Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1) Read online

  Harry jumped up at this comment from his father and then bowed dramatically before their guest. "Sir Joseph is quite right, of course, and this simply will not do. Fair Marianne, it seems that I have wronged you in the past, and have given you a poor impression of my true nature. Come, let me woo you and demonstrate how it is I out of all the Putneys who is the most knightly of all, and let me fall in love with you. I must warn you, however, that Aunt Eustacia currently occupies my heart, and I fear that it will ever be thus."

  “I think it’s time we go in for dinner before our poor guest thinks her godmother has brought her to stay in an asylum,” said Lady Putney with a warning look at them all. “Charles, be so good as to escort Aunt Eustacia into the dining room.”

  Sir Joseph captured Marianne’s arm, while John offered his to their mother, leaving Harry to wander in behind them all, complaining loudly that someone should have thought to invite Granny Bellan to dine so that their numbers would be even. The lady in question was an eighty-year-old tenant farmer who had no time for pleasantries, not even for Sir Joseph who she supposedly held in esteem, and Charles immediately resolved to pair her off with Harry at the Country Fair picnic.

  Dinner was a more lavish affair than normal with three courses, each containing two removes, and a dizzying array of dishes that were designed to tempt the frailest of appetites. Charles sat opposite Marianne, who was in the seat of honour between his father and John, which gave him plenty of time to observe her.

  The girl’s eyes had widened at the sheer quantity of food laid out before her, but she did not indicate an interest in eating any of them. The fleeting looks she threw at Sir Joseph, and then Aunt Eustacia confirmed to him that the poor thing was not sure if she had permission to partake of the feast. He felt simultaneous pangs of anger and sadness as he had to forcibly stop himself from loudly informing her that she could eat every last scrap on the table if she so wished, and what was more, he’d happily go to the kitchen and prepare more dishes himself if she remained a little peckish afterwards.

  His father, though, had things well in hand. Under the pretence of telling Marianne about the local farms and merchants, he placed a little of every dish on her plate for her to sample, the loading up an extra spoonful of anything she seemed to truly enjoy. John quickly joined in and even made her laugh once or twice with tales about the many times the brothers had thought they successfully stole tarts from the kitchen, only to discover in later life that the bad-tempered Cook had always made extra just for them to steal.

  “Perhaps we don’t have to tell everyone you’re engaged to her after all, Charles,” said Aunt Eustacia quietly before delicately eating a forkful of peas. He startled, and then flushed with shame as he realized he’d been completely ignoring her for the past ten minutes.

  “No?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “No,” she repeated with a thoughtful expression. “It might be better for us to lead the world to think she is here to determine if she should marry one of you instead. She is an heiress, after all. And my goddaughter.”

  Harry, ignoring protocol completely, threw a bread roll across the table to John, who caught it deftly before placing it onto a laughing Marianne’s plate. Sir Joseph, who would normally have been horrified by such a display of poor manners, instead looked indulgent while Lady Putney seemed amused.

  “Miss Hillis does rub along famously with my brothers,” he said, aware that the words inexplicably irritated him. “Would it not make her seem rather forward, though?”

  “Not at all, for everyone knows your father is the worst matchmaking mama in existence,” said Aunt Eustacia, “although having her courted or betrothed to one of you would be more of a discouragement to fortune hunters, don’t you think?”

  “A very good point,” he replied. “Particularly if we go to the Newtown Assemblies.”

  “Hmm,” said Aunt Eustacia before sampling her slice of duck breast. He could have sworn she was smiling, but that could have just been an appreciation for the meal.

  Once dinner was over the men chose not to linger over their port, and instead joined the three ladies in the sitting room at the earliest moment. Harry and Marianne immediately fell to squabbling over who had really stepped on whose foot at Lady Cordelia’s come-out ball, until Sir Joseph decreed the only way to determine the truth was to recreate the whole scene once again. Much laughter ensued as the entire evening gave way to convivial silliness, especially when Harry began waltzing Marianne about the room to a song he was obviously making up as he went.

  “Stop it, Harry, or I’ll die from laughter!” giggled Marianne as the youngest Putney brother quite literally swept her up off the floor for a dramatic twirl. “And it wasn’t a waltz, you foolish boy, it was a country dance!”

  “Was it?” said Harry, stopping suddenly and setting her back down onto the floor before him. “Are you sure?”

  “That explains everything, then!” said John, rolling his eyes. “Harry was so bewitched by Lady Cordelia that he was dancing to the wrong music!”

  “It is possible,” admitted Harry.

  Marianne just shook her head.

  “How about I play a few little tunes on the piano to allow Marianne to practice her dancing again?” said Aunt Eustacia, looking pleased with herself. “You can turn my pages, Sir Joseph. Harry, put Marianne back down at once – she is to dance with someone who understands decorum!”

  Charles straightened up, ready to take up a position beside Marianne with a weary sigh, but was beaten to the mark by a surprisingly enthusiastic John.

  “Harry, partner with your mother so that you don’t let your silliness get the better of you,” instructed Eustacia, “and Charlie, watch their footwork. No one is to step on my poor goddaughter’s toes, or they’ll have me to answer to!”

  “Yes, Aunt!” chorused John and Harry, before Eustacia launched into a cotillion.

  Charles watched as his brothers twirled his mother and Marianne about the sitting room carpet, all four of them demonstrating exceptional footwork.

  “I would not think you’d been out of society for so long, my dear,” John said to Marianne as they danced. “I’ve not seen finer footwork in any London ballroom this past season!”

  She went an adorable shade of pink at the words, and Charles felt annoyed that he was not the one to rise the colour in her cheeks. He was the one who was bound to take care of her, after all. Not his brother.

  “Thank you, John!” she replied, and Charles noted that she’d dropped the mister when addressing his brothers. “I used to practice in my stockings whenever I thought my Aunt or cousin would not hear. It’s not as easy as you would think to try to recall all the melodies, but I was determined to be able to dance again.”

  “Well, your practice paid off,” called Harry as the dance brought the couples close together. “I don’t think you’ve stood on a single foot all evening!”

  Charles watched for a few more minutes, intending to cut in at some point and continue the dance with Marianne, but it felt wrong to interrupt when she was so obviously enjoying herself.

  He slipped out of the room when he was sure that no one was looking, and wandered down to the billiard room, lost in thought.

  *

  The family retired to bed, and Sir Joseph made his way to the library to think about his discoveries alone.

  He had not got to his position in life without knowing how to find out information about people. His trip to the lawyer had been informative, but he'd had Phillips do more than just pick up the horses while in Clun. The reports from the groom - who was far more than just a groom, had anyone bothered to study him - had been troubling.

  He poured himself a brandy, but barely drank a drop from the heavy glass. It sat on his huge desk between his account books, glittering in the candlelight as he weighed each of the options before him.

  "I'm not happy, Sir Joseph," said Eustacia as she invaded his sanctuary without so much as a knock on the door. He glanced up, the trouble
d look on her face showing him clearly that she was taking her new role as Godmother to a vulnerable young woman very seriously indeed.

  "I'm sure that Hester can solve any problems that you have, my dear, or if it's of a more worldly nature, then you have your husband to reach out to," he said kindly.

  She dropped herself into the spare seat, the leather creaking as she did so. She reached over and took his brandy glass in hand, taking a large mouthful before speaking again.

  "You know very well that I'm talking about Marianne. If you'd heard the things she told us, and then the things we could infer from what she did not say - ha! If I ever get my hands on the neck of that odious aunt of hers, I'll wring it like she's an ancient chicken ready for the pot."

  "I've no doubt you'd put her in the pot if you could," said Sir Joseph, his smile feeling unnatural on his face. "Damned if I wouldn't help you pluck her feathers while you were at it, and Hester would happily boil the water."

  Eustacia stared at him for a long moment. It was a habit with her, one that had long since stopped disconcerting him and his wife.

  "Hester has already told you everything," she said. "You know it's worse than the poor girl believes."

  He nodded in response. "Where is my wife, by the by?"

  "Tucking Marianne into bed like she's a lost child," replied Eustacia. "Poor thing. I suppose that's exactly what she is."

  She took another sip from the brandy glass, staring down at the liquid like it held the answers to her questions.

  "Between your care and my wife’s, I have no doubt she'll start to shine again," said Sir Joseph in an attempt to reassure her. "Taking little thing; I remember her Season, and although she didn't cut the dash that she or her brother had hoped for, I do recall thinking that she would make a very good wife for Charles."

  Eustacia snorted. "You think anyone who could produce a grandchild would be a very good match for your son."

  "Not at all," he replied. "Oh, I know I like to joke with them about marriage, and certainly I wish they would apply themselves more to the task of finding a bride, but I'd far rather they married for happiness and love than anything else."

  Eustacia considered this for a long moment. "The girl needs time to heal first, and to spend time with other people before she finds herself captive again. I wouldn't be surprised if she falls in love with Charles - he rescued her, after all! - but she needs to recover from her ordeal, or else she'll resent being trapped again, no matter how kind your family would be."

  He bristled at her words, even as he knew she was correct.

  "Unfortunately, we might not have that luxury," he admitted. "She's of age in a month, Eustacia. Even if we successfully protect her from Headley, she'll be the target of every rake and fortune hunter not adverse to forcing her hand to marriage the moment she does not require consent to wed. We've both seen it happen, my dear. Think of how close-run a thing it was with your own girl."

  "I try very hard not to think about what that scoundrel attempted with Mary," Eustacia replied with a grimace. She drained the last of the brandy and set the empty glass down with a dull thud. "I do, however, worry that Marianne's cousin will not give her up so easily. We both know they could send Runners here and claim that we abducted her. It would be a scandal of the highest order, and would likely destroy the reputations of us all."

  "I don't think they want to bring any more attention to themselves if they can help it," said Sir Joseph, thinking about the news from Phillips. "If they take her, they will do so as quietly as possible."

  His wife's closest friend in the world studied him again, and then crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression was that of an angry governess trying very hard to keep her temper in check.

  "What have you done, Joseph?"

  His mouth twitched at her tone. "What makes you think I've done anything?"

  "You know something," she said, stabbing a finger in the air before him. "You've been back to your old ways."

  "I merely sent a man I trust to ask some questions and may need to jaunt to London to ask a few of my own."

  "You promised Hester..." she said, delivering one of the best scowls he'd ever seen her deliver.

  "I am not back to my old ways, my dear," he replied firmly, although not with complete accuracy. "Everything I am doing is perfectly above board. My man discovered that the Headleys were up to their eyeballs in debt with every shopkeeper and tradesman in Clun, so much so that even the milkmaid would not grant them credit."

  "Were in debt? As in they are not so any longer?"

  He shook his head. "Young Cuthbert paid off every debt in full, and then promptly began to rack up more, using his expectations as leverage. It seems everyone in that town believes he is to wed Marianne."

  Eustacia drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair.

  "You think he's used her money to clear his debts," she said. "Is that even possible? How much pin money could she have possibly had?"

  "Not enough to account for the Headley's sudden appearance of wealth," said Sir Joseph with a grimace. "I am concerned that Gordon Hillis may not have tied up her money tightly enough."

  "I see," said Eustacia, and the look on her face was reminiscent of the time he and her husband had brought home Mary from the attempted elopement. If Cuthbert Headley had any sense, he would never venture to Liverpool during either Melthwaite's lifetime.

  "How will you find out for sure?"

  "By asking questions, nothing more," he promised her. "A bolt to the City may be in order if the situation takes a turn for the worse."

  "And then?" asked Eustacia. Her expression suggested she was torn between wanting him to do something to help Marianne, and wanting him to keep his promise to Hester.

  As though he would do anything to break his word to the love of his life!

  He rested his elbows on the leather top of his writing desk and interlaced his fingers. "I will present the evidence to Hillis upon his return, which will be within the next three months if we are lucky. Amherst is already overdue to return."

  "Then why not wait for Hillis to investigate for himself?" she asked, unable to disguise her irritation. "The poor girl has suffered enough as it is, I don't want to inform her that she may have lost her fortune to boot. She'll probably run away and become a governess before she let me take care of her."

  "I don't like surprises," said Sir Joseph flatly, "and I want to know if Headley has any reason to come for Marianne beyond marrying her for money. Besides, if Hillis has to investigate then ten to one he'll drag Charles into the mess, and I swore to Hester on his eighteenth birthday that I would keep him a gentleman. I can't let him get pulled into a sordid mess, or need my connections to uphold the honour of a girl he feels responsible for. Better that I take care of the mess, and he concentrates on falling in love with the girl."

  There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

  "Marriage to Charles would solve a lot of problems," said Eustacia. "Any fool can see they are fond of each other. Marianne said she'd known Charles since he and Gordon were at school together."

  He arched a brow at her. "I thought you said that we should not cage the girl?"

  "I've already told her that she must pretend she's being courted," said Eustacia with a shrug. "I'm not suggesting they marry on her birthday, Joseph, but rather that it would be best for all concerned if we never had to tell her about the emptying of her accounts, for Charles' fortune is enough to replace what has been lost."

  Sir Joseph chuckled. "My poor boy will think we're conspiring against him if he learns you're promoting a marriage as well! No, I long ago resigned myself to the fact that Charles will do what he thinks is right in his own time. If I'd had any influence over him - or the other two! - we'd share a grandchild by now."

  Eustacia smiled. "My girls are not much better, Joseph, but if we must insist on their marrying for love we cannot complain that they do not choose the partners that we would."

  They shared a comfortable silence, both
thinking fondly of their children.

  Eustacia yawned loudly, then got back to her feet. "I'll leave you to your musings, my dear, and let you tell Hester what you must about the situation."

  "I'll tell her everything, of course," said Sir Joseph, getting up out his chair as well. "I promise, Eustacia, that I have done nothing that a responsible guardian would not do for Marianne."

  His friend pulled a face. "Considering what my Roger did for our daughters, that's not reassuring in the least, Joseph."

  He smiled, but didn't respond other than to bid her good evening.

  Sir Joseph knew full well what both Roger Melthwaite and he had done for their families, and neither Hester nor Eustacia would ever know the half of it.

  Chapter SIX

  When there was no sign of the Headleys banging down the front door in the days and nights following her arrival at Putney Manor, Marianne felt the weight on her shoulders slowly lifting. Her new dresses lifted her mood even higher, and although there was a brief scene when her new Godmama insisted that every last scrap of lace in her new wardrobe was a gift, the whole world seemed ten times better than it had just the week before.

  If she did wake up terrified that she was back under her aunt's roof both mornings, the sun streaming through the window and Lizzy's happy chattering soon dispelled those fears. Lady Putney and Sir Joseph treated her like their favourite niece, while Mrs Melthwaite was taking her new status as Godmama very seriously indeed, and seemed to make it her life's mission to ensure that Marianne could want for nothing.

  The vicar, a Mr Smith, and his wife had come around for a morning visit two days after her arrival, and been very pleasant despite the large number of questions they had asked her, some bordering on impertinent. It was Harry who'd cheerfully disclosed that the dressmaker, Miss Fletchley, was the bosom friend of Mrs Smith, and both known throughout the area as being a pair of terrible gossips.

  "Which works perfectly to our advantage, my dear, because now we won't be forced to bring up the story of your odd arrival at every opportunity. I'm sure Mrs Smith will tell everyone for us," said her Godmama, looking very pleased with herself.