Marguerite Kaye - Regency Surrender - Scandal And Deception

‘Of course not. We have my besotted brother to thank for this union. I told him it was unwise.’

And it appeared he had got a punch in the nose for his trouble. She glanced across the room at her husband who stood as impassive as a statue against the opposite wall. ‘Fanworth has a mind of his own.’

‘Would that he was less stubborn. He has overstepped himself, this time. Larchmont will never accept you.’ He looked her up and down again as though the flaw in her character were somehow worn on the outside, for all to see.

‘What’s done is done,’ she said in response. ‘He cannot exactly un -marry me.’

‘I suppose not.’ Now he was quite obviously admiring her body. ‘If I were married to you, an annulment would be impossible. And I have heard that the lower classes do have a greater appetite for certain things than the milk-and-water misses you find at Almack’s.’

When one had customers, one grew used to accepting insults with a smile and not responding to them as they deserved. But Louisa had been right. Lord Arthur Standish deserved to be struck, hard and often. Before she could stop herself, Margot had given him a hard slap to his broken nose.

With a curse that was heard by half the people in the room, Arthur doubled over, cupping his offended proboscis in both hands. All conversation stopped as heads snapped to look in their direction. And then it began again. The crowd swirling like stirred tea as those who had seen informed those who hadn’t that the new Marchioness of Fanworth had raised a hand to her husband’s brother.

Arthur straightened, glaring at her and mopping at the trickle of blood that dripped from his re-injured nose. ‘Pratchet was right. When I sold him the rubies he said you were every bit as stubborn as Stephen. Since neither of you would choose the sensible course, I hope you are both satisfied with the results.’

‘Infinitely.’ Margot felt the reassuring touch of her husband’s hand on her arm. ‘So nice to see the family represented, Arthur.’ There was a long ironic silence. ‘If you will excuse us?’ Then, with a gentle tug on her elbow, Stephen led her away.

* * *

Catastrophe. Fiasco. Calamity.

When one had the time to think, there were many words to describe the evening other than disaster. Judging by the way Margot was slumped in the carriage seat opposite him, she had thought of all those and more.

In Stephen’s opinion, it could have been far worse. It was fortunate that they’d not met his parents, as he’d expected. If Arthur was any indication, he had been naïve to assume Larchmont capable of good behaviour. More likely, he’d have thought it good sport to humiliate Margot as Arthur had tried to do. While she’d proven capable of handling difficult servants and annoying younger brothers, the duke would not be so easily dispatched.

Her victory tonight had not come without cost. After Arthur had gone home to tend his injury, Stephen had remained by her side, to make it clear to the crowd that his sympathies lay with his wife. But as the evening wore on, she smiled less and spoke hardly at all. It was as if, by marrying her, he’d infected her with his own form of misery.

She had not said a word to him since they’d departed the assembly rooms, staring out the window of the carriage without really seeing the streets they travelled. ‘I am sorry,’ she said suddenly, not turning her gaze to meet his. ‘So very sorry. I never intended... It just happened.’ Her hands gave a helpless flutter, then covered her face.

‘I understand,’ he said.

‘Louisa was right.’ The words came muffled from between her fingers.

‘How?’

‘She said you had struck your brother. But that he sometimes deserved to be hit. I did not give it much thought. And then...he began speaking to me...’ She shrugged, unable to continue.

‘Normally, when we Standishes strike each other, we do so in p-private.’ The truth sounded even worse when stated thus.

But she looked up at him, with a surprised smile. What had he said to put such hope on her face? ‘You are not angry with me?’

‘I am angry with myself,’ he admitted. ‘I should have kept him away from you.’ He reached across the space between them and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘What did he say?’

‘I will not tell you,’ she answered, with a stubborn shake of her head. ‘Or you would likely want to hit him a second time.’

‘I will do so anyway, if he annoys you again.’ And he would do so, gladly. When he looked at her, he felt a fierce wave of protectiveness. It was as if he had been given a fragile ornament to hold, only to see his brother try to snatch it from his hands and destroy it. Now, he must do whatever it took to teach Arthur that this was not some playroom tussle over a toy.

‘Why did you hit him the first time?’

‘Eh?’ His lady wife was looking down at the hand that held hers, rubbing her thumb along the inside of his wrist. It was a simple touch that probably meant nothing at all to her. But at this gentle friction, he could hardly remember his own name, much less hold a conversation.

‘Why did you strike your brother? Louisa said it happened before we were married. She said you would not have him at the wedding. And tonight, there were still bruises.’

Had Arthur lied about the reason, implying he was some sort of bullying brute? He chose an answer that was vague and dismissive. ‘He meant to cause trouble between us.’

‘It was about the rubies, wasn’t it? Tonight, after I slapped him, he admitted he was the one who sold them. I was wrong about you.’

‘And I you.’ It seemed he took the first deep breath in ages. If she knew this much of the truth, the rest was child’s play. He took her other hand and gathered them both to his lips for luck before speaking. ‘The day I realised you b-blamed me for the theft, I spoke to P-Puh-Pratchet. He ran off, or he might have explained it all...’ He squeezed her hand again. ‘It was Arthur, all along. When I showed him the necklace you had made, he’d said you must have stolen the stones. Sold them b-back to me as a joke...’ His words were full of embarrassing halts and stumbles. But she did not seem to notice. She was leaning forward, listening patiently, just as she used to.

He kissed her hands again. ‘I was angry with you for no reason. I had to marry you. I mean, I wanted to marry you. From the first. B-But now, I had to. Quickly. To make up for what I had done. And you would not speak to me.’ He was making a mess of it again. It was what came of speaking without preparation. He was getting ahead of himself.

‘And you hit Arthur?’ she prompted.

‘After P-P-Pratchet. Before the wedding. B-because he deserved it.’

‘Why would he do such a horrible thing?’ Why indeed? She had done nothing to deserve such elaborate plots against her, other than to sell him a few pieces of jewellery.

So he told her the greatest truth of all. ‘Because I loved you. We are...not of the same class. It d-does not matter to me. But Arthur wanted to p-put me off you.’ He didn’t feel it was necessary to also mention his brother’s gambling debts.

‘I see.’ She glanced around her as though waking from a dream. ‘Well that did not turn out as he expected.’

For a moment, Stephen froze, amazed at the lack of anger in her response. Then he pulled her across the carriage to him so that she sat half beside him, and half in his lap. ‘No, it d-didn’t,’ he agreed. ‘And I am glad.’

And then he kissed her. Suddenly, things were exactly how he had imagined they would be, when he had courted her in the jewellery shop. She relaxed and let the kiss happen, responding gently, playfully against his barely open lips.