The Marquess of Cake (23 page)

“What say you? Shall I obtain the license? Are you willing to marry in a week?”

“I wonder if I have a choice, unless you are willing to wait longer.”

“You don’t want me?” His expression reverted to blank remoteness.

She did not want to heap rejection upon mourning. Of course she wanted him, but marriage? She’d never thought it was for her. “I need time.”

He stared at her. “I understand it is common for young ladies to refuse, or demur at first, but surely you realize you’ll never have a better offer than this.”

She wondered if his arrogance came from his title, his money, or his own sense of worth. “Marriage was not in my plans.”

“It most assuredly was in your father’s plans. He terminated your career. You are at his mercy.”

She steeled her spine, angry now. “You are all but my third offer, my lord, in less than a month.”

His eyes slitted. “I see. Then why the dalliance with me?”

“You are not a gentleman for mentioning it.”

“Then perhaps you are not a—”

Thankfully, the next word didn’t come out of his mouth, but she knew what it was.
Lady
. She was not a lady. “I think it is clear what I am, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that. My name is Michael. At least call me Hatbrook. We are friends, are we not?”

She tried the name on her tongue, unfamiliar for all that he’d become “Michael” in her thoughts after they’d made love. “You are under great stress, Michael, and perhaps are making decisions that you will think twice about in the future. In giving myself time to make this decision, I give it to you as well.” She wanted his hands on her body, but the rest? The title, responsibilities she was completely unprepared for? The censure of his peers?

“And that is all you have to say on this matter?”

“For now.”

He stood, his large body looming over her. “I am not satisfied.”

In his dark clothing, with his distant expression, he looked dangerous for the first time. But this was her life. Her spine stiffened.

“Why? Do you have some other candidate for this great honor waiting in the wings?” Another lover, perhaps? No, she didn’t even want to have that thought. She stood.

A muscle in his cheek jerked visibly. “I did not plan for any of this.”

Plan for what? He certainly hadn’t said he loved her. Plan for his brother’s death, obviously not. Oh, her head was in such a whirl.

“I must go,” she said, her voice cracking. “I need to check on Rose.”

He nodded. “I’ll expect an answer soon, but I can’t get the license until Monday at any rate. You have two days.”

She turned and ran away, like the most abject coward. Rose was not in their room when she arrived. She knew she should look for her sister but she’d much rather fling herself on the bed and cry. What a mess she’d made of the proposal and she couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Rose would think the best response would be to throw herself at Michael’s feet and beg his forgiveness and accept him immediately. In her heart of hearts she knew that would be best. She wasn’t a fool. A little shop with her name above the door was hardly likely.

She probably would be refused a shop lease. Maybe she should have accepted Lewis, but she didn’t love him. Or Popham. She couldn’t imagine offering her body to either of them.

These thoughts stopped her cold in a hallway. Michael didn’t love her, but how did she feel about him? Passion, certainly. But nothing so strong that she had no trouble throwing away all her dreams of a career in favor of being his wife, no matter how elevated a position it might be.

Was her mother at fault, for not filling her head with appropriately feminine dreams? No, she saw her father far more than her mother and all he’d wanted of her until recently was hard work. He had created for her the wrong dreams, the wrong goals. She could not change as quickly as he could. She had molded herself into the perfect Redcake daughter, but then the rules of the family had altered.

She shut the door with a bang and went to look for Rose, finding her in the long gallery, hung with old family pictures interspersed with an alarming selection of ancient chairs.

Rose’s profile looked gray. Alarmed, Alys took her arm, turning her from the Jacobean portrait she stared at. “You overexerted yourself last night. Come back to bed.”

“Just after you left we had a telegram from Mother. She and Father and Matilda will be here Monday.”

More complications. “Really, why? Did something go wrong with Matilda’s courtship?”

Rose coughed. “I don’t know. You wrote and said I was ill, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I’d have thought husband-catching was more important.”

“Alys!”

She sighed. “You’re often ill.”

“But they thought I’d be better in the country.”

“I suppose you are right. Perhaps they mean to see the condition of Redcake Manor for themselves. Now, come and lie down.”

Rose complied and they spent the afternoon with their embroidery hoops. Alys rarely made a stitch, torn by her situation. She knew she had to marry if she was expecting, but if she hadn’t conceived eleven years ago, what were the chances now? When she thought about what her heart desired, it wasn’t life buried in the country, as a marchioness or not. She wanted the bustle of London, the satisfaction of hard work.

Eventually, Rose threw down her hoop and Alys was glad to follow. “Do you think you could find a chess set?” Rose asked.

Alys snatched the bell pull, glad for any diversion.

Alys had expected Michael to send for her, but she didn’t see him at all during the next two days.

“Shut himself away in his room, he has,” the housekeeper said when she inquired. “Grieving for his brother.”

Or too embarrassed by his foolish proposal to see her. Alys wondered if he hoped she’d simply go away. Perhaps he was being courteous and giving her the time she desired.

While Rose napped, she went for a long walk after services on Sunday. The bitterly cold air made her long for a shop to duck into, but of course there was nothing open. She didn’t know any of the villagers or tenants. If she married Michael she’d meet them, but not as their equal. Whom would she associate with? She was used to the close connection of her sisters, brother, and cousin, fellow employees. Would his sister live with them? No, she’d likely marry in a year or two, and Alys didn’t enjoy his mother. All together, marriage to him didn’t seem a pleasant proposition.

Perhaps she could busy herself with a child, if there was one. As she walked, she spun a pleasant fantasy of making a cake with her little girl, a red-haired moppet with Michael’s serious eyes, but would you be allowed to bake with a marquess’s daughter? Probably not.

The kitchen belonged to the cook more than it did the mistress.

 By the time her parents and Matilda entered the door of Hatbrook Farm early Monday afternoon, she’d resolved to refuse Michael. She didn’t know what her next step might be, but the life she envisioned as his wife frightened her.

Michael joined her family for tea in the shrouded morning room.

She noticed his hands shook a bit as he passed a plate of scones, and he was again very pale, but after he ate he seemed to regain strength.

Had he been sleeping well?

“I understand Miss Rose Redcake cut quite a swath through the Dickondell brothers at dinner the other night,” Michael murmured in a near monotone, stirring himself when her mother asked him about local doings, once they’d exhausted the news of his brother’s death.

“And what about Alys?” her father said.

“I believe the brothers are more of an age with Miss Rose,”

Michael said.

Her mother furrowed her brow. “I had thought the eldest son was twenty-six.”

Michael didn’t respond, other than to tighten his lips. Was her family irritating him?

Her father sighed. “Well, Alys isn’t the pretty one either, I suppose. Perhaps we’ve expected too much of her at her age. She’s left with little more to choose from than my own widower employees.”

Alys set down her teacup, which had rattled in its saucer nearly as much as Michael’s had when he first sat down. How could her father say such things? Her mother’s head was bent as if trying to avoid her father’s words.

“No,” her father continued. “It’s all very well. She can care for her mother and me in our old age. Very proper to have a daughter unmarried. Why, the queen herself held back a daughter as long as she could, and them all princesses.”

Alys glanced at Michael and found him staring quite fixedly at his plate of apple tart. Her embarrassment at this improper conversation was acute. No doubt he’d change his mind about his proposal of marriage now, when he realized what her family thought of her.

“You know them, don’t you? All those princesses?” said her father.

“Yes,” Michael said.

Her father squinted as if he’d just realized how little Michael cared for the path the conversation had taken.

“It’s so kind of you to shelter our daughters in their time of need,”

her mother said. “I never could have expected such kindness, my lord, but I’m very grateful for it.”

“I’m sure you were not aware of the situation at the Manor,” said Michael, his cool pitch rising above his previous monotone.

“No, I had not realized they had only a skeleton staff,” her mother agreed. “In the last week they have found some suitable people but the kitchen is so outdated.”

“You are lucky to have a daughter who knows so much about their design.”

“And a husband too, my lord. No, the situation is insupportable and again, I must express my gratitude.”

“Will you be staying at the Manor for long?” he inquired distantly, as if the subject pained him.

“No, we merely came down to collect Rose and Alys. Matilda has engagements to attend to in London, and we can’t impose upon you any longer.”

“But Rose’s health,” Michael said.

“She’s better off in London than at the Manor right now,” her father interjected. “A bit of work on the kitchens, get a good cook installed. We should be back down in spring.”

Alys felt Michael’s gaze on her. She lifted her eyes to his and offered a tiny smile, all she felt able to manage for the moment. Her breath had quickened at the mere mention of a return to London. Not long ago this had been her fondest wish, but now she didn’t know if she wanted to escape.

“Perhaps you’d like a tour of the kitchen here?” he suggested. “I can give you the name of the architect who did some modernizing here last year.”

“An excellent idea,” her father said.

“Very good. I’ll ring for the housekeeper. She knows much more about the subject than I do.”

Her mother looked a bit disappointed to be foisted off on the housekeeper. “Alys, I’m sure you’ll find the kitchens fascinating.”

Michael cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a word with Miss Redcake before she joins you.”

“I should supervise our packing?” Rose said tentatively.

“I’ll help,” Matilda agreed, almost leaping to her feet.

 Alys could feel the jealous waves oozing off her middle sister, who hadn’t spent the week at a marquess’s home.

Her father’s gaze narrowed, but he allowed the housekeeper to lead everyone but Alys out the door. She watched Michael shut and lock it behind them.

“Why are you locking it?”

“I don’t want anyone popping back in to ask a question.”

“It’s very improper.”

“Proper doesn’t seem to be part of the vocabulary of our relationship, Alys,” Michael said. “Though I kept a civil tongue with your family.”

“We are not genteel,” Alys ventured. “I am sorry they are so intent on mundane items when you are mourning.”

“That doesn’t make me want you any less,” he said roughly. “Have you an answer for me?”

She had woken that morning with one answer, but now she saw the future her father had planned stretching out even more bleakly.

He must be desperate to put her firmly on the shelf due to Matilda’s prospects with Theodore Bliven. If she was still considered marriageable, Matilda would have to wait for her to announce an engagement first, since she was the eldest daughter. His plan meant she’d be expected to fade into the background for the remainder of her lifetime.

A lifetime of nights like the one at the Dickondells’.

“Have you had any communication from Mr. Bliven?” she ventured.

“About your sister?”

“Yes.”

“Not since I left town. No one will be offering me anything but condolences for a long while.”

She circled back to the matter at hand. “Isn’t it disrespectful to your brother’s memory to marry in haste?”

“He was practical enough to see the need for it,” Michael said.

“Come now, you know I’m your best option. You’ll have a great deal more freedom as my wife than an unmarried Redcake daughter. And you ought to be married.”

She swallowed hard as his meaning became clear to her. If she took another lover in the future he might not offer as generously for her as Michael had. Not that she intended to take a lover in future, but boredom and loneliness could make a woman do strange things.

“I don’t want you to regret marrying me,” she said.

“No one will second-guess me,” Michael said. “Men with titles have been marrying wealthy merchants’ daughters for some time now. These large homes are expensive to manage.”

She blinked back tears at his calm assurance. At least she knew he wanted something of her, her body, not just money. “You don’t need my dowry.”

“I would have two years ago,” he said. “A few bad harvests and I might be right back to where my father left things. Most men will think me smart to marry you.”

“Despite my advanced age?”

“Your father doesn’t see you like I do, Alys,” he countered.

“Come now, you know that I find you attractive. And you are younger than me besides.”

She swallowed hard. Her father’s plans for her were impossible. A kind of tunnel vision centered her gaze on Michael’s face. At least he offered her passion. “Then I accept your kind offer, my lord.”

He let out a breath and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Do you want an engagement ring?”

“The wedding will be so soon. You can dispense with that sort of thing.”