and name him Admiral Nelson."
Sarah hadn't realized how ferocious she could be until she'd snatched the birdcage out of the child's hand and held it out of reach. "I believe he already has a name and an owner. His name is Budgie and he belongs to me."
"Does not," the child insisted, reaching for the birdcage. "Mama says the land and the rectory and everything in it is ours. Admiral Nelson is mine!"
"Your mother is in error," Sarah said firmly, meeting the mother's gaze over the child's head.
"Make her give me Admiral Nelson!" the child screeched at the top of her lungs. "He's mine! I want him!"
"Ouch!" Sarah looked down to find that Pippa had sunk her teeth into the flesh of her arm.
"Now, Pippa…" the child's mother soothed. "We mustn't bite."
Pippa pa
id her mother no heed. She was preparing another assault on Sarah's arm when Sarah stopped her with a look and a promise. "Bite me again and I shall bite you back." She grinned at Pippa. "And unlike you, I have all my teeth and they're much bigger and stronger than yours."
"You wouldn't dare!" Pippa retorted.
"Try me," Sarah challenged.
"Now, Pippa, be a good girl and I'll speak to the lady about the budgie…"
"Admiral Nelson!" Pippa wailed.
"Very well. Admiral Nelson." Pippa's mother patted her daughter on the head before turning her attention to Sarah. "You must be Miss Eckersley."
"Yes," Sarah acknowledged over Pippa's screaming demands for Admiral Nelson. "I must be."
"I'm Reverend Tinsley's wife and this is our youngest daughter, Pippa." Mrs. Tinsley introduced herself and her daughter, then added, "Pippa is high-spirited. But I'm sure she'll quiet down if you'll allow her to hold Admiral Nelson."
Mrs. Tinsley was a rather thin woman of average height, with pale blonde hair, a longish face, and a poor complexion. Her only remarkable features were the dark blue color of her eyes and the long elegant fingers of the hand she extended toward the birdcage.
"No doubt, she would," Sarah answered. "But then Budgie and I will start screaming."
Mrs. Tinsley's blue eyes shot daggers at Sarah as Sarah refused to relinquish Budgie's cage. "Lord Dunbridge and Bishop Fulton warned us that you and Lord Dunbridge's aunt by marriage might still be in residence."
"Why shouldn't we be in residence?" Sarah met the other woman's furious gaze without flinching. "Since this is our home and neither Lord Dunbridge nor the bishop saw fit to warn us that you might be descending" — Sarah refrained from adding, like a scourge of locusts — "upon it."
"Oh, but my dear Miss Eckersley, the bishop awarded my husband, Reverend Tinsley, with the Helford Green living a fortnight ago. We would have been here sooner, but it's taken us that long to remove our things from our former vicarage in Bristol."
