“It was non-existent,” Peter confessed. “Edmund failed to mention to her that he’d promised her hand to me until the day before I arrived in Aylesbury.”
Albert barked a laugh, then shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just so typically Edmund.” He chuckled.
Having his friend there eased a fraction of the gloom creeping through him, but it couldn’t change his outlook of the situation. “I’m no good at wooing,” he said. “I didn’t have to woo Anne either. My father chose her for me.”
“You’ve never courted a woman?” Domenica asked.
“No.”
“And you’re how old?” Albert asked.
“Don’t you start,” Peter said with a frown.
“It’s clear what you have to do then,” Domenica said. She glanced to Albert, who nodded as though the two of them had discussed the problem at length.
Peter raised his eyebrows in question.
Albert stopped his pacing and stood at attention, as though he were on the prow of a ship. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, yes?”
“Yes?” Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“So let William continue to think he’s winning his reprehensible little game.”
“Why?” Peter asked through clenched teeth.
“People who think they’re winning let their guard down.”
“How will that help? William won’t stop threatening Mariah unless I flee everything that is rightfully ours, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.”
Albert held up a hand as if to soothe Peter’s growing frustration. “Let William think he’s winning,” he repeated, “but bring in reinforcements.”
“Define reinforcements.”
Albert glanced to Domenica. “We’ll stay.”
Domenica smiled. “We will.”
“What, here?” Peter asked.
“That’s the keeping your friends close part,” Albert said with a grim smile. “And if I were you, I’d write to Malcolm and get him involved.”
“Malcolm Campbell?” Peter blinked, then frowned. “Why should I interrupt whatever Malcolm is doing to drag him all the way out here to Cornwall?”
“Because no one is better at rooting out moles than Malcolm,” Albert said. “And besides, isn’t William terrified of him?”
Peter let out a breath and lowered his shoulders. “He is.” A thought struck him, and he smirked. “I can’t throw William out, but Malcolm’s presence might be enough to get him to leave on his own, voluntarily. And if I had witnesses to the fact that he left of his own free will and not because I banished him, even if he did sue for half the estate, he would lose.”
“There you go.” Albert nodded.
“And does Mariah have anyone she might want near her at a time like this? Her mother? A sister?”
“Victoria,” Peter said, a ripple of unease traveling down his spine. “She’s close with her sister Victoria. She’s close to her entire family, if truth be told. I wouldn’t say no to having Edmund on hand right now.”
“Then tell her to write to her family and have them come to stay for a while,” Domenica said, resting a hand on Peter’s knee. “We’ll call it a house party.”
“It sounds like a lark.” Albert smiled as though his wife had suggested they go on safari in Africa.
“I’ll send the invitations right away,” Peter said, starting for the door.
“Before or after your dinner party finishes?” Albert asked, his mouth twitching.
Peter nearly groaned. The idea of entertaining what remained of his guests, baffled as they must be by the way the evening had gone, was torture. But if he was going to save even a little bit of face, for Mariah’s sake, he had to march back into battle. Sebastopol hadn’t been as daunting as his dining room was that evening.
“After supper,” he said, starting toward the door, Albert and Domenica in tow. “And starting tomorrow, if there’s any way to make things right with Mariah short of cutting off my arm, I’ll find it.”
Chapter 14
Mariah fully expected to be up all night, tossing and turning. Even after Ginny sent another maid, Poppy, to the kitchen for warm milk and biscuits. Ginny was so compassionate, rubbing Mariah’s back and listening to her rehash the fiasco of supper that Mariah wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to repay the woman. She’d sipped her warm milk, nibbled on a biscuit, and let Ginny tuck her into bed, where she promptly fell asleep.
In the morning light, a different kind of embarrassment swept in on Mariah. She was convinced she’d behaved like a child. And that after complaining about being trapped in the role of child as a spinster. The thought made her wince as she climbed out of bed and went to her dressing room to use the chamber pot. Granted, she had every reason to be upset over William’s behavior and Peter’s refusal to banish him, but she wasn’t proud of the way her emotions had spun out of control. It wasn’t like her at all. She wasn’t herself.
“Feeling better this morning, my lady?” Ginny asked when she came to help Mariah dress.
Mariah heaved a sigh. “If by ‘better’ you mean no longer furious, but equally melancholy, then yes.”
Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile as she shook out the day dress Mariah had chosen to wear. “All will be well,” she said, her optimism humbling to Mariah. “You’ll see.”
“I hope so,” Mariah replied, staring at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look like the woman who had left Aylesbury more than a fortnight ago. Gone was the determined innocence of the woman who had demanded to be sold a book of poetry. She wasn’t sure who was staring back at her now or what that woman’s place in the world was.
A thump sounded on the other side of the dressing room door. Mariah’s heart leapt to her throat, and she glanced over her shoulder, wishing and praying that Peter would come through and…and what? Apologize? Yes. Wrap his arms around her and tell her she was more important to him than his villainous nephew? Absolutely. Let her beg his forgiveness for behaving like a wild gypsy in a temper? That too.
But the thumping gradually subsided without so much as a knock, and Mariah’s hopes sunk with it.
“I’m sure that was just Mr. Wright,” Ginny said. “I believe Lord Dunsford went downstairs an hour ago.”
“So early?” Mariah bit her lip, continuing to stare at the door until Ginny held out her petticoats for her to step into.
“Yes, my lady. Considering the guests and all.”
Mariah blinked and glanced to Ginny. “Don’t tell me the supper guests are still here.”
Ginny lifted the top of Mariah’s petticoats to her waist, then tied them at her back. “Captain Tennant and his wife have decided to stay for a while.”
“Oh.” Mariah’s shoulders dropped.
Ginny frowned as she went to fetch Mariah’s skirt. “I thought you’d be pleased, my lady. You seemed to like the Tennants last night.”
“They were wonderful,” Mariah said. “I can see that they are true friends to Peter, but….” She glanced down. If Peter was inviting his friends to stay, did that mean he’d given up on what was supposed to be a honeymoon, given up on building their marriage?
Ginny helped Mariah into her skirt and bodice, then squeezed Mariah’s arm. “Cheer up, my lady. It might never happen. The bad things, that is. You’ll see.”
Mariah wished she could share her maid’s confidence. Nothing seemed right as she made her way down to the breakfast room. Both Peter and his guests had already eaten, and not even William was there to watch her pick at cold eggs and sausages. Only Davy witnessed her coming close to tears again, and he said nothing.
But whether it was the cup of tea she choked down or impatience with her moodiness, by the time Mariah finished breakfast, a new determination had filled her. She may have been broken and humiliated, her husband might have given up on her, but she was still a countess. The house had guests, and she would take her responsibilities as hostess seriously. She sought out Mrs. Wilson to check on the menus for the coming week,
made sure that Captain and Mrs. Tennant had all the help they needed from the staff, then headed out to the gardens to choose blooms for bouquets to be placed in all of the public rooms. She might have been miserable, but she would do her best to make sure the house was cheery.
“If it’s cheer you want,” Nick, the gardener, told her as they stood in the center of a vast spread of carefully-tended flowerbeds, “delphiniums and freesia can’t be beat.” He walked her to a particularly colorful flower bed set up so that the blooms formed cascades of beauty and scent. “Although if you ask me, it’s not truly June without lilies.” He crossed to another bed where a wide variety of lilies grew.
“June?” Mariah blinked at him.
“As of today, yes, my lady.”
“Where did the time go?” Mariah sighed, shaking her head.
“I believe they say it flies, my lady.”
Nick’s friendly smile went a long way toward putting Mariah back in at least halfway decent spirits. The staff of Starcross Castle was so wonderful that she had a hard time believing someone amongst them was working with William against her and Peter. But she needed to think of other things for a change to preserve her sanity.
“These are all so beautiful,” Mariah said, overwhelmed by sight and scent. “And you grew them all?”
“Yes, my lady,” Nick answered with a proud nod.
“You’re awfully young to be a head gardener, aren’t you?”
Nick laughed. “My father was the head gardener here before me, my lady. I may only be thirty, but I’ve had my hands in the dirt here since I knew how to walk.”
“I see.” Mariah smiled. “Would you mind cutting a few stems for me so that I can take them inside?”
“Certainly, my lady.”
Mariah’s soul began to settle itself as she walked through the garden a few steps behind Nick. She held her arms out as he piled blooms into them, and before long her arms were full of flowers. The flowers, the sunshine, and the fresh air were a balm, but she would have enjoyed them all much more if Peter were by her side. She found herself looking for him every time they turned a corner or walked into a new part of the garden. At one point, she spotted Captain Tennant sitting very close to Domenica in the rose garden. Close enough that she blushed and turned to immediately walk in the other direction. Seeing them like that only drove home how alone she was.
“There you go, my lady,” Nick said as he added one final stem of freesia to the enormous bouquet Mariah carried. “That should be enough for Poppy to make a dozen arrangements for the castle.”
“Is Poppy the one who does the arrangements?”
Nick grinned, a distinct twinkle in his eyes. “She’s just recently come up from being a kitchen maid, my lady, but she has a way with flowers.”
Mariah returned his smile. She suspected Poppy had a way with the man who grew flowers as well. On her way back to the house, she made a note to keep an eye out for the young maid to gauge whether she returned Nick’s interest. If she couldn’t look forward to her own romance, at least she could live vicariously through the servants.
“Isn’t this lovely.” William stepped out from one of the arched doorways leading from the garden into the castle as Mariah approached, scaring her out of her wits. “You’re the prettiest bloom of them all.”
Mariah’s steps faltered as she gaped at William. “Now you compliment me?” she snapped. “After humiliating me last night?”
“Who humiliated whom?” William shrugged. “I simply made observations, most of which are true.”
“You’re a vile snake,” Mariah hissed, her stomach turning all over again. “Get out of my way.”
Rather than stepping aside, William widened his stance, blocking the door. “Good choice,” he said.
Mariah huffed. “I don’t have time for your games. Move.”
“I assumed you’d choose someone like Davy for your dalliances,” William went on, unmoving, “but Nick is a fine, strapping man.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Personally, I think he’s a little hulking for you. With a physique like that, Nick’s likely to split you in two when you’re rutting.”
Mariah was offended to the point of speechlessness. She glared at William, working enough moisture into her mouth for the put-down he deserved. “I would never be unfaithful to Peter,” she hissed at last. “How dare you suggest otherwise?”
“Come now,” William went on, crossing his arms and leaning against one side of the doorway. “I’ve never known a countess yet who hasn’t taken a string of lovers. And believe me, I’d know.”
“I’m sure you would.” Mariah pushed forward, hoping to wedge past him, but the flowers in her arms made it difficult.
“Of course, if it’s pleasure you’re after, you should come to me.” He looked at his nails, dripping cockiness. “I’d have you screaming with ecstasy in no time. And I don’t think I’d mind if Uncle’s heir was mine, after all.”
“You disgust me,” Mariah growled. “I want nothing more than for you to leave at once. Just get out. Go away.”
William’s brow went up, and he straightened. “You want to get rid of me?”
“Yes,” she said with so much passion she nearly shouted.
“Fine. Then tell my dear uncle to throw me out.”
Mariah winced, defeat slithering down her spine. “You know I can’t do that,” she said rather than admitting she’d already made the demand.
“Because of some little agreement?” William snorted.
“I know what you win if Peter throws you out,” Mariah said, facing him.
“And I know that all I have to do is push you too far and you’ll break.”
They stared at each other, and Mariah had the sinking feeling he was right. She would break long before he did.
“But I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll leave,” William went on, leaning toward her, “if you convince my uncle to give me the money I’ve asked for.”
“No,” Mariah snapped.
She tried to walk on, but William caught her arm, yanking her back. “I don’t have time to mess about. Convince him to give me what I want and I’ll be out of your life forever,” he said. There was too much seriousness in his eyes for Mariah to doubt his sincerity, but she doubted his true motives down to her core. “Convince him to name me as his heir, regardless of how many brats the two of you have, and I’ll promise to name whomever you want as my heir.”
Mariah’s eyes widened. “How dare you try to make a bargain with me?”
“I dare because I know how desperate you are to be rid of me,” William said, eyes narrowed. “And believe me, auntie dear, I can make you so much more desperate than you already are. So what do you say? Can we strike a bargain?” He held out his hand as if expecting Mariah to take it.
She was glad for the pile of flowers in her arms, not because she was tempted to shake on the deal, but because it kept her from slapping him across the face with all her might. Without a word, she pushed past him and stomped into the house.
Two steps in, she stopped with a gasp. Peter stood at the far end of the room, a few letters in his hands, watching the two of him. He wore the look that made her gut tremble, and thanked heaven that it was directed at William and not her.
She forced herself to recover and walked on, intending to march right past Peter and on to the servant’s stairs.
“William, you have a letter,” Peter said. When Mariah was within feet of him, he added in a soft voice, “I’d like to talk to you.”
She stopped, trying not to let herself meet his eyes but failing. The tenderness and regret that radiated from him turned her heart to jelly in an instant.
“What letter?” William marched into the room, full of swagger. He gave Peter a smarmy grin as he held up the envelope. William snatched it from his hand and read the return address. His face instantly went pale, and all signs of arrogance vanished. Without a word, he rushed from the room.
Mariah watched him go, more anxious than she’d been before, though it made no sense. “Who was the letter from?” she whispered.
“I’m not certain,” Peter replied, letting his imposing demeanor melt away. “There was no name on the return address, only a street number. In London.”
“One of his creditors?”
“Or worse.”
The two of them stood silently, staring at the door William had disappeared through for a moment. Mariah could feel the heat of Peter’s body as he inched closer to her. She fancied she could smell the heady, masculine scent of him as well, although the flowers were powerful.
At last, she peeked at him. “What did you want to talk to me about?” She prayed he wanted to reconcile, that he would forgive her for her outburst and beg forgiveness in turn.
“You look beautiful with those flowers,” he said instead. He raised a hand as if to touch her, but pulled back. Mariah’s heart ached for the touch he withheld. “I have something for you.”
“For me?” She blinked, the ache spinning into something quivering.
“Yes.” He smiled awkwardly and reached into the pocket of his jacket. A flush spread across his face, and for a moment Mariah had the strange feeling that he was talking himself through the steps of whatever gesture he was making, as though it didn’t come naturally to him. He drew a beautiful, enameled hairpin set with pearls from his pocket and presented it to her. “For you.”
“I….” Mariah stared at the pin, heart fluttering, words escaping her.
Peter’s flush deepened. “I understand it’s customary, when couples are courting, to exchange gifts.”
“But we’re not courting. We’re already married.” Although the giddy feeling that swirled around her reminded her very much of the first flush of infatuation she’d felt for Robert. Heavens, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought about Robert. How could she when she had Peter.
He didn’t seem to know what to say. Instead, he stepped forward, tucking the hairpin into the braided chignon Ginny had styled that morning. “There,” he said.
Mariah’s heart thumped against her ribs, but she had never been more at a loss for words. “I…I hear we have houseguests,” she said, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. How could she love Peter so tenderly and be so frustrated with him simultaneously? “I asked Nick to pick out some blooms so that we could have fresh flowers throughout the house for their enjoyment.”
December Heart Page 18
