The Marriage List

by Dorothy McFalls

  May watched as Radford’s hands closed into a pair of very solid fists.

  “No,” Tumblestone was quick to add. “There hasn’t been a formal announcement. Quite honestly, there hasn’t been time. The earl and I were calling on Miss Sheffers to make the final arrangements when Lady Winifred suffered a collapse because of her weak heart.”

  “That’s a lie,” Radford said, biting off the words. His fists clung tightly to the stout golden-headed cane at his side. “She would never willingly accept a marriage proposal from you.”

  “Ah, but she has.”

  May’s head began spinning. She had accepted his suit. That graceful letter she’d penned just hours before her aunt fell ill had said as much. Her eyes grew wide as Tumblestone released her shoulder so he could pull that very letter from his waistcoat pocket.

  “Isn’t that so, Miss Sheffers?” he asked.

  With her gaze fixed on that cursed letter, she nodded slowly while her mind worked furiously on trying to figure out what best to say.

  “Is this what you truly wish, May?” the duke asked in that paternal tone of his.

  “Before you answer,” Mr. Tumblestone rushed to say just as May opened her mouth to gently tell him that she’d changed her mind, “let me remind you of the situation.” He turned to the Duke of Newbury then. “She’s been unduly influenced, and I’d say, confused by a man who desires only to make her his mistress.”

  “Indeed?” The duke’s eyebrows rose. “Is the charge true, Evers?”

  “Indeed it is not.” Radford tossed down his cane and peeled off his gloves as he advanced. “You will pay for that insult.”

  Tumblestone tugged at his gloves, pulling them off one finger at a time.

  Oh dear, trouble was brewing. Trouble she didn’t have time for. All she wanted was to see her aunt. If the men’s actions were to continue in this vein, a challenge for a duel would no doubt be issued. May planted her feet when it became clear that she stood between the two men and their dangerous folly. She held up her arms.

  “Stop this right now.” Her voice rang with such chilly hauteur that both men froze where they stood. “I will not permit any man to fight in my presence or on my behalf. Up until now, I haven’t needed a man in my life, and nothing has changed to compel me to cling to the nearest strong arm. I am my own person and I intend to make my own decisions.”

  Tumblestone appeared vastly amused by her speech. He slapped his gloves against his arm and chuckled. “Very well, Miss Sheffers.”

  Radford, on the other hand, wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded. His jaw tightened as he glared daggers at her. She felt like she’d slapped him in the face. The anger burning behind his tense expression was familiar. Just like the day in the Pump Room when he’d nearly fallen and she’d taken the blame for the mishap, she’d punctured his pride.

  And that was the last thing she wanted to do. No matter what—despite their lack of a future—May loved Radford as dearly as she loved her parents and as fiercely as she loved her aunt. Though she may never see him again, after today, he would always be a part of her heart and her thoughts.

  “Please, my lord, you need to worry about your own affairs. As you can see—” She gestured toward the duke. “—I am being well looked after.”

  “But I—”

  She pressed a gloved finger to his lips. Shameful behavior, she knew, but still she needed to touch him, to feel his warmth just one more time. What she was about to say was guaranteed to tear at her already tattered heart. “Go back to Lady Lillian. You have chosen well with her. She is worthy of your title and will make you a good wife. Worry about her, my lord. Not me. Your name has been sullied enough by connecting it with my problems and me. Think of your family name and do what is right.”

  Radford captured the finger May had pressed to his lips and held the slender digit fast in his palm. “What is right?”

  The question struck her dumb.

  “Family duty,” Uncle Sires answered for her. “I must congratulate you, child, for having put voice to a point I hold dear. One’s duty to the family must always come first. Do you not agree?”

  May felt trapped between Radford’s intense gaze and her uncle’s encouragement to blindly obey and satisfy her obligation to honor the Redfield family name.

  “Think of your aunt,” Mr. Tumblestone said. “Lady Winifred will wish to have you nearby during her long recovery.”

  Again, her head spun. Drat that bump on her head paining her temple. If she could only have some time to think clearly . . . if only there wasn’t a crowded room waiting to hear her decision . . . if only her life were different.

  But, that wasn’t exactly true. Before she felt her heart beating and learned of its existence, she’d been content. She’d enjoyed living with her aunt and taking care of her needs. Her life wasn’t perfect, but whose was? She’d been happy.

  And could be happy again.

  The choice was hers to make.

  “I am sorry, Radford.” She drew her hand away.

  Independence had made her happy. That was one choice she could make. Her aunt was another. Family duty weighed heavily on her shoulders. After years of hard work supporting her aunt, she knew her shoulders could bare the weight. “My aunt comes first. I will do what it takes to be in her life, to be there for her.”

  “What is this poppycock?” Aunt Winnie leaned heavily on her rarely used cane as she slowly entered the room. She was wearing a heavy wool wrapper over her white nightgown. A frilly cap framed her face, covering all but a few stray wisps of gray hair.

  Everyone in the room turned to watch her make a grand entrance.

  “Winnie?” May gasped. Her hands flew to her chest. Her aunt looked so pale, so weak. May charged across the room and caught her aunt’s free arm to help support her. “Winnie, you should be abed.”

  “Poppycock!” Winnie banged her cane against the floor. She did, however, permit May’s continued support. “There is too much chicanery occurring in this house for me to lounge around now.”

  “Please, take my chair,” Lady Iona offered. Wynter assisted May as she led Winnie to the soft cushioned seat. Her aunt’s feet moved painfully slowly. The poor woman should not have been allowed to stray from her bed. By the time she was settled in the chair, she was panting from the effort.

  May hugged Winnie and could not stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. “I was so worried. You cannot believe how worried. I feared I was going to lose you.”

  Winnie, true to her proud self, didn’t allow May’s gushing to last. She patted May’s arm before slamming her cane against the floor to silence the room.

  “Although it is heartwarming to see you, May, you are not the reason I came down here.” Winnie’s voice sounded as regal and strong as ever. She reached out her heavy arm and pointed toward Mr. Tumblestone. “You,” she rolled the word. “We must speak.”

  The grin faded from Mr. Tumblestone’s face. He bowed his head. “Yes, I suppose we must.”

  “Aunt?” May couldn’t understand why Winnie would feel the need to drag herself from a sick bed just to speak with her niece’s suitor. She’d almost always allowed May to handle her own affairs. It was rare indeed for her to step in and take charge like this. She firmly believed that May needed to learn to handle problems as they came and not to expect someone else to fix them for her. May agreed whole-heartedly to that philosophy.

  What did her aunt intend to do?

  “I once loved you with all my heart, all my being,” Aunt Winnie said to Mr. Tumblestone.

  May’s jaw dropped.

  “This is not the time, Winnie,” Uncle Sires said through clenched teeth. His color darkened again as his gaze tripped across all the members of the ton standing in his study and witnessing yet another drama thanks to May.

  “When you were r
ipped away from me so many years ago, I’d thought my life would end. You were the world to me. Oh, you knew exactly how to speak to a lady and make her feel as if there was no one else in the world but her.”

  Mr. Tumblestone had courted Aunt Winnie? It was possible. He lived only a few miles from Redfield Abbey, and they were of similar ages.

  “Years later I learned the truth. I now know you accepted the money my brother gave you to stop the relationship. The truth tore at me even worse than the mystery of your sudden disappearance. When you arrived in Bath with Sires, I thought you had come to beg my forgiveness.” Winnie lifted her chin proudly.

  “You don’t understand the circumstances,” Mr. Tumblestone said, tightly. “You have never gone without money.”

  Winnie raised a brow. “Nevertheless,” she said. May shivered at the frost in her aunt’s tone. “You came to marry my niece, not to settle with me. Naturally I assumed May would refuse. Yet a part of me agreed that she needed a husband. My deepest desire is to see her raise a family of her own, to have someone to love and care for when I am gone.”

  “Oh, Winnie,” May whispered, unable to bear the thought of a world without her aunt.

  Winnie stiffened. “Up until now I have held my tongue, giving fate a chance to take its course. I will do so no longer. Other paths to fulfillment are now possible for my niece. And you, Mr. Tumblestone, are cold and heartless, longing only for wealth. I would have been miserable in marriage to you.

  “I thank my brother for doing me a favor all those many years ago. I, in turn, will do the same for my niece. She will not marry you. I will not allow it . . . nor will Sires.”

  The room fell still with stunned silence. Only Radford had the audacity to grin like a victor returning from a hard-fought war.

  “Redfield?” Mr. Tumblestone said finally. “Do you agree with your sister on this?”

  Uncle Sires looked as if he’d just swallowed a lemon whole. He twisted nervously. His crisply starched cravat appeared as if it were beginning to strangle him.

  “I do,” he whispered.

  “But we had an agreement.” Mr. Tumblestone paled. “You had said that if I—”

  “Never mind what I said,” Uncle Sires said loudly. “I would thank you to leave now. In fact, I’d thank everyone to leave my home. I have much to do.”

  No one moved. Not even Tumblestone.

  “What will you do now, dear?” Winnie asked. She gave a sly glance in Radford’s direction.

  “She will marry, of course,” Uncle Sires answered for her.

  “Of course,” Winnie said, much to May’s chagrin.

  “I will find her another, more suitable gentleman,” Uncle Sires said.

  May raised hands in alarm at the prospect of being bartered away to yet another penniless gentleman. “No uncle, I will not agree to such madness. I have no need of a man in my life. In fact, my mind is made up. I will never marry.”

  “If you not marry, child,” Uncle Sires said as he poked May in the chest with his stubby finger, “what shall you do? Starve?”

  Chapter 20

  Radford looked on as May denied her need for passion in her life. She had been pushed to the background for so long that she’d all but forgotten how to be herself. Radford saw her as she’d been forced to become. Her spirit dampened. Her urges restrained. Just like the shy ceramic sprite hiding in his pocket, May had completely withdrawn from the exciting world calling to her.

  He could not let such a crime continue. As long as he still breathed, he’d free her. Not an easy task, he knew. His help wasn’t exactly welcome. Wynter had been right in his assessment of that one. Radford had bruised May’s pride when he’d boldly announced that she should marry him and let him solve all her problems.

  No matter how deep she hid herself, her independent spirit would always shine through. That was one reason he loved her so fiercely.

  Love.

  The mere thought of being under the control of such a tender emotion scared Radford all the way down to his aching toes. Admitting to such soft feelings was a peril he wasn’t ready to face. She’d rebuffed his attentions more than once. May would have to prove her feelings for him before he’d risk the humiliation of declaring himself in love.

  Radford stood stiffly in the middle of the Earl of Redfield’s study and watched helplessly as May faced down her uncle. He took some comfort knowing that with so many protectors she wasn’t in danger of suffering injury from Redfield’s hand.

  Though Radford hadn’t been permitted to see to May himself two nights before, the doctor had recounted the bruises lining her arms and legs. Wynter had described in detail how the earl had dragged May to this very study while everyone in the household worried after her.

  Her life had been in danger. Radford planned to use every power available to him to see that she never faced the same threat again.

  The night before, Radford and Wynter had closeted themselves in Radford’s study while they met with Bannor. The three agreed that their strongest weapon against a man like the earl would be the threat of exposing the changes in his dying mother’s will.

  Like many in the ton, the earl lived an expensive lifestyle. Bannor had produced a long list of creditors to whom the earl owed money. With the income from his family’s estates, he’d have no trouble paying his bills. But if he were to lose a large portion of that income to his sister, as stipulated in this new will, the earl would find himself in a real pickle.

  If that tidbit of information were to become common knowledge, the earl’s creditors and shopkeepers would all be lining up to demand cash payments. He would lose his creditability. For a man of his self-importance, such a scenario would be like suffering a mortal blow—exactly the kind of weapon Radford had hoped to find.

  He and Wynter had forced their way into the earl’s townhouse today to warn him that they were prepared to share the details of his mother’s new will with his creditors if he continued to cause trouble in May’s life.

  They hadn’t expected to find a crowd.

  The Duke of Newbury standing beside May like a lion protecting his cub had certainly been a surprise.

  A welcome one at that.

  The night before Bannor had reported another interesting piece of information . . . this one about May’s father. As Radford had feared, her father had indeed been born to a wandering gypsy. The father of the ill-conceived birth, who in turn was May’s grandfather, was the eight Duke of Newbury, the current duke’s father.

  May was the Duke of Newbury’s niece? That information, combined with a favorable nod from the duke, would give May full entrance into fashionable society. A favorable nod—one that the stingy Earl of Redfield had never deigned to give his niece—would make a marriage between her and a viscount a socially acceptable possibility.

  I will never marry, she’d just declared. Radford would have to dredge up all his forgotten charms to win her trust and her hand. The very thought of fighting such a battle made his every breath surge with new life . . . this was truly a woman worth living for.

  “No matter what happens, I will never starve,” May said to her uncle. There was a delightful fire smoldering behind her violet eyes. Small as she was, she stood straight and tall before her uncle. A valiant David standing up to frightening Goliath.

  Radford could not feel more proud. She was special, one of a kind. Capturing such an elusive fey spirit wouldn’t be easy. He would start the pursuit by proving his loyalty.

  “Redfield, I have come to seek a private word with you,” he said with great authority. He tugged on his waistcoat. “It concerns a matter of utmost importance, and no, it cannot be delayed further.”

  May’s frown deepened. “I don’t see how you could have—”

  Radford pressed his finger to her lips. He’d rather enjoyed it when she’d done so to him, s
o he only happily returned the gesture. She colored prettily as she looked around and took notice of the room filled with raised eyebrows.

  She’d done it to herself, setting the intimate tone between them in such a public way. Proper ladies did not press their finger to a gentleman’s lips. Nor did they call a gentleman by his given name. Such scandalous public behaviors only alluded to more intimate happenings behind closed doors.

  After today, a swift marriage would no doubt be expected.

  “I insist,” Radford said softly.

  Her blush deepening, she gave a sharp nod.

  “I wish to take part in this,” the duke said. Though his tone was amiable, the accompanying expression conveyed his unbending demand to be included. His interest in May’s future pleased Radford enormously.

  With a grimace twisted enough to make a baby scream, the earl led Radford and the Duke of Newbury into a small adjoining library.

  Radford kept his demands short and to the point while the duke looked on, nodding occasionally. The earl remained silent, a grim expression fixed on his face.

  “I don’t understand why you’d trouble yourself so over the child,” Redfield said after a lengthy silence. “She’s a gypsy bastard’s daughter . . . not good for anything.”

  Radford’s knuckles itched for violence. “Do I have your cooperation?”

  Redfield chewed his bottom lip for several more silent moments. A highly polished brass clock on an oak mantel ticked loudly. “Yes, damn it. Take her away from me. I wash my hands of the chit.”

  “And Lady Winifred,” the duke said. “You will treat her with the greatest kindness or you will find the ton learning of her impending fortune.”

  Redfield bristled. His chin shot in the air. “Everything I have done, I have done for the betterment of my family. I have always taken care of all its members.”