“You can’t mean what you are saying. You are in a temper. Later, when you have calmed yourself, we will—”
“I’m not in a temper. I’m in deadly earnest.”
“You’ve gone mad!”
“No, my lady. For the first time in my life I have a chance at happiness—and I will not lose it.”
“You fool,” the countess whispered, trembling visibly with fury.
“Whatever comes of it, marrying her will be the least foolish thing I’ve ever done,” he replied, and took his leave of her with a shallow bow.
Later that morning Annabelle excused herself from the breakfast room with an apologetic murmur. “I’m feeling rather green again,” she said. “I believe I shall retire to my room for just a little while. Fortunately Mr. Hunt is out riding, and he won’t know that I’m taking a nap.”
“I’ll w-walk with you to your room,” said Evie in concern.
“Oh, Evie, dear, there’s no need…”
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“It will be the perfect excuse to avoid Aunt Florence, wh-who is probably looking for me.”
“Well, in that case, thank you.” Battling a wave of nausea, Annabelle leaned gratefully on Evie’s arm as they departed.
Lillian and Daisy made to follow the pair.
“I don’t think she will be able to keep the news from Mr. Hunt for long, do you?” Daisy whispered.
“Not at this rate,” Lillian whispered back. “I’m certain he must suspect something, since Annabelle is usually as healthy as a horse.”
“Perhaps. However, I have heard that men are sometimes oblivious to such matters…”
As they left the breakfast room, they saw Lady Olivia walking along the hallway, her pretty face wreathed with a perturbed expression. It was odd to see her frowning, as she was usually a singularly cheerful woman. Lillian wondered what had happened to upset her.
Glancing up, Lady Olivia saw the pair of sisters, and her face cleared. A warm smile came to her lips.
“Good morning.”
Although Lady Olivia was only two or three years older than Lillian, she seemed infinitely more worldy-wise, possessing the eyes of a woman who had known great sadness in her past. It was that sense of unknown experiences, so far beyond Lillian’s own, that had always made her feel a bit awkward around Lady Olivia. Though the earl’s sister was a charming conversationalist, one had the perception that there were questions that should not be asked, and subjects that were sensitive.
“I was going to the orangery,” Lady Olivia said.
“We shan’t stop you, then,” Lillian replied, fascinated by the faintest trace of resemblance to Westcliff in the woman’s face…nothing distinctive, but a certain look about the eyes, and the smile…
“Do come with me,” Lady Olivia urged. Seeming to obey a sudden impulse, she reached out for Lillian’s hand, her small fingers wrapping around Lillian’s much longer ones. “I’ve just had the most interesting conversation with the earl. I would love to discuss it with you.”
Oh good God. He had told his sister, then. And very possibly his mother. Lillian shot a glance of veiled panic at her sister, who proved to be no help whatsoever.
“I’m heading to the library for a novel,” Daisy announced brightly. “The one I’m reading now is something of a disappointment, and I don’t care to finish it.”
“Go to the last row on the right, two shelves from the floor,” Lady Olivia advised. “And look behind the books in front. I’ve hidden my favorite novels there—wicked stories that no innocent girl should read.
They’ll corrupt you immeasurably.”
Daisy’s dark eyes lit up at the information. “Oh, thank you!” She scampered away without a backward glance, while Lady Olivia grinned.
“Come,” she said, tugging Lillian through the breakfast room. “If we’re to be sisters, there are some
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things you will want to know. I’m an invaluable source of information, and I’m feeling quite gabby at the moment.”
Amused, Lillian went with her to the orangery, which branched off from the breakfast room. It was warm and fragrant, with the noonday sun approaching and heat coming from the grillwork vents in the floor.
“It’s not entirely certain that we will be sisters,” Lillian remarked, sitting beside her on a cane bench with a curved French back. “If the earl implied that something has been agreed upon—”
“No, he didn’t go that far. However, he did express some rather serious intentions toward you.” Lady Olivia’s hazel-green eyes were bright with smiling inquiry, and yet there was a watchful quality in them.
“No doubt I should be restrained and tactful, but I simply can’t bear it, I have to ask… Are you going to accept him?”
Lillian, who was never at a loss for words, found herself stammering as badly as Evie. “I…I…”
“Forgive me,” Lady Olivia said, taking pity on her. “As those who know me best will attest, I love to go charging into other peoples’ affairs. I hope I haven’t offended you.”
“No.”
“Good. I never seem to get on well with people who are easily offended.”
“Neither do I,” Lillian confessed, her shoulders relaxing, and they both smiled. “My lady, the situation being what it is—although you may not know the details, unless the earl—”
“No,” Lady Olivia reassured her gently. “As always, my brother was closemouthed about the details. He is an annoyingly private man who adores tormenting inquisitive people like myself. Go on.”
“The truth is that I want to accept him,” Lillian said frankly. “But I do have a few reservations.”
“Of course you do,” Lady Olivia said promptly. “Marcus is an overwhelming man. He does everything well, and he makes certain that everyone is aware of it. One can’t approach the simplest of endeavors, such as brushing your teeth, without having him advise whether you should begin with the molars or incisors.”
“Yes.”
“A dreadfully trying man,” Lady Olivia continued, “who insists on seeing things in absolutes—right or wrong, good or bad. He is opinionated and overbearing, not to mention incapable of admitting that he is ever wrong.”
It was clear that Lady Olivia would have gone on at length about Marcus’s flaws, but Lillian experienced a sudden rush of defensiveness. After all, it wasn’t quite fair to paint such a harsh portrait of him. “All that may be true,” she said, “but one has to give Lord Westcliff credit for being honest. He always keeps his word. And even when he is overbearing, he is only trying to do what he thinks is best for other people.”
“I suppose…” Lady Olivia said dubiously, and that encouraged Lillian to expound on the subject.
“Moreover, a woman who married Lord Westcliff would never have to fear him straying. He would be
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faithful to her. He would make her feel safe, because he would always take care of her and never lose his head in an emergency.”
“But he is rigid,” Lady Olivia insisted.
“Not really—”
“And cold-natured,” Lady Olivia said with a regretful shake of her head.
“Oh no,” Lillian argued, “not in theleast. He is the most—” She stopped abruptly, turning scarlet as she saw Lady Olivia’s satisfied smile. She had just been neatly cornered.
“Miss Bowman,” Lady Olivia murmured, “you sound like a woman in love. And I fervently hope that you are. Because it has taken so long for Marcus to find you… and it would break my heart for his sake, if his love went unrequited.”
Lillian flinched at the sudden violent thump of her heart. “He doesn’t love me,” she said unevenly. “At least he hasn’t said anything to that effect.”
“I’m not surprised. My brother tends to express his feelings with actions rather than words. You’ll have to be patient with him.”
“So I’m discovering,” Lillian replied darkly, and the other woman laughed.
“I’ve never known him quite as well as my older sister, Aline, does. They are much closer in age, and she was his main confidante until she left for America with her husband. It was Aline who explained quite a lot to me about Marcus whenever I was ready to murder him.”
Lillian was very still as she listened attentively to the low, sweetly mellow voice. She had not realized until this very moment how much she wanted to understand Marcus. Never before had she comprehended why lovers were preoccupied with collecting keepsakes; letters, locks of hair, a lost glove, a ring. But now she knew how it felt to be obsessed by someone. She was filled with the compulsive desire to know the smallest details about a man who seemed so utterly straightforward and yet was practically unknowable.
Lady Olivia draped an arm across the camelback of the settee, and stared thoughtfully at the plant-laden scaffolding beside them. “There are things that Marcus will never reveal to anyone about his past, as he considers it unmanly to complain, and he would rather die by slow inches than be the object of sympathy.
And if he ever finds out that I’ve told you anything, he’ll have my head.”
“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Lillian assured her.
Lady Olivia gave her a quick smile, then studied the tip of her own shoe as it peeped from the ruffled hem of her skirts. “You’ll fit in well with the Marsdens, then. We’re nothing if not a secretive lot. And none of us likes to dwell on the past. Marcus, Aline, and I all suffered in different ways from the actions of my parents, neither of whom, in my opinion, was ever fit to have children. My mother has never been interested in anyone other than herself, or anything beyond what might affect her directly. And my father never gave a damn about either of his daughters.”
“I’m sorry,” Lillian said sincerely.
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“No, his indifference was a blessing, and we knew it. It was far worse for Marcus, who was the victim of my father’s insane notions of how to raise the Westcliff heir.” Although Lady Olivia’s voice was quiet and even, Lillian felt a chill run through her, and she rubbed her hands over her sleeves to soothe the prickling flesh of her arms. “My father tolerated nothing less than perfection in his son. He set ridiculously high standards in every aspect of Marcus’s life, and punished him terribly if ever he failed to meet them.
Marcus learned to endure a thrashing without shedding a tear or displaying one hint of rebellion, for if he did, the punishment was doubled. And Father was merciless when he discovered any weakness. I once asked Aline why Marcus has never been very fond of dogs…she told me that when he was a child, he was afraid of a pair of wolfhounds that Father kept as pets. The dogs sensed his fear, and hence were aggressive with him, barking and snarling whenever they saw him. When Father discovered how much Marcus feared them, he locked him alone in a room with them, to force him to confront what he was most afraid of. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for a five-year-old boy to be shut away with those beasts for hours.” She smiled bitterly. “Trust my father to give literal meaning to the phrase ‘thrown to the dogs.’ At the moment he should have protected his son, he chose instead to put him through hell.”
Lillian stared at her without blinking. She tried to speak, to ask something, but her throat had become very tight. Marcus was so eternally confident and self-assured that it was impossible to envision him as a frightened child. And yet so much of his reserve must have come from the painful lesson at an early age that there was no one to help him. No one to safeguard him against his fears. Ridiculously, though Marcus was now a full-grown man in his prime, she longed to comfort the little boy he had been.
“My father wished for his heir to be independent and hard-hearted,” Lady Olivia continued, “so that no one could ever take advantage of him. And therefore whenever he saw that Marcus had become fond of someone, a favorite nanny, for example, she was dismissed at once. My brother discovered that to display affection for anyone would result in their being sent away. He became distant with all those whom he loved but did not want to lose, including Aline and myself. From what I understand, things improved for Marcus when he was sent away to school, where his friends became a makeshift family.”
So that was why Marcus had remained a steadfast friend to St. Vincent, Lillian thought. “Did your mother never interfere on her children’s behalf?” she asked.
“No, she was too preoccupied with her own affairs.”
They were both silent for a time. Lady Olivia waited patiently for Lillian to speak, seeming to understand that she was trying to absorb what she had been told. “What a relief it must have been when the old earl passed away,” she murmured.
“Yes. A sad statement of a man’s life, that the world should have been so improved by his absence.”
“He did not succeed in his attempts to make your brother cold and heartless.”
“No, indeed,” Lady Olivia murmured. “I’m glad you can see that, my dear. Marcus has come so far, and yet he is still very much in need of …lightness.”
Rather than ease her curiosity about Marcus, the conversation had only awakened more questions, a deluge of them. However, her acquaintance with Lady Olivia was still too new and untested for her to be certain how far her questions could go before they were gently dismissed. “To your knowledge, my lady,” Lillian finally ventured, “has Lord Westcliff ever seriously considered marrying someone before? I am aware that there once was a woman for whom he had feelings…”
“Oh, that… it was nothing, really. Marcus would have tired of her quickly had Lord St. Vincent not
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stolen her away. Believe me, had Marcus wished to fight for her, she would have been his for the taking.
What he never seemed to understand—what the rest of us saw— was that it was all a ploy on her part to arouse his jealousy, and induce him to marry her. But her plan failed because Marcus wasn’t really interested in her. She was one of a string of women who…well, as you can guess, Marcus has never lacked for female attention. He’s a bit spoiled in that way, having had women practically fall into his arms ever since he came of age.” She threw Lillian a laughing glance. “I’m sure he has found it refreshing to encounter a woman who actually dares to disagree with him.”