Was he seeing Marcia’s confession again? Or his daughter as a carefree young girl—before her loss of innocence changed her forever?
“I know that the news was shocking to hear,” Duncan said quietly, “and that you’re still in the grips of taking it in. But I swear to you, delaying your plan will not result in its dissolution.”
Lord Brady looked up at him. “Part of being a man is making impossible choices when called upon to do so.” There was steel in his tone. “Risk my own beloved daughter’s welfare by delaying your union? Or turn my back on the crisis at Oak Hall?” He straightened. “Other people can save the school. It’s up to me to look out for my daughter.”
“So what do you expect me to do,” Duncan said bitterly, “when she comes in here and learns she must marry me imminently—an alliance which, if it takes place now, will mean the dashing of her dreams?”
His belly burned with heat and anger so hot, he hurled his empty tumbler into the fire. For a split second, the sound of broken glass brought him satisfaction. But it was followed quickly by a black remorse.
“Is that how you plan to deal with problems that come your way during marriage?” Lord Brady demanded to know. “This won’t be the last crisis you’ll face with my daughter. If you don’t know that yet, you’re in for a big surprise.”
“Sorry,” Duncan said roughly. “I’ll replace the glass. That was uncalled for.”
The older man came up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about my good Irish crystal.” He chuckled.
Duncan turned to him and scratched his jaw, embarrassment flooding him. “I was an idiot,” he admitted sheepishly.
“We all are at times.” Lord Brady’s expression softened. “This is your opportunity, man, to prove your words and your worth. If you truly love my daughter, you’ll find a way to help her past this.” He tilted his chin at him. “I’m willing to bet on you, Chadwick.”
There was a long silence.
Duncan felt the tension gripping him melt away. It was no use staying angry at a man who felt he was doing his fatherly duty, a man who was giving up his beloved daughter to him, trusting that he’d be a good husband to her. “Thank you, my lord.”
The marquess lofted a brow. “Are you ready?”
“As I ever will be,” Duncan said. She would hate him, yet he had to win her over. No easy task, but he was up for the challenge.
His future father-in-law pulled on the bell rope.
Jenkins came to the door.
“Send her in,” Lord Brady said tersely.
Duncan threw his arms across his chest, trying to tamp down the conflicting emotions still churning in him: desire to see Marcia and tell her he loved her; anxiety over her reaction to Lord Brady’s demands; and uncertainty as to how in hell he was going to prove his worth as a husband and son-in-law.
It was a long minute while Jenkins summoned Marcia. And then Duncan heard her footsteps coming down the stairs, slow and sure.
When she walked through the door and saw him standing there, her eyes flew wide. “What are you doing here, Lord Chadwick?”
“I’m here to marry you,” he said, before Lord Brady could intervene. It was his marriage proposal. No one else’s. He would be the one to speak it. “But let me explain. In private.”
She stared in shock at her father, then looked back at Duncan. “Over my dead body,” she said.
If she were a cat, she would have hissed. A cobra, she would have struck.
She marched back out the door without giving him or her father a second glance.
Chapter Thirty-three
“No, Mother.” Marcia hadn’t called Mama that since she was thirteen and vaguely annoyed with her at least ten hours a day for no reason at all.
Mama knocked again. “Open this door, young lady.”
“I’m not a child,” Marcia called through the door, trembling still with fury, brushing tears out of her eyes. She was angry, but she was frightened, too. Her world was spiraling out of control again. “Leave me alone.”
“I’ve already left you alone for an hour.”
“I don’t want to see anyone,” Marcia said.
“When, then?”
“I don’t know. Years, maybe. Perhaps I’ll stay in here and never see anyone again. Except Kerry.” She knew she was being completely illogical. And rude.
“You’ll see me now,” Mama said firmly. “I’ll get the keys if I have to.”
Marcia released a frustrated breath. “All right,” she said. “I’ll open the door.” She took her time unlocking it. Her hands trembled the whole while.
Marcia had never seen her mother like this. Her complexion was paler than usual. She’d been crying, as well. Her eyes were red-rimmed. But when she walked through that door, she was fierce, so fierce Marcia took a step back.
Mama strode past her. “Shut the door.”
Marcia fumbled with it to lock it again, but her hands were shaking, still. So she leaned her back on it to press it closed.
She and Mama exchanged a long, silent look.
And then Mama held open her arms.
Marcia looked down and away, her chest heaving. It was as if she couldn’t breathe, but she was sucking in large gulps of air.
Still, no sound came from Mama.
Marcia looked up again.
“Come, darling.” Mama’s arms were still outstretched.
“I don’t want any pity,” Marcia said, her voice a mere croak.
“I don’t pity you. I love you.” Mama’s eyes filled with tears.
Marcia walked slowly to her. Mama walked toward her, too. By the time they’d reached each other, Marcia’s arms were out. They fell together and clasped each other hard. Harder than Marcia had ever done in her life.
“Mama,” she whispered.
“You’re our brave daughter,” Mama said. “We’re so proud of who you are.”
They clung until Marcia’s breathing became easier. When they pulled apart, Mama took her arm and led her to the bed.
“Let’s sit,” Mama said.
Marcia sank onto the bed next to her.
Mama took her hand. “I know you were trying to help Janice. And look what happened as a result. It must not seem fair.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Marcia. But the heat had gone out of her. Now she could look at herself from the outside. She saw a girl in a not unusual situation. She certainly wasn’t the first to be forced to marry a man to satisfy the requirements of honor, to restore her reputation to an unsullied state. “At least I saved Janice from a disaster.”
“You did. And your father and I will be forever grateful.”
Marcia gave a short laugh. “This is an odd way to show it.”
Mama sighed and squeezed her fingers, which were limp and cold. “It hurts Daddy to have to take the steps he did, knowing how unhappy you’d be. But he is the head of this household, and he has to do what he thinks is right.”
“You could have stopped him, Mama. You know he’d do nothing that went against your wishes.”
“True.” Mama tugged on Marcia’s hand and made her look her in the eye. “But I agree with Daddy. I think this is the best possible solution. Lord Chadwick is a fine man. Of course, I’m so sorry about Oak Hall. It grieves me to know it’s in jeopardy.”
Marcia shrugged. “It will be shut down now for sure.”
Mama rubbed her sweet little chin thoughtfully. “I wish there were a solution. Perhaps Daddy will buy the school from Lady Ennis.”
“Really?”
Mama didn’t look happy about the idea. “I don’t know, darling. It’s something we could consider. It would be costly, I’m sure.”
“I wouldn’t want you and Daddy to do it unless you were overjoyed to, Mama. I can’t ask you to commit to something as huge as that on my behalf. It has to be for the girls, the teachers, and—”
The bedchamber door flew open. Janice stood there, her face red, her hands clenched in fists.
“And Oak Hall,�
� Marcia finished quietly.
“What—have—you—done?” Janice said, her voice shrill.
Mama and Marcia stood at the same time.
“Janice,” Mama said. “Come in.”
Janice stayed in the door, breathing hard. “You’ve ruined my life,” she said to Marcia, her eyes full of hostility and confusion. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do,” said Marcia, taking a step toward her.
Janice put up a hand. “Stay back.”
“Janice,” Mama said firmly. “Get in here now.”
Janice’s lips thinned. She threw back her shoulders, pulled the door shut behind her, and came to stand in the middle of the room. Her expression was shuttered.
“Janice—”
She inhaled a breath as if Marcia had hit her with an arrow.
“I know you’re hurting,” Mama said.
Janice winced.
Mama went to Janice and put an arm around her. “Go sit next to your sister.”
“I can’t,” Janice said, her voice breaking.
Mama didn’t wait for her to acquiesce. She literally put her hand on Janice’s lower back and pushed her to the bed, one step at a time.
Janice sat down gingerly, never looking at Marcia.
Marcia didn’t force the issue and sat next to her.
Mama stood in front of them both, her delicate arms crossed. She paced back and forth slowly for about thirty seconds, and then she stopped and turned to Janice. “Your sister saved you from marrying a scoundrel.”
Janice punched a fist on the bedclothes. “He’s not—”
“He is,” Mama said. “I know you’re hurting, but I’m thankful as your mother that soon that hurt will turn to relief. Heartbreak is hell. All three of us in this room know that now.”
Janice shook her head slowly and dug her fingers into the bedclothes. “What are you talking about?” she asked Mama. She still wouldn’t look at Marcia.
But Mama did. May I? her expression said.
Woman to woman.
Marcia’s heart warmed at the new connection, and she nodded.
Mama sent her a grateful smile then collected herself by lacing her fingers together and looking up at the ceiling for a few moments. Finally, she looked back at Janice. “Finnian Lattimore seduced your sister years ago, when she was still young and vulnerable.”
Janice’s mouth fell open, and she looked at Marcia. “He—he did?”
“Yes,” Marcia said loud enough to be heard.
“Oh!” Janice put her hand to her mouth and stared at the window. Then at Mama. Then back at Marcia. “I’m so sorry.”
And she burst into tears.
Marcia and Mama knew she was sorry about losing her romantic ideal and sorry about what had happened to her sister.
Marcia tapped Janice’s shoulder and embraced her. Janice let herself be held while Marcia rocked her back and forth for a long time.
“It’s okay,” Marcia said over and over. Then, “We’re okay. Both of us.”
Mama got on her knees and wrapped her arms around both of them. “We’ll always have each other,” she said. “Always.”
Janice shuddered once or twice more, but then her tears subsided. The way she slumped gave the impression she was weak and tired—and her expression was sadder than Marcia had ever seen it.
Mama ordered tea.
Marcia and Janice got under the covers and leaned against the pillows. Kerry brought them a tray of buttered toast and sent Marcia a secret, loving look. Marcia winked at her, so she wouldn’t worry.
Mama poured, adding extra lumps of sugar, the way she always had when they were little and got a scraped knee or found a dead bird. She sat on the edge of the bed, and they all cradled their cups and sipped.
After a few minutes, Janice let out a long sigh, her eyes clear now—but still sad. “So what will this mean?”
Marcia knew she wondered how Finn would be held accountable.
“Daddy had a conversation with Lord Chadwick,” Mama said, and inhaled a breath. “Marcia is to marry him.”
She let the news sink in.
Janice handed her cup to Mama without a word. Mama placed it on the tea tray.
Janice turned to Marcia. “You’re—you’re getting married?”
Marcia bit her lip. “Talk to Mama.”
“The engagement announcement will appear in the paper tomorrow,” Mama said. “And we hope to have the special license within a matter of a day or two. The wedding will take place at home. We’ll have only our family, Lord Chadwick’s cousin Richard and his family, and Marcia’s best friend from Oak Hall, if she’d like to have her.”
“Certainly I’ll invite Deborah,” Marcia said quietly. “She took over when I left. I miss her and will be happy to see her.”
Janice’s face twisted. “Marcia, is this what you want?”
Marcia didn’t want to burden her sister with guilt, but she had to tell her the truth. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life with someone who’s merely attached himself to me to settle a debt of honor. Would you?”
“No,” said Janice passionately. “But is that how it is with Lord Chadwick? I get the impression he admires you greatly. And you’ve brought Joe here several times. I thought that perhaps you and the earl … had a connection.”
Marcia pursed her lips. “I do like Lord Chadwick very much.” Love, a tiny voice inside corrected her. “Most of the time. But I don’t want him to marry me out of obligation. Not only that, our engagement means Oak Hall will close.”
“How so?” Janice asked.
Marcia took the time to explain.
Janice took her hand again. “I’m so sorry. And all this happened because of me.”
“Life’s complicated sometimes, dear.” Mama patted her hand. “You’re not responsible for this turn of events in any way.”
“Mama’s right,” Marcia said. “This started years ago and without your involvement, Janice.”
She could tell their reassurances were slim comfort to her sister. But the pink came back to Janice’s cheeks and she laid her head on Marcia’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to be unhappy,” she murmured.
A delicate furrow formed on Mama’s brow. “It’s your duty not to wallow, girls,” she said in a gentle but firm manner. “We must strive to look on the bright side. Marcia can be happy, Janice, if she wants to be. Look how well she’s done these past few years.”
Marcia chose to say nothing. But she did ask for more tea and another slice of toast so that Janice wouldn’t think she was sulking or unhappy.
Mama could know. And no doubt she did, very well.
They would keep up the pretense together.
When Marcia was finished with her tea and had eaten every bit of her toast, Mama stood. “Tomorrow we’ll be inundated with callers,” she said. “Everyone will be coming to congratulate you. So tonight we’ll stay in and rest.”
Janice looked gravely at her. “I could sleep with you tonight,” she said.
Marcia smiled. “I’d like that.”
“You’ll have to see Lord Chadwick tomorrow, as well,” Mama told her. “At four o’clock.”
“But I’m—”
“You will see him.” Mama brooked no argument.
Janice grabbed Marcia’s hand and squeezed so hard that it hurt. But the pain was good. She focused on that instead of having to face the earl, who’d stepped up to be her knight in shining armor.
Too bad you can’t hug a knight in shining armor, she thought. All you’d get is the armor.
She could do without a knight.
But she wasn’t sure she could do without the hot-blooded man she’d lain with, the one who’d whispered sweet nothings in her ear as he’d loved her in a sweet little house in the tender light of a crackling hearth fire.
* * *
Lying next to Janice, Marcia dreamt of Duncan all night, disturbing dreams in which she’d been running from him alongside a hot, hot fire, afraid to get too close to it. In others,
she’d been freezing and looking for him, desperate to find him, and crying his name.
Nothing mattered to her upon waking except the knowledge that she’d be forced to speak with him in the afternoon. She dreaded it, the way she dreaded getting the smallpox. But in a perverse way, she also couldn’t wait, the same way a moth is drawn to a flame.
She wanted to see his face again.
She loved him.
At the breakfast table, everyone was there, as if told to report by Mama and Daddy. And perhaps they had been. Today was a big day. A daughter of the house was to marry, and the whole world would know it.
The world who read the London papers, that was.
The boys, all of them bleary-eyed, were awkward with her, treating her as if she’d been taken ill.
Peter looked furtively at her and held out her chair.
“Thank you, Peter,” she said. “You’re very kind.”
He blushed. He was the most forgetful of the brothers when it came to pulling out chairs.
“Would you like me to get your eggs for you, Marcia?” asked Robert, who often took the last of the coddled eggs without asking if anyone else wanted one.
“Oh, no, thank you,” she replied. “Just bacon and toast for me today. And I’ll get it. I’m finicky about my bacon.”
“You like the crisp slices,” Gregory said. “Here, take these two. They’re the crispiest on the plate, I’d wager.”
And he slid some bacon off his own plate on to hers.
Robert and Peter looked resentfully at him.
Normally, Marcia would have been amused. But all she felt was an invisible gloom pressing down on her.
Mama and Daddy appeared and took their seats. Daddy’s paper was ready for him. Mama had her own special chocolate pot he’d given her as a wedding gift. There was some story to it none of the children knew, but Mama was inordinately fond of it.
“When is the wedding?” asked Peter between his locks of hair.
“Ugh,” said Robert with feeling.
Gregory squeezed Marcia’s shoulder rather hard. “I’ve always liked Chadwick. And he’s got excellent taste.”
Loving Lady Marcia Page 29