The Substitute Bride | Ch 1-4 preview

3. The roadside inn

Gervase Dainard, Marquess of Westford, hardly knew what he had done.

He had, he decided, bailed his feckless young fool of a cousin out for the last time. Over the past few years, since Tom had been sent down in disgrace from Cambridge, Gervase had frequently paid off his gambling debts and dealt with several women with whom Tom had embroiled himself.

A pregnant chambermaid had been discreetly dispatched to a house in the North of England, to marry a widowed gamekeeper. An actress, who claimed breach of promise, was appeased and dismissed courtesy of a large cheque. A notorious French courtesan who tried to blackmail the young Farrington with letters stolen from yet another of his indiscretions - this one a married lady - had likewise been paid off.

For as long as Tom had confined himself to the demi-monde it was one thing. But to dishonour a young woman of his own class was insupportable.

And worse, the niece of the man that Gervase owed his life to.

The Marquess could see no other means of redress, with Tom now fled to Italy and refusing to answer correspondence, than to offer marriage himself.

Gervase cast a glance at the veiled figure beside him. He had no need of nor desire for a wife, he had dispensed with any such notions years ago. He had no idea what he would do with her.

A strange little chit, sitting there covered by her veil. Doubtless it was a show of modesty to conceal the shame that she must feel.

Well, he had restored her honour now. She was the wife of a Marquess, a Marchioness.

He had been momentarily surprised when he had seen her face. Pale and terrified, indeed, but that was perhaps to be expected. But also a beauty. He had even felt a flicker of admiration himself, which he immediately quelled as he recalled her folly.

Remembering the sly charms of the actress and the dusky, sultry allure of the French girl, Gervase thought this latest piece a break from form for Tom. She had a quiet grace, a fineness to her. Were she to bear him heirs - unexpectedly he found himself stirring at the thought - they would be fine looking children.

Gervase had had no plans of having offspring. Tom, for all his faults, was his heir and he had formerly hoped that the young man would eventually settle down and lead a respectable life. Gervase himself had been wilder in his youth, albeit not to the extent of Tom's debauchery. Nonetheless he had felt sympathy towards his younger relative, growing up without a father as he had done, with only a weak and indulgent mother to mould his character.

He had formerly thought Tom redeemable. But as the years passed he had become increasingly concerned that the boy's behaviour was escalating: and now this.

It was the final straw. Gervase now had grave concerns about the family title and property passing to his cousin, which in the absence of his own issue it would do.

Issue. Heirs must be begot, of course, which might mean closer marital relations than he had anticipated. He had vaguely considered that it might be a legal or moral requirement to consummate this marriage, but before meeting the girl had felt no interest in doing so.

Gervase's previous line of thinking was that they would simply lead separate lives. He owned several properties and Westford Park itself was large enough that their paths need rarely cross.

It had been raining when they departed Sir Robert's house and the skies fell even heavier now. The wind had whipped up and the road was becoming slippery and perilous for the horses.

If the carriage wheel broke or a horse fell they would become stranded in this wild weather, far from anywhere, at the mercy of highwaymen who preyed on lonely roads.