The Nuisance Wife Read online

  "A small business?" he said with confusion. "What business is that?"

  "I create and print educational material for charities."

  The answer was not what he expected. "And that is your one and only stipulation?" A business. He could hardly see it. Well, she had always liked drawing, he supposed.

  "Yes, that is my only stipulation. The divorce will conclude with the transfer of ownership of all assets, contracts, and liabilities related to this business to me. And that includes any products related to the business that I have."

  Tapping his thumbs together, he tried to think through any way she might be trying to dupe him through this action. "And what assets are involved with this business?" The only thing he could think of was property of his estate which she had drawn into the business. It wasn't the townhouse, because there had been no sight of her there when he'd arrived, and the servants had been queried. She hadn’t involved herself with them or the house in any way.

  "Only printed material we have created."

  "Alright, fine. I agree."

  The ghost of a smile flittered across her lips. "Good, right. Then you can depend on my guilt," she said tartly.

  "I will, of course, be very disappointed if you don’t carry through with your end of the bargain."

  "I certainly will."

  "I have by nature become quite suspicious of your vows."

  "Then you will be pleasantly surprised," she stated. "But Mr. Holsten will be very disappointed in me if I don't get this bargain in writing, and the agreement to transfer the business and anything pertaining to it into my ownership."

  If this was some kind of ruse, it may be worth it for an expedient divorce trial. It would make things easier, especially if Mr. Castle Garrick's continued absence proved to be a problem. He was still suspicious. "Well, I am pleased you have decided to be amiable with regards to this. I don't think either of us wants a drawn-out and protracted affair."

  "Have a signed agreement sent to Mr. Holsten, and then you simply have to inform us when the trial is. I will be there. Good day."

  Her goodbye greeting was curt. It seemed she had no other business she wished to discuss and had obviously gotten what she wanted. She was gone before his bow was complete. Clearly not keen to linger in his company.

  Slowly, he sat down again, not entirely sure what he’d just agreed to. A business. It wasn’t what he'd expected. Charity work. Well, that did sound kind of like her. And this was the one thing she wanted from this marriage, because it was the only thing she bargained for. It may well be that he would have made more concessions for her guilty pleas, but she had settled for the 'inconsequential' business she had built.

  Well, it was done now. He had agreed, and he would keep that bargain no matter what it turned out to involve.

  Maybe he didn't need to trace Mr. Castle Garrick now, as it was likely to greatly increase the duration of this divorce. "Mr. Jones?"

  Jones appeared. "I just showed her out."

  "Did you mail the letter I gave you?"

  "Yes, it has gone."

  Damn, he said silently. Involving this woman might be entirely unnecessary, but the letter had gone, and it wasn't worth chasing it down. "Right, thank you," he said absently.

  Chapter 12:

  IN HIS DRESSING ROBE, Caius sat at the desk in his bedroom and tapped his finger on the polished mahogany. The events of the day before kept returning to his mind—his agreement to sign over the business Eliza had built to her. It was the fact that she had built a business that astounded him. He would never have guessed it. Equally interesting was her single-minded determination to protect it.

  From her perspective, she saw it as a source of income, which was understandable. As a divorced woman, an income was crucial, so it was hardly surprising she’d sought to secure it. Still, she had said it was inconsequential.

  What kind of business was it? According to her own words, it provided educational material to charities. What could that possibly mean?

  Rising, he walked to the door in swift strides. "Jones!" he called. It took some moments before the man appeared.

  "What do you want?"

  The man's manners were something Caius had given up on. Jones was never going to be the mild-mannered servant, but he was supremely good at organizing. The man could orchestrate an invasion of Scotland if it should prove necessary. "There is a business producing educational material for charities. Probably situated in Lambeth or thereabouts. Could you be so kind as to find it."

  "You have a name for this business?"

  "No, but Mrs. Hennington is the proprietress. Maybe if you ask around, someone thereabouts will know of her."

  "You have the address of her rooms. I could simply follow her."

  The statement gave him pause. That sounded a little too shifty. "If you must," he finally conceded. "But don't be seen." The last thing Caius wanted was Eliza marching over here accusing him of having her followed. A practice not unknown in divorce cases, truth be told. Although hardly necessary as she was to plead guilty.

  So it seemed she was ready to acknowledge what she’d done. No doubt, she would be asked to provide details in court with regards to it, and Caius wasn't sure he wanted to know. Hearing it might bring back all the unpleasantness he'd been embroiled in at the time. It certainly wouldn't be delightful to have those details publicized in every newspaper in the country.

  Jones left, no doubt delighted in a bit of reconnaissance.

  Feeling restless, Caius returned to his desk and sat down. He should probably dress, but there was no real hurry. Nothing urgent was pressing on him, particularly now that Eliza had agreed to plead guilty. Perhaps her conscience had held sway on her. But the idea that she traded this plea for her business still sat with him. Perhaps it was a sensible choice for her.

  Which now left him with the decision of how much to provide for her in ongoing support after the divorce. Technically, he didn't need to, and it could even be unnecessary that he do so if this business supported her. There were just so many unsettled questions. Not to mention having to deal with Bickerley, which he needed to do.

  With a sigh, his eyes perused the desk, seeking something here that needed him. No, he had to plan a trip to Bickerley and pulled over a fresh piece of paper with his Hennington letterhead. Another thing to do was to order new letterhead.

  He addressed the letter to his late uncle's butler, informing the man to expect him in a few days' time. What he would find at Bickerley, he had no idea. His uncle could have let things go to rack and ruin in his last years. It wasn't unheard of with elderly estate owners. His uncle had always been a strong, stout man, but age had a way of undoing strength. As for himself, he couldn’t imagine old age, or his life at his uncle's age. It would clearly be at Bickerley too. Perhaps he would never get to such advanced years.

  A wife and children by his side was something else he couldn't imagine. There had been a time when he'd seen his future with Eliza, but with her betrayal, he’d given up on the idea entirely. And he didn’t relish the thought of choosing another bride. Such duties would have to wait until after the divorce was settled. Being titled with good prospects, it wouldn't be too difficult. And at this point, he was looking for good character rather than someone who inflamed him.

  Abandoning the desk, he dressed and checked the weather outside. Gray skies with a potential of rain, he would guess. The paper would be waiting for him downstairs and he would read it with his breakfast. That was really how far his plans went. Perhaps he should have the Bickerley accounts sent to him so he could study them before journeying there.

  Breakfast was a silent affair in an empty room, the turning of the newspaper pages sounding stark as it echoed off the walls. London went about its business with misdeeds, financial gains and losses and whatever scandal was the talk of the town. It would be him soon enough. With Eliza pleading guilty, he could well be painted as the pitiable wronged party. It was true, but he didn't like the idea of being pitied. It had driven
him from England in the first place.

  But one could never truly escape anything. All his problems had simply waited patiently for him to return. At least he was less heated about it all now.

  Jones' steps were heard. That didn't take long, Caius conceded. The man appeared at the door. "My lord," he said with a nod. It still sounded wrong, his title coming from Jones, but it was still the correct way of addressing him.

  "You found it."

  "I did. Babbling Brook Educational Books it is called. It is located in a warehouse on Coldwell Street."

  "A warehouse?"

  "Yes."

  That was more than some small parlor business. "A whole warehouse?"

  "Yes."

  Again he was astonished that Eliza would do such a thing. And Babbling Brook. That had been her name for the stream nearby the house she’d grown up in. He didn't recall the instance of her mentioning it, but he still knew of it. It must have been something she'd mentioned at some point, a fact that had stuck in his head without him being aware of it until it was now mentioned.

  "Deliveries come, deliveries go," Jones continued.

  "Deliveries," Caius repeated absently. "This is a proper business."

  "I would say so."

  "It would not be referred to as inconsequential?"

  "I suppose that depends on the context."

  Caius had to concede the point. From some perspectives, it could be perceived as inconsequential. Eliza had clearly assigned that perspective to him. Still, it was deceptive. Clearly she feared him taking her business away from her. It could still be seen as dishonest misrepresenting the size of the business. "Coldwell Street, you said?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  It may be that he needed to see this for himself to get a true understanding of how severely she’d deceived him. Not that he would have taken the business away from her if she’d been honest, but it was the deception that grated.

  "My coat, I think."

  "You wish me to bring the carriage?"

  "No, I shall walk." Some exercise would do him well. In his new life, there was too much sitting in comfortable rooms for his liking.

  Coat donned, he left his townhouse and walked down toward Parliament and then across the Thames. Such a short distance, but a distinct change in neighborhood. Gone were the fine carriages and silk dressed ladies, replaced with working men and carts. The streets were meaner and dirtier, people going about their business as quickly as possible. This was a place of business and poverty.

  It didn't take long to find Coldwell Street, although he had to ask where the warehouse housing books was from the street vendors, who eventually set him right. No signage was written on the building, which suggested it was rented rather than owned. Eliza had said the business had no assets other than the printed books, so the premises were leased, but it was a large warehouse, which made him question if this really was for charities. The charitable businesses he'd known of were small things, done to pass spare time, but this was not that.

  For a while, he stood there, considering what to do. Should he confront her about her lies? Technically, they hadn't been lies, only bending of the truth. So why was he upset? Because she’d aimed to deceive him once again.

  As he watched, Eliza opening a door, ushering a child out. Caius stared. There was a child? Blood coursed through his body and he had to quell the rage rising sharply. This was more than a simple deception. This was... extraordinary. Was this his child she was hiding from him?

  "Eliza!" he called, his voice booming across the street, sharply drawing her attention. Was that fear of being uncovered in her lies that he saw on her face? "A word!"

  Chapter 13:

  WITH POWERFUL STRIDES, Caius walked toward her, carts and people barely getting out of his way. How was he here? What was he doing here?

  "Lord Warwick?" she said as he approached, a look on his face she hadn't seen for quite a while.

  "There is a child. You've hidden a child from me?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  "You're sorry! Is there no end to your deception?"

  "Rosie, please go back inside for a moment," she said without her eyes leaving him, because at the moment, she wasn't entirely sure she trusted him, or anything related to this extraordinary behavior. Clearly he was accusing her of something. "Go sit with Mr. Henry, and I will come to you in a minute." Breaking her gaze away, she looked and smiled at the girl who was clearly distressed. The girl ran off. "I demand in the future that any correspondence between us be done through our solicitors."

  "Oh, you don’t wish to admit your deception while looking in my eyes?"

  "What deception?" she said harshly.

  "The child. You think it would not be something I needed to know?"

  "I don't understand."

  "My child."

  It dawned on her the mistake he was clearly making. "No, you misunderstand." This felt a little like negotiating with a raging bull. His face was colored with anger and his gaze piercing. How dare he come here and make fallacious accusations? "Simply because you see me walking with a child does not justify your nonsensical accusations?"

  "You deny it?"

  "Deny what exactly?"

  "That you carried a child in secret."

  "That child is eight. I think you would have noticed if I was nursing a child when we married." Her voice was rising and she was conscious that people were noticing them quarrel in the street like some uncouth pair.

  "So you had the child before we married and then hid it. There's—"

  "There has to be an end to your ridiculous accusations!" she said sharply. "The child is not mine."

  He snorted, clearly not believing her. "Good day, sir."

  "My lord," he said sharply, correcting her address.

  "Why don't you bring up my lack of proper respect during the court case," she bit sharply. "Now leave me be, you ridiculous man."

  Eliza marched off, unsure if he followed her. This was embarrassing and completely unjustified. Clearly he had an opinion of her that assumed she was capable of anything. Abruptly, she stopped. Rosie was still inside the warehouse and she couldn't walk off without her.

  Turning, she walked back, Caius still staring at her. With harsh strides, she walked back.

  "Are you claiming this is not your child?" he asked.

  When had he become so utterly unreasonable? "That dog, that lamp post and that cart are not mine either, even as they are around me right now. Now please leave."

  Moving past him, she walked toward the door to the warehouse.

  "But this is your warehouse."

  She paused. "It is a warehouse I lease."

  "For the completely inconsequential business."

  "As I told you, I print and sell books for charities. Everything I said was true."

  "You did not convey the scale of things."

  Letting go of the door handle, she walked back to him. "Do you wish to renege on our bargain so you can take my business?"

  There was a faltering in his eyes. An uncertainty. "No," he said.

  "Good. Now please leave, you have done quite enough to terrify small children today. And as I said, if you have any other baseless accusations, please deliver them to my solicitor. Good day."

  With that, she turned and walked to the door again, disappearing inside without a look back. Away from sight, she stopped. Her whole body shook, her hands. Her heart beat and tears were threatening. Why was dealing with him so hard? And why did she deserve such disrespect? To come and fling idiotic accusation at her, in the street, where anyone could have observed it.

  Taking a deep breath, she wiped her fingers over her eyes. Things were difficult enough without his clear stupidity and carelessness. Why in the world would he jump to the conclusion that Rosie was her child and that she had hidden her from him? It was the most outlandish accusation, and truly it wasn’t in character for him. Who would jump to such a conclusion based on her exiting a door with a child?

  Perhaps his time in the
Far East had destroyed his nerves, or sense. Or he was utterly mad. If the divorce failed to proceed with her guilty plea of adultery, she could start building a case for insanity. Unfortunately, it was not a recognized cause for divorce.

  "Rosie?" she called and the girl appeared, clearly scared and uncertain.

  "He is gone."

  "Who is he?" Rosie asked.

  "That is my former husband. He's not right in the head, but I told him quite clearly not to come again." She tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "What do you think about me calling a hack to take us home?"

  The girl nodded, clearly worried that man was still out there somewhere. Again, Eliza cursed Caius for being such a stupid brute.

  Mr. Henry appeared. "What's this nonsense?" he said.

  "Nothing. Could you be so kind as to call us a hack, Mr. Henry?"

  The man nodded and walked out the door.

  "That man is not a threat," Eliza said. "Just accusations. He's very good at those, but you don't need to fear him."

  "If he comes around again, I'll kick him in the shins."

  "And he'd deserve it."

  Mr. Henry returned and held the door open for them. A hack waited outside and Eliza helped Rosie get in before doing so herself. Once inside, she looked out to see if Caius was still there, but he appeared to have gone.

  Well, this had certainly been a disturbing episode in the queasy saga that was their marriage. For all the damage it would do, it was certainly good to put an end to the miserable union.

  It didn't take them long to get home and Rosie rushed inside while she paid the driver. Finally closing the door behind her as she walked inside.

  "What's this?" Teresa asked, coming into the small hallway. "What man?"

  "Lord Warwick paid a visit today." Eliza really didn't want to talk about this right now, but she understood Teresa's concern when her child had been frightened.

  "And he was yelling at you?"

  "It seemed he was under the impression that Rosie was my child and I had hidden her from him."