A Gentleman's Revenge (The Spinsters Guild, #3)

by Pearson, Rose

  Before he could say any more, the sound of a door being opened had him swiping the air, demanding silence of them all. A small giggle echoed up the hallway towards them, making Sarah stiffen at once, having no doubt in her mind the sound had come from her cousin. There was a whisper or two, another giggle—and then the sound of Lord Ruddington’s voice.

  “I do not think I can do this after all, Miss Marks,” Sarah heard him say, his voice floating towards them—neither loud nor overly quiet. “After everything I have said, I do not—”

  “Do not lose your courage now, Lord Ruddington!” Miss Marks laughed, her footsteps quickening as Sarah, Lady Smithton, and Lord Havisham all turned towards where the sound was coming from. “The carriage is waiting for us, is it not? Then all we need do is make our way to...”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed as her cousin rounded the corner and came to a dead stop. Miss Marks’ eyes flared wide with shock, her cheeks immediately scalding whilst Lord Ruddington stared at them in horror, his face an ashen gray. His gaze moved from Lord Havisham to Lady Smithton, and then, finally, to Sarah.

  “I could not bring myself to do it,” he said hoarsely as though this made sense to her. “I wanted to, I truly did, but when it came to it, all I could think of was you.”

  Sarah’s eyes burned with tears, but she did not let them fall. Instead, she forced herself to walk towards her cousin, her head held high and her courage rising within her.

  “Come, Miss Marks,” she said firmly, taking her cousin’s elbow and turning her around. “Your mother is looking for you and I am so glad to have discovered you again. It was a long time for you to be indisposed, I must say. A headache, mayhap?”

  Her cousin jerked her arm away as Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham drew near. “I do not think you have any right to interject yourself into a situation where you are not wanted, Sarah,” she stated as if Sarah herself was somehow in the wrong. “I must insist—”

  “You will go with Miss Crosby and do as she says.” Lady Smithton’s voice was loud and authoritative, making Miss Marks jump in surprise. “And I do not think you should see Lord Ruddington again, Miss Marks. I have saved your reputation once. I should not like to have to reveal it to either your mother or your father, not when they have such high hopes for you.”

  Sarah took her cousin’s elbow again, refusing to so much as glance at Lord Ruddington. “Come,” she said again, and this time, to her very great relief, Miss Marks went willingly. Together, they walked away from Lord Ruddington, hearing the music beginning to draw towards them as they approached the drawing-room. Sarah’s heart was aching with a deep and terrible pain, but she forced it away from her heart, fixing herself only on what must be done and not on what she felt. Lord Ruddington could be nothing to her now. He had to be forgotten. She had to set her back against him, just as she was doing at the present moment.

  He was not, it seemed, the gentleman she had thought him to be. He had broken her heart completely, and Sarah did not think there would be an easy way for it to be mended.

  Chapter Eleven

  Encouraging Miss Marks from the drawing-room had been a lot easier than Daniel had expected. Having come in with the other gentlemen from the dining table after having drunk a glass or two of excellent port, he had immediately spied Miss Marks standing almost in the center of the room, with virtually every eye upon her. His heart had begun to pound furiously, knowing full well what it was he intended to do and yet struggling to find the courage within himself to do it. When Lord Britton had decided to ask some of the younger ladies to perform, Daniel had taken the opportunity to move closer to Miss Marks, who had seemed glad to have his company again. That had been a relief, given Miss Marks had not paid him a great deal of attention over dinner, which had filled Daniel with the concern that she would not be eager to speak to him and certainly not at all inclined to go with him when he asked.

  That had been the first moment when doubt had hit him. A vision of Miss Crosby had risen in his mind, her gentle smile lingering in his memory and drawing love from his heart. Closing his eyes, he had battled to keep his thoughts and intentions solely fixed on what he was now to do, fighting against the desire to turn away from Miss Marks and from the plan he had set in place.

  With a deep breath, he had turned to Miss Marks and tried to smile at her. It had been a less than convincing smile, he was certain, but whilst the lovely Miss Latham had taken to the pianoforte, he had quietly suggested to Miss Marks that they might slip away together for a few moments. She had turned her pretty head and looked at him, her eyes curious and no smile upon her lips. Holding his breath, he had not said another word, recalling how Miss Marks had chosen to behave improperly before, leaving Miss Crosby in the carriage when she ought to have taken her with her. Eventually, however, Miss Marks had smiled, her eyes had softened, and a coy look had come into her expression. She had nodded then and whispered to him that she would make her exit within a few short minutes.

  His heart had not thrown itself around within him with joy. Nor had he felt any delight. Instead, it had felt as though a rock had settled within his stomach, pulling him downwards. With burdened steps, he had left then as surreptitiously as he could, but no one had seemed to care anything about his presence within the drawing-room. How he had paced, waiting impatiently for Miss Marks to come out of the room! His courage had failed him on one or two occasions, making him want to turn on his heel and march away before Miss Marks could appear. The second time, he had made it as far as the door but, just as he had reached it, the door handle had turned, and Miss Marks had stepped inside.

  She had been thrilled to see him, giggling childishly with one hand pressed to her mouth in order to stifle the sound. He had pasted a broad smile on his face, pretending to be delighted to see her, and then had caught her arm and hurried her towards the next room he could find. It had been the library. Of course, once they had stepped inside, Miss Marks had expected something of him and had drawn close to him at once, her arms going about his neck as she stood on her toes to reach him. He ought to kiss her, he knew, but he could not bring himself to do so, feeling a sense of revulsion rise up within him. He had not been able to speak, knowing the only person he had ever wished to kiss had been Miss Crosby, and had turned away from Miss Marks, putting his head in his hands for a moment.

  His internal conflict had returned with a great deal of struggle running through his mind, telling him over and over that he was doing wrong. He had not wanted to listen to his conscience, trying to find the same determination that had once run through him like wildfire.

  When Miss Marks had queried what was wrong, he had turned to her and caught her hands, urging her a little further into the room and glad there were a few candles lit so they were not entirely shrouded in darkness.

  The words that had come from his mouth had been stuck to his lips. It was, he knew, because he did not want to propose to Miss Marks. He had needed to do so in order to bring about the final part of his plan, and still, he had struggled to say every single word. Of course, Miss Marks had thought him much too overcome with emotion to speak clearly and had laughed at his difficulties instead of reacting in a negative fashion. It had meant that he had been able to take his time, trying to pretend he cared about the lady who stood before him when his heart had been warring within him, throwing up to his mind the affection he felt for Miss Crosby, telling him of how she would reject him the moment she heard of this. At that moment, he had known he was the one digging the gulf between himself and Miss Crosby, the one that would never be filled again. He was the one taking what he felt and burying it deep within himself so that it would never be given to the lady he was certain he loved. Questions had run through his mind as he tried to finish speaking to Miss Marks. Was what he was doing right? Was there some other way to seek justice? Looking into Miss Marks eyes, he had felt his heart strike with a dull pain, seeing just how innocent she was and knowing precisely what he was about to do to her.

  But somehow, he ha
d managed to get the words from his mouth, pretending he cared deeply for Miss Marks, pretending he had thought of nothing else but marrying her. It had been as Miss Crosby had said. Miss Marks had been eager to accept his invitation—although she had not expected him to propose, it seemed! She had been quite overwhelmed, her mouth falling open in astonishment and her eyes rounding.

  “I had thought you only meant to ask me to court you,” she had breathed, her hands pressing into his. “But now you seek to make me your wife?”

  “It is my dearest wish,” he had replied with all the fervency he could muster and hating every word. “Do say you will be my bride, Miss Marks. I have the carriage already prepared. We can marry over the anvil by this time tomorrow.”

  This remark had, of course, prompted Miss Marks to gasp in astonishment and to, thereafter, stare at him with wide eyes, not understanding his urgency. He then had taken a good deal of time to explain why he wished to marry her so quickly, telling her he could not wait for the required four weeks for the banns to be called, such was his admiration for her. He had seen the doubt in her eyes and had almost wished for her to refuse him so that he might find a way to escape from this dreadful situation he had placed himself in.

  It had taken some time, but eventually, Miss Marks had agreed. She had told him she had never met a gentleman who adored her with such fervor and she could not help but accept him. It had become something of a game to her, making her laugh at the thought of leaving her father’s house without either of her parents knowing of it. She had whirled about the room, voicing her thoughts over what her father might say or how her mother might react, making him realize just how much of a child she still was. Miss Marks did not take the idea of matrimony with any seriousness. Instead, she laughed at the thought of running away with him, thinking it one great adventure instead of what it truly was—a decision that would ruin her reputation forever. Yes, she believed they would be married, but still, her family’s good name would be marred by her choice. There would be whispers and rumors and gossip, and they would have to return to London to face that. Daniel knew the consequences of such a thing, whereas Miss Marks did not.

  His confidence had wavered entirely then, seeing her flitting about the room like a moth dancing in the candlelight. Her delight and her supposed happiness had ripped at him, imagining his sister in this very scenario. Was he truly about to bring such disaster upon her? Was this what he wanted? He had thought that, in having Miss Marks accept him, he would feel nothing but boundless joy, overwhelming relief, and a burst of confidence, but instead, all he felt was pain. Pain that he was about to do something truly terrible, something that would rip him from society forever. Miss Crosby’s gentle face had hovered in his vision, making him wonder what she was doing at the present moment. He had watched her over dinner, trying to take in her features, to commit her face to memory so that he would not forget her. How much she would despise him now! How poorly she would think of him! Daniel had struggled to keep his resolve, not quite certain this was what he wanted to do any longer. Even as Miss Marks had taken his hand and begun to hurry him towards the door, Daniel had felt his resolve weaken all the more. It had begun to shatter about him, cracks appearing everywhere as she opened the door carefully, looking out to ensure there was no one about.

  His heart had quickened, his breathing becoming labored as the severity of the situation hit him full force. Miss Marks had giggled, turning back to grasp his arm and tug him out into the hallway. His steps had been heavy, his whole body burning with a sharp agony, and he had found himself turning away from it all. The thought of being separated from Miss Crosby burned painfully into his mind, forcing him to reconsider. Miss Marks’ innocent face lingered in his thoughts. She was not to blame for any of what had gone before. He was using her to take revenge upon the family, but she would carry the burden of what he had done for the rest of her days. That, he knew, was wrong. He could not do such a thing to her. And was there not something between himself and Miss Crosby, something that might become truly wonderful within itself if he would only allow it to grow? Was his need for revenge so strong that it would overcome and overwhelm all he felt for the lady?

  “I do not think I can do this, Miss Marks,” he had said, his voice a little louder than it ought to have been as he fought to find the right thing to say. A swell of relief had rushed over him, making his skin prickle with the shock of his decision. A decision he had known was the right thing to do. “After everything I have said, I do not—”

  Miss Marks had laughed again, cutting him off. “Do not lose your courage now, Lord Ruddington,” she had said, hurrying him out of the library and making her way towards the front door. “The carriage is waiting for us, is it not? All we need do is to make our way to...”

  She had come to a dead stop and, until his head had lifted, he had not known why she had stopped so suddenly. It was only when he had looked into the faces of Lady Smithton, Lord Havisham, and Miss Crosby that he realized what had occurred.

  “I could not bring myself to do it,” he had found himself saying, looking straight at Miss Crosby and seeing the white in her cheeks, the dark sorrow in her eyes. “I wanted to, I truly did, but when it came to it, all I could think of was you.”

  Now, Daniel stood quietly and looked after Miss Crosby and Miss Marks as they walked away, feeling shame envelope him completely. He had failed. His resolve had come to naught. He was weak and ridiculous, having been entirely ruined by his conflicting feelings instead of finding the courage he needed in order to fulfill his plans.

  “I think, Lord Ruddington, that you had best go with Lord Havisham,” Lady Smithton said clearly, her brows low and her eyes sparkling with fury. “Lord Havisham, we shall not do as we planned, but mayhap we might discuss matters further in a few days’ time? Although whether or not I am able to persuade Miss Crosby to attend also, I cannot say.” Her voice was as cold as her gaze, making Daniel drop his head low.

  “Please,” Daniel croaked, not even daring to lift his head as Lady Smithton glared at him. “Please, if there is any way in which she might be willing to listen to me, then I should be truly grateful for the opportunity to explain myself.” His spirits sank low. “Not that it will absolve me in any way. I quite understand.”

  “No,” Lord Havisham agreed, gruffly. “No, it will not.” He sniffed, cleared his throat, and then came to stand beside Daniel as though he expected him to run away or refuse to do as Lady Smithton had asked. Shame poured itself over Daniel, clinging to every part of him and refusing to let go. Daniel did not fight it but rather accepted it, knowing he deserved every single piece. He had done wrong. Yes, he had not fulfilled it, and yes, he had turned away from the idea of eloping with Miss Marks, but that did not mean his intentions had not been there, ready to do as he had long planned. Had it not been for his feelings for Miss Crosby, then he might very well have taken Miss Marks to his carriage and continued on. In a way, she had been the one to stop him, to prevent him from doing something so terrible that he would never have been able to recover from it.

  “We will speak again very soon, Lord Ruddington,” Lady Smithton said firmly. “I have some things I wish to impart to you and, if I can encourage Miss Crosby to attend also, then I feel as though she deserves an explanation from you. An explanation as to why you chose to pursue someone such as Miss Marks—and in such an inappropriate manner—when you had something more meaningful with Miss Crosby herself!” She took a small step forward, her eyes narrowed and her cheeks a little flushed. “You had the opportunity of happiness with Miss Crosby, and yet you chose to attempt to elope with Miss Marks? I do not understand you, Lord Ruddington.”

  “There is an explanation,” he replied hoarsely, still not lifting his head. “Not a good explanation, I will admit, but one nonetheless.” His heart broke as he recalled the way Miss Crosby had looked at him, aware of how she had appeared both angry and utterly shocked. “It was only because of what I felt for Miss Crosby that I was prevented from tak
ing my revenge.”

  “Revenge?”

  The word sounded brash and hard on Lord Havisham’s lips, making Daniel look up. Lord Havisham was looking at him in confusion, his brows low.

  “I am the very worst of men,” Daniel admitted as though this was an explanation. “I shall tell you all everything, I swear to you.” His guilt piled high upon his shoulders, and he knew that even in speaking about what he had done, he would not be able to remove it from himself. “And if Miss Crosby will not come with you, then tell her to seek out and speak to a Mrs. Laurencekirk.”

  “Mrs. Laurencekirk, Lord Ruddington?” Lady Smithton’s voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing as he glanced up at her. “Someone else you have sought to treat poorly?”

  He shook his head, not reacting to the sharp jibe. “No, indeed not, Lady Smithton,” he replied without anger. “Someone I have sought to aid, although I have gone about it in the most dreadful of fashions.” Quickly, he gave the address and turned away from Lady Smithton, not having even a smidgen of hope that Miss Crosby might be convinced by his words. There was so much pain now, so much brokenness. He would not blame Miss Crosby if she did not so much as want to see him again, never mind discover the truth about his actions and his intentions.

  His head still low, he walked towards the front door of the house, seeing the butler melt out of the shadows as he did so. Had any of the staff overheard what had been said? Had any of them seen himself and Miss Marks? He had to hope that they had not, for any rumors about Miss Marks would make things all the worse for her.

  “Your carriage is waiting for you, Lord Ruddington,” the butler said, handing him his hat and gloves. “Lord Havisham, allow me to collect your things also.” He stepped away for a moment, leaving Daniel and Lord Havisham standing together.

  “To Whites, I think,” Lord Havisham grunted, making Daniel turn his head and look at the man in surprise. “I can recognize when there is a deep, painful burden on a man’s heart, Lord Ruddington. I am not at all suggesting I agree with anything that you have done, or that I am content with your actions, but I think it would be best to fortify yourself a little before you return home.” A small glimmer appeared in his eye. “A sorrowful man can sometimes be inclined to behave in ways that bring more pain to himself thereafter, should he be left alone to dwell in his regrets.”