by Merry Farmer
Mariah sent a desperate look down the long table to Peter. He seemed miles away with so many places between them. The look of stone that frightened her was back on his face as he glared at William. He turned that look on her, but he seemed too angry for concern to soften it. The effect withered Mariah’s confidence.
“Mrs. Harmon, our cook, has gone out of her way to display her skills tonight,” she said, feeling weak and shaky. “I hope you all enjoy her efforts.”
“I’m sure we will,” Lady St. Aubyn said, raising her voice as if to take command of the conversation. “We recently hired a French chef for our kitchens, and he has produced the most astounding dishes.”
Mariah could have kissed the woman for taking charge of the conversation. As soup was served—Mariah could barely look at it, much less taste it after what her last bowl of soup had done to her—and for five entire minutes, things looked as though they would proceed smoothly.
Until Lord Barkley asked, “So, Dunsford, have you worn this one out yet?” He gestured to Mariah with his thumb. The motion was all the more pointed as he sat directly to her left.
The table went silent.
“Lord Barkley, have some respect,” Captain Tennant growled when the tension became too much.
“I expect he has,” William went on as though Captain Tennant had never spoken. “They’ve been locked away in the countess’s room for days now.”
Mrs. Goodman dropped her spoon, which clattered against the side of her soup bowl.
“Beware, my dear.” Lord Barkley leaned close to Mariah, placing his hand over hers. “He rode my poor sister into her grave. Don’t let him do the same to you.”
“I—” Tears of embarrassment stung at Mariah’s eyes. She pleaded with Peter for help across the table.
“Lord Barkley, there are ladies present,” Peter said, fiery warning in his eyes. He gestured for the footmen to take away the soup and bring on the next course.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Lord Barkley pretended to be chastised. “We wouldn’t want to offend the ladies.”
“Of course, Lady Dunsford has only been a lady for a fortnight or so now,” William went on, not letting the conversation drop. “Three weeks ago, she was nothing more than Miss Travers, rejected spinster.”
Mariah’s stomach turned. When Davy stepped forward to take away her untouched soup, she pushed all the way to the back of her chair. She would have sunk under the table entirely if Domenica hadn’t reached out to take her hand.
“Yes, I heard something about that,” Lord Barkley continued the wretched conversation. “Some rumor about the new countess’s former fiancé dying in an effort to flee the altar?”
“Really, gentlemen,” Lord St. Aubyn scolded. “Is this a proper conversation for supper?”
“We’re simply trying to get to know the new countess better,” William said. “I certainly haven’t had a chance to converse with her. Not with the way my uncle has been keeping her locked away. But then, I suppose if one wants to get an heir….”
“I’m warning you, William,” Peter said in a dark, dangerous voice, his eyes glaring.
“Warning me of what?” William shrugged. “There’s nothing left that you can do to me now that you’re working so very hard to replace me.”
“Didn’t work with Anne, won’t work with this one,” Lord Barkley said, digging into the salmon mousse Davy placed in front of him.
“You haven’t seen the way he runs panting after her, Lord Barkley,” William shot back. His brow shot up and he turned to Domenica. “I know. Why don’t you teach my new aunt all the tricks you learned to keep a man satisfied? I’m sure it’d be quite the lesson. I’d even attend those classes myself.” He winked at Mariah, his grin wolfish.
It was the last straw. Mariah shot to her feet. Her head spun with so much anger that she had to grip the table to keep from keeling over. “If you will excuse me,” she said in a thin, shaky voice. “I haven’t been well this week, and I’m afraid I’m not up to entertaining tonight.”
She pushed her chair back and stepped around the corner of the table to flee for the door. More chairs scraped as Peter, Captain Tennant, and Domenica stood as well.
“Delicate little thing, isn’t she?” Lord Barkley said as Mariah pressed a hand to her mouth in her flight. “She’ll be dead within a year, if you ask me.”
Chapter 13
Tears burst from Mariah’s eyes as she ran into the hall. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away before she crumbled into dust. Mr. Snyder stood in the dining room doorway and gestured to someone across the hall.
“This way, my lady,” Ginny said from the far end of the vast room.
Mariah fled to her, weeping when Ginny slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the morning parlor at the far end of the hall.
“Mariah,” Peter called after her before they reached the room.
Mariah glanced over her shoulder, not sure if she wanted to run to Peter and collapse into his arms or rail at him for exposing her to a monster like William. She did neither when she saw Captain Tennant and Domenica following him, and let Ginny nudge her on.
Within moments of reaching the parlor, Ginny had Mariah seated on one of the sofas, before she broke away to light the lamps. Peter dashed into the room and came to sit by Mariah’s side, taking her hands. Captain Tennant and Domenica paused just inside the doorway.
“I’ll wring his neck,” Peter growled, pulling Mariah into his arms. “I won’t let him get away with this.”
“How could he say such horrible things?” Mariah cried, planting her forehead on Peter’s shoulder. “And in front of company. How could both of them say such disgusting things?”
“I’ll have Barkley sent away at once,” Peter said.
Mariah felt him nod, then raised her head in time to see Captain Tennant nod back then leave the room.
“And William too,” she said, gripping Peter’s arms. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Send William away too.”
Instead of rushing to make it so, Peter winced, lowering his head. “You know I would if I could.”
Mariah’s throat squeezed tight with anger. “You can and you should.”
He let out a breath and looked up at her. He raised a hand to her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Mariah, you know I can’t simply hand half of Starcross Castle to him because of one disgraceful night.”
“Then lock him in a tower.” It seemed so obvious to her. Why couldn’t Peter see it? “Chain him in the dungeon. Just get him away from me.”
“Give it time,” Peter said. “If he sees that he can’t break you, then he’ll get bored and go back to London.”
Mariah wrenched herself away from Peter and stood. She balled her fists at her sides. “I know we haven’t known each other as long as most married couples, but I have a very hard time believing that you would put that bastard of a nephew before our marriage.”
Peter stood, letting out a frustrated breath, and rested his hands on Mariah’s arms. “I’m not putting William before us, believe me.”
“Then do something.” Mariah stomped. She didn’t want to throw a fit, but every moment that ticked by with William still in the house made her feel more and more helpless. “Peter, he is clearly bent on destroying the two of us. How can you not see that?”
“I can see it, I assure you,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.
“Then why aren’t you doing something?”
“I’m doing everything I can,” he argued.
“Were you doing everything you could when he poisoned me?”
“What?” Domenica interjected from the doorway.
Bristling with misery, Mariah glanced past Peter to her. “I became ill last week after eating tainted soup. William was almost certainly responsible.”
“And you have proof of this?” Domenica asked, looking at Peter as though she would start railing at him any moment.
“No,” Peter replied, miserable. �
�No more than we have proof that William set the fire on Albert’s ship.”
“But we know he set the fire,” Domenica said taking a step toward them.
“And we know William is hell-bent on keeping his status as my heir,” Peter went on. “But we can’t prove that he’s the sole person responsible for the soup. Or the locked doors.”
“We know he is,” Mariah argued. “How long before you end up risking my life for his sake?”
“William doesn’t have it in him to murder you outright,” Peter said.
Domenica huffed as though she disagreed.
Peter frowned at her, then turned back to Mariah with a plea for patience in his eyes. “William wasn’t solely responsible for the fire on Albert’s ship, and if he isn’t acting alone in his attempts to keep the two of us apart, then locking him up will leave an unknown accomplice in the house. An accomplice who would be able to cause mischief whether William was free or shackled to a grate.”
Mariah snapped her mouth shut over the protest she wanted to shout. She spun away from Peter, pacing toward the table where Ginny was lighting the last of the lamps.
“I would do anything to keep you safe, Mariah,” Peter called after her, “but I honestly believe we have no choice but to wait this out and to keep a sharp eye on him.”
Mariah squeezed her eyes shut over the tears that threatened to spill again.
“Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?” Ginny whispered.
Mariah shook her head. “No, there isn’t.” Her voice rose through the sentence, until she turned to glare at Peter. “Apparently there’s nothing that anyone can do.” She marched toward him, unable to fight down the beast of anger that raged within her. “I wasn’t happy in Aylesbury, but I wasn’t being poisoned either.”
“Mariah, please.” Peter reached for her, the lines of his face deep with pain.
The pull to slip into his arms and let him comfort her was almost too strong to resist, but it solved nothing. She shook her head. “He humiliated me in there.” She pointed toward the dining room. “I have been insulted and mortified in front of your friends and neighbors. I can never regain that first impression.”
“If it helps….” Domenica stepped forward. “William and that Lord Barkley are the ones who came off as the fools, not you.”
“William brought up my past,” Mariah went on, blinking to hide the sting in her eyes and appealing to Peter. “And Lord Barkley couldn’t have been more obvious in the way he lay blame for his sister’s death at your feet than if he’d thrown down a gauntlet.”
“Barkley has always been an ass,” Peter said.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Mariah shouted at him.
He winced. “I know. But if you could just trust me to know how to manage my nephew, I—”
“Trust you?” Mariah gaped at him. “Since marrying you, I have been laughed at, humiliated in public, and poisoned. How can I trust that if William remains under this roof with me, I won’t meet a worse fate?”
“I would give my life to—”
“How can I believe that?” Mariah cried, pulling away from him. “How can I believe that a man I didn’t know existed a month ago would sacrifice everything for me? And why should I be forced to sacrifice everything for you when you can’t even stop me from being humiliated at a supper party?”
She shook her head and walked away from Peter. The wildness of her emotions overwhelmed her, making her dizzy. She hadn’t recovered from being sick enough to handle the hopeless, miserable situation, and she hadn’t settled into her new life comfortably enough to be confident that all would turn out for the best in the end.
“Perhaps William is right,” she said, her voice shaking, as she turned back to Peter. It broke her heart to see the misery that surrounded him, but at the end of the day, he was still a stranger to her. “Perhaps I should just go home.”
“Please don’t,” Peter said, misery personified. “I will make this right.”
“How?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “I don’t know yet,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “But I will think of something. Just please, don’t go.”
Mariah’s heart felt as though it were being run through a wringer. She knew that Peter was good and kind and passionate, but at that moment, it didn’t feel like enough to build a marriage on.
“William goes,” she said, taking a breath and pressing her hands to her stomach. “Or I do.”
She met his eyes and held them. She wouldn’t be the perpetual child, subject to the whims of the men who controlled her life, anymore. Even if it meant losing the most beautiful surprise she’d ever had. It would have been so easy to give her full heart to Peter, but not if it meant surrendering her pride along with it.
With one last, pleading look, she turned to go.
Peter’s heart shattered as Mariah turned her back on him and marched out of the room. Not once in more than twenty years had Anne bruised him the way that Mariah did. Worst of all, it was entirely his own fault.
“Mariah.”
He started after her, but only made it two steps. Albert crossed paths with Mariah as he strode back into the room, his face as grim as death. “Barkley is gone,” he announced.
“Good.” Peter launched into motion again. “I have to go after her.” His gaze remained fixed on Mariah’s retreating form as she crossed the hall and ran up the stairs.
His focus was so honed in that it was a surprise when Domenica stepped into his path. “Perhaps, my lord, you should let her go for now.”
Peter glared at her, but before he could do something he would regret and raise his voice to a woman, Ginny jumped in with, “I’ll go after her, my lord.” She scurried across the room, wringing her hands in front of her. “Sometimes a woman needs a good cry and another woman to listen to her before she’s in the right spot to see the truth of things.”
The loyal maid’s words brought two kinds of solace to Peter. Mariah was lucky to have Ginny to stand up for her, but more than that, Ginny had heard everything he’d said, and from the sound of things, she agreed with him. But it only went so far to easing the pain that pounded through every part of him.
“Go,” he said, voice hoarse, and nodded.
Ginny curtsied and rushed from the room. Peter was left with an aching sense of emptiness. He pivoted and marched toward the fireplace, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I’ve failed,” he said, leaning against the mantle. “Again, I’ve failed.”
“Don’t say that, my lord.” Domenica crossed the room to his side. “It’s just a fight. Albert and I fight over the silliest things, and we make up the next day.”
Peter gave her a wary smile of thanks, then stood straighter as Albert joined them by the fire.
“She’s right, old friend.” Albert patted his back. “And making up is the best part. I’m sure you and Mariah will be sighing in each other’s arms in no time.”
“Yes,” Peter said with a scowl, pushing away from the fireplace. “Because after Barkley’s display, all of Cornwall will know my maniacal penchant for bedding women half my age.”
“As you said, Barkley is an ass, and everyone knows it.” Albert followed Peter as he returned to the sofa and flopped to sit. “St. Aubyn and Goodman know your true character. They thanked me for sending the lout on his way.”
It was a small consolation, but Peter took no comfort in it. His mind was already churning away at the inescapable problem of William. “Mariah is right,” he said pressing a hand to his temples. “I have to banish William. Our marriage can’t thrive or survive with him here.”
“True.” Albert crossed his arms where he stood beside the sofa as Domenica took a seat on the far end. “But you were absolutely correct when you said that you can’t send him away.”
Peter huffed a humorless laugh. “So that’s it, then. To keep Mariah I have to let her go.”
“He has to,” Domenica argued. “You know what William is capable of. Or d
o you not remember the way he treated me aboard the Kestrel?”
“That was different,” Albert said. “Peter has everything at stake here, his home, his livelihood, his reputation. Surely, Mariah will see that.”
Peter shook his head. “She shouldn’t have to see anything. She deserves a carefree and happy life. She deserves a husband who makes her happy and a passel of children to make her laugh.” The intensity of the vision his words brought to mind made his heart ache beyond measure. Those were all the things he wanted too, all the things he had dreamed of his entire life. They seemed further out of his reach now than they ever had.
“All right, then let’s approach this one bit at a time. It seems to me that William is the crux of your problems,” Albert said, pacing in front of the sofa while scratching his chin.
Peter came dangerously close to rolling his eyes at his friend. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Albert ignored his snide tone. “You can’t get rid of him, and yet you can’t keep him here. At least not unless you discover who his agent in the house is.”
“I can have Snyder interview the staff to discover the mole,” Peter said, growing more exhausted by the moment. He wanted to drag himself up to bed, but seeing as there was little chance that Mariah would be there now—or any time in the near future—it hardly seemed worth it.
“Snyder is a good man, and I’m sure he’ll ferret out whoever it is.” Albert nodded.
Peter sighed. “And in the meantime, the longer William stays under this roof, the angrier Mariah will be.”
“She will be furious,” Domenica agreed. She tilted her head to the side as if listening to an idea. “If you are unwilling to take her away from William, you will need to guard her with your life. Be with her as much as possible so that William and his mole don’t have a chance to strike. But that could solve more problems than it creates.”
“How so?”
“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to woo your wife. Your courtship was fast, was it not?”