Page 19 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)

Daniel tipped an imaginary hat to her. “And what a glorious, well-argued death it shall be.”

* * *

Leaving his wife with her parents, Daniel marched to his mother’s bedchamber. She’d taken the morning meal there and had yet to leave her rooms, which gave him the perfect excuse to discuss his suspicions.

Knocking on the door, he found his mother on the sofa with a bit of sewing. He stepped forward, kissed her cheek, and then glared at her. When she smiled up at him and patted his cheek, he knew his assumptions were correct.

Instead of bursting out with his accusations, Daniel paced the length of his mother’s private sitting room as he ran a hand through his hair.

Tea and fairy cakes. Every time he thought about the tray of treats his mother had served the previous night, blood rushed through his veins, simmering as he tried to control his temper.

“Tea and fairy cakes, Mama?”

His mother sat with her sewing, perfectly unbothered by the turmoil she had caused. “A perfectly acceptable, refreshing dessert after a long day of heartache.”

“Heartache you concocted.”

“Yet Southwood seemed rather happy with his tea. His spirits were uplifted, and he even had a smile on his face as he watched you and Miss Astley bicker before you left for your bedchamber.”

The fiasco of the previous night sent a shiver down his spine. Daniel twitched, then narrowed his eyes at his mother. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She smiled up at him, completely at her leisure. “I am a countess, my dear boy. I do not have to explain myself.”

Deflating a little, Daniel dropped into a nearby chair. “You have created a difficult situation for me.”

“Nothing you cannot handle.”

“Miss Astley hates me.” Daniel rested his head on the palm of one hand and then realized he should have referred to her as Mrs. Northcott, but he didn’t correct himself.

They may be man and wife as recorded upon the books of the church and by law, but they weren’t in truth.

Lying next to the woman as she prayed for his demise did not make her his wife.

“Hated me before she was forced into a marriage, and now it is even worse. How do you expect me to make the best of that situation?”

“Oh, Daniel. Mrs. Northcott does not hate you.”

“No?” He stood, unable to keep from pacing.

He walked to the window to look upon the lush green landscape, a scene he’d painted more often than he could remember, but this time there was something different.

Instead of focusing upon the gardens, hedgerows, and tall shade trees that met the horizon, he saw his wife in the garden with her mother.

Instead of arguing with the countess, Daniel stopped in his tirade to watch as Mrs. Northcott cried on her mother’s shoulder. Her shoulders shook, the curls covering her neck bouncing in tandem with her sobs.

Perhaps Mrs. Northcott didn’t hate him, but she wasn’t happy with her circumstances.

In truth, he didn’t think his wife could hate anyone.

Delivering a tongue lashing was certainly part of her arsenal, freezing a man’s insides with her large brown eyes, yes.

But hate and love were two very opposite feelings.

One could not hold both love and hate within themselves and be as gentle as a bird around others.

She may not care for him, but she was a woman with complex emotions, and he did not wish to cause her pain.

When he didn’t respond, his mother crossed the room to stand at the window with him. She took his hand, squeezing it a little. “I could not have slept if I had knowingly allowed that tender-hearted young lady to marry your brother. Dowry aside, she deserves better than Southwood.”

“She deserves better than me.”

His mother placed her hand on the window.

“I heard Southwood and Hastings in the study the night before Miss Astley and her family arrived. Your brother intended to marry the girl, take her to one of the estates in the south of England, and abandon her while he wasted her dowry and spent his nights with a mistress.” She turned to him, placing her hands on his face. “I could not allow it.”

“Then you had planned this even before the Astleys arrived?”

She turned back to the window, looking out once more. “I did not know what to do. But I had convinced Hastings that we couldn’t allow it to happen. We had to find a solution that did not involve ruining that poor girl.”

“We had a fortnight, Mama. I might have persuaded Southwood to end the courtship.”

“You know very well your brother has never been inclined to act with honor.”

“We could have convinced her to see him for the lout he is.”

“She fancies herself in love. Nothing you or I might have said would have swayed her.”

He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes as he drew in a long breath. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier, more measured. “Her feelings ought to have been considered.”

“Indeed, they were,” his mother replied softly.

“Once I discerned your growing attachment, it was out of concern for her that I took such a desperate course. Her happiness was all I thought of.” She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

“She does not yet understand what true love is. That, my dear, she shall discover with you.”

Daniel cleared his throat as he placed his free hand on his neck, squeezing as he hoped to soothe the pain of a headache forming at the base of his skull. “There were other options. I offered to pay his debts in exchange for ending the courtship.”

His mother turned her head slightly. “How did you expect to do that?”

He had no intention of telling his mother about the art business he’d carefully built. Clearing his throat, he kept his eyes focused on his wife in the garden below. “Wise investments and the sort.”

“Investments?” She squeezed his hand once more. “You must inform your father of these investments. He is always looking for financial advice, especially given your brother’s penchant for bringing ruin upon the family.”

His eyes blurred as Mrs. Northcott released her mother, dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief. “Tell me what to do, Mama.”

He didn’t know how to be a husband. The responsibility for his estate was overwhelming at times, but with his father’s wisdom, a faithful steward, and trusted servants, he’d done well enough.

Because he’d purchased the estate from his father, it had come to him as a well-maintained property.

The few renovations he’d done since taking possession had been expected with the salty sea winds and the age of the buildings.

His mother leaned against him, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Give her time to adjust. The son I raised will have no problem charming his young wife.”

“If she does not find a way to rid herself of me before long.”

She laughed. “Perhaps you should not allow her to order tipsy cake, plum pudding, or anything doused in brandy or sherry that might require a flame. But if you do, sit on the opposite end of the table.”

“There are other ways a wife can accomplish widowhood, especially near the sea.”

“Then I suggest you make a pact with her. Convince her that you are not the enemy, and if you must reveal my hand in this arrangement, be gentle with your censure of my actions.”

Daniel wrapped both arms around his mother, pulling her into his side. “I shall always respect you.”

“Because I am a countess?”

“No. The only title that matters to me is mama.”

“Ah, there he is.”

“Who?” Daniel asked as his eyes roamed the yard.

His mother tightened her hold on him. “The sweet boy I raised. He’s been hidden behind a mask of sarcasm and biting comments for the last few years. I wondered if he would ever return.”

It might have been unwise—unworthy, even—to hide behind a wall of retorts, particularly where his wife was concerned.

Yet such was his manner of meeting life’s difficulties, and Mrs. Northcott had proved the most formidable of them all.

Until she softened toward him, he could not bring himself to reveal what lay within. “She will be lonely.”

“I shall speak to her about Blackbriar Hall before you leave. Not only will I advise her to renovate the drawing room and the dining room, but I think she will love walks into town. Did you know her aunt and uncle Kingsley live near your estate? Do you remember them from the summers we spent in Bardsea?”

“Of course, they are kind people. I am happy she will not be lonely.”

“She will have you, Daniel. That is more than enough company, I am sure.”

“Must I remind you, she has a special sort of dislike for me.”

His mother pulled him around so she could place her hands on his arms. “Daniel, I would not have chosen you as her husband were I not convinced of your admiration for her.”

Daniel laughed. “Oh dear, your imagination is the source of all my troubles.”

“Do not deny your feelings. I have seen them in the way you look at her. This marriage is as much a relief to you as it is frightening.”

“You consider me a coward? A man so frightened of his wife that he cannot manage her?”

“Frightened of how deeply you already feel for her.”

“What a laugh.” Daniel turned away, walking to the door.

He didn’t look back at his mother as he left, not willing to allow her to see whatever it was she knew about him.

He did like his wife. He might even love her.

But he didn’t have to like the way their marriage had come about. If anything, he felt betrayed.

* * *

Daniel lounged in his father’s study across from Mr. Astley and a mountain of paperwork that could easily have passed for a novel.

The marriage agreement was far more generous than he had expected, particularly for it having been thrown together within the last twenty-four hours.

He now understood more fully why Southwood had been intent on marrying into the Astley fortune.

The dowry was not only money; there were jewels, an estate, and a barouche involved.

Southwood would have had enough money to pay back their father’s estate and fund another month of reckless gambling before having to sell off the jewels.

Determined to put the dowry to good use, Daniel, with the help of the family solicitor, established a widow’s annuity and earmarked a tidy sum for any daughters they might one day have—if, of course, Mrs. Northcott ever decided she liked him well enough to let matters proceed.

At present, she seemed to prefer the memory of his charming rogue of a brother.

Still, Daniel was not entirely without hope. Stranger things had happened.

When the ink was dry and the paperwork tucked away, Daniel rose and shook Mr. Astley’s hand, a mischievous smirk tugging at his mouth.

“If I didn’t know better,” he said dryly, “I would think you sweetened the dowry to bribe me into keeping her.”

Mr. Astley chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. “She can be a handful, Mr. Northcott. The sort of woman who will always keep you guessing.”

Daniel’s grin widened. “Thank you for the warning. I do love a challenge.”