Mastering the Marquess (5 page)

The door to the sitting room quietly opened and Tolliver stepped in. Lady Stanton swung around to face him.

“Tolliver,” she exclaimed in a commanding voice, “my carriage. Immediately!”

Meredith sat bolt upright in the elegant, burgundy-colored landau, trying to ignore the assault on her senses as the carriage threaded its way along the busy street. The midday chaos that surrounded them gave her a headache—an unwelcome distraction as she struggled to compose her turbulent emotions. Much to her surprise, she hated London. The noise, the dust and dirt, the myriad of smells that to her were mostly unpleasant, made every trip from their small set of rooms an experience to be endured rather than enjoyed.

Her sister's reaction to the city had been completely the opposite. Annabel reveled in the events that, to her, seemed an adventure rather than an escape. The girl was more animated and healthier than Meredith had seen her in months.

Annabel had eagerly accompanied her on the few errands that had been necessary since their unexpected arrival four days ago on the doorstep of Miss Noyes, their former governess. Meredith, unfortunately, struggled to contain her fears every time they left the sanctuary of the house. She constantly looked over her shoulder, expecting any minute that Uncle Isaac would track them down and drag them back to Swallow Hill.

Closing her eyes on the bustle surrounding the carriage, she recalled their flight from the only home they had ever known. Meredith still couldn't believe they had managed to do it. Annabel had displayed real fortitude and unexpected physical endurance. With the assistance of Creed and their old coachman, John Ruddle, they had slipped away to catch the night mail from the neighboring town of Cross Keys. Ruddle had stayed with them, refusing to leave his young mistresses unprotected. Meredith's concern for the old family retainer was just one of the many worries that haunted her sleepless nights.

But now she found herself ensconced in the Stantons' luxurious town carriage, which smoothly conveyed them through the city to the modest but genteel neighborhood of Hans Town. Meredith sat opposite Lady Stanton, who maintained an entertaining flow of chatter as she pointed out the various landmarks that might interest a newcomer to London. Young Robert Stanton trotted beside them on a beautiful bay mare.

And sitting next to his aunt, taking up far more space than Meredith liked, was the Marquess of Silverton.

After coming downstairs from her ladyship's sitting room, Meredith had inwardly groaned when she saw Lord Silverton exit the library, pulling on his gloves as he watched her through narrowed eyes. He had handed Lady Stanton into the landau and then turned with a cool smile to assist her. Meredith had blushed hotly and dropped her eyes, silently berating herself all the while for acting like a foolish schoolgirl.

Now Lord Silverton lounged at his ease next to his aunt, his golden hair curling out from under the brim of his rakishly tilted hat. His eyes gleamed with obvious interest as he studied her. Meredith found it extremely annoying that he inspected her so carefully, almost as if she were some exotic species of insect under glass.

She stole a peek at him from under her lashes, deciding that Silverton reminded her of a cat. A giant, golden cat—sleek, contained, and supremely self-confident. She even wondered for a moment if he was going to purr at her.

She suddenly realized that Lady Stanton looked quizzical, waiting for her to respond to a question she had just asked her. Dragging her mind away from the glorious and altogether disconcerting male animal before her, Meredith smiled apologetically to the other woman.

“I beg your pardon, your ladyship. I still find myself somewhat distracted by all the bustle of the city. Did you ask me a question?”

The older woman smiled kindly. “Yes, London does tend to overwhelm if one is not used to it. You will become accustomed sooner than you think. I was asking, my dear, how you traveled from Hans Town to Stanton House today?”

Meredith frowned, surprised Lady Stanton would care about something so trivial. “My coachman fetched me a hired hack.”

Her ladyship hesitated, her aristocratic brows drawing together in a frown. “Miss Burnley, did you not think to have your maid come with you to Stanton House? Or, failing that, have your coachman accompany you and wait outside? It concerns me that you were traveling in a public conveyance without an escort.”

Meredith jerked her head back, stung by the implied criticism. For many years she had been managing her own life and the lives of those who depended on her. Then her aunt and uncle had bullied themselves into her household, forcing her to submit to their will. And although Lady Stanton clearly meant well, Meredith was tired of people telling her what to do.

“I don't require a maid to accompany me,” she said, more abruptly than she intended. “I am far from being a schoolgirl and have been managing my own affairs, as well as Annabel's, for years.”

Meredith glanced at Lord Silverton, who regarded her with an impassive expression on his face. She bit her lip in vexation, ashamed at how ungrateful she sounded. Lady Stanton gave her a small but uncomfortably astute smile.

“Forgive me, my dear. I have no wish to offend or interfere where it is neither desired nor necessary. You must please yourself, of course.” Her pleasant expression grew serious. “I would imagine, however, that my daughter, Elizabeth, would have viewed the matter differently.”

Meredith blushed as she thought of Elizabeth Burnley. Her stepmother had drummed into her head all the rules of propriety that would protect her daughters from the kind of gossip and scandal she had been subjected to. As a child, Meredith had been defiant, her will clashing with Elizabeth's gentler, but immovable, force of character.

Those early years had been trying for Meredith, and both mother and daughter had shed many tears. But the lessons were valuable, and Meredith knew she would need to adhere to them even more strictly if her sister had any hope of making a good match. The ton had a long memory, and one scandal in the family was quite sufficient.

She smiled ruefully as she met Lady Stanton's shrewd gaze, aware the older woman had masterfully backed her into a corner. “Yes, my lady, she would have agreed with you.”

Lady Stanton rewarded her with a warm smile. “Come, Miss Burnley, you speak of yourself as if you were an aging spinster, which I know you are not. I do not believe you are more than four and twenty. Is that not correct?”

Meredith again became intensely aware of the golden-maned lion sitting opposite her. She felt a burning flush heat her cheeks. How mortifying to be forced into such an intimate discussion in front of the self-possessed Lord Silverton. Was there not one humiliation to be spared her this day?

He observed her carefully. Lord Silverton must have read her thoughts, for he smiled at her in that dazzling way that made her knees turn to pudding.

“Don't mind me, Miss Burnley. After all we have been through today, you must surely consider me as part of the family.”

He leaned forward, his cobalt blue eyes narrowed slightly against the sun. His voice dropped a notch to a low, seductive timbre that seemed to curl its way up her spine. “You should know that my aunt has been managing all of us for as long as I can remember. I assure you, it is pointless to resist.”

Meredith looked at the pair of them sitting next to each other, so different yet remarkably alike in their self-assured, engaging, and thoroughly aristocratic manner. She sighed and gave up.

“I am almost five and twenty, my lady.”

Lady Stanton laughed. “My dear child, you are in your prime. You must not be so eager to climb onto the shelf. You haven't even had a Season in London, which is something I know my daughter intended for you.”

Meredith froze, wondering for an awful moment if the older woman was joking. She cast a doubtful look at Lord Silverton, but he didn't seem to find the remark amusing, either. In fact, he studied his aunt with an intensity that Meredith found a bit unnerving.

“A Season! Surely you must be joking, ma'am.” Meredith gave an uncertain laugh. “I am nothing but a wool merchant's granddaughter from Bristol. I have no acquaintance in London, only my half-sister's family. You may be gracious enough to acknowledge Annabel, and indeed, I am eternally grateful for that, but who would sponsor a nobody like me?”

Lady Stanton's eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam. “Well, Miss Burnley,” she gently retorted, “as far as I am concerned, you are a part of this family. And as to who will sponsor your Season, there is simply no question. I will.”

Meredith found herself speechless once again—a condition that, as far as she was concerned, had struck her all too frequently this day. She breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage slowed to a stop in front of a small house.

A groomsman let out the steps of the carriage, and the marquess took one long stride down to the pavement. He extended his hand to Lady Stanton to assist her. Meredith was next. Lord Silverton squeezed her hand slightly as he helped her down, startling her with what seemed to be an expression of support.

She hesitated on the stoop of the house, glancing back at the dignified old woman leaning on her nephew's muscular arm. Taking a deep breath, Meredith knocked on the front door. Almost immediately it swung open, and Miss Noyes's young housemaid, Agatha, ushered them into the cramped hallway. The girl's eyes popped wide as she took in Lord Silverton's polished magnificence. She dropped a hasty curtsy and rushed ahead to open the doors to the small sitting room.

Lady Stanton advanced into the room, tightly clutching Lord Silverton's sleeve. Her face was pale, and Meredith could see her fine-boned hands were trembling.

Annabel sat next to Miss Noyes on a shabby couch at the other end of the simply furnished room. She had obviously been trying to distract herself with some needlework. The poor girl gripped the material so tightly Meredith was amazed it didn't shred in her grasp. Annabel blinked anxiously at her grandmother, her pretty face a bleached white except for a faint blush high on her cheekbones.

Lady Stanton suddenly looked decades younger, her careworn expression replaced with one of beaming joy.

Annabel came slowly to her feet, her eyes starting to shimmer with tears. “Grandmamma?” she asked softly, taking a small step forward.

Tears began to course down Lady Stanton's cheeks. She dropped her hand from Lord Silverton's sleeve and, without uttering a word, opened her arms wide. Annabel flung aside her embroidery and ran across the room, throwing herself into her grandmother's embrace.

No one spoke. The only sounds in the room were the sobs of the young girl and Lady Stanton as they clung to each other, the older woman reaching up to stroke her granddaughter's vibrant auburn hair.

Meredith stood in the doorway and let their happiness wash over her as she fought to hold back the tears constricting her throat.

And just like that, all the years of grief and worry finally came to an end. Meredith and Annabel were no longer alone.

 

 

Meredith sighed as she surreptitiously blotted her nose with her already tear-dampened handkerchief. Little doubt remained that today's events had turned her into a watering pot.

Annabel and Lady Stanton were still locked in a tight embrace, and no one witnessing the scene could remain unaffected. Miss Noyes wept into her handkerchief, and young Robert shuffled his feet and rubbed his eye as if a cinder had lodged itself there. Even Lord Silverton had lost his guarded and rather hard expression. The corners of his sculpted mouth curved into a genuinely charming smile, surprising Meredith with its warmth. The reunion, by any measure, seemed to be a complete success.

But even as Lady Stanton petted and soothed her, Annabel continued to sob dramatically. Meredith began to worry her sister was on the verge of hysterics. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Annabel's shoulder.

“Come, darling, you mustn't cry so hard. You will make yourself sick. Why don't you and Lady Stanton sit together on the sofa while we wait for tea?” Meredith pointedly nodded her head at the maid, who hovered nearby with a look of eager curiosity on her face. Agatha reluctantly bobbed a curtsy and backed out of the room.

“That is a very sensible suggestion, Miss Burnley,” said Lady Stanton, her voice reedy with emotion. “It will do us all a great deal of good to sit and rest for a few minutes.” The old woman led Annabel to the sofa. Miss Noyes pulled a handkerchief from her enormous tatting bag and offered it to Lady Stanton.

“Don't weep so, darling. All will be well,” Lady Stanton murmured. Annabel leaned against her grandmother's shoulder and allowed her to dry her tears.

Meredith turned to Lord Silverton and Robert. “My lord, Mr. Stanton. Please do be seated.” She cast a doubtful glance around the sitting room, acutely conscious of how small and shabby it must appear to their guests. Miss Noyes barely had enough furniture to seat everyone.

But if Lord Silverton was offended by the modest nature of their accommodations, he didn't show it. He bowed gracefully to Miss Noyes, smiling kindly at the flustered woman. “Good afternoon, ma'am. I am Lord Silverton, and this is Robert Stanton. We have the honor of being Miss Annabel's cousins.”

Meredith swallowed a groan, conscious that her manners had once again gone missing. “Do forgive me, gentlemen, Lady Stanton. Allow me to introduce our former governess, Miss Noyes. She has most kindly given us shelter since we arrived in London.”

“Yes, Grandmamma,” Annabel hiccupped. “We don't know what we would have done if she hadn't taken us in.”

Lady Stanton smiled graciously at the governess. “Then you will always have my gratitude, Miss Noyes, for taking such good care of my granddaughter and her sister. You must be sure to tell me exactly what I can do to help you.”

“Oh, no thanks are necessary, your ladyship! There is nothing I would not do for my dear girls. I mean . . . of course, I . . . for Miss Burnley and Miss Annabel.”