The Marriage List

by Dorothy McFalls

  “I think we should get her home,” Iona said quietly. “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Evers.”

  He gave a curt nod and wrung his hands. “Of course.”

  “I will walk the ladies Lillian and Iona home.” Lord Nathan gave a meaningful glance in May’s direction. “Perhaps you might wish to sooth Miss Sheffers? She, too, suffered a fright.”

  One of Radford’s raven brows quirked up. “Indeed?” he asked and turned her way. “Have you suffered terribly, Miss Sheffers?” he called.

  May rose from the bench, made as graceful a path as possible through the tall grasses, and rejoined the group. Her pride interfered with what her heart wanted to say. Interfered with her longing to bury herself in his soiled cravat and enjoy his closeness. “Of course not, my lord,” she said, her chin jutting in the air. “Lord Nathan is jesting at my expense.”

  “Then you shall stay with the viscount and pet the filly’s nose?” Iona asked.

  “And I will hold your hand,” Radford said before May could protest.

  “What about me?” Lillian wailed.

  Iona took her sister in her arm and led her to the bench May had been using. “You need to stop your sniffling. I will not walk through Bath with you in such a state. Tongues would wag for weeks.”

  “She is in a temper,” Radford said as he assessed his new filly with a frown. The beast was still stomping the ground with her hoof and pulling on the reins. “I can’t imagine why. Perhaps we should keep our distance for now.”

  May released a healthy sigh and thanked the heavens for the reprieve. “Another time, then?”

  “Yes, another time.”

  There would never be another time, of course. May and Radford could never be close, could never be friends. Not when her heart ached just from standing near him.

  He touched her hand. The simple act stole her breath.

  Five minutes later, May, Iona, and Lord Nathan led a much calmer Lillian from the field. May gave Radford a wave farewell that went unreturned. His attentions were on his horse, a frown shadowing his aristocratic features.

  They were partway down Sion Hill when a great shout went out. A clamor of hooves beat a path adjacent to the road. May was the first to see her. The filly, pretty as her royal namesake, ran toward them, her reins fluttering unattended behind her. There was a primal beauty in her movement.

  May stood transfixed as the powerful animal leapt over a wooden fence and landed not a yard away from her. Lillian screeched. Iona called a warning. The great horse seemed madly intent on getting at May, and she could have no hope of outrunning such an agile creature.

  All she could do was hold her ground, close her eyes, and hope for the best as the thunder of hooves grew ever louder.

  She had no great desire to die but could see no opportunity for escape. May kept her eyes tightly sealed and waited to be trampled to death.

  A great velvety nose nudged her brow. May forced open her eyes and peered into Princess’ long face. The horse’s hot breath swirled all around her.

  “You’re not going to hurt me?” May said with a bravado that had to be dredged up from her deepest depths. She spoke in the same quiet, refined manner Iona took whenever she grew agitated. The ploy worked. Princess nudged May’s shoulder and whinnied softly.

  The leather reins hung at May’s feet. It was a simple task of taking them up and walking back up the road toward Radford’s Longbranch House. Princess followed like a motherless pup. It was a rather endearing experience.

  The stable manager ran down the hill, followed by Radford, his lame leg practically dragging behind him. May winced at the pain he must be feeling. But he didn’t let the injury slow him. He passed the manager and stopped, breathing heavily, a few feet from May.

  “Are you harmed? As soon as you went out of view, she bolted. I was terrified . . . she was running after Lady Lillian, perhaps. Thank goodness you stopped her,” he said while still trying to catch his breath. He looked pale, ill.

  “Lady Lillian is unharmed, my lord,” May assured him. She worried at his wan complexion. He had overexerted himself, but she knew better than to inquire after his health.

  His pride rivaled her own.

  “She is half in love with Miss Sheffers, Evers,” Lord Nathan said. He had to pry Lillian off his arm to take a step toward them. “The filly ran straight to her and gave her a friendly nudge.”

  Radford gave May a queer look then. He frowned and tilted his head, staring at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. May looked back, her insides trembling. Though she didn’t fully understand why, that timeless moment between them was yards more sensual than their first kiss.

  A smile came naturally to her lips as she handed over the leading reins to him. “Good day, my lord.” Her voice sounded soft and husky. “I thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

  Radford captured her hand before she could slip away and raised her knuckles to his lips. “My pleasure.”

  A wealth of fantasies sprang into May’s fertile mind in reaction to those two simple words. My pleasure.

  She prayed for a long, uninterrupted night of sleep.

  Oh la, the dreams she planned to have . . .

  My pleasure, he’d said.

  Chapter 10

  “You will simply have to sell the beast.” Lady Evers had risen from her lounge and strolled across the room. Her gown’s fabric billowed around her, reminding Radford of a feather helplessly caught in the hot summer wind. “I shiver at the thought of your Lady Lillian suffering such a fright. You must make immediate amends. Send her a household full of flowers. Purchase a lovely bonnet to replace the one your horse ruined. Pay her a visit to assure her of your concern . . . but first, get rid of the beast!”

  Get rid of the beast? Princess was a horse he had worked years to acquire. Before leaving for the Peninsula, Radford had scoured the countryside for the perfect mare. The list of qualifications had covered three pages. The mare had to be a sturdy match for his powerful male, strong in areas where his best stallion was weak. The joining of two such animals should produce a horse worthy to be considered for the foundation of his stable.

  Once such a horse had been located, Lyles, his stable manager, had worked for over a year to close the deal with the Duke of Grafton in Radford’s absence and arrange for his stallion to breed with the mare. The first horse born had been a male. A second breeding was required, since his stable needed a filly.

  After six years of hard work, he had finally gotten to touch the results of his labor. She was a beautiful, lively young thing, too.

  He would not give her up.

  “It was just a silly bonnet, Mother,” Radford said. “Lady Lillian overreacted. Surprising really, she is supposedly a renowned horsewoman. A spirited filly shouldn’t have frightened her.” He thought of May then. She had been terrified to stand so close to the young horse. Her hand had shivered in his. Yet, she didn’t shrivel into a quivering mess when Princess attacked Lady Lillian’s bright ostrich-feathered hat.

  Despite her fears, May had foolishly stepped between the startled horse and the hysterical Lady Lillian and prevented a true disaster. Amazing, really.

  He’d seen her in a new light. A common lady dressed in a drab cotton gown and wearing a wide rimmed, straw bonnet with no ornamentation save for a single pale peach silk ribbon—she was by no means a raving beauty. But when he saw her leading his horse up the lane, he felt a sense of calm only the return to his Castlemain Hall and his vast fields of horses had ever given him. She was as earthy and natural as the spirited filly. He felt a strong sense of tenderness for Miss Sheffers. The silent attraction pulled him like none other.

  “Radford!” His mother clapped her hands to recapture his attention. “Attend me. You aren’t taking this matter seriously enough. A young lady has delicate feelings. You must t
read carefully.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said docilely. He’d agreed to marry, after all. And he had found Lady Lillian the woman who best matched his requirements. “I will send for flowers straight away.”

  “And you will sell your new mare.” His mother would not let the point pass without a firm commitment . . . one which Radford was unprepared to give.

  “I will look into the matter.”

  “You will sell the beast.”

  “Not until I understand what happened. And I will not discuss this further.” He stole from the room with his mother’s gasp haunting his ears.

  She had suffered as much as he had. She deserved to be pampered and surrounded by happy grandchildren. He would give that to her, even if he had to sacrifice a little to do so. He would go as far as marriage to a silly emotional young woman like Lady Lillian.

  He would not, however, give up his dream of developing one of the best stables in England.

  * * * * *

  “I will not let you crush her dreams like you did with mine, Sires.”

  May was approaching the upstairs drawing room, which also served as the library, with the thought of seeking out the horridly romantic novel Udolpho to lose herself in when she heard her aunt’s raised voice. She’d been home only long enough to change out of her mud-splattered gown and tame her unruly curls. She had no idea her uncle had made a surprise visit.

  What he must think of her! She’d abandoned her aunt all afternoon to pursue some frivolities of her own. And to what gain? Her heart had only slipped farther down the bottomless void of love while she bruised her pride, ruined her dress, and unsettled her mind by a fearsome beast with heavy hooves.

  “Crush them?” Uncle Sires said in an even tone. May nearly had to press her ear to the drawing room door to hear him. “Is that what you believe? I am not a heartless monster, Winnie. I have her best interests in mind when I make these decisions . . . just as I had yours so many years ago.”

  “She will never be happy with him. He is too old. Admit it, Sires. You only paraded him here to hurt me.”

  “To hurt you, dear sister?” What he said after that was lost in the heavy wood door separating May from the interior of the drawing room. Besides, eavesdropping was beneath her. She should be in the room at her aunt’s side.

  May hesitated for just a moment before pushing the door open, beaming a smile toward her aunt, and then providing her uncle with an obedient curtsy. “I hope I didn’t stray from home too long, Aunt,” she said softly and pretended she had not heard a word of their strained conversation.

  “This is why I worry after you,” Uncle Sires said with a grand wave in May’s direction. “She is wild, unreliable. She should be here with you, not traipsing through town like some hoyden.”

  “She is young,” Winnie said. “She needs to spend time with ladies and gentlemen nearer her age, not be cooped up with some weakened old biddy like me.”

  “She’s not that young. Four-and-twenty. Some would claim the child is already well set on the shelf.”

  “You are not an old biddy,” May said over Uncle Sires. It was rude to speak out of turn and interrupt the head of the family. But she felt she needed to explain how she had never tired of her aunt’s company. “You are a delightful companion and always full of clever conversation.”

  “Please—” Uncle Sires turned on May. “—don’t spout falsehoods to cover for your shortcomings. We all know you cannot bear to remain under a roof for long stretches of time. You are your father’s spawn . . . naught but a gypsy dressed in fashionable rags.”

  His insults rarely pained May. Over the years she’d come to expect them from him. But for a worrying minute, his charge troubled her. She was discovering that she did indeed prefer a romp outdoors to a quiet read in the drawing room’s window seat. Did that mean there was something innately wrong with her?

  Radford had teased her earlier that morning. He’d called her a shameless hoyden. Had he truly believed that of her?

  “I love Aunt Winnie. I have never regretted a moment spent with her,” May said slowly with what her uncle called her unfettered gypsy tongue. “You must know that, Aunt.”

  Winnie gave a short nod. “You will cease this foolishness, Sires. I will not listen to your opinion. You do not know May as I do. I daresay you never will.”

  “But you must agree, sister. Tumblestone’s farm will give May ample opportunity to live a life free from high society’s constraints. No one in the village will hold the circumstances of her birth against her. No one will snarl if she spends the afternoon under the blazing sun. She will be happy.”

  Happy? Somehow May could not see it. How could she be happy married to a man she didn’t know? A man older than her own father. How could she be happy with Mr. Tumblestone when another filled her heart?

  No matter how she felt or the heated way Radford looked at her, she was no naïve girl fresh from the schoolroom. She knew there could never be anything between them. Winnie had taught May to guard herself.

  “She will not be happy,” Winnie proclaimed as she rose from the cushioned chair. “She will not be happy with him.”

  “Be reasonable—” Uncle Sires began only to clamp his mouth closed when Winnie shot him a sour look. She struggled without the aid of a cane or May’s arm to gracefully leave the room with an air of hauteur lingering in her wake. The effort must have been great. Aunt Winnie was as gray as a ghost by the time she reached the stairs outside the door.

  May charged after her, thinking to lend a hand, when Uncle Sires stepped in her path and blocked the door.

  “My sister’s emotional outbreak has nothing to do with you, child.” He spoke down to her with broad, round tones that could still frighten May all the way to the tips of her toes. His cold, brown eyes remained fixed on her as he gathered up his cloak, hat, and gloves. “Walk with me.”

  May lowered her head and batted down a flaring desire to disobey him. “Yes, my lord,” she said suitably cowed.

  Sires smiled, his lips thinning with the joyless expression. “Mr. Tumblestone is a fine gentleman, do you not agree?” he asked as they walked side by side down the narrow stairs. May was pressed up against the wall.

  “I do not know him well enough to judge, my lord.” She had no great desire to learn more about Mr. Tumblestone, either. And now, with her aunt less than pleased with the match, May found her interests in Mr. Tumblestone fading fast. “He is old.”

  “His age is of no great consequence, child. What with the rigors of the childbed, husbands naturally live much longer than their wives.”

  That thought sobered May. “Has he buried many wives then?” she asked once they reached the front door.

  “No, none. He has never been married, you see.”

  “Never?” May found that hard to believe. He appeared to be a man of consequence, though meager when compared to her uncle’s standards, and he owned property. Such a man should have married to secure his future long before reaching an advanced age. “Why?”

  “The reason is not important. He is willing to marry now. He is willing to marry you.”

  The thought that a man, a consummate bachelor at that, should agree to marry a woman he had never met made May wary. “He was willing to take me as his wife before he met me. Why?”

  “Why? To gain entrance into our family, of course.” He answered as if bucks and beaus should be banging down the door to offer their hand in marriage just to align their families with hers. Gracious, that was so far from the truth that May had to swallow a bubbling giggle that threatened to burst from her mouth.

  “Do you have any more questions about him?” he asked. “I want you to feel comfortable when you accept his proposal next week.”

  Accept his proposal next week? Sires must be mad.

  “I-I don’t know him yet!” May shou
ted. “I can’t do it!”

  His grim smile did not waver. “I will arrange for you to spend more time with him then. There is no need for all this womanly emotion. I am giving you a full week to become accustomed to the idea for Heaven’s sake.”

  “You are giving me?” May sputtered, her anger now fully unleashed. “You-you are a pompous ass, my lord. You have no say in my life. None at all. I am only bowing to you and considering your wishes in deference to Aunt Winnie. If I choose to marry, it will be to the man of my picking . . . a man I can dearly love with all my heart. Something you surely know nothing about!”

  Sires caught her chin in his thick hand and pinched it between his fingers. “You, child, will school your temper or else I will take a whip to you.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I am still the head of this family and like it or not, you are part of my responsibility by my younger sister’s blood. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, my lord.” The answer came automatically.

  His hand tightened on her chin. “You need to be beaten, child. This willfulness of yours is a bane to our entire family. Before you make any further rash decisions, consider your aunt’s health. Consider what your willful disobedience will do to her.”

  He released her sore chin and looked as if he were contemplating abusing her right then and there. For several tense minutes the only sound in the hall came from a ticking grandfather clock. May held her ground and maintained eye contact with him the entire time.

  “Consider your aunt,” he said as if May needed to be reminded. “I will bring Mr. Tumblestone by tomorrow morning.” Then he stormed from the house.

  She would meet with Mr. Tumblestone in the morning, all right. Such a meeting would be most welcome for she planned to tell him exactly what she thought about her uncle’s heavy-handed attempt to marry her off to the first man he could find who would have her.