“Perhaps, if my cousin is responsible, we should say nothing to Mama. It does not hurt to share a little of what we have. He was not greedy. He gave us back the most valuable part.”
She looked to the viscount. “I really don’t think it’s necessary to replace anything. The necklace was to be part of my dowry. It seems foolish for Reginald to have to replace what would have been his anyway.”
Charles gave her an approving look. “The family is bound to do something in honor of your betrothal. You and Reginald may decide how you wish it settled. In the meantime, we will wish to have a dinner and perhaps some dancing in your honor. When my wife arrives, I will have her call so the two of you may make the arrangements.” He rose as if to depart.
“You have not had your tea, sir. Would you not care tostay to refresh yourself?”
Charles sent his brother a quick glance. “I have another engagement, but I suspect Reggie might stay for a scone or two. I trust your maid will be prompt if I leave now? I wouldn’t wish to leave you alone with him for long, not the way he’s looking at you right now.”
Marian looked up at Reginald in surprise but didn’t see anything there that hadn’t been there before. Charles chuckled and walked out, leaving the two lovers to work it out between themselves.
“You are learning very quickly, my dear. I might come to miss hearing your brutally honest truths, but I suppose the sugar-coated kind will go farther in keeping harmony among family.” Reginald leaned over and touched his lips to hers.
Marian hadn’t been prepared for that. She had little or no experience with men. She couldn’t tell what they were thinking from one minute to the next. She particularly couldn’t tell what this one was thinking because he kept everything hidden behind a facade that would give credit to a marble statue. But his mouth had no resemblance to marble at all. She gave a sigh of contentment as his lips slowly administered to hers.
A tingle of excitement was just beginning to build when the rattle of a tray outside the door forced them back to a more respectable distance. Marian heard Mr. Montague— Reginald—give a frustrated moan as he sat back, and she stole a peek at his expression. He wasn’t exactly looking cold at the moment.
Lady Grace followed the tray in. She looked as if she had only just arisen and had dressed only because they had guests instead of remaining in her usual dishabille until she had been served her morning chocolate. She hid a yawn behind a discreet hand, and smiled at Mr. Montague.
“You are early, sir. Eagerness in a suitor is recommended. I understand I have missed your brother?”
Reginald rose from the sofa to bow over the lady’s hand and to escort her to a chair. He took his place beside Marian again but refrained from his more possessive pose of earlier. “There will be time for you to meet all my family shortly. My sister-in-law will be arriving soon, and no doubt my father will accompany her. I trust your journey was not too uncomfortable?”
“No, the weather was fine. The hours were long, however.” She dismissed the maid and poured the tea.
Marian leaned forward and laid the velvet pouch upon the tray. “Mama, Mr. Montague has found our necklace. It was apparently only lost instead of stolen.”
Reginald showed no emotion at this version of the story. He sipped his tea and watched Lady Grace exclaim over the return of her one piece of jewelry. It was more than obvious that the necklace’s only value to the lady was in its memories.
He tilted a look at the demure miss beside him. They needed to talk. “Is it too early to ask you for a drive in the park? I thought we might stop by a jeweler and choose a betrothal gift, since I failed to have one available earlier.”
Marian sent him a look of surprise from beneath her lashes, but she answered calmly enough. “The park would be lovely. Mama, would it be all right?”
Lady Grace dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
When they were within Reginald’s curricle—without O’Toole as groom—Marian turned a questioning glance to her betrothed’s suddenly grim expression.
“There is some other problem that you have failed to mention?” she asked, trying to ignore the annoying feeling of unease roiling in her stomach. He had played the part of attentive suitor much too well. She feared now was the time he pulled the rug from under her feet.
“I placed the announcement of our betrothal in the papers before the necklace was returned. All of London knows of our plans to wed. Now that you have your necklace back and don’t need me anymore, I would appreciate it if you waited a while to change your mind about our marriage. I have no wish to be a laughingstock.”
Marian gaped at him in surprise. “Are you hoping that I will end our betrothal?”
Grimly, Montague smacked the whip over the horse’s heads and turned them through the park gates. “That’s plain speaking. I suppose I deserve that. This honesty business becomes a trifle difficult, doesn’t it?”
Marian sat back against the squabs and stared out at the lovely green of the trees. “The necklace was ever only a temporary measure. I must marry so my mother need not worry about my support for years to come. If you are truly opposed to this marriage, then we must end the betrothal now and pray that no word of our... indiscretion... leaks out. We can only afford this one Season. I will need to find another suitor before it ends.”
Montague gave her a hard stare, but she didn’t meet his gaze. “I only wished to give you the opportunity to end the betrothal if that was what you wished. I have not changed my mind in the least.” He sent the horses into a trot that had pedestrians dodging to the grass.
Marian clutched her gloved hands in her lap. He was only doing the honorable thing. She ought to release him from his promise after all he had done for her. That was evidently what he had expected. She closed her eyes and tried to force the words to her tongue, but they wouldn’t come.
She wanted to marry Reginald Montague.
* * *
Chapter 22
They did not appear the affectionate couple searching for a betrothal gift when they entered the jeweler’s. Montague stiffly surveyed the cases until he found a display of brooches. Marian slowly followed in his footsteps and stood behind him as he examined the available wares. When he dismissed the selection and turned to the rings, she remained where she was, looking wistfully at the brooches. This was not at all what she had in mind for a peaceful marriage.
“This one is quite pretty,” she said softly, trying to diffuse some of his anger. “It is like the ivory one we once saw. It would look very well on several of my morning gowns.”
Reginald gave it a second look and turned away. “I wish to give you something you will wear when we go out together, not something no one will ever see.”
Marian’s shoulders drooped. She was tired of fighting. She had chosen her course; she must stay with it. She just wished she had chosen an easier one. Reginald Montague was going to be a hard man to please.
She glanced around at the rings. He had the tray with the most expensive selections, and she shuddered at the waste of wealth displayed there. She turned to a more modest display and pointed out a small gold band with a single garnet. “Something like this is very elegant.”
He scarcely gave it a second glance. “Society would think me a niggardly fellow to give you something so small.”
With an exclamation of disgust, Marian gave up. She had offered all the compromise she could. If he was determined to stand on his end and never move toward the middle, there was little she could do about it. She turned around and stalked out.
“Damn.” Reginald turned to the startled jeweler. “Give me the ivory brooch and the garnet ring.” His gaze caught on a display of necklaces, lighting on a delicately contrived design of emerald and diamonds—one that would suit his betrothed’s subtle tastes and his own preferences. “And have that delivered to this address.”
He passed the man his card and the address and gathered up the jeweler’s boxes the clerk had produced.
He found her gazing in the bay window of “Aristotle’s Antiquities,” and he groaned. Whyever had he brought her to this street when there were jewelers all over town?
“I wonder if he has sold my manuscript?” she asked calmly as he hurried to catch up with her. “He doesn’t display his books.”
“The covers fade and dry out in sunlight. The crystal and the gems look much better in the windows. Collectors know to ask for the books.” He produced the box with the brooch. “You have excellent taste, you know. The artisan who carved this is very talented.”
She opened the box and gave the contents a look of surprise. She touched the gently unfolding rose carved in ivory. “Thank you,” she murmured in a choked voice. There were tears in her eyes when she finally looked up to him.
Reginald felt a jerk of some unwanted emotion at the sight. He wanted to drag her off the street and kiss away those sparkling crystals, and at the same time, his stomach clenched as he realized what a bastard he’d been. All she had wanted was this simple gift, something meaningful between them. And all he had wanted was to show off his latest acquisition. Gad, but he was a rotten bounder.
Sheepishly, he pulled the box from his other pocket. “Your ruby will outshine it by a mile, but I do want you to wear something that shows you belong to me. I’ve already told you I’m a very possessive fellow.”
Marian clenched the box with the ring in her fingers and searched his face. “I am trying very hard not to make this too difficult for you, Reginald. If I were a better person, I suppose I would release you from your promise, but I’m a coward. I’m afraid I will never find anyone else I like so well. Is that terribly wrong of me?”
Instead of answering, he slid the ring from its satin bed, removed her glove, and tried it on her finger. “It’s a little loose. Shall I have it adjusted?”
Her fingers curled possessively around the tiny band. “No, I do not want to take it off. I shall just have to grow into it.”
Finally, he smiled, a gentle smile that did not look comfortable on his harsh features. “Not growing romantical on me, are you, my sweet? I’m not very good at that kind of thing, you know. I’m still trying to think of something to say in response to knowing you like me. I had thought you held me in great contempt.”
“And so I ought.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp and carefully donned her glove. “You think me foolish and romantical and probably wish me to the devil, when I know very well that I will make you a very good wife. If I did not think that, I would never agree to this marriage. And since everyone has made it plain that you are not inclined to be attached to any woman at all, I feel quite certain I am not hurting your chances of finding lasting affection. I’m not at all certain that you are capable of lasting affection. I will settle for respect.”
Amusement danced in his eyes as Reginald offered her his arm. “You already have that, my lady. I can think of no other woman in the world who could have managed an offer from me. We will discover some way to make this arrangement work.”
Arrangement. Marian kept her sigh to herself. It would have been very nice if she could expect tender looks and soft words, but she supposed she ought to be content that he had at least attempted them when presenting her with his betrothal gifts. It was not as if they had a love-match. They had an arrangement.
She tried not to scowl. He made her sound like a bunch of flowers.
* * * *
“Oh my, Marian, you look so dashing! I wish I could hope for some of your flair someday.” Jessica looked wistfully at her sister’s image in the mirror as she straightened the sash at Marian’s waist.
Marian studied her image critically. Lily had swept her dark hair up in a dazzling array of smooth waves and loose curls entwined with a ribbon made of threads of gold. The ribbon complimented the ornate gold tussie mussie that had arrived bearing three tiny wine-red rosebuds from Reginald which she now wore pinned on the ivory sash at her waist. She had chosen a gown of paper-thin ivory silk with a net of fine gold for her first appearance at a ducal ball, knowing it would accent her one piece of jewelry, the ruby necklace.
However, the low bodice of the gown left such a vast expanse of flesh exposed, Marian feared no one would even notice the necklace. The gowns Lily had made for her had always been modest. This one that the modiste had made exposed more than she thought remotely decent.
Marian flushed at the thought of Reginald looking at her there, as he couldn’t help but do. The stays the modiste had insisted on pushed her up so that he could scarcely miss the display.
“Dashing” was scarcely the word Marian would have chosen to describe the result, but Jessica was always polite. She could scarcely say “lovely,” for Marian didn’t have the face for that. Her lips were naturally red and her eyes were too dark and her skin closer to tawny than creamy. She might be called “striking.” She would never be called lovely.
But right now Marian felt quite indecent. Surreptitiously, she pulled at the tiny bodice, but it was made to fit snugly just where it was. She wiggled her shoulders to see if the tiny sleeves would cover more, but she succeeded only in dislodging her flowers. Jessica helped her put them back, and Marian surrendered. Maybe she would feel better if she didn’t look at herself.
She turned her critical gaze on Jessica. Her sister was everything that a lady should be. Her gown was more modest, as was fitting for a young girl. She was more slender than Marian, and the little flounce of pale-blue silk adorning her snow-white bodice flattered her young curves. A slight train of the pale blue flowed down her back, enhancing her tiny waist and slight stature. With her golden hair and blue eyes, she looked a fairy princess from a storybook, and Marian hugged her fiercely.
“You are beautiful, Jessie. All the men will fall at your feet. Even the duke will have to ask for introductions. Just remember to keep smiling and nod at everything a man says, and you will do wonderfully.”
Jessica’s smile faltered. “Lord Darley is the only gentleman who has asked if I will be attending. Do you think he will ask me to dance? I would hate to be a wallflower all evening.”
“You will dance every dance except the ones you choose to sit out. I am sure of it. Let us see how mama is doing.”
If nothing else, Jessica would dance every dance because all society was consumed with curiosity about the marquess and about Marian’s and Montague’s marriage announcement. They would descend on anyone with information, but Marian didn’t intend to say that. She was learning to hold her tongue very well. If curiosity is what it took to make society see what a lovely person Jessica was, then so be it.
They arrived at the residence of the Duke of Devonshire in a crush of other carriages, all of them more elegant than their own. Again, Marian had to wonder why they had received their invitations, but the cards were duly accepted at the door and they were issued inside with the usual announcement just as if they were duchesses.
Several of Lady Grace’s friends hurried to offer their congratulations on her daughter’s impending nuptials. One or two of Marian’s erstwhile suitors came to jest that she had not given them sufficient time and to sign her card for dances.
Lord Darley hurried to attend them before his mother could sail up and offer reproaches for taking a lesser man. To show he suffered no harm, he took one of Marian’s waltzes, then put his name down for two of Jessica’s dances. She was immediately radiant, and the brilliance of her smile attracted several other young men to sign her card. Darley scowled at them all and continued to stand with the ladies as the room began to fill.
It was almost time for the first da
nce, and Marian began to watch the newcomers nervously. She had saved the first dance for Reginald, but he had yet to make an appearance. Of course, in that crush of carriages outside, he could be stuck halfway down the street.
When the footman finally announced Charles, Viscount Witham, and Mr. Reginald Montague, Marian gulped a sigh of relief and distracted several young men in the immediate vicinity. Unaware of the direction of their interest, she watched eagerly as Reginald descended into the ball-room.
She knew the exact moment he found her, even though a smile never crossed his face. Her heart pounded a little fiercer as he set a straight path in her direction. Others must have been watching, too. It seemed as if the path opened through the crowd between them.
The music was already starting when he reached them. He must have said something appropriate to Lady Grace, and Lord Witham no doubt made some greeting also, but Marian heard nothing. She only felt the heat of Reginald’s gaze and the crush of his hand around hers as he led her to the dance floor without even asking.
The opening dance was a quadrille, as was the custom. It left little opportunity for more than an occasional comment, but Marian was aware of Montague’s gaze following her throughout the steps. She began to wonder if her clothes had become transparent—but only in the eyes of her betrothed. No one else seemed to pay her any extreme attention. She felt the color rising between her breasts, but she met his stare as calmly as she could.
When the dance ended, Reginald did not immediately return her to her mother as was proper. He pulled her to one side, out of the crush, and touched the flowers at her waist. “I had not thought about where you would wear them, but if I had seen that gown, I would have thought of nothing else. I can see a more appropriate gift would be a jewel that would dangle here.” His gaze dropped to the place he had in mind.
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