All the breath seemed to rush out of her body, and she clenched her hands tightly in her lap, digging her nails into her palms.
Steady. Steady, she ordered herself. It was all a long time ago. Alexander is nothing to you now.
The pounding of her heart told her she was a liar - and the look of scorn on Alexander’s face told her there was nothing she could do to turn back the clock, anyway. Lowering her eyes, she tried to take slow, calming breaths and regain her composure.
BREAKFAST SEEMED TO last an unconscionably long time, with everyone chatting sociably about their plans for the day. Though he’d worked up a hearty appetite on the ride, the food tasted like ashes to Alexander.
Look at her, sitting among decent folk, acting as though she hasn’t a care in the world.
Every smile Marianne offered someone else was like a dagger to his chest. Viscount Thorpington—seated directly opposite her—kept missing his mouth with his fork as he gazed at her, utterly entranced, and young Joseph Alleyne was no better. Alexander’s hand clenched around his knife until his knuckles turned white; he didn’t notice how tight his grip was until his fingers began to cramp painfully.
“Is your beefsteak not to your liking, Glenkellie?” Thomas enquired politely as Alex dropped the knife with a clatter.
“It’s fine, thank you,” Alex muttered, massaging his stiff fingers. “A sudden cramp, that’s all.”
Thomas gave him a sceptical look before his gaze moved to where Marianne sat. “Is that what you call it?”
A dull flush suffused Alex’s cheeks, and he looked away, picking his knife up and cutting into his steak again. Fortunately, Sir Tobias Alleyne leaned over to speak to Thomas, saving Alex from having to think up a response to the awkward question.
THE LADIES BEGAN TO drift away from the table first, Ellen announcing they would be gathering in the front parlour to converse. “I regret I have no particular activities planned for the day, but with the rest of the guests due to arrive I must be here to welcome them,” she said, and at once the other ladies were declaring they should like nothing better than a relaxing morning sitting in a comfortable parlour with a warm fire.
“Don’t forget your embroidery, dear,” Lady Alleyne told her daughter, who sighed. Marianne sympathised. She had always found embroidery deadly dull, too.
“Or, should you prefer, Havers Hall has a wonderful library,” she said confidingly to Miss Alleyne, “which they are most obliging about letting one browse. Would you like to come and look for something to read with me?”
“Very much!” Miss Alleyne said quickly before her mother could object, and Lady Serena promptly asked if she might come with them too.
Marianne led the two young women off to the library, smiling with pleasure as they both exclaimed over the collection. Leaving them considering the choices from a shelf of novels, she browsed deeper into the stacks, recalling she had spied some travelogues last time she’d visited the room. Stories of exotic lands and adventurous (if probably highly fictionalised) derring-do might be just the thing to keep her mind occupied.
Sitting down by a window to leaf through a book about an intrepid Englishwoman’s travels in the Orient, Marianne lost track of time. She did not hear the two younger women come to the end of the row of shelves where she sat, did not see the amused glance they traded before they stole away quietly, leaving her quite alone.
She almost jumped out of her skin, however, when a deep voice said, “So this is where you’re hiding.”
Marianne clenched her hands on the book, trying to hide their trembling, and took a moment to compose herself before she looked up. “Hiding? Hardly,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and amused. “I’m sure I was quite clear in declaring my intentions to come here. After all, it wasn’t difficult for you to find me, was it, Lord Glenkellie?”
Alexander stared down at her, his eyes hard and cold like chips of ice. A tic made the scar on his cheek jump like a living thing as he clenched his jaw.Then he surprised her again by taking a seat on the window seat next to her. Too close! His thigh, muscled and hard beneath tight nankeen breeches, was pressed against hers through the woollen fabric of her skirt. Marianne tried to shift away, but she’d used the wall at her side to lean on when she took her seat and there was little room to move.
“We need to talk,” he said finally.
“About what?” She genuinely couldn’t imagine what he might have to say to her after all these years.
“I know what you’re up to.”
Marianne blinked, confused, and stopped trying to avoid Alexander’s eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“Leave Thorpington and Alleyne out of your schemes. They’re nice young men who deserve better than to have their hearts broken just because you’re bored.”
“I beg your pardon!” Her mouth fell open with shock.
“You’re repeating yourself, and you understand me quite well, I believe. Don’t encourage those two boys - or you’ll answer to me.”
Marianne’s cheeks flushed with sudden fury. “I do not care for your insinuations, and allow me to make it clear that I do not answer to you on any matter, Lord Glenkellie!” She made to rise, but a powerful hand closed around her wrist, holding her firmly in place.
“Not so fast, my lady.” His deep voice put a mocking inflection on her title.
“Unhand me at once!” Her gaze spat daggers as she looked at him, her voice cold and brittle as ice. She was still surprised when he let go, his large fingers opening quickly.
“Your pardon,” he mumbled, flushing darkly. “I did not intend - I have never laid hand to a woman in anger before.”
“Then what in heaven’s name possessed you to do so now?” Marianne demanded, her anger fuelling her tongue. “What have I ever done to you, that you should raise your hand to me?”
Alexander stared at her in silence.
Disgusted, she rose and tried to leave, but as she reached the end of the row of shelves, four quiet words stopped her in her tracks.
“You broke my heart.”
Chapter Twelve
Alexander didn’t know what made him confess it. Perhaps it had been Marianne’s righteous fury after he grabbed her arm, tried to force her to listen. He was still shocked at himself for behaving that way; he had been raised to believe violence against women was utterly beyond the bounds of civilised behaviour.
Marianne’s face, as she turned slowly back to face him, was hard to read. She had paled from her flushed rage, but he realised when she spoke that she was no less furious.
“Do you think I willingly married a man more than three times my age?”
Opening his mouth to answer in the affirmative, Alex saw the glint of fury in her eyes and closed it again.
“Oh, I see.” Her voice softened and she looked truly disappointed. “You never knew me at all, did you? What did you think, that I led you on for my own amusement and then married the richest man I could catch?”
He couldn’t remember feeling so small since he was six years old and summoned to meet his grandfather for the first time. The old man’s piercing gaze had stripped him to the bone, and he felt just as flayed by the beautiful woman standing in front of him now, shaking her head slowly over his arrogant assumptions.
To his surprise, Marianne returned to sit down, though she moved to the other side of the window seat, leaving a full foot of space between them.
“For the sake of the affection we once held each other in,” she said, “and because I believe you when you say I broke your heart, I pray you will allow me to tell you the truth about my marriage to Creighton.”
Childishly, he didn’t want to hear it. If she was telling the truth, it meant his resentment of her, his unkind thoughts about her, were wrong. That he was wrong. It was an unpalatable truth for any man to bear, but particularly one of his rank and his military experience. In all those years on the battlefield, his instincts had never led him astray.
Yet now...
“I hated h
im.” Marianne’s voice made him look up at her and meet her eyes despite the guilt which made him want to study his shoes. If she was willing to speak of something which must have been deeply unpleasant, at the very least, he owed her the courtesy of listening.
“From the moment I first laid eyes on Creighton, I disliked him. He licked his lips when he spoke to me and looked on me as though I was a possession to be owned—a thing he coveted. My father’s gambling debts made it an easy transaction; I was bought and sold with the handing over of a bank draft. Like a piece of livestock, or an ornamental vase.”
Alex felt vaguely sick. Marianne showed no emotion as she spoke, merely reciting the facts in a flat tone, despite the ugliness of the circumstances she related.
“Though I objected vociferously when the engagement announcement appeared in the newspapers, my opinion was not sought and my consent not required. Indeed, when I was summoned to my father’s study one morning, I had not the slightest idea I was going to my own wedding. With a special licence in hand and a vicar who did not care in the slightest about my protestations, Creighton made me his countess.”
“Marianne,” Alex said, his voice choked, “please... don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Her tone hardened, her fists clenching against her skirts. “Don’t tell you about the way two of his footmen forced me upstairs to a guest suite in my own home where my husband of but half an hour raped me with my father’s full approval? Of the many indignities I suffered at Creighton’s hands—most particularly every month when my courses came and he would beat me for not conceiving an heir?” There were tears in her eyes, and Alexander hated himself for making her relive the memories which obviously caused her such pain.
“Christ!” Alex couldn’t sit still any longer. Erupting to his feet, he ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. If Creighton was still alive, he’d challenge and shoot the bastard himself, but there was no one to take his anger out on. “Marianne... I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened to you, and I’m sorry I thought the worst of you. I’m sorry.”
She sat with her hands folded primly in her lap now, gazing up at him from her blue eyes, looking like a perfect porcelain doll. Finally she inclined her head a fraction. “We have both been at war,” she said, her voice softer now. One delicate hand lifted, gesturing towards his face. “You merely have a more visible scar than I, that is all.”
An hour ago, he would have become enraged hearing anyone claim any experience might compare to the battles he had endured, the awful things he had seen in the war. Now, after hearing Marianne’s unemotional recital, he knew better. “At least I had days and even weeks where there was quiet and peace,” he said. “Your battles were fought every night.”
“And every day,” she corrected with a twisted little smile. “I was constantly on display as Creighton’s most prized possession, you see, and God help me if I allowed so much as a hair to stray out of place.”
His voice shook as he asked “Did he beat you?” He had no right to the answer and said so immediately after he asked the question, wishing he could take it back. He’d made her suffer enough reliving the memories she’d already shared with him.
“Yes,” she answered him anyway. “Until his arm grew too weak to inflict enough pain to make me cry out, that is. Or perhaps, I just became inured to it.” She paused a moment, looking down at her hands. Her fingers clenched again, knuckles showing white, before she deliberately relaxed them to smooth at her skirt. “At any rate, then he had one of his footmen take over, a burly fellow named Stokes who seemed to take a good deal of pleasure in making me scream.”
Alex’s fists clenched. He could at least hunt down Stokes and make him see the error of his ways - but Marianne leaned forward and placed her hand on one of his.
“Revenge should have no bounds, as the Bard said, and I took mine. Perhaps making a false accusation is a sin, but I took a good deal of pleasure in accusing Stokes of stealing some of Creighton’s belongings a few days after his death. The Earl of Havers was of much assistance to me in having him taken up for theft. He has been transported to Botany Bay, I understand.”
“That’s not enough punishment,” Alex growled.
“It is enough for me.” Marianne looked surprisingly serene as she lifted her hand from his and sat back against the window. “Creighton is dead. He no longer has the power to harm me.”
“Yet you still bear his name; does that not grieve you?”
“Of course it does.” She smiled wryly. “It is why I encourage my friends to call me Marianne, and why I seek to make friends with new people as quickly as possible. I would far rather throw out propriety and go only by my first name; if I could, I would never hear the name of Creighton again.”
“You could remarry?” Alex suggested, suddenly wondering what her opinion was on the subject.
She laughed, throaty and full. “You jest! Willingly put myself once again under the power of a man who can do whatever he wishes to me and never suffer the slightest consequence for it? No thank you.” Standing, she smoothed her skirts. “Thank you for hearing me out, Lord Glenkellie. I once held you in a good deal of affection, and though you had every right to despise me for jilting you without warning, it grieved me to discover you held such a low opinion of me. I hope you understand me a little better now.”
“You have held up a mirror and shown me the ugliness in my own soul,” Alex said, “and I hope you will call me Alexander or merely Glenkellie, and permit me the use of your given name should we again have occasion to converse privately. In any case, I vow the name your husband inflicted on you against your will shall never pass my lips again in your hearing; henceforth in public you shall be Lady Marianne to me.”
“I am not entitled to that, I’m afraid. I am only a viscount’s daughter, after all.”
Alex found a small smile despite his inner turmoil, hoping to amuse her with his next remark. “One benefit of being a marquis, I have found, is that very few people dare to correct you. I need only declare I am confusing you with the current Countess and you will soon find half London is giving you the honorary elevation.”
Her lips twitched, and he thought she might, indeed, be slightly amused. “As you please, Glenkellie. I learned well the advantages of high rank in setting trends among the Ton. If you wish to use yours to my benefit, I shall not protest.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He executed a deep bow, far deeper than mere courtesy called for. “If I may be of service in any other way, I hope you will not hesitate to call on me.”
“Thank you.” She curtseyed in return, and then said, “It is possible I may take you up on that offer, Glenkellie.”
“It would be my honour to assist, Lady Marianne.”
Inclining her head, she turned and walked away, leaving Alex pacing, furious with himself. What a pig he’d been, making assumptions of the basest kind with not the slightest evidence to support them! And what poor Marianne had suffered! Watching her leave, the skirts of her plain dark grey woollen gown swaying slightly as she moved, he realised she was almost certainly wearing such a plain garment to avoid attracting the attention of men. Perhaps, because of the way Creighton had demanded she display herself, garbed in the finest gowns and jewels—always a perfect fashion plate—wearing such a dowdy dress now was a form of rebellion.
Eventually, his anger at himself cooled somewhat, Alex left the library and proceeded downstairs.
“Lord Glenkellie.” The butler, Allsopp, intercepted him in the front hall. “May I direct you anywhere? The other gentlemen are in the billiard room.”
“Thank you, Allsopp,” he said gruffly, “but I am in no mood for company. I might take a walk down to the stables, see that my horse is behaving himself for the grooms here.”
“Very good, my lord,” Allsopp said, unruffled. “Allow me to fetch your hat and greatcoat.”
Impatient with the delay, Alex nonetheless stayed long enough to don the coat and hat which were swiftly produ
ced. It was getting cold outside, and he thought the forecasted rain was likely to begin soon. Walking briskly to the stables, the chill air helped to cool the rage still boiling in his blood. By the time he found Julius settled in a large, comfortable stable with knee-deep straw to lie down in, a manger full of hay, and a bucket full of fresh water, he felt almost normal again. Rubbing the stallion’s ears, he murmured nonsense to him and was glad the sensitive horse did not pick up on his mood.
The Havers stable is exceptional, Alex noted as he looked around at contented horses in their stalls and stable lads busily polishing tack or scrubbing out used feed buckets. He need have no concerns for his horses here.
A coach rolled into the yard as he exited the stable, and he sighed.
“More new arrivals? Who are these?” he asked the head stableman, who came out to look.
“Oh no, not this coach, my lord. This is the one m’lord Havers sent to Cumbria to collect the Lady Creighton’s belongings.”
“I beg your pardon?” Alex said, startled, but the man had already hurried away, going to take the heads of the lead pair.
That made no sense. Why hadn’t Marianne travelled with her belongings? Why would Thomas have had to send for them? Perhaps this was the ‘odd circumstances’ surrounding her arrival Simons had heard about. Alex determined immediately to set his valet to further investigation. He’d learned his lesson; he would make no further assumptions about Marianne without being in full possession of the facts, he was determined.
Chapter Thirteen
Heart still beating fast as she hurried away from the library, Marianne paused at the parlour door for only a moment before turning away and stealing up the stairs. Allsopp pretended not to see her as she scurried past him, and she shot the butler a grateful look, knowing the apparently crusty exterior hid a kindly heart. He would disclaim knowledge of her to anyone who enquired, she was sure, though she would hardly be difficult to find.
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