The Reluctant Marquess_The Duke's Daughters_Prequel

by Rose Pearson

  “Mrs. Miller!” he exclaimed, on seeing the lady leaving the drawing room. “Do you know where Miss Newton has got to? I must speak to her urgently.”

  There was a flicker of anger in the lady’s eyes, but she kept her expression calm. “I think she has gone to lie down, my lord.”

  “Then can you rouse her and ask her to join me in the library, Mrs. Miller? At once.”

  Hugh did not wait for her to agree but turned on his heel and strode towards the library, his heart thundering wildly, hoping that Miss Newton would appear. He had to talk to her, to let her know that what she had heard had merely been the foolish talk of a man trying to hide his true feelings from another.

  “Please, Miss Newton,” he whispered to himself, beginning to pace up and down the library. “Please just listen.”

  It was all he could hope for.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Molly looked up as Mrs. Miller stepped into the bedchamber, a sympathetic smile on her face.

  “Are you quite all right, my dear?”

  Sniffing, Molly pressed her eyes with the lace handkerchief in her hand and nodded. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “You came along the corridor like a whirlwind,” Mrs. Miller commented, softly closing the door. “And soon after you came Lord Seaworth.”

  “Lord Seaworth?” Molly repeated, her heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

  “He wants to see you.”

  Fire poured into her veins.

  “In the library,” Mrs. Miller continued calmly. “At this very moment.”

  Molly shook her head, not willing to go in search of Lord Seaworth after what she had heard.

  “I think you must,” Mrs. Miller said softly, coming closer to Molly and taking her hands. “I did not understand everything you said but I can see that this is something that has upset you greatly.”

  The words she’d heard echoing from the study along the corridor towards her still clung to her soul, pouring pain into her heart. She did not want to see Lord Seaworth and certainly did not want to talk to him, not after that. What a fool she had been to believe in his change of character when it was clear that he’d only been putting on a pretense.

  He didn’t want her in his house and certainly couldn’t truly care for her wellbeing. There was no genuine desire for him to know her better, or to find out what her hobbies were or the like. Whatever his reasons for saying such things, they were nothing more than words. Just words with no true intention behind them.

  “Here,” Mrs. Miller murmured, walking to the washbowl and pouring a little water into a soft cloth. “Wipe your eyes, my dear. I think it best that you talk to him, regardless of what you feel. For what it is worth, he appeared somewhat distraught.”

  Molly took the cloth but did not press it to her eyes, looking down at it for a moment. “He is distraught to have been discovered, I am sure. His brother, Lord Wilson, saw me upset and I am sure told Lord Seaworth. He will only now be trying to right the damage that has been done.” With a sigh, she pressed the cloth to her eyes and let the coolness press against her eyes.

  “Sit down and let me fix your hair,” Mrs. Miller said practically. “And then you can go to him. Trust me, my dear. This is for the best.”

  It took everything Molly had to put her hand on the door handle and step into the library, her heart and mind screaming for her to turn around and walk away. She felt like an utter fool, walking into his presence with her head held high. Inwardly, she cursed herself for ever having believed this gentleman’s words, and even worse, for allowing herself to feel anything for him. Her heart was sore now, wounded and painful, but it was all her own doing. How much time had she spent wondering about Lord Seaworth, going over and over what had happened to her when he had taken her hand? She had spent so long thinking of him that her heart had slowly begun to warm towards him, and had she not kept herself in check, she might now find herself almost completely in love with him.

  It was just as well she was not, she told herself, her hands knotting together in front of her as she wondered why she could not look Lord Seaworth directly in the eye.

  “Miss Newton.”

  His voice was low and quiet, certainly not what she’d been expecting.

  “Miss Newton, I am terribly sorry.”

  She sniffed, turning her head away from him in a gesture of disfavor. “Are you sorry for what you said or are you sorry for what I heard, Lord Seaworth?”

  There was a brief silence. “Both,” he said eventually. “It was foolish of me to speak in such an undisclosed manner, especially when every word I said was a lie.”

  Her heart tugged, begging her to believe him, but Molly remained steadfast. “I cannot tell which I am meant to believe, Lord Seaworth. Either I believe that you are, in fact, trying to reform yourself for whatever reason, or I believe that the words I heard coming from your study are your true self – just very carefully hidden by a thin veneer.”

  Slowly, she turned her head and let her gaze travel towards him. She expected to see him standing bolt upright, his arms folded and perhaps a slight sneer on his face but, much to her surprise, he was doing precisely the opposite. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes almost fixed to the floor by his feet, and as she watched, he ran one hand through his hair, making it even more of a mess than it already was.

  Suddenly, she wanted to believe him.

  “Miss Newton, I will not pretend that I did not say those things to my steward, for that would be a lie,” he murmured, sitting down in an overstuffed chair by the fire. “What I will do is apologize for saying them. I knew I should be honest with my steward, but I did not want to be. To say such things out loud – and to one of my staff no less – was not something I felt I could do. My steward knows me very well you see, and made a few pertinent remarks as regards my recent habits. I could not tell him the real reason for such changes, not when he is in my employ.”

  That Molly could understand, feeling some of her anger dying away. “I see.”

  “Please,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite. “Will you sit for a few minutes? I should tell you everything.”

  Molly hesitated for a moment or two, before doing as he’d asked. He had, at least, earned the opportunity to be listened to, given all that he had done for her. His eyes caught hers as she sat, filled with a sudden gratitude that chased away some of the chill from her heart.

  “Thank you, Miss Newton,” he murmured, quietly. “You do me a great honor.”

  Swallowing the ache in her throat, Molly sat ramrod straight, with her hands folded gently in her lap.

  “I have never cared for anyone or anything before,” Lord Seaworth began, his eyes now fixed on hers. “All I have thought, all I have considered, has been my own self. My own needs, my own desires, my own heart. That is, until you were thrust into my life.”

  Molly felt her shoulders sag just a little as he spoke, a sudden fierce hope burning in her chest.

  “My steward came here on my request, Miss Newton. He knows everything about me since he has almost full control of taking care of my finances and the like. When he commented on my lack of debts since I have not been gambling, I felt my throat constrict as though someone were about to force truths from my mouth. He spoke to me as the man he knew, not as the man I am becoming. I did not tell him the truth but kept it hidden from him, returning his conversation in a way that he’d expect.”

  This Molly could well understand, aware that no gentleman, nor lady, wanted their staff to know the innermost workings of their heart for then, within minutes, it would spread around the house like wildfire. Rumors and gossip always started from below stairs.

  “You overheard me speak those callous words, but I swear to you they did not come from the heart,” Lord Seaworth finished, his voice thin and eyes boring into hers. It was as if he were begging her to believe him, to trust what she had seen of him this last week. “I did not tell him that the changes in me are all because of you, because of your presence. It was somethi
ng I kept hidden from him, in the same way I have been keeping it hidden from myself.”

  Molly felt her heart begin to quicken in her chest, her fingers knotting tightly. She did not know what to say in response, aware of what he was trying to present to her but yet not having the courage to grasp it fully.

  “Lord Seaworth,” she whispered, not certain what else she could say. “I –”

  “Do you accept this from me?” he said, interrupting her as he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows pressed into his knees as he clasped his hands together as if to stop himself from reaching forward to take her hands. “Can you accept this from me?”

  Molly found that she could, her head nodding of its own accord. Lord Seaworth stared at her for a moment before letting his head drop between his arms, a breath of relief escaping him. Molly watched him for a moment, before sitting back a little more in her chair. Her own heart was bruised but the fury and the anger were slowly ebbing away.

  “The more I try to do right, the more I do wrong,” Lord Seaworth said, his voice a little muffled as he spoke into the floor. “And yet I must declare an ounce of selfishness in all this.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Selfishness? I thought that was one of the traits you were trying to rid yourself of, Lord Seaworth.”

  His head shot up, his lips twisted in a wry smile as he looked at her. Molly felt her own heart clench in return, a swirl of heat settling in her core. And yet, despite the smile on his face, there was a sadness in his eyes as though he knew that, somehow, he was about to shatter everything between them again.

  “I told you that I would speak the truth and so I shall,” he said, slowly. “I am aware that Lord Donoghue has the future in mind, and so I sent for my steward.”

  At the mention of Lord Donoghue, Molly frowned. “Why?”

  Lord Seaworth let out a long sigh. “Because I must know everything about that man before I can allow him to marry you, Miss Newton.”

  “Marry?” The word left her lips in a shocked exclamation, rattling around the room. “Marriage is not something I have contemplated with Lord Donoghue, Lord Seaworth.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “But you agreed to court him.”

  “Yes, but I…” Molly trailed off, recalling how she had, only last evening, agreed to court Lord Donoghue full in the knowledge that he was anticipating their future together. “That does not mean that he intends to propose very soon, Lord Seaworth.”

  Lord Seaworth shook his head. “You are quite wrong there Miss Newton. Lord Donoghue is not a gentleman who likes to wait. He has seen Lord Huntly and Lord Dalton’s attentions and so has made his mind up. I should think that he will court you over the next fortnight and, on the occasion of your ball, find a quiet place and propose to you there.”

  Molly felt as though someone had hit her square in the stomach, her gut tight as her lungs fought for breath. She did not want to believe it would happen so soon, but the steady gaze with which Lord Seaworth was looking at her told her that she had to.

  “I asked my steward to look into Lord Donoghue with a much greater depth than I have, Miss Newton,” Lord Seaworth continued, slowly. “The reasons I did so are twofold. One, because I must know that there is nothing of fault hidden away and, two, so that I might separate you should I need to.”

  A faint trace of anger began to rise within her.

  “That is the reason for my selfishness,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face. “I should not like you to marry the wrong gentleman, Miss Newton. My heart would not allow it.”

  Feeling as though she were being assaulted from every side, Molly stared at Lord Seaworth in both shock and confusion, a little uncertain as to what he was saying.

  “You understand me, I think,” Lord Seaworth said, quietly, a small smile on his face. “Miss Newton, my heart does not want you to marry Lord Donoghue, or any other gentleman for that matter.”

  “And so, you have sent your steward to go and find whatever he can about Lord Donoghue that would give you reason to send him away from my side,” Molly finished slowly, as a feeling of numbness began to settle on her.

  There was a short silence, one where Lord Seaworth looked about him, a little uncomfortable with what she had said before shrugging. “In not so many words, yes. That is why I call myself selfish Miss Newton. I am trying to push every other gentleman away from you so that I might keep you here a little longer. Then, perhaps, you might see that I am becoming the gentleman you are making me. The gentleman who can be true and honest in what he feels and in what he desires.”

  Molly’s mouth went dry as she struggled to find an answer. Her mind and heart were conflicted, finding herself to be angry in what he was doing, but also at the same time, overcome by what he’d said to her about his own heart.

  “I – I need to think,” she said, getting to her feet and stumbling away from him. “Lord Seaworth, you cannot simply thrust this onto me!”

  He sighed. “I have misstepped again it seems. Miss Newton, I wanted to be honest with you, and whilst it has felt rather strange to me, I believe I have done so.” His tone grew weak, his head turning away. “I am not used to bearing my soul but there it is, before you. Miss Newton, I believe myself to have a deep affection for you, and whilst I have fought it, it continues to linger. It will not leave me, despite my attempts to push it aside.” He looked up at her, his hands still clasped over his knees. “What you do with this is now entirely up to you. I leave it at your feet.”

  Molly could not answer, finding the atmosphere in the room suddenly cloying. Desperate to get away, she rushed from the room, one hand pressed against her heart. She had gone from one emotion to the next and was now trapped by what she felt, feeling them swirl all through her. She was angry with Lord Seaworth for what he had done in sending his steward to find whatever misdemeanors he could about Lord Donoghue, simply so that he might separate them, but in a way, she also felt an appreciation for what he had done. He had not simply allowed her to move forward with Lord Donoghue in a way that required no input from himself but rather was choosing to get involved. Selfishly in one sense, of course, for now that he had laid his heart bare before her, she could see why he had desired his steward to go over Lord Donoghue’s life with a fine-tooth comb.

  “But he did not need to do such a thing,” Molly murmured to herself, pressing one hand to her forehead as she hurried back to her bedchamber. “He just needed to talk to me.”

  Had Lord Seaworth told her what he was feeling, then she might have considered his heart as well as Lord Donoghue’s intentions. It might have given her own troubling feelings flight, allowed her to see them clearly before Lord Donoghue had asked to court her.

  Now everything was one big, jumbled mess.

  “My dear!” Mrs. Miller exclaimed as Molly entered the room. “Are you quite all right? You look positively done in!”

  Molly allowed her companion to lead her to a chair and, with a nod from Molly, rang the bell for tea.

  “Lord Seaworth explained everything,” she said quietly, as Mrs. Miller sat down opposite her, looking somewhat anxious. “More than explained everything, actually.”

  A small smile tugged at Mrs. Miller’s lips. “I see,” she said softly. “He’s declared himself, has he?”

  Astonished, Molly’s head shot up and she stared at Mrs. Miller.

  “You do not need to look so surprised,” Mrs. Miller laughed, shaking her head. “I may be older than you, but I still know what a man in love looks like.”

  Shaking her head, Molly slumped back in her chair. “What am I to do? Lord Seaworth thinks that Lord Donoghue will propose to me at the ball in two weeks’ time!”

  “Then you have two weeks to decide,” Mrs. Miller replied, practically. “For what it is worth my dear, I think Lord Seaworth’s change in character is nothing short of permanent. As a companion, it is amazing what one gleans simply by being in the shadows and, unintentionally of course, picking up conversations.” She lifted one eyebrow and smiled at Molly. “
Lord Donoghue is just as he seems – wise, kind and thoughtful whereas Lord Seaworth is more of a puzzle. It depends what you want Molly. What kind of future you crave.”

  Molly took in her companion’s advice and nodded slowly, her mind going from one gentleman to the other. There was nothing but companionship when it came to Lord Donoghue, whereas with Lord Seaworth, there was the fire that burst all through her, unexpected and strong. Marriage was lifelong. Her future would be settled the moment she said yes to either one of them. Only one question remained: which one of them did her heart call for the most?

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the next few days, Hugh found himself talking with Miss Newton as though nothing of import had been said. The preparations for her ball were in full swing, and he found himself caught up in that, ensuring that he sought her input whenever he could. She laughed and smiled and talked with him in a way that brought a happiness to his heart that he had never felt before and, for the first time, he felt a spark of hope.

  Hope that she might, perhaps, allow him a chance to prove himself to her.

  That hope continued to flicker within his heart as he saw how Lord Donoghue continued to pay her particular attention. Whilst Lord Dalton did not call, Lord Huntly did twice, clearly keen to ensure that he was also seen as a potential suitor should anything go awry between herself and Lord Donoghue.

  Hugh hated having to sit there with them, listening to conversations he was not a part of as if he were simply the chaperone, there to ensure that no-one did anything out of place. At times, he felt Miss Newton’s eyes on him but he always looked away, forcing himself to remain as expressionless as he could. This had to be Miss Newton’s choice. He would not influence her by appearing disinclined towards either of her suitors.

  Not that it did not torment him, seeing those gentlemen make Miss Newton laugh and smile or watching them step out together. Lord Donoghue was particularly persistent in his intentions which, Hugh believed, meant that he was correct in his belief that Lord Donoghue would propose to her at the ball in a little over a week’s time. His mind was often flooded with worry over what she might say to such a proposal, knowing that should she agree, then he would have to find a way to go on with his life without her.