“Hold your tongue, Tiberius.” His father snapped a ledger closed and came around the desk to refill his glass. “You dare insult your very blood?”
“I am ashamed by your and mother’s behavior,” Chester admitted. It hurt to say. He’d never spoken to his father like this, and every word had to be pulled from the muck of his own guilt. He’d known how they always felt about the Marsdens, but they’d never stooped to this level before, and he felt responsible for exposing Bernie to it now, for not protecting her, for not having spoken to his family sooner regarding their snide comments. It didn’t seem necessary when those comments were said behind closed doors.
But know he was divided in two. The loyal son and Bernie’s protector. Those two sides could no longer coexist.
His father slammed his drink down, spilling liquid on the table. “How dare you speak to me this way. You’re ashamed? How do you think your mother and I feel, knowing you’re being manipulated and strung along like a green boy? You have to think with your head, not your prick. Girls like Bernadette are fine cloth for mistress-making, but your future is destined for a quality wife.”
Chester’s hands went numb, feeling foreign as he fisted them, restraining himself. “I’ll thank you to not say such a thing again. She is my friend.”
“She is—”
“Don’t,” Chester growled. “Bite your tongue.”
His father’s face reddened. “Look what you’ve become. Defending her honor.”
“You raised me to be a gentleman. It is for my honor that I defend her. She and her family deserve none of your scorn.”
“We’re trying to protect you.”
Chester scoffed and threw his arms wide. “From what?”
“Many weak men fall prey to the machinations of beautiful but poor women.”
“So now I’m weak for helping our neighbors, for befriending them, for protecting an innocent young woman from a filthy rogue like Rupert!”
“It’s much more than that. Your mother and I can tell how close the two of you have become. It’s unnatural, women and men being friends. You’re not children, Tiberius. She is an attractive female and you are a handsome, titled gentleman. I would applaud her efforts if you were not my son, but dammit I will not stand for it!” his father bellowed.
Chester bit his tongue to prevent himself from blurting out what would appear to be his father’s worst fear.
He loved her. He would not let them hurt her anymore.
He could never view his father and mother the same after this. If he told them, what would they do? Deny him love? His chest began to ache, the cold numbness filling all his limbs now. He couldn’t believe it. He was seeing his father in an entirely new light.
The man before him was not the warm, supportive mentor that Chester knew through his entire childhood. This man had a cruel gleam in his eye, his mouth pressed into a cold, disappointed frown.
“Tell me you haven’t ruined your future and bedded the girl.”
Chester stiffened. “I am a gentleman and she is a lady of gentle birth. That is all you need know to answer that question.” Chester turned away and left the study. His legs shook as he climbed the stairs to his room. His stomach twisted as the full weight of it all came down on him.
He loved a woman his parents did not approve. He’d never disobeyed them, but this was different. His father had chosen his classes for university and Chester hadn’t argued. His father had controlled most of his life with a gentle hand but a firm grip nonetheless, and Chester had never pushed back. He’d never needed to.
But this was different.
He’d trusted his father to make those choices for him. Not this one. Not when it came to Bernie. If his father and mother couldn’t see all the wonderful things she was, then they didn’t deserve her. They would never know how her laughter could fill a room with joy. How a sly wink from her could lighten his darkest moods or how caring and devoted she was to friends and family. Her heart was bigger than the English Channel, and she was braver than most men he knew.
Bernadette Marsden was better than all of them, worth more than all the wealth in England.
He reached his room and looked around the opulent space. Velvet bed hangings, plush Persian carpet, silk counterpane, all of it his, but it wouldn’t be once his parents tossed him out. Would they? Would they turn their back on their only son because he loved a woman not of their choosing?
He couldn’t believe it and yet… In his parents circle of society, it was perfectly acceptable. It would be a scandal, but it would be a bigger scandal to accept a woman of Bernie’s means into their fold.
Chester wouldn’t stand for it. If they could turn their back on him, he would have no trouble turning his back on them for Bernie, but the thought caused a great deal of pain. They were his parents, loving, doting, mother and father. He didn’t want to have to choose between them and Bernie, but if he had to he would. He removed his jacket and boots and lay on his bed, folding his arms behind his head. He stared up at the canopy, not blinking until his eyes began to sting.
His door opened but he didn’t look to see who it was.
“Are you ill, my lord?” asked Jensen, his valet.
“No,” Chester said. He swiftly did mental calculations. He had a small fortune of his own, but would it be enough to purchase a home for he and Bernie and afford staff?
“Your mother’s ladies’ maid, Miss Smith, said you’ve had a row. Your mother is quite overset but she’s returned to the party.”
“Ever the dutiful hostess,” Chester muttered. He could hear Jensen put away his jacket and straighten things that didn’t necessarily need straightening. Jensen had been with Chester since the moment he’d left the nursery and began to dress like an adult more than a child. The man was beginning to gray, but otherwise he hadn’t changed much in Chester’s opinion. He was—Chester tried to remember—forty-eight? And all this time he’d been a faithful servant, traveling back and forth with Chester to London, to different house parties. He’d never taken much time for himself and, as far as Chester knew, had never had a love interest. Did he want to marry? To have a child of his own?
“Why have you never married?” Chester asked.
Silence answered. Chester lifted his head to find Jensen standing by the door with his boots in hand.
“Sir?” Jensen asked, turning to him with a confused expression.
They’d had many conversations about any number of things but never love, never about women. Chester sat up. “You’ve never married and I’m curious as to why.”
Jensen pursed his lips and looked away, appearing uncomfortable. Chester wondered, perhaps he’d not noticed that Jensen preferred men over women?
Jensen sighed. “I suppose I put it off too long.”
“Truly?”
Jensen nodded. “I almost married once before taking a position here. But she was dead set on moving to America.”
“I’m sorry,” Chester said. He didn’t know what else to say. Jensen had that faraway look, as though he was looking inward and remembering.
“Her name was Mary. She was a house maid here but had aspirations to be a dress maker in America.”
“Do you regret not following her?”
Jensen shook his head and smirked. “I’ll never leave English soil.”
Chester smiled in return. “What happened after Mary left?”
“I was promoted from upper footman to your valet and didn’t give her much thought.” He met Chester’s gaze. “I suppose that means it wasn’t a love match and ended as it should have. She went her way and I went mine.”
Chester thought about that. He couldn’t imagine parting from Bernie and never thinking of her again. Theirs would be a love match in every sense of the word.
“What of children? Family?”
Jensen chuckled. “I’ve never had aspirations to bounce a babe on my knee, but I have enjoyed my nephews and nieces. My brother and his brood are family enough.”
“That’s go
od.”
“Though—”
Chester heard the catch in Jensen’s voice.
Jensen shrugged. “I do intend to take a wife at last. I don’t want to grow old alone and Gretchen, the upper maid, shares my feelings regarding children and family. Our families are both close in travel, and we’ve decided that we get along so well we ought to marry.”
Chester raised both brows. “My congratulations, Jensen. I had no idea.”
He shrugged again. “We don’t talk about women, you and I. We’ve discussed many things—meaningful things but never that.”
Chester chuckled. Could he unburden himself on Jensen? Would the man understand his predicament? There was only one way to find out.
“I’m in love and I don’t know what to do.”
Jensen turned away and his shoulders shook.
“What’s so amusing?”
“Miss Bernadette, I presume.”
Stunned, Chester had no retort. What was it that everyone saw between him and Bernie that he had not? Was he a blind fool? He cleared his throat and cursed the hot flush climbing his throat.
“Yes. It seems I’ve been rather obvious to everyone but myself. I’m not even sure how she feels.”
“I’m quite sure she feels the same,” Jensen said with a half-smile. “Anyone can see how well matched you are in personality.”
Chester scoffed. “We’re completely at odds!”
“But you complement each other perfectly. Sometimes it is hardest to see the things we are closest to.”
Chester absorbed that for a moment. So he was a fool, but that realization didn’t change his present battle. His parents would surely disown him for marrying Bernie, throwing both their lives into chaos. It went against his nature to do such a thing. But this was Bernie, and his instincts had always demanded he protect her. What did that mean? He was stuck, torn between his family and his heart.
“What do I do? My parents have made their position on the matter clear, and I haven’t even told them how I feel.”
Jensen tucked his boots away in the wardrobe. “Only you can answer that I’m afraid.”
Chester fell back on the bed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 10
Bernie woke with a start. She looked toward her window but no light filtered through the window. She’d heard a noise, hadn’t she? Like something dropping, a shoe or a book right here in her room. She lit her bedside candle and looked around but nothing was out of place.
She frowned.
Castle Selbourne had stood on this hill for centuries. It wouldn’t be odd to think… No. Bernie was not one to believe in ghosts, although… She peeked around the room again. She’d never ventured to places where ghosts might lurk. She’d visited the castle often during the day, but this party was the longest she’d ever stayed.
“Is someone there?” she asked the room, feeling foolish and a bit scared. The hair on her arms stood up.
“Nonsense.” Bernie set her candle down and rubbed her arms as she lay back against the pillows.
But she wasn’t about to blow out her candle. In fact, she needed more light. She slid to the edge of her bed and peered down before dropping her feet to the carpet. She hurried to the lamp on the dresser and lit it. She glanced around the room again.
There had been a noise, hadn’t there? Had she dreamt it? She went to the window, wondering if it was something outside. The first rays of dawn were glowing behind the bank of clouds over the water. Bernie folded her arms and leaned against the side of the window. She was too awake now to try to go back to sleep. A chill running down her back, she decided to dress and returned to the window with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Thoughts and buried feelings from yesterday began to return, and the ache inside her, which she’d momentarily forgotten, made itself known. Chester hadn’t returned to the castle yesterday. They’d had dinner and played games in the parlor without him, and Bernie was left filling the void of his absence with worried thoughts.
Violet had assured her he’d sent a note and explained he had to stay at Kirkland and smooth over his mother’s ruffled feathers, but Bernie wasn’t pacified.
She wanted to see him again. That was the only way she would know where she stood with him. Until then, there was a frigid emptiness inside her, like a room with no fire, furniture, curtains or rugs, just cold bare floors and naked walls. She stood there for a long time, watching the sun rise behind the clouds, her brow pressed to the glass.
Just as she abandoned her vigil by the window, rapid knocking frightened her right out of her knitted slippers.
“Bernie?” Violet’s voice carried through the door, alarmed.
Bernie rushed to open the door and Violet swept in.
“You’re dressed already?” Violet asked with a frown, scrutinizing Bernie’s plain brown dress and blanket.
Bernie didn’t want to detail the whole strange situation about the sound waking her and the ghosts, so she just shrugged.
Violet shook her head. “Never mind, we don’t have time to dally.”
“Is something wrong?” Bernie asked as Violet unearthed Bernie’s walking boots from the bottom of the wardrobe and urged Bernie to sit.
“Chester is here and he brings terrible news.”
Bernie’s throat closed around her voice so she nodded for Violet to continue. Violet hastily tied one boot and glanced up, holding Bernie’s gaze.
“Lady Kirkland intends to force you to marry Mr. Rupert or she will ruin your sisters’ reputation.”
“That—that—bitch!”
“Precisely.” Violet nodded and began fastening Bernie’s other boot.
Part of Bernie was stunned by the strangeness of Violet—a duchess—fastening her boots like a nursemaid, but a larger part of her was speechless, except for the litany of curses running through her mind.
What the devil did that woman want of her? How could she be so mean? None of yesterday’s happenings should warrant the marriage between two people, least of all a failed attempt of a kiss.
But this wasn’t about her and Mr. Rupert. It was about her and Chester. Lady Kirkland wanted to separate them for good.
Bernie’s fists clenched so tightly she could feel the sting of her fingernails slicing her palms. Violet stood. “Come. We must hide you away until a solution is found.”
“I still don’t understand why this is happening—well, no, I understand why she wants to hurt me, but what are we doing right now?” Bernie asked as she followed Violet from the room. Violet paused in the doorway.
“Does she need a change of clothing?” Violet asked someone in the hall.
“I’m not sure.”
It was Chester’s voice. Her heart jumped into her throat. Had he been there the whole time?
Violet turned to Bernie. “I’ll pack a valise with a change of clothes and find a way to get it to you if need be.”
“Where am I going?”
Chester stepped into the doorway. “Somewhere close by where we can watch what they’re doing.”
“And why are you here?” Bernie asked. It wasn’t the polite thing to do but she asked anyway. She wasn’t one to be carried off into the morning without explanation.
“I overheard my mother’s plan. My father will go to your father this morning and offer him a substantial sum to see you married to Rupert immediately.”
“Or they will ruin my sisters.”
He nodded, a line creasing his brow. Bernie studied him for a moment. He hadn’t shaved this morning, and by the looks of the purple shadows under his eyes, he hadn’t slept well.
“Very well. Carry me away.”
His lips twitched but he didn’t smile.
They left the castle on foot and down the hill to the main road and then up another.
“The old tree?” Bernie asked.
He glanced at her. “They won’t think to look here for now. They will think we…”
Bernie waited. “Yes?” She prompted him to
continue.
“They will think we’ve run off to Gretna to marry, I assume.”
Bernie’s heart fluttered. “But that is precisely why your mother seeks to ruin my sisters.”
“Yes, but when I return home later this morning that will thwart her plan. It will be evident we’re not together.”
“Getting married,” Bernie teased.
He rubbed his neck. “Right, um, but you will be out of danger and not forced to marry Rupert.”
“And where will I be?”
“Wherever they won’t think to look for you.”
“Ah. I see.”
“My mother is being rash. I have every hope that she will calm down over the day and then things will go back to normal.
If only it could. They reached the tree and both sat down on the cushy bed of leaves and grass to wait.
* * *
“How long are we to wait here?” Bernie asked with a heavy sigh. She was tired, having been roused from her bed so early, and she was hungry too.
Chester stood beside her in the dappled shadows of the large oak and watched the castle through a spyglass.
“Your father is leaving at last.”
“Alone, hopefully? He hasn’t convinced one of my sisters to take my place on the guillotine?”
He put away the spyglass. “He’s alone.”
“Do you carry that with you everywhere?”
“Are you criticizing my assortment of rescue tools?”
“Why do you travel with an assortment of rescue tools? Do you have another life I don’t know about?”
He grinned at her, and his grin caused a flurry of strange yet pleasant fluttering in her stomach. Would he kiss me again if I asked him?
No! She pushed that thought away. This wasn’t the time for that. They’d been sitting here all morning, waiting and watching. There was a serious situation at hand and thinking of kisses was not where her mind should be.
“Tell me again what happened this morning?”
“My father paid Rupert off to marry you.”
Bernie scowled. “As if I’d marry a man who had to be paid.”
Two Wicked Nights Page 7
