‘That’s so sad,’ Harriet said, sniffing. ‘I wish I had known.’
‘My father suggested he pay court to the wealthy and beautiful Lady Maria Cresswell and he beat off healthy competition in order to win her hand.’
‘He offered my father this house to make up for my mother’s disappointment, I imagine,’ Harriet suggested.
‘Not precisely.’ Lady Calder’s prolonged hesitation made Marc uncomfortable. ‘He had put his aspirations in respect of your mother behind him and, although she would always occupy a special place in his heart, he could do nothing more for her. He never expected to see her again. But two months after their separation, he received a letter from her explaining that she was carrying his child.’
Harriet gasped, her expression one of abject shock. Marc, who had anticipated what his aunt had been about to reveal, covered her hand with his own and squeezed it reassuringly.
‘And I am that child?’ she asked faintly. ‘Uncle Frederick was my real father.’
‘Yes, darling,’ Lady Calder said. ‘Have you never wondered why you bear such slight resemblance to your siblings?’
‘It’s true Charlotte favours my mother, but the boys are almost as dark as me.’
‘How did Harriet’s mother come to be married to Aston, then?’ Marc asked.
‘Aston had been a devoted admirer of hers, one whose regard Clara returned, until Frederick came along and turned her head. My brother asked me what I thought he should do. When he told me about Aston we agreed he should be told the truth, to see if he would be willing to save Clara from ruin. It was a daring stratagem. After all, how many men, however violently in love, would take on another man’s child? But Aston agreed without hesitation, vowing to bring you up as if you were his own.’ Lady Calder smiled at Harriet. ‘And I believe he kept his word. Did you ever feel he bore you any resentment, Harri?’
‘No, indeed not, although I suppose it would explain his preference for Charlotte.’
‘Frederick was keen to offer your family a rent-free tenancy of Matlock House in return for Aston giving his child his name. It was our solicitor who suggested adding the clause about profitability, to prevent people looking too closely at why my brother was behaving in such a philanthropic manner.’
‘But would people not have made the connection anyway?’ Marc asked. ‘If my uncle was known to have been paying court to Harriet’s mother, would it not be obvious?’
‘Their courtship was conducted in secret and few were aware of it. I suppose my brother must have realised it would be frowned upon, but I don’t believe he intentionally took advantage of your mother, Harri. It was rather more a case of youth and impetuosity causing him to forget his responsibilities.’
‘I see,’ she said frostily, sipping at the glass of water Marc passed to her.
‘Mr. Aston made a few conditions of his own, principally that my brother should only call at Matlock House once a year. He knew his wife still had feelings for him and didn’t want to risk them rekindling their affair. My brother stuck by that condition and was compelled to watch you growing up from afar, Harri. That is why I was recruited to befriend your mother, eventually becoming your godmother. But he was inordinately proud of you, and loved you very much.’
‘Did he?’ she asked, her face an emotionless mask.
‘I think you know that he did.’ Marc was surprised by the degree to which her pain affected him.
‘It was a difficult time for all concerned, Harri, but you should never doubt my brother’s love for you. Why do you imagine he called here more regularly as soon as your father died and he was absolved from the restrictions placed upon his visits?’
Harriet shuddered and plucked absently at her skirts. ‘You make it all sound so reasonable.’
‘It was the best that could be done at the time. Your mother almost lost her mind when she was forced to separate from Frederick and has never been strong since. You have seen for yourself the deterioration in her since your father’s death and the way she already leans on that odious Binstead character. She has never been good at coping alone.’
Harriet turned towards Marc. ‘Does this make us cousins?’ she asked.
It would appear so.’
‘Then we cannot possibly marry.’ She brightened considerably. ‘It would be incestuous.’
Marc almost smiled. ‘Cousins marry all the time.’
‘Yes, but you’ve only offered for me out of some misguided sense of duty. Now we know that we are related there can be no harm in our having spent the night together.’
‘Only if people were made aware of our relationship. My uncle and your mother kept their secret for many years, and it isn’t ours to reveal.’
‘It directly affects me,’ Harriet protested.
‘Much as I find little to admire in my aunt, even I wouldn’t do that to her.’
‘You will be doing her a worse disservice by marrying me.’
‘That is altogether another matter.’
‘Harrumph!’ She tossed her head, setting a curtain of curls dancing around her head, and addressed Lady Calder. ‘Do you suppose the duke really intended to provide for us?’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt it for one moment.’
‘Then why so much secrecy?’ She frowned. ‘Why not simply add a codicil to his will?’
‘To save his wife’s feelings, I suppose.’
‘My aunt?’ Marc asked in surprise. ‘What does she know of the matter?’
‘Everything, unfortunately. She asked my brother, soon after their marriage and before he discovered the truth about her spiteful nature, why he had made the peculiar arrangements for the tenancy of Matlock House, which some interfering person had told her about. He miscalculated badly by confessing all, assuming she would understand.’ Lady Calder’s smile was grim. ‘That was a grave error. I don’t altogether blame my sister-in-law for being unsympathetic, but couldn’t condone her conduct when she tried to persuade my brother to annul the arrangements he had made. He wouldn’t hear of it, of course, and their relationship never recovered. However, I do know he promised that none of the money brought to the marriage through her dowry would pass to the inhabitants of Matlock House. My brother, being an honourable man, would have kept his word in that respect. He would not publicly leave your family provided for, Harri, since such action would embarrass his wife. And so, whatever he has left you, you may be sure it has been amassed by means other than through his wife’s fortune.’
‘If Her Grace already knows about me, we need not marry,’ Harriet said. ‘The union will upset her more than details of my birth possibly becoming public knowledge.’
‘The engagement stands,’ Marc said, finality in his tone. ‘Leave the dowager to me.’
Harriet narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You are the most impossibly stubborn man!’
‘I do my humble best.’ Marc leaned an elbow on the arm of the couch and rested his head in his splayed hand. ‘Many things are now much clearer,’ he said, thinking of his aunt’s express desire to see the Astons evicted from Matlock House. ‘I wonder what provisions my uncle made for you all, Harriet. Are you sure he said nothing to point you in the right direction when you attended him at Endersby before his death?’
‘He rambled a great deal. The only thing he was most insistent about was that I should accept the silver mermaid as a gift. He said that it was the key to everything.’ She shared a glance between him and Lady Calder. ‘Perhaps that was a significant comment?’
‘Possibly,’ Marcus agreed. ‘But that is not a subject we can dwell upon now. We have taken advantage of Giles’s good nature by leaving him to entertain your mother and sister for too long, Harriet. We ought to re-join the rest of the party.’
In the period before they adjourned to the dining parlour, Marc’s eyes were drawn frequently to the statue of the mermaid. He excused himself during the course of dinner and returned to it, an idea having formed in his mind. He picked up the heavy ornament, pressing it from all sides, convi
nced his uncle would not have parted with it if it were not pivotal to his arrangements for the Astons’ future. But nothing indicated it was anything other than solid, and there didn’t appear to be the remotest chance of anything being concealed inside it. Discouraged, he replaced the statue on the mantelpiece and returned to the dining-parlour.
Chapter Ten
Marc looked up from his desk on the afternoon after the dinner party at Matlock House, disturbed by the sound of wheels on gravel. He glanced out of the window, surprised to see the duchess’s carriage rattle to a halt, not having expected her to descend upon him quite so soon. There hadn’t been time for his letter to reach London and for her to set out to confront him, which meant someone must have sent an express, conveying news of his intentions.
Before he had the opportunity to consider how best to conduct the interview with his irate relation, Ridgeway materialised and informed Marc of her arrival. He need not have troubled himself since the lady in question barged past him, her face flushed with anger, so impatient to confront Marc that she hadn’t even paused to brush away the dust from her journey. The faithful Mrs. Sanderson dogged her steps.
‘That will be all, Ridgeway.’
The butler remained statue-like in the open doorway. He settled a questioning gaze upon Marc and received a curt nod. Clearing the air between himself and his aunt was long overdue, and there could be no postponing this interview. The divide between them was more fundamental than his choice of an inappropriate wife. It was time to remind his aunt who was now head of the family and make her aware that he would not give way to her bullying tactics.
‘A most distasteful rumour has reached my ears, Broadstairs.’
‘Good afternoon, Your Grace,’ he said civilly. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’
‘Don’t play games with me! I have inconvenienced myself by coming to see you in person so you can deny the ridiculous gossip circulating all over London in respect of a certain Miss Aston. Speculation is rife that you’ve actually offered to marry the girl.’
‘Really, ma’am?’ Marc raised a brow. ‘I wonder how such intelligence reached your ears, and so quickly, too.’
‘Ah, so it is untrue.’ The duchess breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘I felt sure Sanderson had got it wrong. I knew even you wouldn’t debase the family name in quite such an infamous manner. Even so, there wasn’t a moment’s peace to be had until you assured me in your own words that the rumours are unfounded.’ She moved to take a seat beside the fire. ‘I cannot tell you how relieved I am.’
‘You are being precipitous,’ Marc replied calmly. ‘I was merely speculating on how such intelligence could have reached your ears so quickly. My letter informing you of my forthcoming nuptials couldn’t have got to you before you embarked upon your journey to Kent. Am I to understand my faithful steward has been over enthusiastic in the execution of his duties once again?’
‘What’s this you say?’ The duchess’s eyes bulged from her scarlet face. ‘Don’t tell me this outrageous rumour is true. I cannot bear it!’
‘Perfectly true,’ Marc relied laconically.
‘This is all moonshine!’ The duchess clutched at her breast. ‘You have completely taken leave of your senses.’
‘I am of perfectly sound mind, I thank you. Am I to be so fortunate as to receive your congratulations?’
‘Oh, this is too much!’
The duchess fell back in her chair in a dead swoon. Marc watched her performance dispassionately, a sneer of contempt curling his lip, and remained utterly unmoved by her theatrics. His aunt had the constitution of an ox and never fainted unless it suited her purpose to do so.
‘Now see what you have done.’ Mrs. Sanderson furiously fanned the duchess’s face and reached into her reticule, presumably searching for the hartshorn.
Marc looked at his steward’s mother, her plain features pinched into an accusatory glare, and something inside him snapped. ‘Get out!’ he said curtly. ‘This matter doesn’t concern you, and I will not be spoken to thus.’
‘I must stay and—’
‘Do as I tell you or I will remove you myself.’
She took no notice of Marc’s dangerously quiet voice, and lingered, fussing over the dowager. Marc, who was usually careful to keep his temper under control, felt it erupt.
‘Get out!’
Mrs. Sanderson glanced at Marc’s features, let out a strangled cry, and fled from the room. She banged the door behind her, leaving the duchess to recover from her imaginary swoon unaided.
‘You may compose yourself now.’ Marc fixed his aunt with a look of disgust and turned away from her. ‘If you can remain civil, I will be happy to discuss the matter of my forthcoming marriage with you.’
The duchess sat up straight again, treating Marc to a glare of intense hatred. ‘You always were the most devious, ungrateful child.’
‘Be silent!’ Marc held up a hand, almost enjoying exacting revenge for all the years of misery he had suffered at this spiteful woman’s hands. ‘If you cannot remain polite, or at the very least say something sensible, then we shall not have a discussion at all.’
‘How could you, Marcus? How could you invite such a creature into the family and make a mockery of us all? I shall never be able to hold my head up in society again.’
Marc affected an expression of surprise. ‘Why ever not?’
‘I should have thought that would be self-apparent, even to someone as lacking in finer feelings as you are.’ If I am, who made me that way? ‘I will have to explain why I gave you my permission to marry such a scheming baggage.’
‘Gave me your permission?’ He raised a brow. ‘I beg your pardon, but why should I need your permission?’
‘Oh, very well, my approbation then. It will be obvious to my friends that I could never approve of such a hussy becoming your duchess. She will make us a laughing stock.’
‘Careful.’ Marc’s voice took on a hard edge. ‘You may say what you like about me. God alone knows, you have never held back in the past. But I will not allow you to insult Miss Aston.’
‘I speak no more than the truth.’
‘Accept that I fully intend to go through with the wedding and make the best of things. No one will know you don’t approve, unless you choose to make it apparent.’ He absently flipped through a pile of papers awaiting his attention on his desk. ‘The wedding is to take place a week on Thursday in the chapel here in the grounds.’
‘So soon?’
‘I see no occasion for delay. If you attend the ceremony and behave in a civil manner towards my wife, society will learn of it and the family name will suffer no ill-consequences.’
‘Whatever stance I take, the family name will be irredeemably tarnished. Oh, to think our future should fall into such ungrateful hands!’ Marc fixed his aunt with a menacing glower, warding off what he suspected would otherwise have turned into another fainting fit. ‘I cannot begin to imagine why you are so intent upon ruining us. You must be doing it to spite me.’
‘I had no more wish to inherit the title than you had to see me succeed to it.’ Marc spoke with quiet dignity. Indeed, there was little he wouldn’t give to have his cousin still alive, taking on the responsibilities that should rightfully be his. Marc had been leading a life that had suited him perfectly well, until the death of his uncle had forced him to assume these additional duties. ‘It’s my penance for…well, never mind that. Suffice it to say that I am aware of my responsibilities, and you can rest assured I will discharge them to the very best of my ability.’ Marc waved a finger at his aunt. ‘What you will not do is influence my choice of a wife. I should have thought you would have learned that much after your last attempt to interfere in my personal affairs.’
‘Oh my poor Jonathan, my darling son! He would have known how to behave and done what was expected of him.’ The duchess stood and faced Marc, her outraged expression replaced by one of supplication. ‘Please, Marcus, think about what you are doing and the consequences it
will have for us all. I understand you have only offered for the girl because circumstances forced you to spend a night alone with her. Whatever other criticisms I have had occasion to level at you over the years, I’ve never questioned your sense of honour. That is why you have taken this step, is it not?’ A spark of hope lit her eye. ‘You have unwittingly compromised the girl’s reputation and feel honour bound to do the right thing by her.’
‘We were forced to spend the night together, but—’
‘I applaud your scruples, but really, there’s no need for you to sacrifice yourself. It is not as if the girl is of any social consequence. You could pay her to appease her conscience, and perhaps see that her business is returned to a sound footing. Give her family leave to remain at Matlock House indefinitely, if you like. I shouldn’t mind seeing them stay there, now I think about it. A gesture of such magnitude would surely appease Miss Aston’s injured feelings.’
‘Thank you for the suggestion, but it will not serve. Miss Aston and I will be united on Thursday week and her family will remain at Matlock House anyway. I am sorry for your disappointment. Despite what you think, I am not doing this to provoke you, but I shall not change my mind.’
She screwed up her face, harnessing her fury, as she regarded Marc with an expression of unmitigated dislike. ‘The scheming minx has hoodwinked you, I can see that. And you are no better. Is that all the thanks I get for taking you into my house, showing you affection, and treating you as one of my own?’
‘Once again, our recollections do not concur. You took every opportunity to make my life a misery. No matter what I did to try and impress you, it was never good enough. I was never permitted to forget what I owed you for your benevolence, and felt your resentment towards me from the moment I crossed your threshold.’
A Duke by Default: Dangerous Dukes Vol 3 Page 11