by Platt, Meara
“I do, Papa. He’s very smart, and he never makes a mistake.”
He ruffled the boy’s blond curls. “Does he treat you kindly?”
The boy nodded. “And he let me hold his new baby daughter. She’s the size of a potato, she’s that small. Her name is Hyacinth.”
His father smiled down at him. “Hyacinth? What a pretty name.”
Innes shook his head again. “She’s beautiful. But she’s still very wrinkled.”
The boy was unbearably sad once his father departed, so Robbie suggested they sneak into Lord Liverpool’s private dining room and appropriate some scones.
Innes looked up at Robbie with big, earnest eyes. “Appropriate? Is that the same as stealing?”
Heather tried to hold back her laughter, which ended in an unladylike snort.
Robbie was grinning again, casting his charm over them. “Och, no. We are taking possession of them for an important use…to feed our hungry bellies. This is the way Parliament works. We take things for the better good. I take from you. You take from me. We both take from someone else.”
Innes nodded. “Stealing.”
Heather burst out laughing. “You are right, Innes. But in this situation, Lord Liverpool keeps his dining room stocked so that members can help themselves to a light refreshment should they feel the need. He allows it, so it isn’t quite the same.”
The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, and she was sorry when they had to depart. Robbie said nothing more to her about her upcoming wedding.
He did not need to. She knew what had to be done. All she had lacked before was the courage to confront Tilbury and have a serious discussion with him. In her defense, she had not realized how wrong it all was until Robbie had returned and turned her heart inside out. But she had to be true to herself and needed to ask the hard questions.
She wrote to Tilbury as soon as she returned home. “Romulus, may I ask one of your footmen to deliver this note?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll have Rollins take it over right away. Should he wait for a response?”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Yes, if Tilbury is at home. Otherwise, he can just leave it for him. I’m sure he’ll send word to me once he sees it.”
But the day passed without any return correspondence or news from him. When she heard nothing from him the next day, she assumed he must have been unexpectedly called out of town since no one had seen him in the halls of Parliament or at the various social affairs. Still, shouldn’t he have dropped her a note, no matter how brief?
She thought little of it since her parents had now arrived, and her attention turned to them. She hurried over to Holly’s home to greet them. “Mama! Papa! How was your trip down?”
“Smooth, for the most part,” her father said, giving her a warm embrace.
“But we did hit a ghastly patch of rain just north of Grantham.” Her mother also greeted her affectionately, kissing her on the cheek and smiling broadly. “My little marchioness! It’s so good to see you. It’s so good to see all of my daughters again.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Mama, I’m not a marchioness yet.”
“Oh, piffle. The wedding is almost upon us. I may as well get used to referring to you as Lady Tilbury.”
Dahlia had come by as well, and Holly had set out tea and light refreshments for them as they sat in the parlor and caught up on all that was happening.
Once they’d caught up on the mundane topics, the weather, the coaching inns, the sights, and shopping they would take in while in London, the conversation turned to Heather’s wedding. “When shall we meet your marquess?” her mother asked, reaching out to give her hand a light squeeze. “Is he handsome? Is he rich?”
“Mama! What a question to ask. I’m not marrying him for his wealth or title.” Although this was not entirely true. Tilbury was a very pleasant fellow, and she liked him, but she had accepted to marry him precisely because he was a marquess. She hadn’t bothered to properly consider his offer because she’d always dreamed of being a marchioness.
Of course, if he had been cruel or a boor, she would have refused him. Oddly, had he been a duke or an earl, she would have given the proposal more scrutiny because her heart had never been set on becoming a duchess or countess.
“Heather, dear. Tell us about the wedding plans. Your sisters rushed into marriage so quickly. Military men. Too bad they are merely captains, but I understand they come from a good family and are accepted in the best circles.” She paused to frown lightly at Holly and Dahlia. “John and Rupert had full authority to act on our behalf, so I’m sure they ensured you are well protected no matter what happens in your marriages. Too bad their brother, who is an earl, was already taken. And I’m told your cousin, Belle, snared the rich brother, Finn.”
Heather exchanged a look with her sisters. “Mama, they’ve married wonderful men, and these are love matches. Those are the best of all. I’m sure you’ve met Joshua already. Isn’t he wonderful? Have you met his brother, Ronan? I’m very proud to have them in the family.”
Dahlia nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve all been invited to Uncle John’s this evening, and you’ll have the chance to meet all the Braydens as well as catch up with our family. Ronan will stop by Chipping Way after his duties at Parliament.”
“Same for Joshua,” Holly said, the nibble of her lip revealing she was fretting. “They’ll probably ride over together because they both work in the Parliament buildings.”
Her father did not look pleased. “Ah, they are not gentlemen then?”
Heather wanted to reach over and hug both her sisters. It suddenly struck her with such clarity just how above themselves her parents had become. Perhaps they had always been this way, and she’d just been too naive to notice. “They are the best sort of men, Papa. Why are you going on as though we are something above them? I would much rather marry a man who is hardworking and not an indolent dolt.”
Her father took a sip of his tea and then set down his cup before responding to her. “I expect they are outstanding men. I don’t mean to disparage them. But I have three strikingly beautiful daughters, and I would have thought all three of you would have caught the eye of a peer. Only you have managed it, Heather.”
Her mother nodded. “As we always knew you would. A marquess! How clever you are.”
Heather now felt ill.
Her stomach was in a roil, and she wanted to cast up her accounts. This is how they had been raised, to marry into a title. Holly’s life almost ruined because she’d been pushed to marry into one of York’s most prominent families at the tender age of seventeen and found herself a widow at nineteen. Dahlia was publicly humiliated by the lord she thought was courting her only to learn he’d been secretly courting the daughter of an earl all along.
This is why her own foolish dream to marry a marquess had been indulged, nurtured, praised, and heartily encouraged.
Dear heaven! It was a miracle her two sisters had the presence of mind to appreciate the worth of their husbands and fall in love with them even though they were mere captains. “Joshua and Ronan also work with Captain Robert MacLauren. He’s the Scottish military liaison to Parliament. You’ll meet him this evening at Uncle John’s house.”
Her parents stared at her in confusion, her father finally speaking up. “And why should we care to meet this captain? And a Scot, no less?”
Her mother nodded. “Shouldn’t you be introducing us to the man you’re going to marry?”
Chapter Nine
“Where is your marquess?” Heather’s father asked as he had done several times throughout the day. The family had gathered at Number Three Chipping Way, the home of John and Sophie Farthingale, for a light supper and casual entertainment that evening. The house was packed since all their cousins, and their husbands were there, some bringing their children who were now running through the house, too excited to be playing together to settle down.
Heather had made a point of bringing young Innes over with them, and he wa
s now quietly playing marbles with the older Farthingale boys, Harry and Charles, in her uncle’s library.
“I’m sorry, Papa. But Tilbury won’t be able to make it tonight.”
Instead of frowning, her father seemed pleased. “Of course, he’s a very busy man. Must be meeting with all sorts of important people.”
She nodded. “Yes, often with Lord Liverpool himself. But Joshua and Ronan are also quite friendly with Liverpool.”
“Heather, dear. It isn’t the same. They have business dealings with him. But your marquess dines with him socially.”
Was it criminal to strangle one’s parents?
Perhaps Dahlia and Holly would aid and abet her.
She could see by their expressions that they’d had quite enough of their airs.
They hadn’t let up for a moment, not even when they’d stopped next door to visit Violet, Romulus, and their new baby. “Another captain,” her mother had whispered in Heather’s ear as they’d walked out. “Too bad she was too late to snag his brother. I hear he’s the Earl of Exmoor. But Violet seems happy enough with the younger brother. Why must you stay with Violet now that her husband has returned from the sea? Could you not contrive to stay with Exmoor? Or move in with Honey now that she is married to the Earl of Wycke?”
“Mama, stop. They are all excellent men.”
“I’m sure they are, my dear.”
Ugh. If that did not sound condescending!
And now they were about to sit to supper, and Heather’s cheeks were in flames as her parents paid particular attention to the earls present, Exmoor, Westcliff, and Wycke, and ignored the men their daughters had married.
Their behavior was beyond condescending when introduced to Robbie.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, remaining beside him once her parents had moved away to greet other members of the family.
“Dinna fash, lass. I’ve been treated worse.” He cast her an endearing grin. “Even by my own family, especially my brother, Malcolm.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “I thought you always got along?”
“Aye, we did. But I was the little brother, always challenging him. He’d flick me off him and sometimes give me a kick in the arse to remind me he was bigger and stronger.”
Heather giggled. “But you were scrappy.”
“That’s a polite way of putting it. I was stupid.” He glanced at her parents, who were now engaged in conversation with Joshua and Ronan’s mother, Lady Miranda. “They only want what’s best for ye.”
“No, Robbie. They are thinking of their hopes and wishes for me, not my desires for myself. They have no clue what I want.”
“Most parents believe they know what’s best for their children. Often they do, for they’ve had more experience and understand how harsh life can sometimes be. They want ye to marry the marquess not merely for the title, but for what it represents. Safety, security. Protection.”
“Now you are spouting The Book of Love to me.” But she wasn’t really irritated. How could she be when all she wanted to do was throw her arms around Robbie and hold onto him so tightly, she’d steal the breath from him?
“Aye, lass. That need to survive is built into all of us. It is only natural that yer parents want ye wedded to a powerful man.”
She did not wish to leave Robbie’s side, so she made a point of sitting beside him as they had their supper. Of course, on more formal occasions, there would be seating arrangements, and the earls would be of foremost prominence at the table. But at the more private family meals, everyone was equal and sat wherever they desired.
The food was set up along two massive buffets, and everyone would serve themselves. Footmen were present to assist but not to serve. Heather smiled at Robbie as they made their way along the queue. Each dish looked appealing. Quail in an apricot glaze and sprinkled with sultanas. Smoked fish. A loin of pork. Mutton stewed in a sweet, port wine. Roasted potatoes and creamed leeks.
“What would ye like, Pixie?”
“Mutton, please. It looks divine.” She breathed it in. “There’s the sweet wine, of course. But also traces of garlic, and that aroma of mint comes from marjoram. What will you have, Robbie?”
He chuckled. “All of it. As much as will fit on my plate.”
Robbie served her and then took a hefty portion for himself.
A footman came around to pour wine in their glasses as soon as they’d settled beside each other. “Ye seem to know a little about cooking. Did ye supervise the kitchen staff at yer home?”
Since the table was crowded, they were huddled close in order to squeeze in all the adults. The children were given over to their governesses and sent to the informal dining area off the kitchen to eat their meals.
Heather was quite content with her seating arrangement, liking the way their bodies touched because Robbie’s shoulders were too broad to fit within his confined space. His leg brushed up against hers as well, not on purpose, but simply because they were in too close quarters to avoid it.
“Our staff consisted of one cook who lived in and made our meals. My sisters and I often helped out. I’m a capable cook, but it must be kept a secret. Proper young ladies are not supposed to know their way around a kitchen.”
“Lass, ye should have told me sooner. I would have stolen ye away and carried ye off to Gretna Green. Who needs a lass who knows how to dance or properly wave a damn fan? Can ye bake?”
She nodded.
“Now I know I’m in love with ye.” He cast her a wink, and she laughed in response. She knew he was making a jest, but there was truth to the remark.
Her parents noticed their conversation and the way they were looking at each other. They frowned at her from across the dining table.
She ignored them and tried to distract Robbie so that he could not see their faces.
Of course, he was too clever to ever be fooled. “Pixie, ye dinna have to protect me,” he said, casting her an achingly gentle smile.
“They are behaving abominably. No better than Lord Wainscott when he humiliated Dahlia. I won’t allow it, Robbie. I know you are too polite to say anything to them. But I am their daughter. They cannot avoid me. I will not have them insulting my friends.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Are we friends now?”
She wanted them to be so much more, but how could she say anything before she’d had the chance to speak to Tilbury? “Yes, friends. I will always carry you in my heart.”
Her hand was resting on her lap, and he took it now to discreetly wrap it in his under the table. “Aye, Pixie. Always.”
He released her after a moment, and although it had been but a brief touch, she already missed the enveloping warmth of his sure and comforting grip.
Heather was relieved when the evening came to an end. Her parents had made plans with her cousin, Dillie, to be taken on a tour of London. Since Dillie was married to the Duke of Edgeware, her parents would be driven about town in their ducal carriage.
That in itself was a treat worth a trip to London even if they did not manage to visit a single museum or browse in any of the elite ladies’ shops on Regent Street or the men’s shops on Oxford Street.
Robbie quirked an eyebrow as their plans were organized.
Heather winced back at him, ashamed her parents were effete snobs. All her mother could talk about was tomorrow’s excursion and to be seen riding in the park in the Duke of Edgeware’s elegant landau.
She had the workings of a pounding headache by the time her parents were saying their farewells. She felt sorry for Holly and Joshua, who would have to endure their chatter for the remainder of the evening, always reminded that neither Holly nor Dahlia had managed to marry a peer.
Robbie walked her and Innes next door.
Innes hurried inside, eager to tell Romulus about the new marble, a green ghost, he’d won from Charles.
Robbie turned to leave, but Heather placed a hand on his arm to halt him. “Will you not come in a moment? I’m sure Romulus is still awake and wo
uld not mind sharing a drink with you.”
“Pixie, no. I’d best be on my way. But it was nice to share the evening with ye.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are only saying this to be polite.”
He chuckled. “No, I did enjoy my time with ye…even if it was a little noisy.”
“And offensive,” she said with a sigh. “Truly, I never realized my parents were such snobs.”
“They’ll settle down in a day or two. Ye could see they were decent people when they forgot to be insufferable. They wanted the best for their daughters.”
She nodded. “Dahlia and Holly did find the best.”
“And you?” He was studying her now, awaiting her answer.
“I’ve sent word to Tilbury, asking to see him. But he hasn’t responded to any of my missives. Robbie, it all feels so wrong suddenly. But I don’t want to discuss it now.”
He caressed her cheek. “Call on me whenever ye’re ready to talk. I’ll no’ be going anywhere for at least another month.”
She wanted to throw her arms around him and hold on to him forever but dared not. Even she felt it was too much to do so while about to marry another within a matter of days. She stood in the doorway until Robbie strolled out the front gate. He would collect his horse from the mews at the rear of the house and ride home.
She went inside once he had disappeared from view, her heart in a tight twist, as though someone had wrapped a beefy hand around it and was squeezing the fragile organ with all his might.
She looked in on Innes, kissed him goodnight, and wished him sweet dreams, then retired to her bedchamber and slowly undressed.
She feared sleep would elude her, for her situation with Tilbury was weighing on her mind. Indeed, she slept poorly and awoke early. Since the kitchen staff was awake and already preparing the meals for the day, she took a cup of cocoa and walked outside to the garden.
The bench Robbie had cracked to pieces had been replaced, so she sat in the peaceful quiet, not minding the dampness to the air or the morning chill.
It was now the third day of not hearing from Tilbury, and she was growing concerned. She decided to go along with Dahlia to see the progress of her work at the Duke of Stoke’s house and hopefully have a chance to mention his absence to the duke.