Mary and the Marquis

by Janice Preston

  Mary spun to glare up at him, puffed up with indignation.

  ‘Don’t you dare to criticise my care for my son,’ she hissed.

  ‘Mary, I—’

  ‘Mama!’ Toby said urgently. ‘Mama, I found a dead mouse. Come and see.’

  There was a beat of silence during which their gazes remained locked. Then Mary narrowed her eyes at Lucas before speaking to her son. ‘Toby, I have told you before. It is rude to interrupt grown-ups when they are talking. Please apologise to Lord Rothley.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir,’ a small voice said as Toby slid his hand from Lucas’s grasp.

  Lucas bent awkwardly, his leg too sore after his walk to attempt to crouch, to bring his face level with Toby’s. ‘I accept your apology, Master Vale,’ he said gravely. He held out his right hand and Toby shook it, a wide beam spreading over his face as he looked up at Mary.

  ‘Sir calls me Master Vale, Mama. That’s ’cause I’m five. Can I show the dead mouse to Em’ly, Mama? Pleeease?’

  As he straightened, a glance at Mary’s face revealed dancing eyes and the corners of her mouth quirking as she struggled to remain stern.

  ‘No, Toby, you cannot. You must not touch dead things. It might make you ill.’

  ‘But it’s got blood on it, Mama. Like sir. Only he’s not small, or...or...’ Toby’s brow puckered. ‘Frashile!’ he announced with satisfaction.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Mary turned bewildered eyes to Lucas.

  ‘Fragile, Toby,’ Lucas said.

  ‘Yes, that is what I said: fragile. You are not fragile like the mouse, are you, sir, ’cause you didn’t die.’

  ‘That’s right, Toby. I didn’t die, thanks to you and your mama. Come...’ Lucas held his arm out to Mary, who placed her hand on his forearm after a second’s hesitation ‘...let us go back to the house. I think I’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.’

  They began to stroll back towards the Hall, Toby skipping ahead of them. Lucas glanced down at Mary, who smiled.

  ‘Only Toby could manage to compare you to a dead mouse,’ she said, a gurgle of laughter escaping her, ‘but he is quite right: you are not small. I am in danger of getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.’

  Lucas covered Mary’s hand and squeezed. Desire and need still bubbled away in his depths but there was another feeling dominating his emotions and it took him a few moments to realise what he felt was contentment. The simple act of walking in the autumn sunshine with Mary on his arm and he was consumed by peace. He glanced sideways, but an unaccustomed prickle behind his eyes made him return his attention to the path ahead.

  ‘I did not mean to criticise your care of your children. I was...well, I was scared when I first saw him with Sultan. Toby looked so tiny and...well, fragile...beside him. Only do not, I beg of you, tell him I said so. I doubt he would ever forgive me.’

  They laughed together.

  ‘And I did not mean to bite your head off,’ Mary said. ‘You will find, when you are a parent...oh!’ She stopped with a gasp and Lucas felt her fingers tense on his arm. ‘I apologise. That was not meant to...what I meant to explain is that worry over children can sometimes result in an explosion of anger when they are found to be safe. It is a natural reaction.’

  They had drawn level with the side door to the Hall and Mary pulled her hand from Lucas’s arm.

  ‘We have taken quite enough of your time this morning, Lucas. Thank you for your care for Toby. I shall ensure he does not bother you again.’

  Lucas reached for her. ‘Do not rush away, Mary. I have hardly seen you in the last few days. Why are you avoiding me? What are you afraid of?’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mary stilled as long fingers wrapped around her upper arm. Toby had rushed indoors, leaving them alone on the threshold. She faced Lucas, her gaze fixed on a point in the centre of his chest. She had avoided him since their supper three nights ago, deliberately, for the sake of her sanity. But she could not avoid her thoughts and he had haunted her mind, day and night. And every time she had caught a glimpse of him she’d had to fight the urge to fling herself into his arms and allow him to soothe the ache in her heart and the need that burned between her thighs. She had grown increasingly disgusted by her wanton, wayward imaginings until a sudden insight had stolen her breath.

  She was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Lucas.

  It should not have happened. Ever since their first meeting, she had battled his lure, knowing there was no hope of any permanence, knowing she could settle for nothing less. Yet, still, she was in love with this infuriating, secretive, stubborn man and the desire she felt was not sordid and disgusting, but beautiful and right and...impossible. And now, he had asked the question and she owed it to him to be honest, however embarrassing her admission might be.

  She thrust aside her dreams, ruthlessly stamping out the ridiculous hope that had flickered into life when she had first seen Lucas with Toby. Fairytale endings did not happen to ordinary women with two children in tow.

  ‘I will not dissemble, Lucas. We are both rational adults and I must behave as one and not as a simpering miss.’

  Mary reached behind her and closed the door. She stepped around Lucas and walked a few paces back down the path they had already traversed. If only it was as easy to turn back my feelings.

  ‘Mary? What is it?’

  She stopped and faced him, gripping her hands in front of her, this time fixing her gaze on his unaccountably blurred neckcloth.

  ‘This is hard for me to say.’ Mary pinched the skin on the back of one hand, focusing on the pain, in a bid to prevent her tears from spilling. ‘I am afraid of you. I am afraid of the way you make me feel.’

  She risked a glance at his face. It was inscrutable and she looked down again, lest she might lose her nerve. ‘Yes, I have avoided being alone with you. I shall continue to do so until we leave.’

  Silence reigned between them. Mary worried at her lower lip. ‘You know—I can tell you know—I find you hard to resist. I have tried to deny it, but I cannot.’

  She looked up into features as tender and yearning as she could wish. Her treacherous body swayed towards him, seeking his warmth and his comfort. She stiffened and stepped back.

  ‘Go on.’

  He was not helping, confound him. Why was it so very hard to say what she wanted to say? Could he not fill in the gaps himself?

  ‘I am afraid of what might happen if we spend more time alone together and that I will regret it for the rest of my life. I do not want a brief liaison. I need more than that.’

  ‘I have assured you, dearest Mary, that I will never take more than you wish to give. Is my promise not enough? I have missed your company.’ He reached for her hands, pulling them apart and clasping them. ‘What more can I say to persuade you of my good intentions?’

  Say you love me. She choked back the words.

  ‘Nothing, Lucas. It is me, not you. I have allowed myself to be tempted, but I shall say it again—I do not want a brief liaison. Not with anyone.’

  ‘You seek a protector? Another husband?’ Brow wrinkled, Lucas gazed down at her. ‘Is that what you want? You are asking me to provide for you?’

  ‘No!’ This was not going the way she imagined. Now he believed she was acting from mercenary motives. But she could not tell him she loved him. Not when there was no chance he reciprocated. She had stooped low enough; she would not demean herself further. ‘You asked me a question, I have answered as honestly as I can. I am sorry, Lucas. I have no more to add.’

  * * *

  ‘Ooooh, ma’am, do come and see.’

  Mary looked up from her sewing to see Ellen peering out of the window of the small sitting room.

  ‘What are they up to now?’ she queried, amused at the excitement in Ellen’s voice.

  The children were out in the garden with Susan and Ellen was helping Mary in her task of mending the worn cushion covers on the two small sofas that had been moved into the former music room to c
omplete its transformation into a sitting room. Ellen, ever a fidget, kept glancing out of the window to see Toby and Emily at play, but now she was on her feet, leaning forward until her nose almost touched the glass.

  ‘Hurry, ma’am, or he’ll be gone.’

  ‘He? Who do you mean, Ellen?’ Mary jumped up and hurried to the window, spurred by the maid’s urgent tone.

  She gazed across the expanse of lawn to the magnificent oak tree, under which the children had been gathering fallen leaves into heaps and flinging handfuls at each other. She bit back a gasp at the sight of Lucas, a broad grin on his face, swinging Emily high, then swooping her down to drop her gently into a pile of leaves. No sooner had he let her go than she scrambled to her feet, arms stretched for more, as Toby clamoured for his turn. Their excitement was clear, even from this distance, and Mary could well imagine their squeals and giggles. Susan stood apart from the fun, her face wreathed in smiles. As Mary watched, Lucas picked up a handful of leaves and showered them over Toby, who dodged and then tripped, rolling and squirming on the ground as Lucas tickled him.

  Full of wonder at what she had seen, Mary said, ‘I thought his lordship was not due home until tomorrow?’

  Lucas had left the Hall a few days before to travel to the autumn fair at Hexham market to see his sheep sold for mutton and lamb, and to find buyers for his highly bred breeding stock. Shorey and Hooper had left earlier than Lucas in order to drive the animals at an easy pace, in the hope they would not lose too much condition before reaching their destination.

  ‘That is what we all thought, ma’am, aye,’ Ellen said.

  ‘He does not have the appearance of a man in the doldrums. Let us hope his early return signifies good news.’

  Mary dropped her sewing on the table and headed for the door, itching not only to find out what had happened, but also, she acknowledged with resignation, desperate to see Lucas again. She had missed him. More than she liked to admit. The sight of him playing with the children raised an optimism within her she knew was foolish. She quashed the burgeoning hope. One frolic in the garden did not mean he was inured to the idea of children living permanently at the Hall.

  ‘I will go and find out what has happened,’ she called over her shoulder to Ellen as she hurried from the room.

  She approached the cavorting group unnoticed and went to stand by Susan, reluctant to break up the fun and games.

  ‘Do you know why his lordship is come home early?’ she whispered to Susan.

  ‘He said he had some good fortune, but I don’t know any more,’ Susan replied. Even more curious, Mary thought, laughing as Emily tried to kick leaves into the air like her brother and completely missed the heap. Lucas went to her, holding her steady as he encouraged her to kick again. This time, her foot swept through the loose pile and leaves swirled into the air, picked up by the breeze, before fluttering to the ground once more. Emily’s happy giggle chimed through the air. Toby, a scowl on his face, muscled his way between Lucas and Emily, demanding attention.

  ‘Steady, Toby,’ Lucas said. ‘You will knock Emily over if you do not take care.’

  Toby pouted at Lucas, then shoved at Emily with both hands. She fell on to her bottom. For a split second she looked stunned, then her face began to pucker. Susan exclaimed and started forward, but Mary stopped her. Her own first instinct had been to rush to her daughter, but she could see Emily was not hurt and she was curious to see how Lucas would react—both to Toby’s naughtiness and to Emily’s distress.

  Lucas didn’t hesitate. He swept Emily up into his arms and cuddled her close as he looked sternly at Toby.

  ‘Why did you do that, Toby?’

  There was no anger in his voice and Mary felt herself relax, although she had not until that moment realised how tense she had become. Lucas had not shouted at Toby or smacked him. Although that was good, it would make leaving him even harder. Her belief that Lucas hated children—fostered by his ban—had kept her feet planted on the ground during her time at the Hall. Now, that anchor had all but disintegrated and her flights of fancy could soar free.

  Toby shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffled through the leaves, kicking them up in vicious spurts. Lucas watched him in silence for a moment, then kissed Emily—who had not even cried, so quick had he been to comfort her—on her plump cheek and set her on the ground. He walked after Toby.

  ‘Toby, I am speaking to you. What would your mama say if she saw you ignore a grown-up like this?’

  Toby stood still, gazing up at Lucas.

  ‘You are bigger and stronger than Emily, Toby. It is never clever to act the bully with someone weaker than you.’

  ‘You played with her more than you did with me!’

  Toby shouted his accusation and Mary readied herself to intervene should Lucas lose his temper. But he climbed another notch in her estimation as he cocked his head to one side and regarded Toby with raised brows, not a hint of anger on his face or in his voice.

  ‘Is that true, Toby? Or could it be you wanted more of my attention for yourself?’

  The corners of Toby’s mouth twisted down. Lucas crouched down. He put his hands on Toby’s shoulders.

  ‘Come now, no sulking, or we won’t be able to finish our game before your mama...ah...too late, I fear, Toby; we’ve been discovered.’

  Lucas had finally caught sight of Mary. He stood up as Emily toddled over to her, arms aloft. Mary picked her up and hugged her. Toby approached at a snail’s pace, dragging his feet. Mary smiled at Lucas, ignoring the customary swoop of her heart and the catch in her breath, before turning her attention to her shame-faced son, who had halted a few paces away.

  ‘Why do you look so glum, Toby?’

  ‘I was bad to Em’ly, Mama, but I didn’t hurt her. Sir kept playing with her ’stead of me.’

  ‘Well, it looked to me, young man, as if his lordship was playing equally with both of you. Are you sure you were not being greedy?’

  Tears sheened Toby’s eyes. ‘He’s a man, Mama. He should play more with me ’cause I’m a boy. Em’ly’s just a girl!’

  Mary froze at Toby’s words. Was that truly how he felt? Inadequacy near overwhelmed her as she realised how Toby must miss the absence of his father, despite Michael spending barely any time with his son. Before she could marshal her thoughts to reassure her young son, however, Lucas stepped forward and put his hand on Toby’s shoulder.

  ‘Being a boy does not mean you are better than Emily because she is a girl, Toby. It simply means you are different.’

  Toby pouted, looking mutinous.

  ‘And when you are a man, you will understand the importance of never using your physical strength against those weaker than yourself. It does not make you important, Master Vale, it merely marks you out as a bully and those people whose opinions you value will lose their respect for you.’

  Mary could see Toby’s battle not to give way to tears. She recognised, in that moment, his desperation not to appear a baby in front of Lucas. She crouched down with Emily still in her arms. Reaching out, she said, ‘Come on, Toby. You can help Emily learn how to kick up the leaves. That’s what big brothers do. There’s no need to squabble.’

  Toby rushed to Mary and allowed her to hug him hard for a few seconds before he squirmed free.

  ‘Come on, Em’ly,’ he shouted. ‘Race you to the tree.’

  He started to run fast, then slowed and turned, catching hold of Emily’s hand. They ran side by side to the oak before starting a game, dodging each other around its massive trunk, their childish screams of excitement echoing around the garden.

  ‘Thank you for your patience with them. It was lovely to see you all having such fun,’ Mary said, smiling at Lucas.

  Lucas brushed at his coat, removing the remnants of dried leaves. ‘I didn’t know I had it in me. Come—’ he held out his arm ‘—Susan will watch the children. There is something I wish to ask you.’

  Mary’s heart missed a beat. What could he mean? No! She quashe
d her wild fantasy. Her dream of a proposal was impossible. It was more than likely some mundane matter such as what Mrs Lindley had planned for dinner tonight. She placed her hand on his sleeve, willing her fingers not to tremble, revelling in the now familiar rock-hard muscle of his forearm. She caught Susan’s eye, who nodded.

  ‘You go on, ma’am. I’ll bring them in shortly.’

  As they strolled towards the house, Mary said, ‘You are in a very good mood, Lucas. I take it the sheep sale was a success?’

  Lucas grinned. ‘More than you know, my sweet Mary. Now, to my request...’ He reached for her hand as he halted, turning to face her.

  Mary’s heart skipped another beat as her pulse jittered. She gazed up into dark eyes that sparkled with suppressed excitement. What was going on? What had happened whilst Lucas was away? Was he...?

  Stop it! Stop wishing for the impossible and reading romantic intent into his every word and gesture.

  She willed her features to show mere polite enquiry. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Will you do me the honour of dining with me tonight?’

  Dinner! Mary battled against her disappointment. Foolish optimism: the triumph of hope over experience. She should know better. She pasted a smile on her face, but before she could answer, Lucas spoke again.

  ‘I shall instruct Trant to remain in the room, if it will make you more comfortable. You see: no ulterior motive, merely the pleasure of your company.’

  His eyes burned into hers as he stepped closer, his thighs brushing against her skirts. His chest was a hairbreadth from the tips of her breasts. If she inhaled deeply, she might soothe them with the brush of his coat. Her nipples peaked at her wayward thought. A familiar yearning ached deep in her belly. Seeing him with the children this afternoon had swept away any lingering doubts over his character.

  She was in love with him, completely, utterly, hopelessly. This meal might be her last opportunity to spend time with him. No one could now argue he was not fully recovered. She could no longer pretend she was needed at the Hall. It was time to go.