A Loveless Marriage

Chapter 3: Fred

The private detective licked his fingers as he read through his notebook. He could tell me nothing of any use that I do not know already. Mary Taylor remained an enigma, an orphan who became a companion to a grumpy old woman. There were hundreds of such girls and they were all equally as unremarkable. So why had my uncle so keen on me marrying her? Haydock, the detective, looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. 

"That is all," he said apologetically.

"It can't be," I replied.

He sighed and took a pinch of snuff, I shuddered at the vulgarity.   I could see there was nothing to be done except shove a few grubby coins his way and leave.
I found my way to my club, settled down in a leather armchair and started on large cognac. The club was a refuge to all its members, full of the smell of leather and cigars and free of the fairer sex. Usually, this place brought me peace of mind but as I drank another brandy, rage crept up at the unfairness of it all. It was bad enough I was condemned to marry an utter stranger to get a fortune that should by rights be mine, but my uncle had chosen the one girl in England who was not falling over herself to marry me. I thought of her face, her expression as she looked at me. Glacial indifference. She cared nothing for my pain, for my suffering. I'd be surprised if an ice maiden like that cared for anyone but herself.  As I drew deeply on my cigar, I pondered what I could do to thaw the girl. I was so lost in thoughts, that I barely noticed Alexander McKenzie saunter in.  He sat down in front of me and ordered another two snifters.

  "You look like a man who's just lost their last guinea on the Grand National," he said with a hint of mirth. "I thought your rich uncle had just died?"

I sighed and took another sip of cognac, the amber liquid burning my tongue with sweet fire. 

"There's been a complication with the Will," I drain the glass and signal for another.

"The old man stiffed you?" McKenzie said, balancing his mirth and concern.

Miserably, I explained the predicament I was in and he sat listening, his thoughtful grey eyes never leaving my face.  Even as I spoke I turned it over in my mind, what sort of girl would rather stay in paid companionship rather than marry me.  I caught a glimpse of my face in the reflection of a brass lamp; even distorted my face was handsome. The ruin of many a young lady, I thought with a chuckle.  My father had given me very little of value except for my handsome face.  The idea that the girl could not be drawn to me was downright impossible.  I had given her time to reconsider and she still refused me, contempt curled on her rosebud lips. Every refusal animated me, there was nothing I liked more than a good hunt but my debts were mounting.  

"So who is the girl?" McKenzie asked.

"She's a nobody, " I said with a groan.  "A pretty orphan with no friends or family."

"So there is nobody to make her see sense? Not the old lady?"

"Agatha Chorley would never do anything for other people."

"Oh, that's who she is a companion to?" McKenzie said, looking thoughtful.

"Do you know her?" I asked, hoping there could be someway in.

"Only by reputation, she plays bridge with my Aunt Gladys," he replied.

"I need better insight than the old puss plays bridge."

I saw his brow furrow as he thought, as something was slowly ticking in his cranium. He took a furtive look at me and took a deep drink. I gave a hopeful smile, McKenzie rubbed his chin deliberately.

"Bella," he said eventually.

"Your sister?" I asked surprised.

McKenzie's frown deepened until his ginger brows met. He had good reason not to want to mention his sister's name to me. Her infatuation with me was the only thorn in our beautiful friendship. Since she was widowed last year, I'd felt an increasing pressure from her to declare my intentions to marry her. A pressure that I had studiously ignored, a man may want an Athanasian wench for one's convenience but not for a wife. Bella Morton belonged in bordello more than a ballroom.

"Bella will know any gossip to be had," he replied.

I leaned back in my chair with satisfaction. Bella's tongue wagged with gossip at the best of times and once she'd told me what I needed to know, I'd have her tongue put to even more pleasurable uses. McKenzie gripped his glass and stared into the distance, trying to pretend he knew nothing of what crossed my mind. I felt for the man, we had been friends since school and I loved him dearly, but I was not one to resist low-hanging fruit. In all honesty, as beautiful as she was Bella had begun to bore me dreadfully and I had turned my attention to greener pastures.  If I wanted her help, I had to get back in her good graces.

So it was that I found myself in Bella's bed a couple of hours later, listening to her prattle on about her aunt's friends and their boring lives. Her dark auburn hair was ruffled and hung down to her white breasts. She seemed delighted that I wanted to talk to her, rather than just leave her covered in sweat and shame like I usually did. Bella gazed at me with adoration then looked confused.

"Why do you care about an old biddy like Agatha Chorley."

"I need to get her companion to do something so I get my inheritance," I said with something like honesty.

"The pretty little blonde? Oh! I am sure you do," she laughed with a jealous bitterness in her voice. "You're not the only one."

I put one hand between her legs and one around her throat. She whimpered as I began to caress her, so pathetic in her lust. I watch for the signs when she is most vulnerable.

"Tell me," I demanded
"Freddie, I..." she pouted in a way she believed I would find endearing.
My hands gripped tighter on her throat and brought her closer to ecstasy. Bella liked me to be a brute in her bed and I was happy to oblige, half the time my disgust was not false.

"Tell me or you won't finish."

"Agatha Chorley is desperately jealous of any young men who pay the girl attention. Her biggest fear is..."

Bella squirmed beneath me, grunting and sweating like a greased pig. I had grown bored of her months ago but she had the money, she had the power. She'd paid my debts every time I asked and she always made me pay back with false love. It was better when her husband was alive, she was less demanding and I wanted her more. Now I just wanted to be free of her.

Bella gasped my name and I looked down at her, repulsed by her desire. I made her wait, she was panting for my touch but she would get nothing before I heard what I needed.

"Her biggest fear is that William Chorley will find the nerve to speak up."

"Tell me about this William."

"There's not a lot to tell. Good-natured, sporting type. Dull as ditchwater."

"Handsome?"

"Not at all," Bella laughed. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I am going to marry the girl."

Bella's body tensed at that moment and not from pleasure. She pushed my hands away, black eyes glittering angrily. With her lithe body and dark hair, she looked like a hissing cat.    In any other circumstance, I would have found her jealousy mildly amusing but at that moment I needed to diffuse it.

An idea had started to form in my mind and I needed Bella to make it work.