by Janet Kent
How did everything go so wrong? The last thing he wanted to do was trap himself in an unwanted marriage to Miss Kinsey. From the panicked expression she’d thrown him, she was just as unhappy with the idea.
And what about Elizabeth? Thank heavens he hadn’t undisguised himself last night. Finding out about this debacle could only hurt her. She’d be hurt enough when he couldn’t follow through on his promise to court her. No need for her to know why.
Dazed, Ian cradled his head in his hands and tried to pretend that almost the entire supper party wasn’t on the other side of his closed eyelids, staring at him as if he’d ravished Miss Kinsey right there on the piano bench.
He peeked through his fingers. They were still there.
For the love of God. He was really going to have to marry her. At the very least, he’d have to call on her father in the morning and make the offer. Ian let out a self-deprecating snort. Well, what do you know? He was actually going to get to see Chadwick House in the daylight.
He rose to his feet and struggled through the crowd in search of Miss Kinsey.
###
Blinking in the sudden rain, Alicia stumbled up the slippery steps to Chadwick House, Louis’ fingers still attached to her arm as they had been for most of the night – ever since she’d been “caught” with Ian Morrissey. Oh, why, why, why? Of all the stupid places to go for privacy, what possessed them to huddle together in the music room, right after supper? Of course the party would make its way there. Then again, at least she’d been caught somewhere fairly banal, and not in some truly shocking locale. A piano bench was far preferable to a bedroom.
Almost bowling over the butler in his haste, Louis flung open the front door and shoved her into the entranceway, screaming “Chadwick! Chadwick!” at the top of his lungs.
Alicia wasn’t sure if she should punch him or burst into tears.
She wrenched from his grasp as the household came running from every corner, some bleary-eyed and some not yet gone to bed. She stood, pliant, while servants replaced her sodden pelisse with a dry shawl and led her to the sitting room, where a fire had been started.
Louis shrugged off the staff’s help and stomped into the room after her, shouting for her father and leaving a trail of sloppy bootprints in his wake. By the time Chadwick appeared in the doorway, Louis stood in a wet puddle, his face livid and his throat hoarse.
“What on earth is the matter?” Chadwick demanded then caught sight of Alicia. “What happened? Are you all right?” he asked in a gentler voice.
Alicia gave a weak smile but couldn’t find words to express how she was feeling at that moment.
“She’s fine!” Louis spluttered. “Don’t worry about her!”
“If she’s fine and you’re fine, why is my household in an uproar? It’s almost one o’clock in the morning.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. Friday morning. Which means I was supposed to get permission to marry your daughter tomorrow. Tomorrow!”
Chadwick drummed his fingers together. “Please tell me you didn’t storm into my house in the middle of the night to reiterate your suit with Alicia.”
“My suit! You’ll need some magic to make her marry me now.”
Frowning, Chadwick cast quizzing eyes toward Alicia then back to Louis. “All I need to give is my permission,” he said, wrinkling his brow.
“Wrong! Well, you would have been right had not this bit of fluff–”
“Louis–”
“Your daughter, then, who decides to sneak off to spend time alone with some nobody–”
“What nobody?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mister Morrissey, I think. He’s not even titled! That didn’t stop this one from running off with him, though. Probably as poor as a church-mouse with the manners of a pig, but she waltzes right into an empty room with him and closes the door. He’s no better than a–”
Unable to stomach any more of his ranting, Alicia jerked to her feet. “Oh, what do you care, Louis? You’re not the one marrying him.”
“Neither will you!” Louis swung one hip to the side, arms akimbo. “Tell her, Chadwick.”
Alicia clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders and turned to face her father.
“Were you compromised, daughter?” he asked, disappointment in his eyes.
“We didn’t do anything, Papa,” she said in a rush. “We didn’t touch each other, much less kiss or anything else Louis is insinuating. We’re not lovers – we’ve only recently become friends.”
“But were you compromised?”
“I wouldn’t have been alone with him at all if it weren’t for Louis.”
At his name, Louis jerked his head toward her and Alicia treated him to an icy glare. “That’s right, Louis. The only reason he took me aside is because I was so upset when you showed up out of nowhere, full of your insults and little hurtful comments.”
“Be that as it may,” interrupted Chadwick. “I’ll ask again. Were you compromised?”
“He was only trying to cheer me up,” Alicia said softly.
“Alicia.”
“Yes, Papa. I suppose I was compromised.”
Chadwick ignored Louis’ loud sniff. “Do you want to marry him?”
“Not really,” Alicia muttered. As soon as she saw Louis perk up at that answer, she added hastily, “But I suppose I must.”
Her father pursed his lips then gave a quick nod. “Very well.”
Louis’ jaw dropped open. “What? What am I supposed to do? Chadwick, what are you going to do?”
“I,” he answered in tones of deep sadness, “am going to let my daughter worry about the consequences of her own actions. Don’t goggle so, Louis. Come with me to my office. We have much to discuss.”
Alicia sank back into the chair and stared at the flames licking up from the fire. Logs crackled behind the grate. The heat dried her skirts and warmed her cold fingers, but all she could think about was Rogue’s almost-proposal. What was she going to do?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ian woke at dawn, went for a long ride, returned to his townhouse and flopped into a chair to brood. He faced the front window, although his eyes did not register any activity taking place outside of it. Instead, his mind replayed the events of the previous two nights with inexorable cruelty.
In the space of twenty-four hours, he’d very nearly pledged himself to one woman and shackled himself to another.
Compromised.
The thought hadn’t even occurred to him when he’d whisked Miss Kinsey from Larouche’s tentacles. He’d reacted on instinct, as though she were one of his sisters in need of comfort or protecting.
“Not plain Miss Kinsey for much longer,” Ian mocked himself aloud. “She’ll soon be Alicia Morrissey.”
Perhaps. Her father might deny his suit. The lady in question might refuse him herself. Ian barked a short, mirthless laugh. Who was he kidding? He might as well start penning the announcement.
Damn.
Neither of them wanted to join together in a farcical marriage, but what could they do? He could hardly leave her to face the consequences alone. In many people’s eyes, she’d be forever “ruined”. Ian slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair.
Elizabeth, who had no doubt suffered a lifetime of disappointments, would now be dealt another. His courtship would not be forthcoming. Damn, damn, damn.
Why couldn’t he have been caught with Elizabeth instead? Now, there was a woman who had a more substantial claim to being compromised by him, despite her complicity in his ardent endeavors. The worst of it was that he’d never have crossed such a line with her if he hadn’t intended on making it honest!
Even if she were a member of the now-poor branch of the Holsworth side of the family, even if it turned out that under all those gay patches, Elizabeth was older than he and less than pleasing to the eye – none of that mattered. He’d been tickled by her plucky personality and he’d gloried in her passionate nature, and he was sure theirs would have been a romance to remember.<
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Thank the stars he’d only asked if he could court her. How much worse it might have been if he’d actually proposed marriage!
None of which was Miss Kinsey’s fault, of course. Ian felt certain he alone shouldered the blame. After all, whose idea had it been to “rescue” her from Larouche and go somewhere “private” where she could gather her wits in peace? Ian’s jaw clenched. Marvelous work, Morrissey.
At least they shared a burgeoning friendship. Although unexpected and unwanted, perhaps their marriage could be a companionship of sorts, a union of affection and trust if not passion and love.
Since she was as much a victim of circumstance as he, Ian owed her the respect and courtesy of his best attempt to make the relationship work. Perhaps with work and care, if properly fostered, love could develop over time.
He could give her time. There was no need to rush an innocent girl. If they married quickly, he could woo his wife slowly; perhaps not even consummate the wedding until she was ready. And if there’s was an engagement that stretched on for months… well. He planned to do the right thing if it killed him. Ian grimaced. He was getting used to being frustrated anyway.
Forcing himself to his feet, Ian rang for Cobb. He might as well head to Chadwick House now and discover what the future held in store.
###
Having not the slightest inclination to sew seams, play the pianoforte, or read a romance novel, Alicia slumped in the first-floor sitting room, pouring out her heart to her great-aunt Beatrix.
“What if he doesn’t wish for you to come live with us?” Alicia asked, her elbow balancing on the arm of the chair and her chin resting on her fisted hand. “Papa said I should bring you with me, but Louis hints at sending you… somewhere.”
Stretching her spindly legs, Beatrix answered without turning from the fire. “Your father would never send me anywhere I didn’t want to go, honey. Louis is a self-involved prig. We should be glad to be rid of him.”
“What if we can’t?” Alicia cried. “What if Mr. Morrissey chooses to make London his primary lodgings and we are forced to encounter Louis at every turn?”
Beatrix slanted her a pointed look. “At least you won’t be married to him.”
“No,” agreed Alicia in bitter tones. “I’ve left that unwanted match for another.” Thanks to her thoughtless indiscretion with Mr. Morrissey, her already improbable chances of marrying for love became impossible.
“Is Mr. Morrissey a better sort than Louis?” her aunt queried in her quavering voice.
Alicia shot up straight in her chair. “Of course! How could he not be?”
“Then, scandal aside, what is the problem?”
The problem was Rogue with his intoxicating kisses and irresistible proposal. The problem was Ian Morrissey standing in the way of her last hope for happiness. The problem was Louis, drumming up his stupid suit in the first place. The problem was Papa, going along with the idea of pledging his daughter to her oleaginous cousin. The problem was her own ridiculous naivety, thinking things would work themselves out with Louis, Papa would retract his rigid stance, she would live happily ever after with Rogue, and no harm would come of a few moments alone with Ian Morrissey, friend to friend.
“The very worst part,” Alicia answered finally, “is that as angry as I’ve made Louis and as disappointed as I’ve made Papa, they both believe me when I say that the conversation was of the utmost innocence – and it doesn’t matter.”
Beatrix was silent for long moments before responding. “To be fair,” she said in a soft voice as she turned back to the fire, “Mr. Morrissey seems in much the same predicament.”
A deep feeling of remorse replaced the quick flash of resentment caused by this statement. Aunt Beatrix was right. Mr. Morrissey had not wished to wed her any more than she him. As accidental as their sudden engagement may be, he at least seemed a straight-forward, loyal sort, with none of her cousin’s infuriating tendencies.
He had only tried to help.
Alicia slouched against the chair cushion with a sigh. Without a doubt, he regretted his involvement in her life even more than she. Thanks to her, he would now be leg-shackled to a bride he didn’t want, and who didn’t want him. That could hardly be an enticing fate for any man.
“He was just trying to be a friend,” she admitted aloud. And it wasn’t his fault she’d already fallen in love with someone other than him. She owed him, as a wife and a woman, to give their unplanned relationship a true effort.
The very fact that he was a stranger also worked in his favor. Despite her earlier uncertainty, the likelihood was great that she would live wherever he kept his principal seat – far from Louis.
That is, if he married her at all.
Alicia glanced around the room for the closest clock. It was nearing nine o’clock and he had not yet arrived. What if he’d left to go back to wherever he came from, without a single thought to her social ruin? Alicia straightened. What if he did come, but Papa revoked her dowry as he’d threatened, thus changing Mr. Morrissey’s mind and leaving her a spinster until the end of her days? Alicia banged the back of her head against the chair. She’d mucked things up this time. Rogue wouldn’t want her either if he thought for a moment she’d be just as free with her attentions to any gentleman who squired her into an empty room.
She was bound to be alone for the rest of her life.
The sharp sound of a brass knocker rapping against the front door startled Alicia out of her downward-spiraling reverie. Could it be Rogue, here to present himself to her father? What luck that would be! Alicia sprang from her chair and half-ran, half-skipped to the head of the stairs, where she stumbled against the balustrade when she recognized the familiar face.
Ian Morrissey.
She wouldn’t be a scandal-cursed spinster, then. Nor would she be marrying for love. From the looks of the walking-through-hot-coals expression on his face, neither would he.
Alicia tripped down the stairs in her hurry to reach her father’s office before Papa had a chance to shut the door, sequestering himself and Mr. Morrissey inside. She sprinted down the hall, skating into the doorjamb as she slid to a stop. Although Mr. Morrissey seemed a little shocked at this unseemly behavior, Papa cast his gaze heavenward and motioned her inside.
“You may as well hear this conversation as not, daughter. Sit.”
Forcing a false, tremulous smile, Alicia quickly sat in the nearest straight-backed chair, staring up at both men with as much calm as she could muster.
Papa turned to Mr. Morrissey. “I presume I know the reason for your visit this morning.”
Ian flicked a tortured glance toward Alicia before nodding. “I have come to offer for your daughter.”
Chadwick drummed his fingers together and gave him a considering look. “You are certain this is what you want?”
Alicia twitched in her chair and a flush of affront crept up Mr. Morrissey’s pale face.
“A gentleman can do nothing else, my lord. The lady’s honor is at stake, and I have had my hand in that regrettable turn of events. My offer stands.”
“Very well. I am glad to hear it.”
She was glad to hear it, too. What was Papa thinking, giving Mr. Morrissey a chance to retract his statement? Did he still find it so unlikely that someone other than a cousin would deign to marry his daughter, even in these unfortunate circumstances?
Mr. Morrissey shifted his weight, looking even more uncomfortable than before. “Shall I publish the banns?”
“No.”
Alicia gaped at her father, who returned her stare evenly.
“The wedding will be immediate. This Monday, if you can procure a special license in time.”
Mr. Morrissey took a startled step backward. “I suppose there is no sense postponing the inevitable,” he conceded after a disconcerted pause. “I imagine I can visit the Archbishop’s office yet this morning.”
Chadwick gave a sharp nod and reached out to shake his hand. “Very well, then. Once that’s taken
care of, send over a note and we will finish our discussion. I’ll make arrangements for the ceremony.”
Mr. Morrissey flashed another uncertain glance in Alicia’s direction, made a little bow, and left the room, seen to the door by a footman. Alicia rose from her chair to face her father.
“What do you mean with an immediate wedding?” she cried. She had hoped to have weeks, months to plan the wedding, to give herself an opportunity to make the best of her situation.
“I’ll not condone a celebrated scandal,” her father replied, finality in his tone. “If Mr. Morrissey had objected, we would have reached some sort of compromise. How lucky to find him such an agreeable sort.”
“Lucky?” she gasped, her voice hoarse with disbelief. “I need more time,” she stammered. “Time to think.”
“For someone who always asks for time to think, daughter, you never seem to do any actual thinking,” he answered coldly, exasperation in his eyes. “This state of affairs is your own doing, Alicia. You are now Mr. Morrissey’s concern.”
###
Light from the single candle’s flickering flame reflected in her mirror, casting an odd, fitful glow on Alicia’s face. Trembling hands affixed another gaily-shaped patch to her cheek. She’d thought night would never fall and was in high fidgets at the thought of seeing Rogue. He was unlikely to be pleased at the thought of her marrying elsewhere. She was less than pleased herself. If she had her way, it wouldn’t come to that.
Alicia placed her palms flat to the tabletop and stared into the mirror. She didn’t recognize herself – in more ways than one.
It would be the height of rudeness to call off with Mr. Morrissey at this late date. But if Rogue would still have her, despite the fresh scandal attached to her name, then have her he shall. He was her one opportunity to choose her own husband, if the offer still remained. She had to admit, being “caught” alone with another man smacked of inconstancy, and she hoped he believed her when she explained the misunderstanding with Mr. Morrissey held nothing but utmost innocence.