by Rose Pearson
Her heart softened. “You need not apologize again, Lord Galsworthy. You have done that so many times that I fear you believe I hold a grudge against you when the opposite is true.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “The opposite?” he asked softly.
Butterflies filled her stomach. “Indeed,” she admitted, forcing herself to be truthful with him, just as he had promised to be with her. “I feel my heart is opening towards you, Lord Galsworthy. I confess that I was never certain about our betrothal but over this last week, I have found myself almost looking forward to the event.”
Pressing his lips together, Lord Galsworthy closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “My dear Miss Weston,” he breathed as though he could not quite take in what she had said. “There is something I must ask you.”
Every part of her stiffened at once, a tension running through her that quickly changed to excitement. She knew what he wanted to ask her, knew that he was about to ask her to become his wife and certainly knew what her answer would be. There was no doubt in her mind now, no fear that she would be married to a man who either regretted marrying her or hated every moment of his married life due to being forced into the situation. Lord Galsworthy had proven himself to be dedicated and more than willing to proceed and for that, as well as for the state of her own heart, Marianne knew she could not refuse him.
Lord Galsworthy let out a long breath, stepping a little closer with one arm now sliding about her waist. Marianne closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath, only to feel his breath whispering across her cheek. Just as she opened her eyes, she felt his lips touch her own and jumped violently. Lord Galsworthy stammered and stepped back immediately, leaving Marianne in a state of utter confusion.
“You – you need not apologize, Lord Galsworthy,” she managed to say, feeling as though the moment had passed from them entirely. “I simply was not quite prepared.” She smiled at him, aware that there was a sudden, desperate longing to have him kiss her again. “Please,” she continued, her voice lower and softer. “Do as you were going to, Lord Galsworthy.”
Lord Galsworthy drew in a long breath and made to step forward just as four other visitors walked into the room, murmuring to one another in quiet voices. They ignored Lord Galsworthy and Marianne entirely but, with their presence in the room, whatever Lord Galsworthy had been about to say or to do was now entirely impossible.
“Another time, I hope,” Lord Galsworthy murmured, taking her hand again. “Forgive me for being so forward, Miss Weston.”
“You may call me ‘Marianne’, if you wish it,” Marianne replied, wishing to goodness that those other guests had not interrupted them in the way they had done, else she might now be kissing Lord Galsworthy! “I think it is quite proper for such a thing to occur now.”
Lord Galsworthy chuckled. “I am inclined to agree with you, Miss Weston. Very well. Marianne, it is.” He looked down at her and smiled and she was relieved to see a slight flush to his cheeks, which matched her own. “We shall continue our conversation at another time, I think. When we are less likely to be interrupted. What say you to that?”
“I should like that very much,” Marianne replied, feeling anticipation rising in her chest as they walked together. Suddenly everything seemed brighter, her future happy and settled. All Lord Galsworthy had to do now was propose.
Chapter Fourteen
The following afternoon, having been reminded that there were now only three days until Lord Henry’s Ball, Marianne and Harriet had gone into town in order to purchase one or two new ribbons which they might add to their dresses for the evening. Harriet appeared to be in good spirits, which she claimed was entirely due to Marianne’s growing contentedness with Lord Galsworthy. She stated quite firmly that since Marianne was now no longer distraught and upset, it made her feel all the more at ease with the entire situation, glad to know that her sister would be married and settled very soon.
“Of course,” Harriet continued as they climbed the steps to the front door of the house, “most of all, I am happy that you are content with Lord Galsworthy. After all you have endured, after all you have gone through with him, I am glad that you have decided upon him once and for all.”
“I have,” Marianne replied, sighing just a little as she did so. “He is a good man, I think. He has made some mistakes, but he has owned them and begged my forgiveness on so many occasions that I find myself growing quite weary of assuring him he is quite forgiven. I think I too have made some mistakes, for I was too quick to think ill of him, too unwilling to question what I knew. All in all, Harriet, the past shall remain just as it is – the past – and we shall move, Lord Galsworthy and I, into a brighter, happier future together.”
Harriet sighed happily, handing her bonnet and her gloves to the butler before making her way inside. “I am truly happy for you, my dear sister,” she said as they hurried up the staircase towards the drawing room, looking forward to a tea tray and a blazing fire by which they might warm their toes, for the wind had been especially cold that afternoon. “I have no doubt Father will wish to marry me off next summer, however, so I must hope that he is as considerate of me as he has been of you!”
Marianne smiled. “I think Father’s view on such matters has changed considerably this last fortnight,” she replied thoughtfully. “I certainly have seen him changed. In being open with him, I found that he was not angry nor irritated with me, as I had feared. Instead, he listened and accepted what I had to say, taking careful consideration of it. I am quite sure that, when your time comes, Harriet, Father will be a good deal more obliging.”
Harriet chuckled. “I do hope so.” Stepping into the drawing room, both ladies stopped dead, astonished to see Lord Henry shaking their father’s hand.
“Lord Henry,” Marianne managed to stammer, trying to remember her manners in the face of such a surprise. She had not known he had been planning to call and, having barely had more than a single conversation with him in this last week, due to her outings with Lord Galsworthy, it was now something of an astonishment to see him standing here with her father.
“Do excuse me, Miss Weston,” Lord Henry said, coming towards them, and bowing to them both. “I was just taking my leave.”
“Do not let our presence chase you from here,” Harriet said hastily, fearing that they were being rude in some way, but Lord Henry simply shook his head.
“No, indeed, I truly was just about to take my leave,” he insisted merrily. “I will be seeing you both at my Ball, I hope?”
“Of course,” Marianne replied just as Harriet said the same. “Thank you again for the invitation, Lord Henry.”
He bowed and excused himself, quitting the room and leaving her and her sister to look towards their father, who was smiling quite brightly.
“My dear girls, do come in,” their father said, gesturing to the chairs by the fire. “You will want a tea tray, I have no doubt! I will ring for one.” As he did so, he held out his other hand to Marianne who came over to him at once, her heart beating a little faster with a sudden, inexplicable tension.
“Marianne,” her father began, taking her hand in his. “Tell me, has Lord Galsworthy proposed to you yet?”
A deep flush crept up Marianne’s neck and went into her cheeks. “Father,” she began, trying to find a way to explain. “I believe he was going to recently, but we were interrupted. I am quite sure it will occur within the next few days.”
Lord Bridgestone frowned at this, squeezing her hand gently before letting it fall. “I have not yet spoken to the gentleman, as I said I would, as you promised me that things were improving greatly with him.”
“As they are,” Marianne promised, suddenly a little afraid. “Why do you ask, Father?”
He gestured for her to sit down and Harriet rose to take the tea tray from the maid, sending her away almost at once. Harriet began to pour the tea, allowing Lord Bridgestone to speak to Marianne uninterrupted.
“Lord Henry has been particularly attentive
towards you of late,” he began quietly. “I have noticed his ardour and his insistent desire to know you better, Marianne.”
Marianne blinked, a little surprised at this. “Father, Lord Henry has not come to call upon me for some days now. I believe he knows that I am being courted by Lord Galsworthy and does not wish to interfere.”
“Be that as it may,” Lord Bridgestone continued in a hard voice, “I have very little intention of insisting that you marry the gentleman you are betrothed to when it appears that he simply will not propose. Therefore, I have agreed that Lord Henry may court you, should you wish it.”
Marianne’s stomach dropped, a heavy weight settling inside her belly and sending a flood of nausea up her throat.
“That is why Lord Henry was here,” Lord Bridgestone explained, taking Marianne’s silence for surprise. “He came to beg of me to allow him permission to court you, Marianne. He spoke so well that I could hardly refuse him, especially when he mentioned…” Trailing off, Lord Bridgestone shook his head, now appearing a little uneasy.”
“When he mentioned…?” Marianne looked back at her father steadily, a knot of fear tightening in her belly.
“Yes, well,” her father coughed, clearing his throat. “Lord Henry made an excellent point about how a long time away from England, in another hot country, no less, can often put a gentleman quite out of sorts.”
Marianne exchanged glances with her sister, who was frowning heavily at their father.
“What do you mean, Father?” Harriet asked, sounding more than a little confused. “Out of sorts? Do you mean to say that you believe Lord Galsworthy’s evident lack of willingness to propose is due to his time in India?”
Marianne felt herself grow a little angry at the suggestion. “Father, as much as I am obliged to Lord Henry for his suggestions, I hardly think he is any position to give such opinions,” she stated firmly. “Lord Galsworthy is not at all ill, nor even ‘out of sorts’ as you suggest. He is quite himself, I assure you.”
Her father shook his head, however, evidently not quite certain that Marianne’s opinion was of greater worth than Lord Henry’s. Her anger grew steadily, driven by her frustration with Lord Henry’s conversation with her father, which was neither required nor wanted. For whatever reason, her father was greatly taken with the gentleman – most likely because he was charming, polite and amicable, whilst Lord Galsworthy was quiet, reserved and had certainly left Lord Bridgestone with a good many questions when it came to his lack of willingness to propose! Marianne, however, did not care for Lord Henry’s opinions, nor for the man himself, not in any way. She certainly considered him a close acquaintance and, up until this moment, had been glad of his friendship. Now, however, she had no intention of marrying herself off to Lord Henry, no matter how much he might desire it.
“Marianne, I must tell you that Lord Henry was in Lord Galsworthy’s townhouse recently – evidently calling on the gentleman – and discovered a letter lying on the gentleman’s study desk. I do not condone what he did in reading the letter, which was not meant for him of course, but I am grateful that he came to me to tell me what was within.”
Marianne clenched her fists in her lap, trying her best to keep herself calm. “What did it say, Father?”
“It said,” Lord Bridgestone continued, leaning forward in an almost conspiratorial manner, “that Lord Galsworthy would be returning to his estate with the utmost haste. Do you not see what is occurring, Marianne? The gentleman is doing what he has done before. He is leaving London, just as he left for India.”
Trying to think clearly and calmly without allowing her anger to cause her to speak harshly, Marianne drew in a long, steadying breath, seeing Harriet’s eyes flicker with sympathy.
“Father, Lord Galsworthy will return to his estate once we are engaged,” she said firmly. “I have every expectation that he will do so. It makes perfect sense and, for what it is worth, Lord Henry ought not to be reading any correspondence that is not his own.” She did not know what Lord Henry was thinking, quite taken aback by the gentleman’s conduct. To have him behave with such crass rudeness and arrogance quite astonished her, and she felt entirely grateful that she had never allowed herself to truly consider him. There was no affection for the man, no fondness, no sense of longing. All of which she felt for Lord Galsworthy and, had they not been interrupted the day at the art gallery, Marianne was quite sure that they would have been officially and publicly engaged by now.
Lord Bridgestone shook his head again, rising to his feet and muttering something under his breath about never quite managing to please his daughters. Harriet’s lips twitched and Marianne felt her anger begin to dissipate upon seeing it, her heart softening as she realized that her father was only doing what he thought was best for her.
“Father,” she said quietly. “I know that you want me to be happy and content and I am truly grateful for that consideration. Allow me to assure you that, after all that has passed between myself and Lord Galsworthy, I am quite certain that he will propose and that, within the month, I will be wed and settled.”
“Are you sure that is what you want, Marianne?”
Lord Bridgestone turned to face her, his eyes a little narrowed as he studied her carefully.
“You must be certain,” he continued sternly. “Lord Henry is also a gentleman of fine character and I know that you have enjoyed his acquaintance. Think carefully on it, my dear. You have time to decide, of course, for I do not think that we will see Lord Henry until his Ball in three days’ time.”
Marianne wanted to assure her father that yes, she was quite certain that she would refuse Lord Henry, if he asked to court her, but seeing her sister’s warning look, she simply inclined her head and promised that yes, she would consider the matter. It was quite apparent that her father was a little frustrated and certainly confused over her change in feeling towards both Lord Galsworthy and Lord Henry, and to continue the conversation any further at the present time might make things all the worse.
“Thank you, my dear,” Lord Bridgestone said with evident relief. “That is all I want to hear. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some correspondence that requires my attention.”
Marianne smiled and waited until their father had left the room before practically exploding onto her sister. She railed at Lord Henry as though he were in the room, letting her frustration and anger evidence itself through both words and gestures. Harriet bore it all quietly, nodding in agreement at times, until Marianne finally felt herself grow tired, her emotions all released.
“I quite agree, my dear sister,” Harriet said softly. “You need not worry. I am quite sure that Lord Henry will understand when you explain it all to him – although I confess, I am surprised that he did not speak to you first before going to Father.”
Marianne sat back down in her chair and picked up her tea cup, considering this for a moment. “Indeed,” she murmured, fully aware that this was, in fact, rather strange behaviour from a gentleman. The more she thought of it, the more she found herself beginning to dislike Lord Henry intensely. It was as though she had become the only thing he wished to possess and, even though it was quite obvious that he could not have what he wanted, he was attempting to move heaven and earth in order to manipulate the situation into his favour. The charm, the smiles, the amicability all began to fade as she let her thoughts linger on him, now beginning to see the manipulation, the arrogance and the selfish ambition that lay beneath. She shuddered involuntarily, thinking that she ought to write to Lord Galsworthy and inform him of this news so that he would not hear of it from anyone else and think her fickle in her affections. They had continued to exchange letters almost daily and she had come to look forward to his correspondence, knowing to expect one from him very soon.
“I had best write a note to him,” she said, getting up from her chair so as to go to the writing desk. “I think –”
The scratch at the door stopped her and, on answering it, she was handed a note, which, to her surpr
ise, did not have his usual seal. There was wax, yes, but no seal.
“That is most unusual,” she said to herself. “Galsworthy always puts his seal on his letters.” She saw Harriet glancing up at her but dismissed the thought quickly. Perhaps he had been eager to have the letter sent to her and had thus forgotten to do such a thing. Shrugging inwardly, she broke the seal and read it quickly, feeling her heart begin to sink as she took it in.
“Marianne!” Harriet exclaimed, rising quickly from her chair, and coming to take Marianne’s hand. “You are ashen! Goodness, whatever is the matter? Come and sit down, quickly.”
“He – he is leaving,” Marianne whispered, looking at the letter again and struggling to accept what it said. “It is as Lord Henry said to Father. Lord Galsworthy has chosen to return to his estate and does not know when he will return to London. It may very well be after the little Season!” One hand covered her mouth as she struggled to contain herself, the other hand crumpling up the letter. Her sister helped her into a chair and Marianne felt herself grow suddenly weak, as though she might be about to faint. Lord Galsworthy was doing just as he had done before, he was trying to escape from her, trying to run from their impending marriage. She had been quite taken in. There was no-one as big a fool as she.
“He is not who I believed him to be,” she gasped, her breathing ragged as Harriet tugged the letter from her hand and read it. “Oh, Harriet, what have I done? What shall I do?”
Harriet looked back at her wordlessly with eyes that were filled with sorrow. “I do not know, Marianne,” she said helplessly. “Can it be true? Can he really be turning his back on you now?”
Marianne felt tears come to her eyes but did not dash them away. Her heart was quite broken and she allowed them to fall without attempting to hold them back. Lord Galsworthy’s promises lay shattered on the floor at her feet, along with the remains of her heart. She felt completely and utterly broken.