“Oh Alex.” Lady Helena’s eyes were soft as she laid her hand over his. “She didn’t throw you over, did she?”
“No, but until recently I thought she had. Instead it transpires she was basically sold to a man three times her age and spent years in a desperately unhappy, even abusive, marriage.”
“The poor girl, how perfectly dreadful!” His mother sounded quite outraged on Marianne’s behalf. “I was one of the great beauties in my day, too, and my father was outraged I ‘threw myself away’ on a younger son, but he would never have forced me to marry someone I did not want!”
Lady Helena was the daughter of a duke, and her dowry had been more than substantial. Even though his father was the younger son, Alexander had always known there would be a substantial inheritance in his future. He’d also always known his parents loved each other. Indeed, he suspected his mother had become more difficult since his father’s death mainly because she missed her husband so. Lord Patrick Rotherhithe had always indulged his wife’s slightest whim.
“I love her,” Alex admitted, knowing his mother was now firmly on his side. “I’ve always loved her, and I want no one else for my wife. Unfortunately, after her terrible marriage, she has decided she prefers not to remarry.”
“Then we will simply have to convince her otherwise, won’t we, darling?” Lady Helena patted his hand and smiled. “You just leave it to me.”
“I’d really rather not.” He winced, thinking of the chaos his mother might engender with her machinations.
She laughed, unfazed by his lack of confidence in her. “Young men do like to do their own wooing, I suppose. Well, I will spend my time filling her ears with tales of how wonderful my marriage was, and how like your father you are.”
“That would be very helpful, Mother,” Alex said sincerely.
“You are, you know.” His mother reached up and touched his cheek gently. “Very much like him. He’d be very proud - and so would your grandfather, if he’d truly had the chance to know you. Don’t hold Duncan’s dying words against him. He was grieving for both his sons, you must remember. He pored over every newspaper account of the battles you fought in, and every time you were mentioned in dispatches or bestowed with a medal, he would give a toast in your honour at dinner.”
“He did?” Startled, Alex blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
“You never had much chance to know him, being away at school, then university, then the army. I wish you’d known him better.” His mother looked back across the theatre at Marianne. “I think he’d have liked her, you know. He’d have said something about her looking like a proper Scot, with that red hair.”
Alex took his mother’s hand. “Let’s see about persuading her to marry into a good Scots family then, shall we?”
Chapter Eighteen
)
Marianne found herself utterly unable to concentrate on the rest of the play. She was far too aware of Alexander and his mother only a short distance away, heads bent towards each other in intense conversation, both of them with eyes fixed firmly on the box where she sat the whole time. The dowager marchioness had clearly been quite keen on Alexander getting to know Diana, and it would certainly be a good match for her niece.
Not only that, but Marianne knew firsthand exactly how decent a man Alexander was. He would surely take good care of Diana, make sure she wanted for nothing. Diana, with her sweet nature, could not help but love him, and would surely be loved in return.
So why did the very idea make Marianne feel sick to her stomach?
She could not stop Diana and Clarissa excitedly telling their mother about meeting a marquis and his mother, and being invited to a duchess’ ball, of course. Or Clarissa needling her sister about being asked for the first dance.
Lavinia could hardly contain her excitement, and Marianne was praised to the skies for being the means of introduction to such exalted personages. “Dancing with a marquis at a duchess’ ball!” she kept saying, as though she could not quite believe it. “My little girl!”
“Lord Glenkellie asked Aunt Marianne for the second,” Diana said innocently.
“Oh, that was just politeness,” Marianne said quickly as Lavinia’s brows drew down in a frown. “We are old friends, after all. He could hardly not ask. And you were quite right, I do miss dancing. Not many gentlemen will request a set with an old widow like me, so I shall enjoy the opportunities when they come my way.” Her tone was a little defiant as she met Lavinia’s gaze, and the older woman nodded after a moment, shrugging.
“So long as you do not distract Diana’s prospects, all will be well.” It was Arthur who whispered malevolently into her ear.
Marianne’s jaw clenched, but she pretended he had not spoken and stared fixedly at the stage, though in truth she took in little of the rest of the play.
)
The following morning as Ellen and Marianne took breakfast together, Ellen confided Lady Jersey had not been prepared to offer vouchers without meeting Diana. Thus, Ellen had promised to collect Lavinia and Diana in her carriage and take them to call on Lady Jersey for tea that afternoon.
“Lady Jersey insisted I bring you along as well, of course,” she said.
“I should rather keep Clarissa company,” Marianne said quickly. “Perhaps we might take a walk in the park.”
“Are you avoiding Lady Jersey?” Ellen’s gaze was uncomfortably sharp. “It’s quite all right if you are, of course. I’ll happily assist - though I should like to know why.”
With a sense of relief that she need not mislead Ellen, Marianne said, “I think she will try and persuade me to marry again. She fancies herself a matchmaker; only look how many young men she tried to throw in your way, and she barely had any opportunities before Thomas snatched you up!”
“True,” Ellen admitted. She gave Marianne another penetrating look. “And you are quite sure you will never marry again?”
“I could never wish to be under any man’s control again,” Marianne said frankly. “I will fight Arthur to retain what independence I have, and God willing, with good friends like you and Thomas and the Pembrokes, I shall contrive to live well enough to suit me.”
“You will have a place with us always, if you wish it,” Ellen promised. “As a valued member of the family, not merely a guest.”
Tears of emotion choked Marianne’s throat, and she reached out to touch Ellen’s hand, her expression full of gratitude.
The clatter of hooves and wheels just outside broke the moment, and they both looked to the window to see a carriage drawn up at the front door.
“That’s the Glenkellie crest on the door,” Ellen noted. “I think perhaps you have a visitor, Marianne.”
“It’s rather too early for morning calls.” Marianne shook her head, regaining her composure. “I am sure he is only here because he has some business with Thomas.”
Footsteps in the hallway and the sound of the study door opening and closing seemed to confirm her supposition, and the two ladies returned to their toast and tea.
Only a few moments later, though, Thomas entered the room. “I do beg your pardon,” he said, “but Glenkellie is here to discuss some matters of business with Marianne.”
“With me?” Marianne looked blank. “What business could he have to discuss with me?”
But Ellen was already getting up and saying she had a hundred jobs to do and she would leave them to it.
Marianne had little choice but to set her teacup aside and follow Thomas to his study, a smaller room than the one at Havers Hall but no less comfortably furnished.
Alex was waiting there, smiling as he saw her enter the room. “Lady Marianne.” He bowed as Thomas escorted her to a seat and then both men took their seats as well.
“Whatever is this about?” she asked in confusion.
“Do you recall I advised you that I had commissioned Glenkellie to see what might be done about your jewellery?” Thomas asked.
“Oh.” She had tried to forget everything about the
hated jewels. “Yes, I suppose so. Are they worth anything?” she asked, turning to face Alexander.
“A good deal, as it turns out. Some four thousand pounds, all told. I’ve placed the money in an account at Coutts Bank in your name. If you would at some time make an appointment to accompany me there, I can vouch to Mr. Coutts that the money is yours and then you will be able to do with it whatever you wish.”
“Four thousand pounds?” Marianne said, flabbergasted.
“Indeed, and there are still some small pieces remaining, plus a necklace my mother wishes to purchase as a gift for her sister, who she intends to visit in Italy this year.”
Completely stunned, Marianne merely sat and blinked at him, at least until Thomas said, “Marianne, are you feeling quite well? You’ve turned pale.”
“I just,” she turned to him and shook her head. “Four thousand pounds - I never expected so much!”
“You are quite an heiress,” Thomas said, teasing. “All the fortune hunters will be chasing after you when they learn of it. For it is yours alone, not a widow’s portion you would lose should you remarry.”
“But what am I to do with so much money?” For all Creighton’s wealth, Marianne had never carried more than a few shillings in her own purse. Everything she purchased was sent on account to her husband.
“We both stand ready to advise you, should you wish,” Alex said, and she looked back at him. “Or Mr. Coutts could make some recommendations, if you would like to consult with an independent party. Even placed in the four per cents, though, you would get an income of some one hundred and sixty pounds per annum, which would be more than sufficient to rent a house and keep some servants, if you wish.”
“Or you can continue to reside with us, and save the money for the future,” Thomas said with a frown at Alexander. “I know Ellen wishes you to remain with us, as one of the family, and your being a woman of means does not change that.”
“I will have to think about it,” Marianne said at last.
“Whatever you decide to do, I stand ready to assist,” Alexander said. “In fact, if it is convenient, I am available to convey you to the bank this morning.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Thomas encouraged, and Marianne was persuaded to go and collect a coat and hat and ask Jean to accompany her.
“To avoid any appearance of impropriety,” she told her maid, “though of course there wouldn’t be any; Lord Glenkellie is a perfect gentleman.”
“Still, you don’t want folks gossipping about you bein’ alone with a man,” Jean said wisely, putting on her own coat. “I don’t mind goin’ for a ride in a fancy carriage at all, m’lady. Never been out of Herefordshire before, have I? London’s full of wonders to see.”
With Jean sitting beside her absorbed in the sights passing by outside the carriage window, Marianne found her eyes resting on Alexander. He looked the picture of a fine London gentleman, though he eschewed the bright colours worn by the foppish, his clothes were perfectly tailored to fit him, and she did not doubt the shine on his boots alone was hard-earned by dedicated hours of polishing by some under-servant.
“Thank you for assisting me in this matter, Lord Glenkellie,” she said impulsively.
“You’re most welcome.” Alexander smiled at her. “I admit I was surprised to find the jewels of such value, but pleased on your behalf.” He paused a moment before adding, “You paid a high price for them.”
She had not considered it that way, but now that she did, she smiled wryly. “Indeed, I was quite expensive, was I not? Five hundred a year… he could have kept several mistresses for that, if he had wished.”
Alexander looked horrified at her flippant remark. “Dear God, never say so!” he exclaimed. “Crei - that man valued you far too cheaply!”
Appreciative he had recalled she did not like to hear the name Creighton, and touched by his outrage on her behalf, Marianne gave him a rueful shrug. “I admit I do not know what he paid my father. Several thousand at least, I must suppose. I understand his gambling debts were quite substantial.”
“A good woman is a pearl beyond price,” Alexander said, and then he leaned forward, gazing at her intently. “The love of a good woman cannot be purchased, not for money or jewels or any such thing.”
Jean let out a tiny sigh beside her, and Marianne had to admit it was a deeply romantic sentiment. Alexander’s intense blue gaze was making her feel a little uncomfortable, though, so she only murmured, “Indeed, you are correct,” before turning her head and looking out at the streets.
Mr. Coutts was a rather elderly gentleman, Marianne discovered, in his late seventies, but as professional and charming as Marianne could wish. He listened while Alexander verified her identity and then turned his full attention to Marianne.
“My bank is at your disposal, Lady Creighton. Your funds are at the present time lodged in an account which attracts only minimal interest; I would not recommend keeping more than the amount you would require in, say, a twelve-month period there at any one time.”
“I am not presently decided on what, if any, investments I wish to make,” Marianne admitted.
“When you are, my lady, we stand ready to assist. Do you wish to withdraw any funds for your own use at this time?”
“It’s up to you,” Alexander said when she hesitated. “You might wish to have some small amount on hand for expenses - a few pounds, perhaps? Remember, there is more to come when the rest of the sales are concluded, and you can return on any day the bank is open to make a further withdrawal if you wish.”
“Ten pounds,” Marianne decided. “That is a sufficient sum for any small purchases, I believe. If I wish to make a larger purchase than that, it would be as well to meditate on it a day or two anyway.”
“A very prudent attitude, my lady,” Mr. Coutts approved. “Small notes would be best, I think? A few moments, and I will have one of my tellers complete the transaction.”
Within minutes, Marianne was tucking a small roll of pound and ten-shilling notes into her reticule, along with a small pouch containing a pound in coins. Taking their leave of Mr. Coutts, they collected Jean from the anteroom where the maid waited and returned to the carriage.
“Would you like to return directly to Cavendish Square, or may I convey you elsewhere?” Alexander enquired.
It took Marianne a few moments to reply. She was still too accustomed to having her every move dictated by others, she realised; the need to ask permission to go anywhere or do anything had become ingrained.
“I would like to go somewhere, yes,” she said finally. “Would you perhaps have time to take a walk with me?”
“I should be delighted,” Alexander replied promptly. “Though it is cold today, it is quite dry. St. James’s Park isn’t far from here, just along The Strand?”
He was asking, not telling, her where they should go, his hand extended to help her up into the carriage and his driver awaited her instruction.
A heady feeling enveloped Marianne, a rush of lightness, almost as though she was floating. “I should love to go to St. James’s Park. Could we perhaps make a stop by a baker’s shop to buy some bread? I have ever been fond of feeding the ducks there.”
“You heard Lady Marianne,” Alexander said to his driver as he handed Jean up after her mistress, “a baker’s shop and then the park. Hungry ducks await!”
Chapter Nineteen
)
Arriving back at the Havers’ townhouse with muddy shoes and cheeks pink from the cold Marianne could not wipe the broad smile from her face as she accompanied Jean upstairs to change.
“You look pleased with yourself,” Ellen said as they met on the landing. “Did you enjoy your outing?”
“I fed the ducks!” Marianne said, laughing as she realised she sounded like an excited child.
Ellen’s expression was both puzzled and amused as she tilted her head slightly and said, “That does sound like fun. Are you coming with me this afternoon?”
“Oh, why not. Lad
y Jersey will only turn up here to see me if I do not, and probably bring a selection of potential suitors with her. At least if I go, I can impress on her the need to see Diana well-settled.” Still in a good mood, Marianne shrugged off her earlier concerns. “When do you wish to go?”
“Will a half hour be enough time to refresh yourself?”
“Easily!”
Ellen smiled, obviously delighted by Marianne’s happy mood. “I’ll have Cook send up a little luncheon for you - some soup perhaps?”
“Begging your pardon, m’lady, but I sent the instruction to the kitchen already.” Jean bobbed a curtsey.
“Good girl, Jean. I’m glad Marianne has someone so devoted to her comfort.” Ellen praised and Jean blushed, ducking her head shyly.
“Jean is wonderful, and I fully intend to steal her from your employ,” Marianne said. “Now I have control of some funds of my own, I hope she will accept the position of my personal maid on a permanent basis.”
Jean’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she curtseyed again, deeper this time. “Oh, m’lady. I’m that honoured. But don’t you want one of them proper French lady’s maids?”
“A fine English girl is more than good enough for me,” Marianne told her.
“Then you should accept Lady Marianne’s offer, with my blessing,” Ellen declared.
Jean wasn’t the type to repeatedly babble thanks, for which Marianne was quite grateful as they proceeded to her rooms. The fire was soon built up, Marianne’s muddy boots and damp gown removed, fresh things laid out for her to change into, and a tray arrived from the kitchen with a light snack to sate her hunger.
“I used to take such service for granted, perhaps because of how grudgingly it was offered,” Marianne murmured as Jean took a brush and began attending to her hair, “yet now, I am almost overwhelmed with gratitude for Lady Havers’ kindness and your good care of me, Jean.”
“Lady Havers has naught but good to say about you, m’lady,” Jean said, tucking in a stray curl, “and as for me - well, it’s a pleasure to look after you and all your lovely things. You’ve only kind words for everyone. Believe me, servants notice who ain’t so sweet-tempered.”
A Marquis For Marianne (Blushing Brides Book 2) Page 12