Chapter Eight

T he ride to the parish of Henley-on-Thames was always a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of London. The ancestorial home of the Trembley family, Boxwood Park, stood on the east bank of the Thames some fifty miles west of the center of London.

It was previously a private hunting ground of Edward the Confessor some seven hundred years earlier. It had belonged to the Trembley family since 1685, when one of Derek's ancestors married the illegitimate daughter of Charles II and his mistress. The deer park had been a gift from the king before his death the same year, along with a generous dowry, which had been used to build Boxwood into the home that it was today.

The country air was a gentle balm to Derek's crumbling conviction. He knew, logically, that his brother would be better off in the future if he ended his engagement to Leona, but the way the wind had left his sails since he and Mabel began their plot had been causing him an uncomfortable notion, one he had little experience with.

Could he be wrong?

Logically, no. It was ridiculous to consider, and yet his brother's mood had changed significantly since the previous day after he had slept off his hangover. He evidently had a bit of a row with Leona, who hadn't appreciated being left behind without any word of when he was going to return. She had explained her expectations about their marriage—but Alfred, being only a man, had not taken too kindly to Leona's domineering tone, or the display of her headstrong side.

Evidently, the two decided to make amends that morning, but there was still a palpable tension in the air that seemed to put everyone on edge, including their mother.

"What's wrong?" she asked Alfred, who was in their carriage on the way to Boxwood Park. "I thought you and Leona made up?"

"We did," Alfred said stonily, gazing out the window.

"And yet you're clearly still upset."

"Mother, as much as I'm sure you have a wealth of advice to give on the topic of relationships, I'd rather not talk about it right now."

The countess's brow arched.

"Oh? Forgive me," she began sarcastically. "I forgot that I was in the company of such learned men. Men who, without anything more than the barest note to inform your family of your whereabouts, disappeared for two days, leaving his fiancée alone to…what? Gamble and drink your days away?"

"Mother—"

"Do not pity yourself, Alfred. Everything that happened was of your own doing."

"It wasn't even my idea," he said, glancing at Derek. "He dragged me out to begin with."

The countess squinted at her other son.

"Yes. Why is that, Derek? You've not behaved so poorly since before your father passed away."

Derek shrugged.

"It was a stag night. Besides, I was feeling nostalgic, I suppose. It won't be long until Alfred here is married and I'll be without either of my brothers to gallivant the night away with— nor do I imagine I'll be able to carouse with anyone else, since everyone I know is getting married and settling down."

"It's not as though Fredrick and I won't still come to the club even after we're wed."

Derek shook his head.

"It will not be the same and you know it. There's no use in denying it."

"Well, perhaps you might consider marrying someone soon as well, then. The earldom does require you to have some offspring, Derek."

"There's plenty of time for that, Mother," Derek said, choosing discretion over bringing up the fact that he would likely not marry for several years. Although the idea had recently been more prominent in his mind. But his mother didn't need to know that. "Besides, all is well. Just explain to Leona that it was my fault."

"I did," Alfred said, lifting his chin.

"Oh." Well, that was quick. "And she didn't believe you?"

"She said it was the sign of an unreliable character to blame others for my actions."

Derek studied Alfred, then also his mother.

"She isn't wrong," Derek admitted. "And rather a clever girl if you ask me."

"Quite right," the countess said with a firm nod. "Nevertheless, you should apologize again to make things right. Maybe give her a token to demonstrate your sincerest regret."

"A token? Like what?"

"A bouquet of sweet pea flowers," Derek said, the words nearly sticking in his throat. "I'm sure any woman would forgive a man who gave her a pretty posy. I believe there are some growing in the potager garden at Boxwood."

"Sweet pea flowers… Do you think that will be enough to satisfy her?"

"Whether it will be enough or not, who knows? But it's worth a try, isn't it?"

Alfred nodded.

"I suppose."

Derek's mother didn't say anything, but he knew she was staring at him intently, and he sensed her gaze on him for the rest of the way to the estate.

When they reached Boxwood Park that afternoon, everyone seemed eager to stretch as they climbed out of their carriages. Leona was instantly set upon by Alfred, who offered her his arm. Derek, meanwhile, was watching Mabel, who was peering up at the large house, her mouth slightly ajar.

Boxwood Park was a red brick building that had begun from a simple base but that had been added on quite a bit during the eighteenth century, with the new additions in a neoclassical style. The hall faced west, as it was situated to look over the water. A series of carefully placed hedgerows framed the vast lawn that had a stunning view of the river Thames.

Derek took great pleasure in seeing Mabel's clear blue eyes widen as they made their way into the foyer. All the floors in Boxwood Park were in a black and white checkered pattern, and the walls were cream-colored and adorned with vast paintings of river scenes. Black marble pillars could be found in most of the grand rooms, such as the ballroom and library, and seasonal flowers filled nearly every vase, as per the countess's standing request for when the family was in residence. Their London home was finely decorated, but there was something about Mabel's assessment about this home that stirred a feeling of pride in Derek. Before he could think too deeply about that, he approached her with the idea to give her a tour himself.

"If you would like, I could show you and your sister around. After luncheon that is."

Mabel gazed up at him, a knowing smile hovering on her lips.

"Do you think that wise?" She glanced around them, her voice lowered. "We wouldn't want to appear too at ease with one another, lest anyone guess at our partnership."

Derek smirked. "I doubt very much that anyone would suspect that we were in each other's confidences. Besides, it might give us a chance to evaluate the situation thus far."

"I suppose that is a good idea," she said as Leona appeared at her side, causing Mabel's expression to shift to one of concern. "Leona, are you well?"

"Actually, I'm feeling a little tired. I may go rest for a bit," Leona said softly. "I think the ride here did not agree with me."

"Oh, dear. Do you wish to go upstairs?"

"No, thank you," she said, facing Derek. "Please, do not let my absence deter you from any activities you may undertake."

Leona smiled briefly before Alfred appeared by her side.

"Here, let me help you," he said, reaching for his fiancée. "I'll show you to your rooms."

"I'm quite able to manage myself, thank you," she said coolly as she moved around him.

Undeterred, he followed her, leaving Mabel and Derek alone at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh dear," Mabel breathed. "She is not pleased."

"I suppose it's working then," Derek said.

"Yes," she answered, but she didn't sound entirely happy about it.

Derek offered her his arm, and she took it, causing a sense of pleasure to curl through him. He escorted her to the dining room, where a luncheon had been laid out. The meal was a quiet affair, and the fare was excellent—consisting of roasted chicken, freshly baked bread, seasonal vegetables, butter, and jams. Alfred appeared a quarter of an hour later, a satisfied grin on his face. Derek wondered what exactly he was smiling about when his mother stood up.

"I'm going to rest for a bit. The trip always takes it out of me, I'm afraid. Alfred?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Have you received news from your brother? I don't understand why he couldn't come with us this morning."

"He had a meeting with the Duke of Carberry about breeding one of his thoroughbreds for racing. Have no fear, Fredrick will be here tomorrow with the Combes."

"Very well then," she said, shaking her head. "Why he needs to involve himself in such a silly pursuit, I'll never know."

"He has a talent for it."

"I hope he does—otherwise, his fixation will make him look like a fool," she said, turning to the rest of them. "Now if you'll excuse me."

The countess left as Derek and Alfred stood. Mabel took one last sip of her tea before also standing.

"Now to go out and find a dozen or so sweet peas," Alfred said. "Excuse me."

With a nod, Alfred disappeared, leaving Derek and Mabel alone once more.

"He seemed rather pleased with himself when he came in," Mabel said. "I wonder why."

"Well, hopefully the posy of sweet peas will throw off whatever reconciliation has settled between them."

"Yes," she said, and again, her tone sounded vexed. He glanced at her.

"I hope you are not having second thoughts about our plan. It's for the best, Mabel. Truly."

"Yes. Yes, I know that, it's just…" But she shook her head. "Never mind."

Derek understood her apprehension. It felt odd trying to wedge Leona and Alfred apart, mainly because of how genuine they were with one another. But Derek and Mabel had a plan, and it was for everyone's betterment in the long run.

"Come," he said, offering her his arm.

They began the tour in the portrait gallery—a long, wood-paneled hallway set in the west wing of the house. At the end of the hallway, two large French doors were kept open on fine days so that a gentle breeze could waft down the narrow space.

Hundreds of paintings hung from the walls, including dozens of Trembley family members. Derek eagerly explained the history of each and every family member as well as their family's lineage of being descendants of a royal mistress, unsure why he wished for Mabel to know. But he was relieved to note that his stories seemed to dissipate her melancholy state.

"A mistress? How shocking," she said mockingly.

"It is," he replied, noting the warm humor that shone in her eyes. "Are you amused by it?"

"I am. To think, the beginning of your line was because of a love affair. It makes me think a little better of you because of it."

"Really?" he asked, examining the portrait. "I always thought it was something to be, if not ashamed of, then at least apologetic."

"But why?"

"Well, most peers come by their titles from their ancestors' gallant accomplishments. Battles fought and won, services provided to the crown, that sort of thing."

"I think it was gallant of the king to give his children titles. It was his way of supporting them."

"Yes, but there's always the connotation of the land and title being a consolation prize in lieu of being in line to the throne."

"Had you been in line to the throne, my grandfather would have been treasonous against yours," she said with a wink, which caused him to laugh.

The referral to the war with the colonies was a valid point.

"I suppose so."

"Would you really wish to be in line for the throne? It seems such a heavy burden to bear. I think ruling would be a dreadful thing to have to do."

Derek shrugged.

"Dreadful or not, it would be my duty."

Mabel's eyes lifted to study one vast portrait. Derek glanced up as well. It was a family in a natural setting, with several children and a severe-looking man and woman. They were outfitted in court garb from the English Civil War period.

The severity of these paintings always made Derek somewhat uncomfortable. No one appeared happy. By contrast, he remembered how his mother always insisted that they smile when their portraits were being painted. She didn't like the harsh faces of the past either and always beamed herself so that she might be remembered as a happy woman.

"It seems much better to be outside of that world," Mabel continued, bringing him back to the present. "No choice is your own. Every minute of your day is planned out. Countless people depend on you, need you. You must be present at all times."

She seemed to trail off at that moment, and Derek glanced at her. The curiosity he had toward her had grown three-fold in the past few days, and he couldn't stop himself before asking, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What was your life like, when you were married?"

Silence followed. The question had certainly caught Mabel off guard. But whether she would answer him honestly or fend him off with a vague answer remained to be seen.

"It was a marriage," she said vaguely. "No different than any other, I suppose."

She was electing for a vague answer then. That was a pity.

"No different?" he repeated, his voice skeptical.

She shrugged lightly. "Perhaps a little different, but who's to say? I'm not sure what goes on in other marriages. My parents' marriage wasn't like mine and I suppose I always took their relationship as the standard."

"And what exactly led to your divorce?"

She glanced at him.

"Why are you so curious?"

"Because I am." Mabel squinted at him, as if she was weighing his sincerity. He sought to reassure her. "You don't have to tell me if it is unpleasant to recall."

"I'm actually rather indifferent to it."

"Then?"

Mabel gave him a speculative glance before nodding.

"Very well. I didn't leave for frivolous reasons, if you must know. I know how the papers have made it sound. They've made me out to be a right devil. But I assure you, I tried very hard to stay in that marriage."

Derek remained silent until she sighed.

"Very well. I met my husband in Philadelphia just before my official coming out. He was terribly handsome, well-groomed, and attentive. He spoke several languages and was rumored to be a great-grandnephew of General Lafayette. He was welcomed into every home of prestige in Philadelphia, ours included." Her attention drifted to the ground. "I was so taken with him, as was everyone, that I fell in love with him at first sight.

"I assume he relished that I said yes so quickly to his proposal. I was thrilled to have won his heart—or rather, I believed I had won it. He was quick to tell me he loved me, but then he was quick to say a great many things, most of which were untrue. His name and his title were real, but everything else?" She shook her head. "He was so terribly indebted, he and his family, that the only way they could get out from beneath their debts was to marry an heiress. He knew that in America, he would be far enough from his creditors that he could pass himself off as a wealthy man without anyone calling him out on his lies. Moreover, he knew that we would be impressed with his title and his heritage—and in that, he was quite correct. My father was more than happy to make the match, and I was the envy of everyone I knew. Meanwhile, my very large dowry was transferred to him the moment we wed.

"His attitude toward me changed drastically as soon as we left Philadelphia, on the ship to France after the wedding. I'm not fond of water, and had a terrible time on the ship. I thought he might stay in our cabin, to comfort me but…"

She shook her head as if the memory pained her. Derek wasn't sure why, but the image of Mabel, alone and scared in a tiny ship cabin, made him irrationally angry.

"It was my own fault, I know that now," she said quickly, recovering. "With no mother to advise me, I didn't know that husbands preferred their wives away from them. Particularly when they became ill. I suppose I shouldn't have expected so much from him." She paused, her gaze unfocused as if she was peering into the past, revisiting her memories. "You know, he was repulsed by me the first time we laid together. He couldn't stand the sight of blood, and he made me swear never to go near him when my courses started."

Mabel froze as soon as the words were spoken, snapping her mouth shut. It was beyond crass to mention something so private, but it seemed she had forgotten who she was speaking to. Either way she blushed crimson and in spite of the growing loathing Derek was feeling toward her former husband, he couldn't help but appreciate how well the flush on her cheeks suited her. She peeked up at him nervously, as if she expected to be scolded for mentioning something as outrageous and inappropriate as her monthlies in front of a man. But he wasn't deterred by the realities of womanhood, and he waited for her to continue.

"I realize now that it was my fault. I should have realized that being sick in front of him would make me unattractive to him."

"He sounds like a bloody idiot," Derek muttered, which for some reason made Mabel smile.

"Actually, Pascal quite prided himself on his cleverness. Or at least, he liked to believe he was more intelligent than others. It gave him particular pleasure to make others appear foolish.

"He should have stayed with you, if you were sick."

"No. It wasn't a pretty thing to watch—"

"What sort of fool would expect anyone to be attractive when they're ill? He was your husband and as such, he should have protected you, if nothing else, consoled you when you were ailing. It was not good of him to abandon you."

Mabel shook her head again as if agreeing with him would somehow break the conclusion she had come to about men. Still, she continued.

"It didn't get any better once we landed. We travelled east to his family estate, which I soon discovered wasn't the grand castle that he had described. Or rather, it might have been at one time, but it had not been well maintained over the years. What I saw was a dilapidated medieval castle with a leaking roof, drafty rooms, and moldy, moth-eaten furnishings. It also happened to be crowded with a great deal of family that all thought very little of me. I spoke some French, but whether I spoke it correctly or not, I cannot claim to know, because they never acknowledged me."

"They ignored you?"

Mabel shrugged, but also nodded.

"That wasn't the worst of it though. Upon arriving, Pascal introduced me to my lady's maid, Yvette. I thought I might gain a friend for a moment, but it wasn't long before I realized that she was Pascal's lover, positioned as my maid so that she could serve as a spy and make sure that I didn't inform my father or sister about the conditions in France. I was devastated at his infidelity, of course, but I was not yet ready to give up on my marriage. I took my vows seriously and believed that I could win his heart if I just wanted it enough." She let out a sad harrumph . "Wasn't I pathetic?"

"No," he said firmly, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"For a while, he let me believe I was succeeding in winning his affections. I don't know why he bothered with the lie, unless it was to enjoy my devastation when he revealed the truth all over again. He would always wait until I had sunk low enough to beg for his love, and then he'd snatch it away and tell me how pitiful I was. And I was."

"It's not pitiful to be a devoted wife."

Mabel's shoulder lifted and dropped again.

"Whether it is or not, who knows? But I did stop caring eventually. The scullery maid, Juliette began to attend me once Pascal and Yvette's relationship was exposed and she stopped even pretending to be my maid. I was very lucky to have Juliette. She was married to one of Pascal's servants, a brutish man named Jean. He was just as cruel to Juliette as Pascal was to me. I suppose that's why we became such fast confidants.

"With time, I was finally able to find the strength to realize that my marriage was never going to get better. Pascal was never going to love me. And if I wanted to have a good life, it would only be possible if I got far away from him." She paused before adding, "I guess that's why I'm not particularly interested when people tell me that I should have stayed and worked on my marriage. I did everything I could to please him, to get his family to respect me. But after a year I realized that nothing I did would bring them to care for me. So, I told him I was going to leave."

Derek tried not to appear so affected by her story, but he was sure he failed.

"What did he do?"

"He flew into a rage. He berated me. Told me he would lock me away before he would allow me to embarrass him. That he'd rather see me dead than leave. I was able to calm him down by promising not to go anywhere. What he didn't know was that I had already made up my mind and I was determined. I began plotting my escape. Juliette happened upon me during the night I left, and she begged to come with me. She helped me make my way back to Nantes and we took the first ship to America. It was an awful experience. It rained nearly every day for weeks. I was sick the entire time. By the time I reached Philadelphia, my father almost closed the door on me because he didn't recognize me, I had become so gaunt. Once he realized it was me, he brought me in and called a doctor. He proceeded to file for divorce on my behalf."

Derek was quiet as he absorbed all her information. What a horrific experience. He had half a mind to travel to France at once and beat her former spouse to a bloody pulp.

"Dreadful, isn't it?" she said, her tone tinged with humor as she smirked. "Yes, I suppose it is. But I'm not one to wallow. I never was. So, for a few months I licked my wounds, and nursed my bruised pride until I became the woman you see today." She lifted her hands up, as if to show herself to him. "Too brazen to care about people's opinions, not demure enough to win over anyone. But safe."

"Safe?" he asked. She nodded slowly. "You mean, safe from him?"

"No. I mean safe in the sense that I am alone, and no one can hurt me." Her smile was tinged with sadness.

Derek watched her, noting the melancholy behind her words. He realized that Mabel's flippant nature seemed to emerge most strongly when she spoke of unfortunate things. It seemed to be her way of distancing herself from all that tragedy.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be. It's not your fault—"

"No, I'm not speaking of your divorce," he said, halting. "I'm sorry I judged you for it."

Mabel's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly, appearing more startled than anything.

"Excuse me?"

"What I mean to say is, I don't blame you for it. I know marriage can be difficult. Or at least, I assume it can be. I've witnessed it in friends and family. I always expected whatever hardships were found there, that they could be mended, but I suppose that would only work if both persons were willing to do the work to fix it."

Mabel closed her mouth and bobbed her head in acknowledgment, almost too stunned for words. Suddenly uncomfortable, Derek cleared his throat.

"Come. I'd like to show you the fish folly."

Mabel silently followed Derek to an ornamental brick building with several open breezeways. It was only partly visible because of the wood and scaffolding encircling it that was presently being taken apart by several workers.

Some of the men—the bricklayers—wore leather aprons over brown pants and white linen shirts, and most of their fronts were covered in red dirt. The decorative bullnose that wrapped around the steeple of the folly spiraled up to the spire. It was as if a giant had come along and twisted the top half of the ornamental building.

"My, what talent," Mabel murmured as two men carrying a ladder walked past her to load it into a horse-drawn cart. "How did they get it to twist like that?"

"They used red builder bricks. They're fired at a lower temperature for longer in the kiln so they're baked rather than burnt, like most bricks," he said, picking up a broken one from a pile. He lifted it and broke it in half. "They're far softer than regular bricks and therefore can be cut to very specific proportion, allowing for the twisting effect."

"But wouldn't it melt away then or something? Crumble from the elements?"

"It might if it weren't for the sealant that gets put on it once it has been fitted into its shape," he said, tossing the broken brick back into the pile. "These men are just finishing up. I had hoped for it to be finished before the regatta and I dare say it will be."

"But the regatta is tomorrow."

"Yes, but it should be finished by tonight. I'll probably be down here inspecting it all evening to make sure it's ready for tomorrow," he said as he pointed upriver. "You will be able to see the rowers start from a little way upstream. Because we're one of the homes to line the river, it's our custom to host a Wanderers party."

"A what?"

"A Wanderers party. Crowds cheer on the rowers and some people try to follow them all the way from start to finish. It's become a bit of a custom to offer Wanderers food and drink as they go. Of course, a proper ball will be held later and only invited guests will attend that."

"I see. That all sounds rather charming."

"I'm glad you think so."

Mabel smiled at him and to Derek's surprise, it made him feel rather breathless to be on the receiving end of such a sight.

"I think I should like to rest now," she said, glancing back at the house.

"Let me escort you."

They returned to the house, Derek feeling like he was walking on unstable ground. Everything he had learned about Mabel had surprised him, yet he wanted to know more. He was nearly desperate to hear her speak when they reached the house, but when she turned to him, his mind went blank.

"Thank you for the tour," she said.

He nodded at her as she climbed the stairs up to her rooms, leaving Derek unsure why he felt so empty without her company.