by Platt, Meara
“Stoke,” Lady Withnall said with a resounding thuck of her cane on his exquisitely polished wood floor, “I hear your study has been redecorated. You and your daughter must give me and Miss Farthingale a private tour. Now, if you please.”
The tiny harridan then cast a warning glance to encompass all his well-heeled guests. Their smirks faded, and they suddenly looked like wayward children who had just been sternly rapped across the knuckles.
As for the duke, he looked so angry, one could imagine steam spouting out of his ears. “What is the meaning of this?”
Lady Withnall ignored the question, instead turning her back on him and walking toward his study. “Come, Stoke. You, too, Melinda.”
To Heather’s surprise, they gave no further protest, and meekly followed them into the duke’s study.
But Stoke rounded on Lady Withnall the moment the door was closed behind them. “What in blazes is Tilbury’s betrothed doing here? Must she further humiliate my daughter? Isn’t it enough she’s got Tilbury?”
Lady Withnall nodded to her. “Go ahead, my dear. Set the duke straight.”
Heather hadn’t expected to be the one to do the talking, but she was not about to let the opportunity pass. “I don’t have Lord Tilbury. He loves Lady Melinda. Is it not obvious why he offered for me? You have only to look at us side by side to know the reason why. She rejected his proposal, and so he proposed to me out of spite. Now, he will not let me out of the betrothal unless your daughter agrees to marry him.”
Melinda frowned at her. “Why should I do that? He’s shown himself to be inconsiderate and inconstant.”
“I agree about the inconsiderate part. What he did was supremely foolish and hurtful to both of us. But he isn’t inconstant. The one constant in all this has been that he loves you. He has always loved you. He will always love you. There is no room in his heart for anyone else. But he does not know how to properly show it.”
Melinda’s expression softened, but only the littlest bit. “Is this why flowers by the wagon load have been arriving here all morning? Is this his way of making amends?”
Heather nodded. “He’s desperate to have you.”
They stared at her, the duke now openly scowling. “Is this supposed to endear him to my daughter and me? What am I to think of a man who would openly court my daughter when he has promised to marry you tomorrow?”
“Very little, I suppose. But I am desperate to be released from our betrothal, and he will not do it unless he knows he has won Lady Melinda’s hand and her heart. Please, give him this chance. I don’t love him. He doesn’t love me. He never did. He never will. He proposed to me because I resemble you, Lady Melinda. Surely, you must have noticed.”
Melinda gave a slight nod.
“The thing is, if you love him, then give him this chance. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I think you do love him and always have. You must be in terrible pain right now, for how does one ever stop caring for one’s true love? But we are now at the point of no return. You know this. Will you not seize your chance at happiness?”
“Miss Farthingale,” the duke said, “if you are so desperate to get out of the betrothal, then why did you not simply break it off with him? What hold does he have on you that you cannot simply walk away?”
“He has threatened to sue my family if I call it off. He will crush them, leave them with nothing. I cannot let it happen. I don’t know if he is serious. I did not think he had it in him to be so cruel, but I cannot risk that he is. We don’t have the wealth or connections to fight back.”
“If he would behave this way with you, then why should I give him a second chance?” Lady Melinda asked. “What makes you think he would treat me any better?”
Heather was making a mess of pleading her case. If anything, she was reinforcing Lady Melinda’s reasons for refusing him again. “Everything he has done has been to gain your attention. You are his world. He needs lessons in how to properly show you how he feels.”
Lady Withnall snorted. “Obviously. The man is an utter dolt in matters of love. Pathetic and incompetent.”
Heather wasn’t certain the comment helped her case. “I think he’s coming around to realizing that marriage takes compromise and consideration, that love is not a business negotiation where one must always maintain the upper hand and bluff one’s opponent. This is his error. Until now, he has never viewed a wife as a partner, but as an opponent.”
The duke did not appear convinced. “Well, he’s realized it too late.”
Heather shook her head. “It isn’t too late. But it will be by tomorrow unless he agrees to release me, which I doubt he will do if nothing changes. He and I shall be unhappily married.” Well, she wasn’t going to marry him, but they did not have to know it yet. She turned to Melinda. “You will also be unhappy because you still love him. He will not be your husband. He will not have children with you. Your Grace, will you not ache to see your daughter alone and miserable?”
The duke growled softly. “Enough, Miss Farthingale. You have made your point.”
She nodded, for there was nothing more she could say. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace. And for yours, Lady Melinda.”
She was about to leave when Melinda spoke up. “Are you blaming me for this situation, Miss Farthingale?”
The question surprised her. “Not at all. If anything, I am to blame. I was so caught up in marrying a title that I ignored all the warning signs as well as the urging of my heart. Farthingales marry for love, so rather than listen to what my heart was telling me, I convinced myself that I could fall in love with Lord Tilbury and never bothered to question why he would want me in the first place. A foolish mistake on my part. I’ve ruined four lives because of it.”
The duke’s demeanor softened. “Well, it is Tilbury who would be responsible for ruining your life and that of my daughter. You are trying to rectify your mistake, and he won’t let you.”
Heather nodded reluctantly.
The more they spoke, the more the marquess was made to appear the ogre in all this. She wouldn’t blame Melinda for refusing his suit. Indeed, she could not imagine Robbie ever behaving so unchivalrously. “I had better go. Thank you again for your time.”
“No, Miss Farthingale,” the duke said. “Stay. It seems you are the opening act in this theater of the absurd. How soon before Tilbury makes his appearance?”
“That I do not know, but I expect it will be soon. It is best if I were not here when he arrives.”
“On the contrary,” the duke said. “I think you ought to take a seat beside my daughter. What will he say when he sees the two of you together as he attempts to propose to my Melinda?” He must have thought the notion hilarious because he burst out laughing. “Ah, that will be priceless.”
Heather thought it was a dreadful idea. “No, Your Grace. That will be hurtful to your daughter.”
As for herself, she no longer cared how thorough her own humiliation would be. She just wanted to be in Robbie’s arms and free to marry him.
Lady Melinda took her hand and tucked it in the crook of her arm. “My father’s idea has merit. What do you say, Miss Farthingale? Shall we sit together and wait for our Tilbury to show his face?”
“As I said, I think it is a terrible idea. I ought to go.” Heather glanced at Lady Withnall, hoping for a word of support, but the woman was now studying the wallpaper and muttering compliments on Dahlia’s work, completely ignoring the conversation.
“I think I shall ask her to redecorate my house when she’s finished with yours, Stoke. It is as old and musty as I am, and definitely in need of refurbishing.”
She turned to Heather and noticed that her arm was tucked in Melinda’s. “Ah, Stoke. Escort me into the card room. This will be better than opening night at the theater. Too bad I did not think to bring my lorgnette. Now I shall have to squint as the spectacle unfolds.”
The others were now eager for Tilbury’s arrival, but Heather was not.
What would he say?
What would he do?
How badly was he going to humiliate her?
Not that she cared.
However, he was an extremely prideful man.
How badly were they going to humiliate him?
Chapter Fourteen
Robbie had spent the entire morning with Tilbury, propping up this marquess who was now a jumble of fears and doubts, and distraught enough to give up on winning Lady Melinda’s hand in marriage. The wretched man was not likely to gain favor with her if he showed up babbling whatever popped in his head and then unceremoniously casting up his accounts.
“Bollocks,” Robbie muttered to himself, for they were now out of time, and Tilbury had no other choice but to make a jackass of himself before the woman he loved and what was likely to be a crowd of onlookers if the carriages lined up across the street were any indication.
Tilbury, he was coming to realize, did not know the first thing about courtship or romance. Indeed, he had absolutely no romantic instincts. But he had a deep and abiding love for Melinda. If only he hadn’t ruined it beyond repair.
Tilbury’s eyes suddenly rounded in terror as they stood at the Duke of Stoke’s front door. “MacLauren, I forgot completely!”
Robbie groaned. “What now?”
“This is Stoke’s card day. He will have a houseful of card-playing friends with him.” He turned to run, but Robbie grabbed him and held him back.
“All the better,” he said, his own stomach churning. “The gesture is even grander when made in front of others.”
Blessed saints.
Could anything else go wrong?
He tried to calm Tilbury as the butler opened the door to them. The man’s gaze was as cold as a glacier. “Lord Tilbury?”
Obviously, he had not been expected.
Since Tilbury looked as though he was not breathing, Robbie responded. “Aye, Lord Tilbury and Captain Robert MacLauren to see His Grace and Lady Melinda.”
The butler nodded. “I shall see if His Grace is at home.”
Robbie returned to bolstering Tilbury’s resolve. “Ye’ve been playing a cowardly game for months now, unwittingly making a fool of yer beloved. Ye have to do this. Take a deep breath. Muster yer courage.”
“How have I made a fool of Melinda? She’s the one who has given me a hard time.”
Robbie kept a hand clamped on Tilbury’s shoulder. “Dinna we go over this on the ride over? If ye keep up this attitude, she’s going to boot ye out of the house. What will it accomplish? She’ll spend the next thirty years alone and crying in her bed.”
“What about me?”
“This is no’ about ye. Not today. Ye are to think only of Lady Melinda. Ye pledged yer heart to another, and in doing so, ye broke her heart. Can ye not understand the enormity of what ye did to hurt her?”
He gave the marquess a nudge forward as Stoke’s butler approached. “Ye’re now going to make a monumental arse of yerself because this is the only way to put the two of ye on even footing again. Then ye’re going to release Heather and get down on bended knee to propose to Melinda.”
Stoke’s butler stared at both of them with disdain. “His Grace will see you now.” He turned to escort them to the duke.
Tilbury hesitated. “Are you certain you’re not setting me up for humiliation because you want Heather for yourself, and I won’t allow it?”
“Ye’ve set yerself up for this mockery because of yer idjit actions. Aye, I want Heather. Ye want Lady Melinda. Ye’ve set out the terms. I’ll only get Heather if ye get Melinda. Frankly, yer determination to hold on to Heather is making my skin crawl.”
“Now see here! What else was I supposed to do?”
“Seriously? I don’t have time to make a list of all the reasons this is wrong. For one, she is no’ yer beloved. She will never be a proper replacement for yer beloved. So ye’re going to do whatever it takes to make Melinda accept ye. Take a deep breath. Now, go in there and make a braying arse of yerself.”
Robbie’s heart sank to his toes when he realized they were being led to the duke’s music room and not his private quarters. Bollocks. This was going to be a bloodbath.
He grimaced as the butler announced Tilbury to the guests. He was also announced, but no one cared about him. Anyway, he was not going to step into the room. He intended to stand in the doorway to block the marquess if he tried to run.
He prayed as he’d never prayed in his life for a miracle to happen.
Then he glanced in the room and saw who was seated beside Melinda.
Heather!
Lord, is this yer idea of a jest? Because I dinna find it funny.
What was he going to do now?
More importantly, what was Tilbury going to do?
In all their discussions. In all their planning. They hadn’t considered this.
Of course, this was Lady Withnall’s meddling hand. She was seated beside Heather, smirking at him and Tilbury.
He had told Heather to stay out of it, and this little harridan had dragged her straight into the circle of fire.
Tilbury stood there, speechless.
Well, at least he was not running.
The room was as quiet as a tomb. No one moved. No one breathed.
Lady Melinda’s eyes took on a translucent gleam. Och, it was no’ the gleam of love. No, it was predatory. It was the look in the eyes of a lioness about to pounce on her unwitting prey and eat him alive. “Lord Tilbury, what a pleasant surprise. And now we are all here together. You, me, and your betrothed. What a jolly party we shall have.”
Tilbury ran a hand through his hair.
Still speechless.
“Is there something you wish to say to me? Surely, it can be said in front of your betrothed. The two of you can have no secrets from each other.”
“No…no…it’s too cruel,” he muttered.
Robbie wasn’t sure what the marquess meant by the remark. Too cruel for Heather to hear his love declaration to Melinda? Too cruel for him to be played the fool by the two women in his life?
To Robbie’s way of thinking, Tilbury was getting what he deserved. All of this could have been avoided simply by releasing Heather. But he wouldn’t let her go. He was the one cruelly manipulating both ladies and solely responsible for exacerbating the problem. They were now giving him back a little of his own.
Melinda still had the look of a lioness on the prowl. “Oh, and thank you for the lovely flowers you’ve been sending all day. They are from you, are they not?”
Robbie was afraid Tilbury’s heart would simply rupture, and he’d fall dead on the floor. Well, if he was dead, he couldn’t marry Heather. That would fix the problem.
He doubted they would have such luck.
Tilbury’s face was ashen. He looked as though he was about to faint. Robbie strode to his side, wishing he could just let the bloody fool fall on his face. But his blasted Scottish pride would not allow him to stand by and let the man be injured.
Tilbury waved him back. “No, MacLauren. We are done here.” He reached into his pocket and took out the box that held the sapphire ring. He handed it to Melinda. “Open it later. Something to remember me by. The sapphire represents faithfulness and constancy.” He glanced at Robbie. “Isn’t that right, MacLauren?”
“Aye, my lord.”
Oh, hell. Hell. Hell.
“The diamonds represent the way your eyes used to sparkle whenever you looked at me. I haven’t seen that beautiful sparkle in your eyes in a long time. And I ached, knowing I had destroyed it and could not put it back. I tried, but you did not trust me enough. All I ever wanted was to make you happy. Keep the ring. It’s yours to do with as you wish. Those gems will survive a thousand years, well beyond our existence. Toss it away. Lock it away. Or put it on and never take it off. I can no longer bear to think of it or you. I’m done. My heart cannot withstand the burden of pain any longer.”
Robbie silently recalled every Gaelic curse known to exist in the history of mankind.
&nbs
p; This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
Tilbury turned to Heather. “I am truly sorry, my dear. I never meant to hurt you. And I shall do my best to be a good husband to you.”
Heather leaped to her feet. “What? No!”
“The sort of husband I would have been to Melinda if she’d given me the chance. You are not released. I shall see you at St. Mary’s tomorrow.” He stormed out.
Robbie could have stopped him, but he merely stepped aside to let him pass. Tilbury had made his grand gesture. He’d humiliated himself thoroughly, and it had all been for naught. Now he and Heather had to plan their next step.
Stoke looked worried.
Melinda was now in tears.
Heather was in tears.
The guests were now out of their chairs and all clamoring to talk at once. That is, all of them were up and buzzing save Lady Withnall, who was still seated and calmly sipping a lemonade.
Would any judge convict him of strangling the little harpy? Why did she have to bring Heather here?
He strode to Heather’s side, not certain what to do or say. To his mind, this wasn’t over yet. It would not be over until Heather exchanged vows with Tilbury tomorrow morning. They had options. He could ride off to Scotland with her right now.
He was ready to ride off with her at any point before the ceremony took place. He’d ride Gallant into the church, if necessary.
He did not take Heather into his arms since he wasn’t sure how she would respond. But he eased when she came to him on instinct, for he was the one she would turn to whenever troubled. “Och, lass. We’ll move to the next plan. It is no’ over yet.”
“Robbie, he openly courted another woman in front of me. Is this not grounds to break off the betrothal? Surely, it must be.”
“The law does not work fairly, lass. Had ye done this to him, there would be no question. But he’s a marquess, and ye’re a merchant’s daughter. Even if they thought ye’d been wronged, they would no’ go against Tilbury if he demanded the betrothal be upheld.”