Petals on the River (98 page)

"Oh." Gabrielle's response was barely audible, but her curiosity got the

better of her and her voice strengthened as she asked, "I thought when a

couple is betrothed, that's nigh as good as being married."

Shemaine blushed furiously, not wishing to explain in detail. "Maurice

and I were separated, and I had no reason to hope we would ever find

each other again."

"How sad," Garland offered in sympathy.

"Not really," Shemaine said carefully.
 
"You see, I love my husband very

much."

"But you must have loved his lordship," Gabrielle interjected.

"Aye, but perhaps not as deeply as I once may have thought," Shemaine

confessed haltingly, meeting the beautiful dark eyes that watched her

closely.
 
"Maurice and I were swept up in the excitement of being

together.
 
He's so handsome .
 
.
 
." She paused briefly, wanting to be

truthful yet sensitive to any hurt feelings that he might yet be

harboring.
 
"I was in all likelihood a bit overwhelmed and .
 
.
 
.

flattered by his attention."

Gabrielle glanced from one to the other and understood Shemaine's

statement completely.
 
They would have made a fine pair, these two. But

then, she was of a mind to think that Mr.
 
Thornton was no paltry match

for her hostess either.
 
In truth, it would have been impossible for her

to make a decision as to which man was more handsome.
 
Since her sister

would never dare ask the Marquess about his present circumstance, it was

up to her to make the inquiry.
 
"Is there another maid you're presently

courting in England?"

Garland felt her jaw drop.
 
Terribly abashed that her sister could be so

forward, she hurried to advise the man, "You needn't answer that, your

lordship.
 
My sister has surely forgotten the good manners our mother

has tried to teach her."

Maurice was hardly offended.
 
He had held himself in check for a lengthy

time in his desire for Shemaine, and having now lost her, he knew that

finding another who was just as admirable would be the only way he could

ever ease the ache that still weighed heavily upon his heart.
 
If truth

were told, he'd take Shemaine back in a thrice and never make her regret

anything that had happened while they were parted.
 
Garland was a

winsome young woman, and her pert, quiet manner pleased him.
 
Still, he

could not predict what might come of their relationship, but he would

not be unwilling to give her some attention while he bided his time,

waiting to see what happened between Gage and Shemaine.
 
"I must assume,

Gabrielle, that with Shemaine married to Thornton I must begin searching

for another in the near future."

The young woman's responding grin could have easily been the most

calculating he had ever viewed.
 
It made him wary of what would follow.

"Perhaps you'd like to visit our home upriver after we come back from

New York," she suggested.
 
"I've been trying to find a fit mate for my

sister so I can have our bedroom all to myselfþ" ''Gabrielle!" Garland

gasped, outraged.
 
"How dare you suggest that the Marquess may have some

interest in me!
 
We've only just met."

Her twin continued on as if Garland had never spoken.
 
"As it is, we

must share the room, and she's so persnickety!
 
I'm forever harassed

because she claims I'm untidy.
 
The truth is that I like things a lot

more comfortable than she does."

Maurice accepted the fact that if he seriously intended a formal

courtship of her sister then he would have an ally in Gabrielle.
 
"If

you'll tell me when you'll be expecting to make your return, I'd be

delighted to visit your lovely family."

"Good heavens!" Garland whispered breathlessly, taken aback.
 
In a

nervous dither, she smoothed her lacy jabot, wishing she had a fan to

cool her burning face.
 
The Marquess was the very vision of what I l I

she had dreamed of for a husband, but she had never expected to be wooed

by him.
 
She was terribly aghast at her twin's outrageous boldness .
 
.

.

yet more than a little thankful for it, too.

Bess came out to the porch and began spreading tablecloths on the

makeshift table that the apprentices had quickly erected.
 
"Me darling',

do ye have enough dishes for everyone?"

"Aye, I'll be right with you to show you where, Bess," Shemaine replied.

Mounting the steps, she paused beside her former betrothed and laid a

gentle hand on his arm.
 
"I'm glad to see there might be some benefit in

you coming so far from England, Maurice.
 
I shall hope that someday

you'll be able to forgive me for breaking my pledge to you by marrying

Gage."

"I'm not yet over the hurt, Shemaine," he said forthrightly in a subdued

whisper.
 
"Whether you loved me or not, I loved you and wanted you for

my wife.
 
And there is still a matter I must deal with before I will

consider leaving you in your husband's care.
 
Tis your life and your

welfare that concern me .
 
.
 
.
 
and, of course, your happiness."

"I'm happy, Maurice, please believe me," she pleaded.

"For the time being, you are, but I have a care for the future,

Shemaine, and will not rest until I'm assured of that.
 
If Gage is not a

fit mate for you, then I most certainly want to be."

CHAPTER 23

Edith du Mercer had dispatched herself with haste from the shores of

England only a few days after receiving word that her grandson had set

sail for the colonies with the O'Hearns in a quest to find Shemaine

O'Hearn.
 
Though Edith had paid a considerable sum for a private cabin

on the Moonraker and had come unescorted by either servant or attendant,

she had found, upon boarding, that she would be required to share her

accommodations with another woman of comparable wealth.
 
It had been a

thoroughly torturous voyage.
 
Having her sleep relentlessly disturbed by

loud, piercing snores that came nigh to shattering her nerves had been a

test of endurance that she had not expected to encounter enroute to the

colonies.
 
Even a mild-mannered lady would have grown understandably

vexed, but Edith du Mercer had never known anything but wealth and

power.
 
Her imperious disposition had been carefully nurtured by a

demanding grandfather who had instilled within her the importance of

aristocratic breeding and their family's preeminent ranking above lesser

nobles.

If she had been able to manipulate circumstances in her favor without

arousing any suspicions, she would have bribed someone to throw the lady

overboard.
 
But she had tried not to think of her own comfort in this

instance, only her ultimate goal, and that was to see her grandson

married to a woman of prominence and nobility who, by her own

credentials, could be effective in elevating him to a seat near the

throne.
 
No one could dispute that Maurice had character, charm, dignity

and integrity, but if there was one thing her grandson lacked, it was an

overriding ambition to become a close confidant of His Royal Highness,

King George II, and perhaps the sire of those who would one day rule

England.

In his desire to have that Irish twit, Maurice had failed to imagine

that he would be giving up all hope of attaining that goal in his zeal

to claim her as his wife.
 
Had he been satisfied just to have Shemaine

as his mistress, he could have taken a titled wife and not thrown away

his chances for a place of eminence.
 
But he had been far too intrigued

with Shemaine and too content to think of his own happiness rather than

the high position he could attain as a marquess. No doubt he'd have been

gratified to sire a brood of Irish-tainted whelps who would have done

nothing but sully the Du Mercer name and, at best, could have risen only

to nominal distinction and position.
 
In Maurice' s many arguments to

convince her of Shemaine's merits, one thing had become clear to her,

that her grandson could not be swayed from his choice.
 
If his marriage

to that creature was to be halted at all, Edith had realized that it

would be up to her to arrange for an alternative by devious methods.
 
In

that endeavor she had succeeded, with Maurice none the wiser.
 
He was

far too honorable to imagine the limits to which a grandmother would go

to ensure that the Du Mercer heirs would come to fame and greatness.

Now here she was in this squalid little hamlet called Newportes Newes,

trying to find a private room for herself.
 
She had grown a bit irate at

the innkeeper when he had told her there were absolutely no vacancies to

he had in his establishment.
 
When she had tried to persuade him by

offering twice the normal rate, he had complained that he already had

three sleeping to every bed and each of them had bribed him just to be

given a place to sleep.
 
He had even spread out extra mats on whatever

space was available in the rooms and halls just to placate everyone, and

if he did not adhere to what he had already agreed to, his guests would

surely turn on him and rend him to shreds.

"Ye might try the tavern," the innkeeper suggested.
 
"They've got rooms

ta let if'n ye can find one what aren't being used by Freida's girls an'

their customers.
 
Nowadays the cooks at the tavern are servin' better

food than we've got here.
 
Other than that, there aren't much choice

outside of a private family rentin' out a room, but ta me mind, the

tavern is yer best bet an' one worth inquirin' inta."

"Thank you, I will," Edith answered crisply.
 
Turning arrogantly away,

she settled a long, bony hand on the silver knob of her walking stick

and strode out of the dingy establishment.
 
She was especially l

thankful there was an alternative available, for she hated dust and