Fenella Miller (16 page)

Her nervousness, as usual, was causing her stomach to lurch unpleasantly and her hands were clammy. Neither Edward nor Jane would understand how much she was dreading the coming interview for they did not know Cousin Theo’s true character.

The drive to Bentley Hall was over too quickly. She was ushered up the stairs and informed, respectfully, that Sir Theodore was waiting in the library. She waved away the footman eager to escort her. She knew the way well enough.

Should she knock or walk straight in unannounced? She decided politeness dictated she would ask permission to enter. She bunched a fist and rapped, rather more loudly than she had intended, on the library door.

Chapter Thirteen

She had no need to press her ear to the door to hear his command to enter. Her legs were trembling so badly she scarcely had the strength to push the door open. She left it ajar and, raising her head, faced the man who had demanded she attend on him.

One look at his face was enough—she would not stay to be berated, or worse, she would come back when he had calmed down.

‘Close the door, Marianne. You would not wish us to be overheard.’ To disobey him was out of the question. She did not hesitate. She pushed the heavy door shut without demure.

She moved a few steps, searching for a chair to sit on, for she did not think her legs could hold her upright much longer. There was a single wooden seat marooned in the centre of a sea of polished boards. He nodded towards it and she slunk over and sat down, fiddling with her skirts to allow time to compose herself.

The silence stretched. She could hear the clock ticking, the birds singing in the garden and still he did not speak. She couldn’t bear it. She looked up and wished she hadn’t.

His eyes bored into hers, pinning her like a butterfly to a board and she was unable to break the connection. He began pleasantly enough.

‘I believe I told you, was it only last week, that I had never struck a woman?’

She would not cast up her accounts for a second time. She felt the sour taste in her mouth and closed her eyes, immediately feeling better now she couldn’t see him glaring at her.

‘I believe,’ he continued conversationally, ‘that I am about to break that rule.’ She sunk lower in her chair and shivered. ‘Going out dressed as a boy in the middle of the night was the height of stupidity. If you had been recognized by any but me your reputation would be ruined and Edward forced to offer for you.’

At his last remark her eyes flew open and intemperate words flew out. ‘Marry Edward? Do not be ridiculous—he is only sixteen.’

That was a mistake. He seemed to grow and she saw his jaw harden and his fists clench. He was going to carry out his threat, turn her over his knee and spank her like a child. Her back pressed against the chair as she watched him approach.

Then her fear vanished to be replaced by a fury equal to his own. How dare he threaten her? Who was he to criticize her behaviour? She leapt to her feet, sending the chair crashing to the floor and stepped towards him.

‘Do not dare to raise a hand to me, sir, I am not a child. And you are not my true guardian. Your role is nominal. Lord Grierson is my adopted father; he is the only man who has the right to discipline me.’

They stood inches apart and the sparks of rage flickered between them igniting a different kind of heat. Before she realized his intention his iron-hard arms were around her and his mouth closed over hers. His tongue slid persuasively back and forth across her lips and a hand ran up her spine to cup the back of her head, holding her a willing prisoner in his embrace.

Unused to kisses of any sort, she did not understand that he had already overstepped what was permissible between an unmarried couple. Her blood was fizzing around her body and every inch of her, pressed so close to his hard frame, was seared by delightful warmth.

Her arms slid of their own volition from their position pressed hard against his chest to link behind his neck. Her questing fingers buried themselves in the silky hair that curled around his collar.

* * * *

Her response encouraged him. He tilted her head back and when her mouth dropped open he deepened his kiss. His hot tongue slid inside her mouth exploring every crevice. Her knees buckled and as she began to collapse he swept her up and strode to the padded settle. His desire was pushing him to take liberties with her person that he knew were quite unacceptable. He put her down gently. Her eyes were closed, her mouth swollen from his kisses, her perfect bosom striving to escape the confines of her bodice. She looked so beautiful—so desirable—so innocent.

He froze—horrified by what he had been about to do. This was a young girl, not a married woman looking for an illicit affair, and he had been about to make love to her. Take the one thing she must keep if she was not to be cast aside by society as used goods.

Her eyes flicked open. He stared down at her trying to regain control.

‘Theo?’

Her voice was soft, husky; it took all his strength of mind not to drop down and take what was being so freely offered. He didn’t answer, he couldn’t, not yet, not until he was calm, until his heart had stopped hammering and his breathing returned to normal.

He moved back, putting a safe distance between them and watched, as she sat up, a look of confusion on her face. She did not understand what had almost happened, how appalling his behaviour was, how any decent gentleman would now be on his knees begging her hand in marriage. But he could not do the honourable thing, he was a dissembler, and until his mission was accomplished he had to remain incognito and it broke his heart to do so.

* * * *

Marianne watched the play of emotions running across Theo’s mobile face and for a second was puzzled—couldn’t read the signs. Then she understood, or thought she did. He was ashamed of taking advantage of her and did not know how to apologize.

She smiled; at least he was not angry with her. Being kissed so passionately was infinitely preferable to being beaten. ‘Theo, it’s all right. I am not offended by what happened. This was as much my fault as yours. I did not ask you to stop. That was wrong of me—but we were both so angry—and love is sometimes akin to hate, is it not?’

She waited for his answer, but he remained mute. She swung her legs off the settle and stood up, beginning to feel a trifle uncomfortable. ‘Theo, what’s wrong, why are you staring at me so oddly? Have you not forgiven me for last night?’

Finally his expression softened and he stepped forward, holding out his hands to her. Trustingly she took them. Things were going to be all right.

‘Marianne, sweetheart, I don’t know quite how to say this without causing offence.’ She stiffened and tried to remove her hands. ‘No, listen to me, please. I should not have used you so shamefully. I behaved unforgivably. I most sincerely beg your pardon. Can you forgive me?’

She was perplexed by his statement. ‘Why are you apologizing? Have we done something wrong? It did not feel wrong—it felt absolutely right.’

‘This is so hard to explain. You are such an innocent. What we did is only considered acceptable between married people.
Now
do you understand?’

She stepped back and he was forced to release her. ‘I see. What you are telling me is that a gentleman would feel obligated to offer to marry me if he had done as you did.’ He did not reply but his eyes flashed and she saw his throat convulse as he swallowed. ‘This was my punishment for misbehaving? For calling you ridiculous?’ She wiped her mouth deliberately with the back of her hand. ‘I believe I would have preferred to have been beaten.’ With quiet dignity she shook out her tangled skirts and, collecting her dropped reticule, walked head high to the door.

She waited in frigid silence for him to step over and open it for her and then marched through, her face disdainful, leaving him alone in the room. She hoped he knew he was a despicable rogue and that someone ought to take a horse whip to him.

Somehow she reached the waiting carriage. In a daze she allowed a footman to hand her in. During the drive back she kept her emotions under control. It would not do to return to Frating Hall in tears.

Edward was anxiously awaiting her return. ‘Marianne, what did Sir Theodore say? Did he threaten to take away your horses or tell the parents?’

She knew she had to reply but her voice seemed lost behind her teeth. She shook her head. ‘It was too horrible, I cannot talk of it. Pray excuse me, I must return to my room.’ She fled past him and into the house. She ignored both Lord and Lady Grierson who were exiting the breakfast parlour as she came past.

Lady Grierson watched her disappear upstairs. ‘Whatever’s wrong with Marianne? She looked quite overset. I shall go straight up and see if I can be only comfort to her.’

Lord Grierson restrained her. ‘No, my dear, leave it. Her maid will take care of her. She knows her best.’

‘She has been to see Sir Theodore. Edward told me his carriage came for her. I cannot imagine what such an amiable gentleman can have said to upset her so.’

* * * *

Marianne was relieved no one was going to follow her. She couldn’t face a barrage of questions at the moment. Where was Jane? Marianne rang the small brass bell more vigorously and waited for her normally punctual maid to appear. She heard a soft tap on the dressing room door, but I was not Jane who came in.

‘You rang, Miss Devenish?’ An unknown chambermaid dipped and waited nervously for her response.

‘Where is Jane? I want her.’ Even in her distress she knew she sounded petulant, more like Arabella than herself.

‘Mrs Smith asked me to wait on you. Someone has come from London to see her and she had to go and deal with it.’

‘I see. I don’t need you, it is my dresser that I wish to speak to—you may go.’ The girl retreated, leaving her alone with her misery.

She stared blindly round the room not sure where to go, or what to do, or even how she felt. She had left Frating Hall an unawakened girl and had returned a soiled woman. The man she had come to love had treated her with disrespect and then sent her packing.

Love? Surely it could not be true? Where had that come from? Was it possible to be in love after such a short acquaintance? She collapsed onto the window seat, tucked her feet under her and leant back into the comparative privacy of the embrasure.

She had to think—to clear her head—make some sense of what had happened. She needed to consider what it meant to her and how she should behave in the future when she was forced to meet Sir Theodore again. She closed her eyes and relived the traumatic events that had taken place in Bentley Hall library.

Theo had been justifiably furious but he had had no right to threaten to beat her. She was not a schoolgirl. He had not treated her as a child had he? He had kissed her with fervour, no question that she was a woman grown, but what sort of woman? Not a respectable one
for certes
! She felt the embarrassment travel up her body until her face was on fire. What had she been thinking of, to allow him to take such liberties with her person?

She heard the sound of a galloping horse and stiffened. She knew instinctively this was Theo, but why had he come chasing after her? There could be only one reason. He had come to make an offer after all.

She scrambled from her perch and ran over to the mirror to check her appearance. Her hair was soon fixed, the grubby tear streaks easily removed—but her gown was a disgrace. She could not go down to receive a marriage proposal dressed as she was. She would need the assistance of her substitute dresser.

She rang the bell loudly and the girl appeared at once. ‘I need to change my gown for this one is quite ruined. Any afternoon dress will suffice.’ She was not sure how long she would have before the summons came. He would have to speak to Lord Grierson first even though his lordship was not officially her guardian.

All the time she was dressing in a simple gown of daffodil yellow Indian cotton she was rehearsing what she would say when Theo asked her.

She was ready and the girl dismissed, but still no summons came. This interim allowed her space to consider what her answer was to be. She had only just recognized she loved him—but did she wish to marry a man who offered only out of duty? She rather thought she did not.

A footman eventually came to collect her and by then she had her answer off pat. She was going to thank him politely but refuse his kind offer. Until he asked out of affection she would not take him however pressing he might be.

She did not knock—the library door was open. He was watching for her, his expression not that of a gentleman eager to declare his love. In fact his eyes were sad, not happy or even resigned.

‘You wish to speak to me, Sir Theodore?’

‘I do, Miss Devenish. Thank you for coming down so promptly. I expected you to refuse to see me.’

Her face coloured but she said nothing. He indicated that she should be seated but she shook her head. She would remain standing to hear what he had to say. His nostrils flared but otherwise he didn’t react to her incivility. Etiquette dictated that whilst she was on her feet he could not sit down either.

‘I have spoken to Lord Grierson.’

In spite of her determination not to accept, her heart skipped a beat. She was about to receive her very first marriage proposal.

* * * *

He continued quietly. ‘He agrees it is best I no longer act as your guardian. He is to take the role from now on. You will not have to see me anymore.’ He watched in horror as the colour drained from her face and her knees crumpled. He caught her as she fell and lifted her up to hold her tight, for a second, to his heart, then carried her to the sofa and prepared to set her down.

Her head was turned, resting on his shoulder and he could feel the dampness from her tears seeping through the cloth. This was not the reaction he had expected, not tears, not after his callous treatment earlier. Instead of putting her safely on the sofa, he folded himself into one of the armchairs, Marianne still in his arms.

‘Please don’t cry, sweetheart. You should be happy you don’t have to see me again.’ His words made her distress worse and she clutched his cravat, ruining an hour of Vincent’s work, but he did not care.