Married to the Marquess (39 page)

For a long moment, the room was silent. And then Diana breathed, “Mother!”

Lydia dropped her head, grimacing.

“Why would you say something like that?” Derek managed, his voice weak.

“Because it is true,” she told him, her eyes bright with unshed tears and filled with earnestness. “You and your sister and your brother, this family means everything to me. And to your father. She had a right to know where we stand.”

“But Kate is already
part
of the family!” Derek cried, his voice stronger. “She has been a part of this family for five years, Mother! You have known nothing but prosperity and respect and dignity from our part, and it is mostly because of her! I have had very little to do with any of it, believe me. If anybody is going to jeopardize this family, it is more likely to be me than it ever would be her. Leave my wife out of it!”

“So you do love her, then,” Lydia said softly, her eyes warm in spite of her sorrowful expression.

“Of course, I love her!” He shot to his feet and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I love her so much I am fairly sick with it!”

“Then do not let her go, Derek,” she urged. “You need her.”

“I know, Mother,” he said as he turned from the room. “Believe me, I know.”

“I am sorry, Derek,” she called, her voice shaking.

He stopped, glancing back at her. His mother had never apologized to him either. The woman who was normally so proud and regal and refined now was humble and penitent and… motherly. She had always been kind, but never open. Now here she was urging him to go back to Kate, to hold on to her, to become a family with her. He had never known his mother to be like this.

Perhaps there was hope for his family after all.

“I am so sorry,” she said again. “For all of it.”

He nodded, swallowing back yet another lump. “Thank you. Good day, Mother. Diana.” He walked out the door without responses, and headed for home. He had business to take care of today, which could not wait, and it would take some time. But after that, he was going to get his wife back.

No matter what it took.

As quietly as he could, he reentered the house, now wide awake and bustling as usual. While he desperately wanted to mend his situation with Kate, he could not do so now. He needed time to think, to collect himself, to find exactly the right words to say to her. And time to be with her, which he did not have now. He had to meet with solicitors on important estate matters he had put off for far too long, and then his friends later in the day, and all of that would undoubtedly last well into the evening.

Thankfully, nobody said anything as he quietly and quickly made his way up to his bedchamber. He changed into more proper attire, then came down again a few moments later and moved to his study, needing to gather the necessary information.

Kate would no doubt think him out with the other men in the garden this morning, so she would not be looking for him within the house. He had urged the men to continue with their plans, under the watchful eye of Mr. Tanner, the man he had consulted as to the design. He had no doubt things would move along smoothly without him present.

At last, he had all that he needed for his meetings, and he walked out of his office towards the entryway. But as he walked by the music room, its door shut as usual, he heard music coming from within and he was powerless to resist the pull of it. He stopped and stood like a fool outside of the door, listening intently to the mournful music his wife was playing.

His heart caught as he recognized the melody. It was the song he had been humming ever since they had danced in the gazebo, the song he had hummed as he danced with her. She had turned it into a real song, had added harmonies and life to what he had so sporadically created.

Her words to him echoed in his mind then.
Perhaps you ought to come home unexpectedly, then.
Was this what she had been working on while he was out? Had she turned his random humming into a composition?

Moaning softly in his own tormented agony, Derek leaned his head against the door, listening with more intensity than he had anything in his life. He wished he had the strength to go in and listen fully, to be there with her as she played, to watch her face as she did so. It was his favorite thing to do; not that he didn’t love the music, but he adored watching her face as she played. She became transformed, moved by the music, put everything of herself into each and every note, and it was beautiful and captivating. He missed that.

He missed her.

“That is your song, Derek.”

He turned his head at the soft, barely audible voice and saw Moira, obviously just arrived, watching him with a pitying look in her eyes. “What?” he mouthed more than said, though some sound escaped.

“She wrote that for you. She has been playing it ever since she finished.” She looked at the door sadly. “It’s all she plays anymore.”

He grimaced as if struck and shut his eyes tightly, returning his head to his previous position. “I had no idea,” he breathed. “I couldn’t have…”

Against her nature, Moira did not respond.

Derek longed to stay, to take Kate into his arms and beg for forgiveness. But he could not, not yet. “I have to go,” he said softly. “Don’t tell Kate I was here. Don’t tell her I heard.”

“But…”

“Ask her to wait up for me tonight,” he overrode, pushing his head away from the door, but keeping his hand firmly against it. “Tell her I want to talk with her. Tell her… ask her to wait for me. Please.”

Moira looked at him for a long moment, then nodded once.

“Thank you,” he murmured. He looked back at the door, heard the faint strains of music die away, and sighed. Then he dropped his hand and walked on towards the entryway, head down, brushing past Moira without acknowledgement.

Tonight he would tell Kate everything, try to mend what had been broken, and beg her to start again with him. He needed her, and he could only pray she needed him, too. There was no hope for them apart. 

C
hapter
T
wenty
O
ne

“H
e’s not listening to a word we’re saying.”

“He’s not drunk, he hasn’t touched a thing.”

“Is he breathing?”

“He looks ill. Maybe he’s ill.”

“He is not ill. He’s in love.”

“…So he’s ill.”

“No, Colin, he is
not
.”

“Shut up, Nate. Derek’s all peaky and sighing and hasn’t said a word in two hours, and my late Aunt Agatha would be able to see the dark circles around his eyes. The man is deathly ill, I tell you.”

“I am fine,” Derek murmured, shaking his head, his eyes not seeing anything, least of all his friends at the table with him.

“He speaks!” Duncan cried, slapping him on the back. “We were afraid you had drifted off into some other realm and we had lost you forever.”

He tried for a smile, but it was hard to come by.

The last several hours he had been occupied with business, but sitting here now, as he should have been listening to details of some ridiculous venture Colin had heard about, he could not remember a single facet of anything he had discussed with anyone today. He felt as though his entire day had been nothing but a fog, with one bright, shining moment of glory that came in the form of a song written for him by the woman he adored.

And he was sitting here with his friends while she waited for him at home. What had been so pressing today that he could not have done tomorrow or the next day? Why had duty come before his wife again? Before his heart? That was quite enough of that.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be there. His heart started pounding, and his fingers tingled. There was so much to do, and none of it would be done here. All he needed was Kate.

And he needed her now.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, starting to get out of his chair.

“What?”

“Where?”

“Why?”

“All right.”

“Nathan!” Colin protested, giving him a disgusted look.

“What?” Nathan replied, standing as well. “If Derek feels he needs to leave, then by all accounts, we should let him. Particularly when he looks like this. Don’t you think he probably has somewhere better to be?”

Colin opened his mouth, then closed it and grumbled, “There is no fair response to that question.”

“Derek, what is going on?” Geoff asked softly, his blue eyes cloudy with concern.

“I have to go to Kate,” he said, taking his jacket from the back of his chair and putting it over his arm. “We… I…” He shook his head. There was no time to explain everything, and he had no desire to relive it again. “I have to go,” he repeated.

“Very well,” Nathan said, a bemused smile on his lips. “We can finish this at another time.”

Derek nodded, meeting his eyes. Perhaps Nathan sensed what lay beneath Derek’s words. Besides having a keen intuition about people, Nathan also had a wife. He would understand how tossed about a man could be when he was in love with a woman.

“Tell Kate hello from us,” Duncan told him as he rose to shake his hand in farewell.

“Oh, I hardly think he needs to tell her that
now
,” Nathan disagreed, his smile growing. “Surely that can wait until later.”

Derek grinned in response, feeling his heart lighten a touch. “It just might.” He nodded at them all and turned from the room, walking rather briskly.

“I don’t understand any of this,” he heard Colin say as he left.

“You will when you’re older.”

“Oh, shut up, Geoff.”

Derek didn’t even call for a carriage to take him home. He could be halfway there before one was readied, and besides, he wanted the exhilaration of walking, knowing he was going to see his wife, that he was going to tell her that he loved her. He should have done so ages ago.

He didn’t care if she might not be able to return the words, though he hoped she would. He would wait forever if she could give him the faintest hope of a return of affection in the future. He would rather be with Kate and waiting than without her and never know.

Feeling more excitement, Derek started to jog. Walking was not fast enough. He wanted to tell Kate now. He wanted to give her everything he was and let her do with him as he wished. What use was pride when he was without the woman he loved?

The jog turned to a run and a few strolling Londoners gave him questioning looks as he passed them and he knew they would whisper and gossip.

He did not care.

Let them say that the Marquess of Whitlock was seen running towards his house, looking like a madman as his jacket lay over an arm and his cravat was rapidly loosening, soon to unravel, no doubt. Let them call his behavior shocking, his appearance disgraceful, and whatever else they wanted. He was a man in love, and he was not going to patiently ride in a carriage or walk calmly when so much was at stake.

Suddenly he became aware of his surroundings as all of his senses became alert at once. There was light in the distance, in the direction of his house, far more than would have come from the street lamps. It almost looked as though dawn were approaching, though the light was to the west. Faintly he heard a great many voices yelling in the distance, and he slowed his pace in confusion. A carriage raced passed him, a bell upon it clanging loudly, the horses pulling against their restraints as they sprinted, the coachman’s whip lashing rapidly against their flanks.