“I want to wait until I am quite sure.” Ellen looked down at her hands. “I quite understand if you don’t want to. It must be a difficult subject for you.”
It was at times like this she was forcibly recalled to the fact that while Ellen acted with remarkable maturity, the Countess of Havers was still only just turned one-and-twenty.
“I never, for one instant, wanted to bring a child into my marriage,” Marianne stated with some force. Ellen stared at her wide-eyed, and she admitted, “Which does not mean, I never wanted a baby of my own.”
Ellen didn’t seem to know what to say, and Marianne was grateful the carriage halted just then outside the townhouse. It had been years since she’d dreamed of a child of her own, yet thinking of it now awakened feelings she had thought long dead. Unexpectedly, she found herself longing for a baby, a little boy perhaps with his father’s dark hair and blue eyes.
When she realised she was imagining her son as Alexander’s, she ran up the stairs as though chased by wolves, leaving a startled Ellen in her wake, hoping she hadn’t upset her friend too badly.
Chapter Twenty
Brooks’ Gentlemen’s Club
“You’ll never believe who I saw at Almack’s yestereve,” a loud voice announced behind Alexander, making him sigh and frown at his newspaper. He’d taken to spending afternoons at his club to escape the unending stream of guests visiting his mother, most of them accompanied by eligible daughters, sisters, nieces, or friends they hoped to throw at his head. He’d been rather enjoying the peace until the reading room was invaded by a couple of fools intent on rehashing their entire year to date, it seemed.
Now they had been joined by a third, even louder than the original two. Alexander was about to hush them when the newcomer spoke a name which froze him in place.
“Lady Creighton.”
“What, the new one? Met her last week, she’s got a daughter she’s trying to fire off. Drab little thing.”
“She has ten thousand, she’s not so drab. Probably why the Patronesses gave them vouchers.”
“Not the new one or her daughter, though they were both there too. I’m talking about the former one, whose given name is apparently Marianne. Marianne, Lady Creighton.” The newcomer sighed it so dreamily Alexander couldn’t quite help lowering his newspaper to see which silly youngster was mooning over Marianne.
His eyes widened with shock when he saw neither the newcomer nor the two he had joined were young; they were all men in their thirties, men for whom Alexander held at least some degree of respect. The one just slumping into a seat was Lord Ferry, second son of a duke and a wealthy man in his own right. Married, too, unless Alexander misremembered, but he was sure he’d met Lady Ferry at some event or other in the past year.
“She’s more beautiful than ever,” Lord Ferry continued. “And without that old fart Creighton around, she’s smiling and dancing. I finally got that dance with her I’ve been begging years for.”
Viscount Snowfield laughed, not unkindly. “Bit late now to make a play for her, ain’t it? You’ve a wife and two brats at home.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. The lady has been telling everyone who will listen she has no intention of marrying again.” Ferry’s smile was sly. “And you know what that means. She plans to be a merry widow.”
Sir Edward Mullins, the third of the little party, sat up, suddenly paying attention. “Are you saying she’d accept a slip on the shoulder?”
“I think the lady knows her value and would be very expensive, but yes. I plan to offer her carte blanche.” Ferry looked smug. “I know the way to her heart, I think. Her jewels all stayed with the Creighton coffers; she wore only a very plain little cross, whereas the new countess was wearing a spectacular diamond and ruby necklace. I’ll buy her a diamond bracelet or two and set her up in a nice house wherever she wishes. Not many can match my resources.”
“And most of those who can are as old as her first husband; I don’t doubt she’ll prefer someone who doesn’t have one foot in the grave!” Snowfield laughed again, though Mullins looked a little disgruntled. “Well, I wish you luck in your pursuit, my friend. Will your wife object?”
“No, Honoria knows her place. She’s breeding again, besides. I sent her back to stay with my parents.”
Ferry’s smile was so smug Alexander debated getting up just to punch it off his face. How dare the bastard talk about Marianne that way? How dare he even think it?
Starting a fight in the middle of Brooks’ wouldn’t help the situation, though. Alex briefly considered challenging Lord Ferry to defend Marianne’s honour, but that would only fuel more gossip. All London would be saying that Marianne was already Alex’s mistress within hours if he did challenge Ferry, which would do nobody any favours.
So instead of losing his temper, he folded his newspaper and laid it down on the table before getting up and leaving, offering a silent nod to the three men as he passed.
It wasn’t a long walk to Cavendish Square, where the Havers had their townhouse. Alexander strode along briskly, temper simmering just below the surface. I should have foreseen something like this happening, he berated himself. He could not blame Marianne; she was only trying to protect herself, but in doing so she had accidentally opened herself to a far more iniquitous type of pursuit from gentlemen with less noble things on their minds than marriage.
“Good afternoon, Lord Glenkellie,” the butler greeted him at the door. “Lord Havers is not at home this afternoon, I’m afraid.”
“I was hoping to see Lady Havers and Lady Marianne, as it happens.”
“Oh, they are but lately returned from shopping on Bond Street, my lord. I will see if Lady Havers will receive you, if you would care to wait?”
Alexander thrust his hat into the obliging man’s hands. “Thank you, I will. If you wouldn’t mind conveying that the matter is urgent?”
Ellen joined him in the parlour a few minutes later. “Glenkellie, what’s so urgent?” she came straight to the point.
Glancing at the door, Alex wondered if he should wait for Marianne, but perhaps it was better she did not hear what he had to say.
“I need you to be very vigilant in keeping Lady Marianne by your side,” he kept his voice low.
“Why?” Ellen asked in her usual straightforward way. “I am quite willing to do as you ask, but if there is anything in particular I should look for, I would prefer to know. Forewarned is forearmed.”
“Quite so, Lady Havers.” Trying to think how best to phrase the truth without being offensive, Alex said carefully, “It has come to my attention that Lady Marianne’s public declaration that she does not intend to marry again may have given the wrong impression in certain quarters.”
Ellen looked completely blank.
He sighed and tried again. “I overheard some gossip in my club regarding the possibility of Lady Marianne accepting a less than respectable offer.”
This time, Ellen understood. Outrage dawned in her expression and she spluttered for a moment before saying, “Good God, some men really are just... just...”
“Horses’ behinds?” Alex suggested.
“Exactly!”
“Who’s a horse’s behind?” Marianne asked as she entered the room.
Alex and Ellen looked at each other.
“If there is anyone specific you could name, I know I’d want to know so I could avoid them,” Ellen said.
“Very well.” Alex winced, but turned to Marianne. “You’re acquainted with Lord Ferry, I understand?”
“Yes, for some years now.” Marianne’s brows drew down in a frown. “What about him?”
“I’m afraid your declaration that you do not intend to remarry has given Lord Ferry the wrong impression. His intentions towards you are less than honourable.”
Dark colour rushed to Marianne’s cheeks. “And you know this, how?” she asked after a moment of silence.
“He was gossiping about his intentions in Brooks’. I overheard,” Alex s
aid apologetically.
“Damn men!” The words exploded from Marianne, her fists clenching with anger as she turned to pace over to the window and glare out.
“If you would excuse me a moment,” Ellen said, “I wish to let the staff know Lord Ferry is never to be admitted to this house under any pretext.” She left the room, her heels clipping on the polished wooden floor.
In the silence, Alexander wondered if he should leave too, but Marianne was clearly overset. Not wanting to press her, he moved over to the window adjacent to where she stood and sat down on the cushioned window seat, thinking he would just keep her quiet company until Ellen returned. He was quite surprised when she turned from her contemplation of the street outside and sat down beside him.
“Have you ever discovered any disadvantages to being blessed with good looks?” Marianne asked unexpectedly.
Surprised, Alex shook his head. “No, but they are spoiled now.” Unconsciously, he fingered the scar on his cheek. He’d already seen distaste from plenty of ladies as their eyes lingered on it.
“Nonsense, it only makes you look more distinguished,” Marianne said with a sniff. “I wonder if it would work for me, though? Some sort of disfigurement - perhaps I could cut all my hair off.”
“You would still be the most beautiful woman I know, even if you went ahead and did it,” Alex answered, trying to concentrate on her words rather than the warm feelings engendered by her compliment.
Marianne eyed him, her expression wary. “You’re not going to tell me I must not?”
“Why should I? ‘Tis your hair. I would miss your crowning glory,” daringly, he reached out to touch a curl which dangled along her neck, “but I have no right to tell you what to do. That is rather the point of you not wishing to marry again, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, but there are plenty of men who would still try to tell me what I may or may not do, without any reason to claim authority over me whatsoever.”
Alex offered her a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you should use that as a tactic to weed out those you do not wish to associate with. Tell them you are considering cutting your hair off, and anyone who tries to tell you not to is not truly worthy of your friendship.”
“I fear I should be left with only you and Havers as friends.” Marianne’s answering smile was wry.
“A tragic but honest assessment of my gender,” Alex agreed ruefully.
They sat in silence for a moment before Marianne asked him another unexpected question. “If - when you take a wife, Glenkellie, would you forbid her to cut her hair off?”
“Certainly not,” he said at once, then re-thought. “I might try to persuade her not to, but if she was quite set on it, I would ask that she let a maid do it, lest she injure herself with scissors when trying to cut at the back of her head where she cannot see.”
Her expression was wistful. “That is an even better answer than your first response. Your wife will be a lucky woman.”
“I hope she will think so,” was the only response he could think of, aside from falling to his knees and begging her to marry him. It was definitely not the best moment for a proposal.
But dear God, if only he could!
Chapter Twenty-One
The Duchess of Balford’s Ball
Marianne was still angry by the time she arrived at the Balford ball. Determined to stand firm in the face of spiteful gossip, she had taken particular care with her appearance, selecting one of her most beautiful gowns, a silk creation which changed between blue and green depending on the light. Simple in cut, it depended entirely on the quality of the fabric and the beauty of the wearer to carry it off. She knew she’d achieved the desired effect when Lavinia took one look at her and sighed in despair.
“Nobody will even look at Diana, with you here,” she said dismally.
“Lavinia.” Marianne shook her head. “You do not want a man for Diana whose head might be turned by me. Such a man would not suit her at all, and you do want her to be happy, don’t you?”
Obviously struck by the argument, Lavinia nodded in agreement. “I daresay you are correct,” she conceded.
“And look, here is the Marquis of Glenkellie to claim you for the first dance,” Marianne told Diana, who was looking very pretty in a white gown with a silver net overlay, tiny silver stars sparkling in her dark brown hair. “Everyone will be asking who the lovely young lady he could hardly wait to dance with is, believe me.”
Diana smiled shyly back at her. “I know he would far rather be dancing with you,” she whispered as Lavinia turned away for a moment to speak to an acquaintance.
“Well, to tell the truth, there isn’t anyone else I should like to dance with,” Marianne admitted. Ever since Alexander had revealed the gossip to her and Ellen yesterday, she had been thinking about it; if Lord Ferry, a married man, was looking at her with speculation, who could she possibly trust? She would look at every dance partner with caution from now on.
Alexander arrived before them and executed a bow to each of them, greeting them very politely.
“I hope you have not given away my dance, Lady Diana?” he said with a warm twinkle. “The musicians are tuning up now, and I believe we will open with a quadrille.”
“The quadrille is quite my favourite,” Diana said shyly, placing her hand on his proffered arm. “I am very sensible of the honour you do me, Lord Glenkellie; thank you for asking me to dance.”
“It is I who am honoured, Lady Diana.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “That is, so long as you do not step on my toes!”
Diana giggled as Alexander led her away, and Lavinia shook her head. “He’s not remotely interested in her, I think, but he does seem very nice.”
“Quite the nicest man of my acquaintance,” Marianne said a little wistfully.
“Lavinia, who’s that tall chap dancing with Diana?” Arthur hurried up to them, rather out of breath. He didn’t bother to greet Marianne.
“The Marquis of Glenkellie, dear. You recall, Marianne introduced us to him and the dowager marchioness at the theatre last week, and he requested a dance with Diana.”
“A marquis,” Arthur puffed up. “Well, that’s a coup! Glenkellie’s very rich, I hear.”
“Do not get your hopes up.” Lavinia shook her head. “He only asked as a favour to Marianne, I think.”
“Why should he owe you favours?”
Arthur looks rather like a carp, Marianne thought, his eyes bulging and his mouth open as he turned to her.
“Lord Glenkellie owes me nothing,” she said, “but we are old friends.”
“Indeed!” Arthur’s brows shot up, and then he leaned forward. “You may have made a cuckold out of my uncle,” he said viciously, “but you’re still a Creighton, and I’ll not have you bringing the name into disrepute. There are already rumours circulating about you!”
“Arthur!” Lavinia sounded genuinely shocked. Grasping her husband’s arm, she shot Marianne an apologetic look. “Pray excuse us.”
Marianne was more than happy to turn on her heel and hurry away. How could anyone ever believe she had cuckolded her husband? He had never tolerated her so much as speaking to another man unless he was present, had punished her if gentlemen tried to approach, claiming she must have enticed them with her smile, her manner. She would not have the slightest idea how to encourage a suitor!
Blinded by tears of rage and hurt, Marianne pushed her way through the crowd, finally escaping the ballroom and hurrying to a retiring room.
ALEXANDER WITNESSED Marianne’s flight and Lady Havers going in hasty pursuit. Caught in the middle of the dance floor, he could only bite his lip and watch, hoping Ellen could help with whatever had obviously upset Marianne.
“Are you in love with my aunt?”
The blunt question from Lady Diana as the pattern of the dance brought them back together made him miss a step.
“I beg your pardon?” he stuttered.
“Because I think she’s in love with you.” Diana’s brown eyes were c
lear and guileless as she looked up at him.
“She claims she doesn’t want to marry.”
“She doesn’t want to marry someone who would treat her as appallingly as my great-uncle did, she means. Would you treat her badly?”
“I would treat her like a queen,” Alexander said, heartfelt.
Diana smiled. “I thought so. Your eyes give you away when you see her, you know.”
“And to think, I thought you were shy,” he marvelled.
“I am, rather.” She blushed prettily. “But sometimes, direct action is called for, and I can be brave if I must. Clarissa and I talked and she said I absolutely had to talk to you. Especially since Mama thinks, er...” she trailed off.
“Thinks I should marry you?” Alexander asked.
“Well, yes. I should never want a husband in love with someone else, though, so I should take it as a very great favour if you do not pay me too much attention.”
“Noted,” he said gravely. “And thank you.”
“What for?”
“Helping me come to a decision I have been pondering for some time: what exactly I should say to Lady Marianne. You are correct that I am in love with her, and marrying someone else wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.”
Diana is really quite beautiful when she smiles like that, Alexander thought as the dance ended and everyone applauded the musicians. Offering his arm, he led Diana back to her mother and thanked her for the dance. Young men were already flocking around, jostling for introductions, and he paused to say to Diana, quietly so that nobody else would overhear, “Should you ever require any assistance, I pray you will not hesitate to call upon me.”
“Thank you, Lord Glenkellie.” She sank into a curtsey. “I am sure your partner for the next dance is eagerly awaiting you.”
He hoped so. With a final bow in the Countess’ direction, he turned and headed for the ballroom doors, hoping Marianne might have returned to the room. He could not see her or Ellen Havers anywhere.
Lady Jersey was close by the door, and he paused to offer his respects and ask whether she had seen Marianne. “She promised me the second dance,” he said, trying to make his voice sound casual. “I’ve waited almost a decade to dance with her, you know.”
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