The Marriage Contract Page 2

  The books between the bookends were fiction. She didn’t see much fiction. Most people seemed to prefer nonfiction. Her deceased husband only had nonfiction in his manor. Lewis was the one who’d brought her fiction to read. That was, of course, after the maid at Ichabod’s estate had taught her to read so she could write missives to Ichabod.

  “The butler will be bringing your trunk in,” Lewis said, making her jump. He was standing in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She cleared her throat. “Did Mr. Bachman agree to marry me?”

  “Almost.”

  “Almost?” What did that mean?

  He approached her and smiled in encouragement. “He will marry you. I know him, and he’ll do it. He just needs to talk to you first. He’s going to arrange for the maid to get your bedchamber ready while we eat. Since it’s late, I’ll stay here overnight in another bedchamber. Tomorrow morning, you’ll get to meet him.”

  Well, she supposed she couldn’t ask for more than that. It was reminiscent of the evening when they had arrived at Ichabod’s estate. Except, Ichabod hadn’t bothered to talk to her the next day. Everything had been arranged between him and Lewis. She had simply been a passive observer in the whole thing.

  “It’s been a long and tiring two days, especially for you,” Lewis said, glancing at her belly. “Why don’t you sit down and rest?”

  “To be honest, I don’t feel all that tired,” she replied. “I’m too anxious about what will happen.”

  “You don’t need to be anxious. Everything will work out.”

  She took another look at the mirror that was covered. “Why does your friend cover the mirrors in this place?”

  “I’m not sure I’m at liberty to tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  He hesitated. After a long moment, he finally said, “Well, maybe I should warn you so you don’t get scared when you see him.”

  She frowned. She didn’t like the sound of this. Why should she be scared when she saw him?

  “There was an accident, of sorts,” Lewis slowly began. “It happened four years ago. At that time, Stephen lived in a townhouse in London. I don’t know exactly what happened because he never told me the full story. All he said was that he was having an argument with Eloise, and something happened in the course of the argument that resulted in his face being…” He paused as he searched for the right word. Finally, after not seeming to be able to figure it out, he shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe it. He wears a mask whenever I see him. I haven’t seen him without it. All I know is that he was an attractive gentleman before the incident occurred, and now he refuses to show his face to anyone.”

  She supposed that made sense. If someone was disfigured, they wouldn’t want to see their reflection in a mirror. If he didn’t have company, he could go around the room without the mask, and if he happened to pass a mirror, he wouldn’t have to see himself. Though, if it was her, she’d have the mirror removed. Then she wouldn’t have to cover them.

  “Anyway,” Lewis continued, “Eloise died a year ago. There was no love between them. The two couldn’t stand each other. It got to the point where they lived in separate residences. He lived here, and she stayed in the London townhouse. Anyway, she’s no longer alive, and Stephen has more than enough money to provide for you and my brother’s child. He’s done very well in his investments over the past three years. I know this because I meet with these gentlemen for him.”

  “Do you do everything for him?”

  “I don’t need a mask like he does. Gentlemen have an easier time doing business with someone they can see.”

  He was probably right. After being stuck with a husband she never saw, she could understand why someone would want to do business with a person they could speak face to face with.

  “I benefit from the arrangement, too,” Lewis said. “I get a small percentage of the money Stephen makes, and I invest in the same things he does. It’s provided me a good living.”

  Judging by this room, Stephen liked beautiful things. He had to have money to afford all the things around her. Some gentlemen were in debt, but Stephen wasn’t one of them. Ichabod hadn’t been in debt, either. He, however, wasn’t very well off. His manor wasn’t as cared for, and his rooms were filled with old and faded decorations and furniture. This place was a startling contrast to what she was used to.

  The butler came into the room. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the dining room.”

  Lewis gave her another encouraging smile and escorted her out of the room.

  The dining room turned out to be just as beautiful as the drawing room, though the colors in this room were a frosty blue and gold. She’d never seen anyone with such refined taste. But besides that, she wasn’t used to going into rich people’s homes. Maybe everyone with wealth lived like this.

  She and Lewis ate mostly in silence. With anyone else, the situation would have been awkward, but Lewis was a good friend. She’d never once held a romantic feeling for him. To her, he was like an older brother. He had taken her under his wing and made sure she was safe. She had already decided to name the child after him if she had a boy. If it wasn’t for Lewis, she wouldn’t be alive today.

  After they were finished with their dinner, the butler led them to their bedchambers.

  “We’ll have breakfast in the morning then Stephen will talk to you,” Lewis told her as they stood outside her bedchamber door.

  “All right,” she replied then went into her room.

  She shut the door behind her. The room was lit with a few candles, and there was a fire roaring in the fireplace. This room had a hunter green color, and like the drapes and furnishings, there was a gold trim to everything.

  Apparently, Stephen was a gentleman who liked things to match, and he took pride in the things he owned. He was also quick in having his staff do things. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, and her things were already put away.

  This had to mean he intended to marry her, just as Lewis had promised. All at once, she felt the strain of the past month leave her, and she collapsed in the chair in front of the vanity. She was glad to be away from Ichabod’s estate. She hadn’t wanted to return to London. That gypsy and Symon were still there. But she didn’t want to be so isolated anymore, either.

  A knock came at her door. She straightened up in the chair. Who would be knocking? Was it Lewis? Did he forget to tell her something? Or could it be Stephen? Perhaps he had changed his mind and wanted to meet her tonight.

  She went to the door and opened it a crack. She blinked in surprise when she saw it was one of the maids. This one was young. Probably seventeen or eighteen. Patricia had just turned twenty a couple of months ago.

  “I can help you get ready for bed,” the lady said. “Mr. Bachman assigned me to be your lady’s maid.”

  Patricia had never had a lady’s maid before. The maid under Ichabod’s employment had been too busy cleaning the rooms to assist her in dressing and undressing, and that maid had been old. Patricia didn’t know how to handle the fact that this one could very well be her younger sister. Feeling uncertain, Patricia opened the door further and welcomed her into the room.

  “I put your things away while you were eating,” the lady said as she came into the room. “If you don’t like the way I arranged things, I can do it the way you prefer.” She opened the armoire and turned to her.

  Patricia cleared her throat and shut the bedchamber door. “It’s fine. I’m not particular about how things are organized.”

  “My name is Marcy, and any time you need me, just pull the cord on the wall over there.”

  Patricia glanced over at the wall where a green cord hung from the wall.

  “Would you like me to help you into your nightclothes, or would you like me to take care of your hair first?” Marcy asked.

  “I’d like to change clothes.”

  With a nod, Marcy turned to the armoire.

  It was going to be strange getting used to som
eone helping her dress and undress, but it left Patricia no doubt as to what Stephen would do. As Lewis had said, she had nothing to worry about. Stephen would marry her. Meeting him tomorrow was just a formality. He had already made up his mind.

  Marcy came over to her with the thick gown she’d wear for the night then helped her get ready for bed. Afterwards, she brushed her hair, rambling about nothing in particular. She probably was uncomfortable with the silence, but Patricia couldn’t think of anything to say. After spending two years at an estate filled with silence, it was hard to adjust to being surrounded by someone who liked to talk.

  Once Marcy was done, Patricia was left alone. The silence returned. She thought she should be relieved, but she wasn’t. She missed listening to Marcy, even though she hadn’t paid much attention to what she’d been saying.

  She blew out the candles then went to bed. She pulled the thick cover up to her chin. The light from the fireplace left shadows along the walls and on the ceiling. One thing she missed from Ichabod’s estate was the canopy bed. It had sheltered her from the shadows that she was now seeing.

  It’s all right. You’re safe here. Nothing can hurt you here. Lewis was right. This place is far removed from anyone in London.

  The baby in her womb kicked, as if to reassure her that everything was going to be fine. Comforted, she rubbed her belly. The action was probably as soothing for her as it was for her child, and, before long, she fell asleep.

  ***

  Stephen hardly slept that night. He couldn’t believe he was going to get married again. Yes, he’d told Lewis he needed to meet Lewis’ widowed sister-in-law before he committed to marrying her, but he already knew the answer would be yes. Lewis was the only friend he had. He couldn’t say no to him, even if it meant breaking a promise he had made to himself.

  After Eloise, he had vowed to never let himself be swindled into another marriage. He didn’t have a choice when he married Eloise. His brother had arranged that for him. At the time, Stephen had blamed his brother for ruining his life, but now he understood Brad had done it because he’d had no other choice. Stephen had been selfish and mean. The only person he’d given any thought to was himself.

  He hadn’t realized how bad he’d been until he married Eloise. Unfortunately, they had been a lot alike. Both had been so wrapped up in themselves that they didn’t care who they hurt. He had deserved her. As Brad had pointed out, he and Eloise had been a perfect match.

  When the morning light filtered past his black drapes, Stephen rose from the bed and got dressed. He always dressed himself. No one was permitted to look at him when he didn’t have the mask on, and he didn’t wear his mask when he changed clothes or shaved.

  He had only one mirror in his bedchamber, and that was left uncovered. Every morning when he dressed, he made himself look at his reflection. It served as a good reminder of the person he used to be. It was a warning that he should never be that person ever again because the physical scars he had on his face mirrored the emotional scars he’d left on others’ lives.

  On this morning, just as he did every morning, he parted the drapes to let more sunlight into the room. Then he took a deep breath, walked to the mirror, and faced his reflection. The only other person who ever saw his face was the doctor, and he had needed to see it in order to stitch up the gaping wounds left from the shards of glass that had dug into his flesh when Eloise struck him with a hand mirror.

  The doctor had said he’d been lucky none of those shards went into his eyes. “You could have lost your sight,” the doctor had concluded. “Count your blessings it’s not worse.”

  It was hard to remember that when his face from the nose on up was covered with grotesque stitches. With a scowl, he turned from the mirror.

  He went to the drapes and closed them. Then he grabbed the mask off of his dresser and left the bedchamber.

  Chapter Three

  Patricia didn’t have an appetite, but she ate that morning because of the child she was carrying. She hadn’t seen Stephen on her way to the dining room. The closer her time came to see him, the more nervous she got.

  Lewis kept up a cheerful ramble. As much as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, her mind kept wandering to what Mr. Bachman was like.

  She’d wondered about Ichabod before marrying him, too, but she’d never gotten the chance to know him. All she’d learned was that he had an unreasonable fear of germs. In fact, he avoided any face to face contact with everyone. Hence why she never even saw him or spoke directly to him. Everything had been done through missives the servants would deliver back and forth between them, and even those had been brief, which left her very little to learn about his personality.

  “But you don’t need to worry,” Lewis was saying. “I’ll take care of the details.”

  Unaware of what he was talking about, she focused in on his next words.

  “The matter of getting a special license will be quick,” he continued. “You’ll be married within a few days. It just depends on how busy the vicar is, and fortunately, vicars are easier to get in touch with since we’re close to London.”

  She poked the last egg with her fork. “Will I really get to see Mr. Bachman today?”

  He sipped his milk then set the cup on the table. “You should call him Stephen. And yes, you’ll get to see him. He’s not afraid of everything like my brother was. He’ll meet you face to face, though, remember, he’ll be wearing a mask. Try not to act surprised when you see it.”

  Reassured by the certain tone in his voice, she nodded and ate the egg while he started rambling again.

  Just as they were finishing up, the butler came into the room and announced that Stephen was ready. “He said not to hurry but that he’s in the drawing room,” the butler concluded.

  Lewis picked up the napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth. “I don’t think I could eat another bite.” He put the napkin on the plate and glanced at her. “Are you done?”

  She had a bun left on the plate, but she didn’t think she could eat anything else. She put her own napkin on her plate. “Yes. I’m full.”

  To be honest, she was relieved. Now she could find out something about this gentleman she was going to marry.

  She and Lewis followed the butler to the drawing room. The drapes were open. She had expected them to be closed since they had been closed last night. The sunlight filtering through the room gave it a surprisingly warm feeling.

  “Mr. Cotter and Lady Pruett are here,” the butler told the masked gentleman who was standing behind the desk. Turning to Patricia, he added, “This is Mr. Bachman.”

  She took a good look at Stephen. Though the mask hid most of his face, she noticed he was younger than she had expected him to be. She didn’t know why, but she had imagined someone in his forties. Judging by his smooth hands and his stature, she guessed he was in his mid-to-late twenties.

  To be fair to Lewis, he hadn’t mentioned Stephen’s age. He’d just said he and Stephen were good friends. She didn’t know why she had assumed he was significantly older than Lewis.

  Stephen gestured to the chairs that were in front of the desk. Those hadn’t been in front of the desk last night. Last night, they had been near the settee.

  “Please, have a seat,” Stephen said.

  Lewis led the way over to the chairs, and she followed, her steps slower than his. As the three sat, the butler closed the doors to give them privacy.

  Lewis leaned forward to get a better look at the parchment on the desk. “You’ve been busy. Do you have instructions on what you want to do with one of your investments?”

  “I do, but that’s not what I have on the desk,” Stephen replied.

  Patricia was shocked by the gentle quality in Stephen’s voice. His tone was softer than most gentlemen’s, as if he was used to whispering.

  Stephen settled back in his chair and directed his next statement to her. “I understand you are in need of a husband.”

  She made eye contact with him. Even more
shocking than the gentleness in his voice was the amazing color of his eyes. They were bright blue. The black mask and black clothes he wore only seemed to emphasize their blueness. She hardly even noticed his dark brown hair.

  “Yes, you understood right,” Lewis spoke for her. “You’ll have to forgive her. I think being in an unfamiliar place has made her shy.”

  Stephen broke eye contact with her and looked at his friend. “Yes, that’s probably it.”

  By the tone in Stephen’s voice, she got the impression he didn’t believe Lewis. She cleared her throat. Perhaps it might do her well to stress how tenuous her situation was. “I was married to Lewis’ brother, but he choked to death while eating dinner. I am carrying his child. I have nowhere else to go.”

  “You could have stayed at your deceased husband’s estate,” Stephen said.

  She shook her head. No, she couldn’t. Those servants at her first husband’s estate were always quiet, and she rarely ever saw them. It had been bad enough when Ichabod had been alive. At least then, she had his missives, but once he died, she had nothing.

  “She and the child need the care and protection of a husband,” Lewis replied. “It will benefit the child to have your name.”

  “If she has a boy,” Stephen told Lewis, “then the child will be your brother’s heir. I can’t give my name to him.”

  “What if she has a girl?” Lewis asked.

  Stephen’s gaze went back to her. “Forgive me for being insensitive about your condition, but is this really Lewis’ brother’s child?”

  Cheeks warm, she said, “Yes.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you with the question,” Stephen hurried to assure her. “Personally, I don’t care if the child is his or not. I just want to make sure if there is a boy, then it’s legitimately his. I don’t want to rob Lewis out of a title. The boy would inherit the title instead of him. With you living away from London at the time of conception, no one in London is aware of the child’s existence.”