by Platt, Meara
What if Lady Melinda refused him today and then turn around in a week and decide she loved him after all? That was the disaster they all needed to avoid and could if Tilbury was not stubbornly refusing to let go of Heather until he had Melinda in hand.
Robbie had not ruled out conspiring with Tilbury to abduct Melinda and escort the pair to Gretna Green if it came down to it. But this was something he was loath to suggest since it would mean remaining in their company for days, and he’d probably be hanged for the favor afterward anyway.
Besides, Heather would not be too pleased about his behavior even if he did avoid hanging, which he doubted was likely since Stoke was a duke and would be out for someone’s blood. Since it would not be Tilbury’s, it would be his Scottish blood they’d slowly drain from his body.
“Well? What do you think, MacLauren?”
“A commendable job, my lord. I can see ye love the lass and know her well. I also know from the conversation ye were having with her and the duke at yer ball that ye have a long history with them. That is good. It is these connections that bind a husband and wife together. Where ye fail is in the expectations.”
Tilbury placed his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, eager to hear whatever it was Robbie had to tell him. The man was earnest, he had to give him that. “What do you mean by expectations?”
“Ye’ve disappointed her ever since ye…claimed her. She dinna merely give her body to ye back then. She gave ye her heart. And what did ye do with that gift?”
Tilbury cleared his throat. “I offered to marry her.”
“When? Three years later? Did ye approach her or her father first? And what did ye do in the years in between?”
He sat upright and cast him an indignant glance. “I had duties that I could not shirk. I was a new marquess. It was not easy for me, either.”
Robby had also poured himself a brandy and was about to take a sip but set it down instead. “What duties, my lord? Counting yer cattle? Collecting yer revenue from the towns under yer charter? Attending yer fancy balls and soirees? What was so important that ye left the lass to her broken heart?”
“I made it right as soon as I could,” he said, his defense sounding quite feeble.
“Ye dinna make it right. She still has no’ accepted ye. So are ye going to sit here and make excuses, or are ye going to own up to yer mistakes and seize yer happiness?”
“And what of Heather? She’s a sweet girl. She’ll be humiliated and made a laughingstock if your plan works. Why would you do this to her?”
“I’ll take care of Heather. Any scandal will quickly die out once all of us are happily matched. Ye know it will take very little for the ton to lose interest when all parties are happy. It is humiliation and misery that appeals to them. At the end of the day, ye’ve jilted a commoner, and everyone will be relieved ye and Lady Melinda have finally come to yer senses. As for Heather, she already knows I will do whatever it takes to protect her. I’ll not let her be hurt.”
He nodded. “And this is how I need to make Melinda feel.”
“Right.”
They said nothing more as Dahlia hurried in, escorted by Ronan. “What do you want with my wife?”
Robbie and Tilbury both rose and offered Dahlia the seat beside Robbie’s. “Ye canno’ be in here, Ronan. Wait in the visitors’ parlor. We will no’ keep her long.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “What do you need her for?”
“I need her help,” Tilbury said with his typically calm demeanor. “Ballard will see you are made comfortable while you wait. Nothing sinister will go on, I promise. We need a woman’s opinion and advice, that’s all. Captain MacLauren suggested your wife, and I agree it is an excellent idea. She is clever. Knowledgeable. Or do you not believe she is capable of—”
“Of course, she’s capable.” He glanced at Dahlia, his expression quite defeated. “Call out to me if you want to leave.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with love for Ronan. “I’ll be fine.”
He followed Ballard out, but not before casting Robbie and Tilbury a warning glance.
“Did ye see the look on his face?” Robbie asked Tilbury.
“Do you mean the one where he silently threatened to tear us to pieces if we took a toe out of step with his wife? That look?” He chuckled. “Yes.”
“Good. That’s the look of a man who loves his wife.”
Dahlia took her seat and regarded each of them quizzically. “He was behaving like an arrogant dolt.” She shook her head and grinned. “You won’t tell him I just said that, will you, Robbie?”
“No. Are ye really angry with him?”
“Of course not. I love him. But I expect that’s obvious. He needn’t be so protective of me, that’s all. He knows I am in safe hands with you.” She folded her hands on her lap. “How can I help?”
“Ye need to tell us all ye know about Lady Melinda. What she likes. What she dislikes. Let’s start with the obvious first. Her favorite color. Her favorite flower. What foods she likes. Things of that nature.”
She eyed the marquess thoughtfully. “Is this what all the fuss is about? You didn’t know her favorite color? Or her favorite flower?”
Tilbury nodded. “How am I to know this? I don’t go about asking my friends those questions. They’re dull and idiotic…the questions, I mean. Not my friends. They are not dull or idiotic, or they would not be my friends.”
“You did not need to ask her,” Dahlia replied gently. “Did you not see the wallpaper we ordered? You made a point of mentioning it to Heather and me when we last saw you at the Duke of Stoke’s residence. But you were lying through your teeth about your reason for stopping there, and we all knew it. You are quite amazing, my lord.”
Tilbury arched an eyebrow. “Why do I not feel a compliment coming on?”
“Because I’m about to berate you. Your glib lie broke Heather’s heart as well as Lady Melinda’s heart. Shall I explain how?”
“Yes,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I am very bad at this sort of thing.”
“What? At telling the truth? This is all either of them ever wanted from you. Yet you lied to Heather about your reason for stopping at His Grace’s residence when you knew she was desperate to speak to you. And then you broke Lady Melinda’s heart by using the wallpaper as an excuse, not even realizing she chose it because it was her favorite flower and her favorite color. Do you even know what it was? Can you even guess now? Obviously not, or I would not have been summoned. You managed to hurt two women with one lie. Quite impressive.”
“Mrs. Brayden, I have not been spanked so thoroughly since I was a child of four.”
She tipped her head up in defiance. “Are you expecting an apology from me? You will not have one. You are about to break my sister’s heart for insisting on holding to this farce of a betrothal, and for no reason other than you want to hurt the woman you really love. So forgive me if I am insolent. But I believe I am showing remarkable restraint. What I’d really like to do is punch you in the nose.”
Robbie groaned. “Dahlia, will ye kindly tell us her favorite color and flower? I dinna need a brawl to break out here.”
She sniffed. “Very well. Her favorite color is lavender, and her favorite flower is the lilac because it represents first love. First love. Is this significant to you in any way? She was trying to send a message to you, her first love who is dense as a post and has no care for her feelings.”
“Och, Dahlia. Will ye stop spanking the man? But this gives me an idea. My lord, do ye want to make a grand gesture she’ll understand and appreciate?”
“Yes. What must I do?”
Robbie turned to Dahlia. “All flowers have a meaning, do they not?”
Dahlia nodded. “Oh, I see what you’re getting at. My lord, I think you must take a trip to Camden Town and buy up all the red flowers available. But I think you are too late to do it today. The flower vendors set up quite early. You must visit first thing tomorrow morning. Salvia, tulips,
carnations. All red because this is the color of love. Salvia tells her that you are thinking of her. Red salvia tells her that you are hers forever. Carnations are the long-revered flower of love in ancient civilizations. She will know this, so you must include carnations. Tulips are for romantic love. But you must also have lilacs—lots of them. Every lilac to be found in London. This is because she must be your first and only love, and this is how you tell her so that she believes you mean it.”
“Will you accompany me, Mrs. Brayden? I know I cannot accomplish this on my own. It is not the best area, although I believe it will be safe enough once the sun rises. I’ll bring along several footmen, and your husband may join us if he is concerned for your safety.”
She nodded. “Thank you, but I’ll explain it to him. He won’t be available to come with us since he must report to the Admiralty first thing in the morning.”
“Then you will join us?”
“I would do anything for the sake of my sister’s happiness…something she will not have if she is forced to marry you.”
“Och, Dahlia,” Robbie said, emitting another groan. “Stop thrashing the man. What about a bride token? If he’s going to wage a full-on assault, he’ll need this, too.”
“A blue sapphire ring or necklace. The blue sapphire represents loyalty, honesty, and faithfulness. This is your way of telling her that she can trust you.”
Tilbury still appeared dejected. “How can it possibly work? She knows I don’t know the first thing about colors or flowers or gems and what they signify other than to give as trinkets to some female I’m chasing after. She will immediately suspect I’ve been helped out, and these ideas came from someone other than me.”
Robbie frowned. “They are no’ trinkets. They are symbols of yer love. If ye treat them as baubles, then it will all be for naught. The point of the gesture is to show her ye are mad for her. She will no’ care who gave ye the idea, only that ye thought enough of her to turn to others for help and were willing to do it because these things matter to her. She’ll appreciate that ye bought out the Camden flower vendors for her. And another thing…”
“What more is there?” he muttered, once more rubbing his temples.
“Ye’d better have a few diamonds around that sapphire ring.”
He glanced up, looking quite perplexed. “Why?”
“Because when she remarks on it, ye’re going to tell her that the sapphire is yer sacred oath that ye will love her and be faithful to her forever. But the diamonds are there because they remind ye of the sparkle in her eyes the first time ye kissed her. Do ye think ye can do this?”
“Yes, Captain MacLauren. Contrary to what you and Mrs. Brayden think, I am not a complete and utter idiot.”
Dahlia made a sound remarkably like a snort. “Oh, I—”
“Och, Dahlia. The comment does not call for a response. His lordship and I will pick ye up at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Is that all right?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ll be ready. Is there anything else you need from me before I return to my fretting husband?”
Robbie laughed. “Just tell us anything else ye think might help us.”
“Us? Why are the two of you suddenly thick as thieves? I was afraid you would be killing each other.”
Tilbury cast a glance in Robbie’s direction. “No, Mrs. Brayden. Although it might come down to that if Lady Melinda is still refusing my suit.”
“Do you mean to say you would still go through with marrying my sister?” She gripped the arms of her chair.
Robbie was worried Dahlia might actually pick it up and toss it at the marquess. He was itching to do the same, but not yet. While there was a plan, there was hope. “Och, Dahlia. Think of this as a present-day A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The parties who ought to be together are not. But it will all be sorted out in time. Everyone will wake on the day of the wedding and be united with their right true love.”
She did not appear convinced. “Let’s hope so. I shall be carrying weapons and will not hesitate to use them. I think I’ve given you enough information to work with for now. Call upon me if you find you need anything more. Otherwise, I shall see you gentlemen tomorrow morning.”
Robbie waited for Ballard to escort her back to Ronan and show them both out before he turned to the marquess. “That went well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Do you think she’ll follow through on her threat?”
Robbie shrugged. “To hurt ye if ye dinna release Heather from her promise to marry ye? Aye. And I may have to hold ye down while she does it. But we’ll cross that path when we come to it.” He raised his glass of brandy. “Here’s hoping we never do.”
“Don’t you start on me, MacLauren. I’m not going to crumple under your threats either. So let’s just try to convince Melinda I’m not as big an arse as she thinks I am.”
“Right, let’s get on with the next lesson,” Robbie said, barely holding his temper in check. The marquess was wrong to think he’d ever get his hands on Heather. Robbie would make it clear to the man with his fists if it came to that. “Yer next lists will be about connections and expectations. What do ye have in common that will bind ye to each other? That ought to be easy. Ye grew up together and probably shared many things for the first time, and I dinna mean merely the physical encounters. A walk down a country lane on a beautiful day. A ride across a flower-dotted meadow. Sailing a skiff along a lake.”
Tilbury cast him a wry grin. “Captain MacLauren, I never knew you were a romantic. Will you have me spouting poetry next?”
“If this is what Lady Melinda enjoys, then yes. Ye’ll do it because she likes it, and ye care enough about her to want to please her. Is there something about this ye do not understand?”
He grunted. “I’m trying my best. You weren’t raised being told you are the sun god and everyone ought to be kissing your arse. But I was. Only they neglected to mention that this rule does not apply to my wife and that I have to expend some effort to please her.”
“Well, ye’ve learned the lesson now. She’s to be yer partner, not yer servant. Once ye’ve written down all the ways ye are connected, then ye’ll start on yer next list. Expectations. Which ye now understand must be adjusted if ye’re to give her the happy marriage she’s obviously been longing for. Give it some thought. And most important, consider her expectations as well as yer own. Are they the same as hers or divergent? If divergent, then what are ye willing to concede to make her happy?”
Tilbury took a large swallow of his brandy, then set the glass down on his desk and stared at it. “Sweet mother of mercy. How much more is there?”
“Quite a bit more. We’re going to keep working on ye until the desire to please her comes naturally to ye. This must be yer heart’s deepest wish. Ye must feel it in yer bones, that instinct to put her needs above yer own. A moment’s hesitation, a moment of petulance, and ye’ll lose her.”
Tilbury sank back in his chair and groaned. “I think I’m going to need a refill.”
Chapter Twelve
Robbie knew it was inappropriately late to stop by Romulus and Violet’s residence. But Heather was staying there until her wedding day, and he needed to see her after spending the day with Tilbury. He knew she wouldn’t mind. Indeed, she’d be desperate to learn what progress had been made.
Kicking Tilbury’s pampered arse into shape had given him a monumental headache. However, an odd thing had happened as he’d tried to train the man to be a proper husband. He found that he was also teaching himself.
If only he and Heather had read the blasted book together instead of finding every which way to ignore it, all of this might have been avoided.
But they hadn’t, now leaving him to deal with Tilbury’s rock-hard, stubborn determination to marry Heather if he could not have Lady Melinda. He hoped it was merely Tilbury’s way of keeping leverage on all of them. Obviously, the man was a fish out of water when it came to matters of romance. He was afraid to be left alone to drown in his in
eptitude the moment he released Heather from their betrothal.
Robbie grunted as he knocked on the front door, suddenly struck by a thought. If Tilbury was only remaining stubborn in order to maintain leverage, could he sway the man by giving him a sacred oath to help him court Stoke’s daughter in exchange for Heather’s release?
He did not know if Tilbury would accept the proposal. Likely not. Tilbury was after a victorious outcome, not merely the hope of one. Still, he’d raise the matter tomorrow. They’d be no worse off if he refused. Also, there was no harm in putting the idea into his head on the chance he might weaken and give in.
Romulus’s butler opened the door to him. “Captain MacLauren, I’m afraid Captain Brayden and Mrs. Brayden have retired for the evening.”
“And Miss Farthingale?”
The butler’s expression softened. “She’s in the library.”
His tension eased, knowing she must have purposely been waiting up for him on the chance he would stop by to see her before heading back to his grandfather’s townhouse. “Let her know I’m here.”
He hadn’t long to wait before Heather hurried forward to greet him, her pixie eyes wide and shimmering. “I was about to give up hope you would come by. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“No, lass. I’m fine. I wanted to see yer beautiful face before I went home. How are ye faring? I won’t stay long.”
She placed her arm in his and escorted him back into the library, allowing him to close the door behind them. Romulus’s butler was not going to say anything, except perhaps to Romulus.
She turned to Robbie, her hopeful expression fading. “Oh, dear. I can see by the look on your face that he is still refusing to let me go. What’s next? I want to bang his head against his finely built, elegant walls. Why is he being such a stubborn dolt?”
He tried to sound confident and not look downhearted. “We still have time, lass. He’s doing his best to make things right.”
She looked surprised. “You’re on his side now?”
“Never. Always on yers.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, a sign of her dismay. But she only rested it there a moment before drawing away to look up at him, her eyes swallowing him up. “I know you’re doing your best. Sit down and tell me how the day went. Are you sure I cannot get you something to eat?”