Marianne looked into his blue eyes for a long moment, then nodded. Haltingly, she confessed to everything she had heard this evening, recalling every blistering second with perfect clarity. Kit remained silent through the entire telling, though his hold and his features tightened occasionally. She told him how she had felt in the room before she’d heard anything, the strange sort of loneliness that she had long forgotten and had no wish to feel again. She told him how betrayed she had felt by people whom she had known for years, and had thought well of, and the shocking discovery about what people truly thought of her. She had wanted to be popular in society, but hardly notorious.
When she had finished, she sagged against the side of the divan, Kit’s hold on her hands the only thing keeping her upright.
“You didn’t know?” Kit finally asked in a quiet tone, his head tilted, looking curious.
She frowned and tried to glare at him. “How would I know that?” she demanded.
He looked a little lost for words and shrugged. “I thought…”
His uncertainty gave her pause and she stared at him wordlessly. “You thought I wanted to be that?” she finally whispered.
He met her eyes steadily. “No, but I thought you would have heard,” he admitted softly.
She groaned and shook her head, looking away. “I have been so blind. I’m such a fool.”
He squeezed her hands tightly. “No, you are not a fool. We have all taken such care to protect you that we have left you ignorant.” She looked back at him with a doubtful look, but he nodded earnestly. “You should not have had to discover it this way, we should have warned you.”
“I wish I’d known,” she murmured, shaking her head again, her hands finally warming in their gloves beneath his touch. “I don’t want them to think those things. But it is too late.” She sighed and let her shoulders slump a little.
“Why does it matter what they think?” he demanded, his eyes flashing. “What do they know? You know what they say about me, I presume.”
She snorted. “Yes, and it is absolutely ridiculous. As if you would ever resort to piracy.”
He reared back, then a slight smile appeared on his face. “Oh, that’s a new one. I had not heard that.”
How could it be so comfortable for him? It had to bother him, at least a little, to know he was so maligned. “Doesn’t it vex you? That they don’t know you?”
His half smile remained as he shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I am not particularly inclined to let them.” He gave her a serious look, his smile fading a touch. “I know myself well enough, and I know you well enough. That suffices.”
Marianne stared at her husband as if she were truly seeing him for the first time. She was tempted to reach out and touch his strong, angular jaw, where not a hint of stubble marred his smooth skin. She saw a warmth in his blue eyes that had been vacant for years. She noticed how the years had aged him, how he was more handsome now than he had been in her youth, and would grow handsomer still as the years passed.
“You have always known me, haven’t you?” she murmured, feeling an odd surge of tenderness welling up inside.
He seemed to soften further still. “I thought so once. Haven’t been so sure in recent years.”
She felt more tears welling up in her eyes, and her heart seemed to burn beneath her ribs. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
Kit shook his head and rose to give her a hug, which she returned tightly. “Never mind me,” he murmured, his voice low in her ear. “I can take it. But be yourself.”
Marianne sniffed and buried her face against his shoulder. “Why are you still nice to me?” she muttered against him.
He laughed once and rubbed her back. “I haven’t been nice to you. I’ve been ignoring you.”
She hesitated a moment, then pushed back from him. “I know.”
He sat back on his heels, one brow raise in query. “You do?”
She nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “I deserved the worst from you,” she confessed, her voice and her throat suddenly raw. She swallowed hastily, needing to get this out before they were back to their old selves. “Had I known what… what you meant, what you intended, I would never have said or done what I did. You had every right to destroy me. But you chose silence. Avoidance.”
Kit snorted in derision, shaking his head slowly. “It was stupid.”
She reached out a hand and put it on his shoulder. “It was noble,” she assured him, wanting him to know what it meant to her now that she knew what it must have cost him. She offered as much of a smile as she could manage. “I know it was probably self-preservation, and rightfully so, but it saved me. And I know you did not mean to…”
“Yes, I did,” he overrode at once.
“You did?” she asked, eyes going wide.
He took her hand from his shoulder and gave a light kiss to her glove, then rubbed it softly. “How could I destroy you, do anything to harm you, simply because you did not want me? That wouldn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head again. “I couldn’t do that. I could never hurt you or see you hurt. Because I really did love you.” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat, his brow furrowing slightly. “And that means something.”
Marianne’s fingers fluttered slightly in his hold, her heart mimicking the action. “Thank you,” she murmured, hoping her eyes could convey just how much gratitude she felt.
He nodded once. “I cannot promise that you will never feel pain from my hand, so to speak. But I can promise that I will never intend to cause you any. Can you live with that?”
She smiled a little. “Yes, Kit. That will be enough.”
He swallowed quickly, then gave her a brief smile of fondness. “You barely ate a thing at dinner, I presume you were too excited?”
She flushed, which drew a chuckle from him.
“I will have Anna bring you something and help you change. What in the world possessed you to wear that thing? I am surprised you could breathe at all.”
She drew herself up taller. “I will have you know that it was a far cry better than what most of the other women were wearing. You would have been scandalized beyond repair, had you seen them.”
His mouth curved in a crooked smile. “Yes, I suppose I would. Though I should have been there for you, I cannot regret my ignorance of such matters.”
“I can manage things myself, Kit,” Marianne told him with a sardonic smirk. “There is no need for you to suffer through an event you abhor for my sake.”
He returned her look with a very serious one of his own. “If Society thinks they can say such things about my wife and I will stand idly by, then they, and you, are sadly mistaken.”
Marianne stared at him, a surge of gratitude and confusion, bordering on tenderness, rising within her, and if she was not careful, it could turn her head.
Kit suddenly cleared his throat, and did so a bit awkwardly. “Now, you have yet to tell me…” he trailed off, watching her.
Her body stiffened, and her eyes grew wary.
He tilted his head just a little. “How was the Rivertons?”
She grinned and without any further encouragement, she prattled on and on about the house, the décor, the guests, the costumes, every single detail until Kit no doubt wished he’d never asked.
Kit would have to be more careful with encouraging his wife in matters such as this.
She really did not need it.
Chapter Eleven
Kit walked briskly down the Mayfair streets the next morning, before many were up and about, which was just how he liked it. He’d slept fitfully at best last night, his mind whirling with questions and possible solutions for Marianne’s situation, unable to forget the sounds of her distress or the sight of her crumpled on the floor.
It had been far more unsettling than he had let on, seeing her that way.
Marianne was a woman of strength and determination, prone to emotion, it was true, but never like that. She was high-spirited, but she was not p
articularly inclined towards dramatics. That was a trick for her aunt. He had been helpless in the face of such distress and grief, and he had to help her.
He could not regret caring for her as he had done, nor sharing so much with her. And during the night, he had wondered if he ought to have done more. He could not change Society, and he would have been afraid of the attempt, knowing he would not come out unscathed. But he felt sick when he recalled what Marianne had heard when she had only meant to enjoy an evening out before the Season began. How she had managed to get home before letting her emotions free was beyond him.
He had to do something. So, he had made the decision sometime in the night to go to the person who knew Marianne as well or perhaps better than he did, and had a significant interest in her well-being.
Her brother.
He had not spoken with Duncan much since their return, and he was glad for it. As much as he liked the man, it was a relief to not have an overprotective brother watching the marriage over his shoulder.
He would not have liked what he had seen.
He reached the Bray family home and rang, having only to wait moments before being shown in. “Good morning,” he said to the smiling butler as he gave him his hat and gloves. “Is your master available?”
“Here, Kit,” came a soft call from the stairs.
Kit looked up to see Duncan descending the stairs, casually dressed in breeches and an open-collared linen shirt, no weskit or cravat in sight. Against his shoulder was his small daughter, her fair hair almost hidden by a blanket.
Duncan smiled at Kit’s perusal of him. “Tillie had a rough night,” he explained as he reached him. “Annalise is still sleeping, so I’ve got the little one.”
Kit had to smile at the soft gurgling sounds from the child in question. “Is she well?” he asked politely, indicating the baby.
Duncan grinned swiftly. “Well enough. Just teething. Annalise insists on getting up with her in the night, so this is the least I can do.” He patted her back a little when she fussed again. “What can I do for you?”
Kit sighed reluctantly. “Do you have a moment? There is something I need to discuss with you.”
Duncan’s eyes flashed briefly and his jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Of course. If you don’t mind Tillie joining us.”
“Not at all,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“Good. I promise she will keep your confidence.”
“That is a relief. Takes after her mother, then.”
Duncan grinned swiftly. “Blessedly so, in all things. Come with me, the study is down here.” He turned and started down the hall. His daughter looked over his shoulder and her green eyes met Kit’s and he smiled a little, which earned him one in return.
A gentle tugging started somewhere in the middle of his chest, but he shook it free as they entered the study. Duncan situated himself near the fire, speaking softly to his daughter.
Kit remained standing for a moment, staring at his brother-in-law and wondering how to approach the subject.
“I’m sorry that I have not come by,” Duncan said suddenly, his mouth curving up in a smile. “Annalise advised me several times to go, but I always found a reason not to. I wasn’t entirely sure how Marianne would react, and I was hesitant to interfere.”
Kit nodded in understanding. “There is nothing to be sorry for. It has been a tumultuous time, and I think we may be settling into a semblance of normalcy now. Or at least, we were.”
That perked Duncan up and his smile faded. “Were?” he asked cautiously.
Kit nodded firmly once. “Marianne knows,” he told him.
“Knows… what?” Duncan inquired, though his eyes and expression showed a tension that spoke volumes.
“Everything.”
Duncan looked as though he would swear, but looked at the baby and bit it back. He closed his eyes and the tension in him increased momentarily, then seemed willed away. “How?” he asked in a barely controlled hiss.
Kit gave him the brief version of what had transpired at the masquerade without revealing any of the particulars. Knowing Duncan’s temper and defensiveness over his sister, it would not be wise to give him further excuse.
“How did she take it?” Duncan asked him in a hollow voice, his eyes still looking a bit murderous.
“Well…” Kit started to say slowly, which made Duncan get to his feet and start walking, then look down at his daughter in consternation.
Duncan looked absolutely miserable, and Kit could understand. If it were his sister in this situation, he would not want to sit still when hearing this. Against his inclination, he stepped forward and held out his hands for the baby.
Duncan gave him an odd look.
“You want to pace and rage and probably hit something,” Kit explained, gesturing in invitation. “Give her to me, and I’ll tell you the rest. I’ve come to terms with it, I can be calm.”
“She doesn’t really like strangers,” Duncan warned as he handed the infant over.
“I’m no stranger,” Kit informed him, and her. “I’m her uncle.”
Duncan watched for a moment as Tillie situated herself against Kit, then shook his head with a smile as Tillie yawned and began gnawing on Kit’s jacket buttons without a peep of distress.
Kit smiled and looked back at Duncan with a satisfied smirk. “You were saying?”
Duncan grunted and began to pace the room. “How did Marianne take the surprise?” he asked in a low growl, his thick brow furrowing.
Kit watched him pace, somehow seeming larger without the typical gentleman’s clothing. “Not well, as you can probably imagine. To her credit, she made it home before showing anything outwardly. It took quite some time to set her to rights.”
Duncan winced and rubbed at his forehead. “Tell me you were gentle with her,” he begged, his voice suddenly raw.
“I was,” Kit assured him, meeting his eyes calmly when Duncan looked over. “I might not be the husband Marianne wanted, or worth any sort of salt as a husband at all, but seeing her like that…” He trailed off, shaking his head as a surprising amount of emotion rose within him. “I was gentle,” he managed.
Duncan nodded his thanks.
Kit cleared his throat, patting the baby softly. “Once she was calm, we discussed it, and she seemed to handle it fairly well once the shock wore off. I think she will be all right.”
“Think?” Duncan asked sharply, folding his arms in his agitation.
Kit shrugged one shoulder. “Well, it was just last night, and I have not seen her this morning yet. I have no way of knowing how she truly is until I see her. Assuming she wishes to discuss it at all.”
Duncan rocked back on his heels for a moment, considering that. Then he released a slow breath. “So what do we do?” he asked, starting to pace once more. “I haven’t thrashed anyone lately, I may be out of practice.”
Kit shook his head and looked down at his niece. “I worry for you, my dear. When you want to start courting someone, come see your aunt and me.”
Duncan glowered at him. “That was a very Colin thing to say.”
“I am a Gerrard,” Kit said simply. “It is a non-exclusive trait.”
That earned him a brief flash of a grin. Then Duncan sobered. “What do we do, Kit?”
“Nothing, I think.” Kit sighed and tried to look encouraging. “If we pretend that they are only whispering about a poor choice in fashion or a social faux pas, then all of the fervor dies down at once. If we give them nothing to feed the fires with, why should they keep talking on the subject? You of all people know that the reason Marianne is such a subject for discussion is…”
“…is because she always gave them something to discuss,” Duncan finished, looking uneasy, but calmer. He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned a little. “These were supposed to be her friends.”
“Friends and foes are all mixed together in London,” Kit sighed, patting Tillie gently for good measure. “It is a treacherous place.”
“I hate it.”
Kit shared his brother-in-law’s vehemence. “Trust me,” he said with a bland smile, “I know the feeling. Better than anyone.” He hesitated, then hesitantly asked, “Do you think Marianne would take to removing to the country?”
That shook Duncan out of his gloom and he barked a loud laugh that made his daughter jump. “Marianne in the country during the Season? Good lord, Kit, I hope it doesn’t come to that. You’d be dead or mad in a week.”
Kit failed to see the humor in that.
Mostly because he knew it was likely the truth.
He opened his mouth to say something about that when a soft throat clearing came from the door. They both turned to see Annalise standing there, looking as soft and welcoming as she always did, and she smiled curiously.
“Good morning, Kit,” she offered, taking in the sight of him holding her daughter with interest.
“Annalise,” he greeted with a nod.
Tillie stirred restlessly and her mother grinned and stepped forward to retrieve her. Then she gave Kit a rare teasing look. “Are you trying to be her favorite uncle? You’re far and away better with her than the rest.”
Kit grunted softly. “That’s because I am her uncle, unlike the rest.”
Duncan scoffed a light laugh and came to press a kiss to his wife’s brow, then wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Staying for breakfast, Kit?” Annalise asked as Duncan started to steer her out of the room.
To his surprise, Kit found himself shaking his head. “No, thank you. I think I had better go home and see to my wife.”
“Well,” Annalise said with a curious smile, “I think I need to tell you something before you do. About an incident that happened at Tibby’s party, if you don’t already know.”
Marianne was waiting for Kit at breakfast when he returned, properly dressed, and not altogether unwell. She could not smile when he came in, but neither was she particularly downcast.
She was just… there.
A Bride Worth Taking (Arrangements, Book 6) Page 13