Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  Puzzled, Gertie stared at her friend.

  “After you had—after our visit to the orphan asylum,” Harrietta unfolded, “I went to see Lord Barclay. It broke my heart to see you in such pain. And I suspected, as you did, that he might not relent so easily. When I had spoken with him, it was clear to me that he would not leave you alone. I revealed—I revealed that you were with child.”

  Gertie stopped in her tracks and allowed Harrietta’s arm to slip from hers. “He knows?”

  Harrietta nodded. “And I think that is the sole reason he ceased his pursuit of you. And I could tell it was no easy agreement for him. If ever a man loved with all his heart, it was—is Lord Barclay.”

  “Pardon me, madam, but did you speak the name of Barclay?”

  The two women turned to find one of the guests, an Army officer dressed in full regimentals, at their elbow. Harrietta glanced at Gertie, but neither recognized the man.

  “Who wishes to know?” Harrietta asked.

  The man bowed. “Major Summers, your servant, my ladies.”

  “There are any number of Barclays,” Gertie supplied.

  “I seek Phineas Barclay, a man who was assumed dead at one time.”

  “Are you an acquaintance of his?”

  “I should like to be.”

  The edge in the man’s voice gave Gertie pause. There was a look in his eye that she did not trust.

  She shrugged, “Alas, I think the last we heard he was in Bath.”

  “But you are acquaintances, or friends, of his?” Major Summers pressed.

  “My husband’s family is a distant relation of the Barclays. We are not close. If you would excuse us, we have a need to visit the powdering room.”

  Though the man had another question on his tongue, they swept past him before he could utter a word.

  “I wonder what he wanted of Phineas?” Gertie questioned aloud.

  “Do you despise me?” Harrietta asked.

  Gertie studied the aggrieved face of her best friend. She threw her arms about Harrietta. “Never! Never could I despise you. But I wonder that you did not speak to me sooner?”

  “I am a silly fool,” Harrietta laughed shakily.

  “You are indeed, Lady Dunnesford!”

  Harrietta returned the embrace. “Come, let us to the card tables. I will let you win at piquet.”

  “Are you so assured I would lose?”

  “After my first foray into cards, I vowed to be as adept as I could!”

  Gertie nodded, knowing the story behind the Marchioness and how she once found herself in debt to the wrong person. “I will need the winnings as I am sure Alexander will have been at dice for quite some time tonight!”

  They walked, arm in arm once more, to the card room. Gertie felt her thoughts swirling about her head like churning butter. She had a dozen questions she wished to ask of Harrietta, but they would have to wait until they could talk in greater privacy. Her tread felt lighter to think that perhaps it had not been such an easy thing for Phineas to give up on her. Phineas, Phineas, Phineas. She hoped he knew that it had not been easy for her to forsake him.

  And then she felt Harrietta stiffen. She looked up and felt the blood drain from her. It was as if her thoughts were toying with her vision, mocking her with the mirage of her memories. For there stood Phineas Barclay, as gloriously dressed as was his custom. The only aspect that made her question if he might not be an illusion after all were the dark crescents beneath his eyes and the whiteness about his lips when he caught her gaze. It seemed her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She could move no limb. She could only stare, blinking, expecting him to disappear at any moment. But he did not. He stood as frozen as she.

  “I—I think I shall see if Vale wishes to join us in a round of whist,” Harrietta mumbled before scurrying into the card room.

  “I shall ask for our horses,” Robert Barclay said.

  Gertie had not even noticed the presence of the baron, but she knew that she now stood alone with Barclay. He spoke first.

  “Gertie.”

  The simple utterance, nearly a whisper upon his lips, told her that all that Harrietta had said was true. It was at once a caress and a tribute to time passed.

  He straightened and his tone became more formal. He bowed. “Countess, what an unexpected pleasure. I hope you are well?”

  His eyes searched her. She felt a lump growing in her throat. Nodding, she replied, “And you? You have been well?”

  He nodded. The silence of embarrassment over their mutual lies fell upon them.

  “I heard you had been in Bath,” Gertie said at last.

  “And I leave for Scotland in a few days. From there…perhaps I shall travel to the Continent once more—Italy or Greece. I am sure to have a different perspective if I am there of mine own choosing.”

  The thought of him so far away wrenched her heart, but what did she expect?

  “Good tidings to you in your travels then,” Gertie said, the words sounding exceedingly lame in her own ears.

  A muscle twitched along his jaw, and the pain in his eyes was like a stab into the deepest part of her. There was much more to be said, much more she wished to speak to him, but the words would not emerge.

  “Felicitations to you—and to your family. I pray that you are happy, Gertie.”

  She shut her eyes to keep back the tears. Ye Gods, she cried silently. She wanted to crumble to the floor. The weight of their collective misery was too much to bear.

  “That is him,” a voice behind her said.

  She opened her eyes to see Major Summers striding up to Barclay. He was trembling with rage.

  “Lord Barclay,” Summers called out, “If you are a man, I demand satisfaction!”

  Barclay assessed the man with cool eyes.

  “And if I am not?” he returned blandly.

  That had the effect of making the Major more furious.

  “Then you, sir, are a coward!”

  Gertie saw Phineas’ nostrils flare ever so slightly.

  “I have been called far worse.”

  “Will you or will you not be a man?” Summers demanded.

  “My dear fellow,” Barclay said, retrieving his snuff box and flicking it open, “who the devil are you and why such an interest in my manhood?”

  Summers straightened in an attempt to match Barclay’s height. “I am Major Summers, aide-de-camp to the Duke of York, and you, sir, owe me satisfaction.”

  Gertie felt her stomach plummet. The man would not relent. His escalating volume was beginning to draw curious onlookers from the card room.

  “I know you not; therefore, I cannot possibly be in debt to you,” Barclay returned as he inhaled a pinch of snuff.

  “You know my wife,” Summers ground out between clenched teeth.

  Gertie saw a faint flicker of recognition in Barclay’s eyes.

  “Yes, I made her acquaintance at Vauxhall when she was with that fellow over there. Have you called him out as well?”

  Gertie looked to see a young sergeant standing near.

  “He did not attempt to seduce my wife!” fumed Summers,

  “You have no evidence I attempted any such thing.”

  “I had it all from the servants. They told me how you had suggested she spend some days at her sister’s house when her sister was conveniently absent. It was during a week when I was in Kent. I remember it well for it rained exceptionally hard for three days’ time.”

  Gertie snapped to attention. The friend that Barclay had intended to see before he came upon her and her chaise …must have been the Major’s wife.

  “I know your reputation,” Summers continued. “I think many a husband would applaud me if I put a bullet through your head.”

  “I would not disagree with your statement.”

  “I demand satisfaction!” Summers cried, no longer able to endure being toyed with.

  “And why should I give it?” Phineas asked haughtily as he took another pinch of snuff.

 
Summers looked ready to explode. “Will you be a coward then? Have you no honor?”

  “In general, none.”

  Summers took off his glove and threw it at Phineas. The glove knocked the contents of the snuff box onto Phineas and grazed his chin before falling to the floor.

  Barclay brushed the snuff off his waistcoat and calmly returned the snuff box to his pocket. “Swords or pistols?”

  “No!” Gertie gasped. She turned to the Major. “You are mistaken. Your wife is mistaken.”

  “I believe the choice to be yours,” the Major sneered, ignoring her.

  “I assure you I am equally comfortable with both,” Phineas said.

  Summers stiffened. “Pistols then. Name your seconds.”

  “Phineas!” exclaimed Robert, who had just returned.

  Gertie did not notice him or any of the others that had gathered about them. She put her hand on the Major. “You are mistaken. You do not understand.”

  “Madam, this is none of your affair!” Summers barked.

  “My brother Robert shall be one,” Phineas replied.

  Having no luck with Summers, Gertie turned to Barclay. “What are you doing?! Surely you are jesting…”

  But he did not look at her. He kept his gaze upon Summers. A shiver went through her as she glimpsed the determination in Barclay’s eyes.

  “Phineas, this is madness!” Robert cried. “Do you not remember that if you fight another duel–”

  “I remember,” Phineas said brusquely.

  “My seconds will inform yours of the time and place,” Summers said.

  Phineas bowed. “I await our assignation.”

  “No!” Gertie cried again, this time loud enough to command the attention of both men. “You will not fight this unnecessary duel.”

  She turned to Summers, her hands clenched to contain her trembling. “You are mistaken. Lord Barclay was never with your wife—because he was with me. We—”

  Phineas cut her off. “Gertie, no.”

  He turned to Summers. “She knows not what she speaks. I will meet you where and when you wish.”

  “He never had the opportunity to seduce your wife,” Gertie persisted. “We spent those three days, Lord Barclay and I, at the Four Horse Posting Inn. You may ask any who worked at the inn and they will attest to it.”

  She looked to Phineas, who was shaking his head.

  “She is a fool,” Phineas said to Summers. “She hopes to save my life by sacrificing her honor. But mine is not a life worth saving. Lady Lowry suffers delusions of grandeur.”

  “I may be a fool,” Gertie returned, “but I suffer no delusions. I would not forget those three days with you for the world.”

  Phineas closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, she thought she saw tears.

  “It is not too late to retract,” he said to her. “Remember—you have much to live for.”

  She shook her head. “Not without you.”

  Phineas turned to Summers. “She fancies herself in love with me. Surely you can see that she is not of sound mind at present.”

  But Summers had a strange look upon his face as he glanced between Barclay and Gertie.

  “Yes, I fancy myself in love with you,” Gertie stated, feeling an odd sense of freedom as she spoke. “Will you disavow you feel the same?”

  “For God’s sake, say you love her!” Robert exclaimed. “You know you do!”

  “Robert, if you speak another word, I shall kill you ’an the Major leaves me standing,” Phineas said.

  Emboldened, Gertie took a step towards him. “Will you dare deny that you love me?”

  His voice was hoarse, but he replied. “I would deny it to my death, Lady Lowry.”

  Gertie smiled as the tears rolled down her cheek. “You are ever the man that I love and more.”

  It would be hard to put into words the look in his eyes, but she knew he loved her. And for the moment, the weight of sorrow that she had carried was lifted from her. Her heart was a caged bird set free, and it soared with joy.

  “The Four Horse Inn, you say?” Summers interrupted.

  Gertie nodded. This time Phineas did not refute her.

  “It appears I was mistaken, sir,” Summers said to Barclay. He gave a curt bow. “Please accept my apologies.”

  Grumbling to himself, he stalked away with his sergeant.

  Gertie let out the breath she had been holding. Turning to Phineas, she curled her lips in a small and shaky smile. It was not until now that she realized the large crowd that had assembled around them, but she did not care that the world knew of her love for this man.

  But from the corner of her eye, she saw Alexander approaching.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  YOU ARE EVER the man that I love. The music of angels could not have been more melodious to his ears. Phineas stared at Gertie, her face bright with tears and full of love. He wanted nothing more than to crush her in his embrace and show her that his love could compare to hers. Was it possible to feel something greater than joy? He would have covered the distance between them and taken her in his arms, but a movement from the crowd stalled him.

  He watched as Alexander approached, and he readied himself for what was likely to be his second challenge of the evening, but Alexander turned to face Gertie.

  “Whore,” Alexander spat.

  He pulled his arm back and struck her. She fell to the ground.

  Phineas leaped towards Alexander but someone stepped in front of him and held him in place. He fought against the arms that held him.

  “Unhand me!” he demanded. “I will throttle that bloody coward within an inch of his life!”

  He heard his brother call his name, but his attention was pinned on Alexander. He would wring the little bastard’s neck…

  “Touch her again and I will claw your eyes out!” the Marchioness cried to Alexander as she hovered over Gertie.

  “Damn you! Unhand me!” Phineas growled as he felt himself being dragged away.

  “Lord Lowry, I cannot tolerate such displays in my house,” Mr. Bennington admonished. “I hope you will kindly take your leave.”

  Alexander, his face contorted in anger, stared absently at the host. He glared at Gertie, muttered ‘whore’ once more, and brushed passed the onlookers.

  Phineas renewed his struggles as he saw his target leaving. He himself was pulled around the corner. Robert followed.

  “You are in no state to confront him,” Lord Dunnesford said, barely able to hold off Phineas despite his strength. With all his effort, he thrust Phineas against the wall. “You would likely kill Alexander if you touched him.”

  “Then I would die a happy man!”

  “How will that help Gertie?”

  Phineas ceased his attempts to cuff the Marquess of Dunnesford.

  “I must see that she is well,” he said.

  But the Marquess pushed him back against the wall. “My wife is with her now. She will see that she comes to no harm.”

  “Gertie is with child–”

  “I know. She will come home with us tonight. We will send for a doctor to see her.”

  “Look here, I know your wife to be friends with Gertie, but you, sir, have no place in this affair.”

  “I am doing what Gertie would have wanted—keeping you safe.”

  Phineas threw aside Dunnesford’s arm. “I have no need for a protector.”

  “Do not render her sacrifice useless by endangering yourself.”

  Phineas, intending to walk away, paused. “Alexander is a bloody little cretin. I could dispense of him easily.”

  “No doubt. And then what? Will you live in exile? Will you ask Gertie and the babe to join you? Is that the life you wish for her?”

  “Phineas,” Robert pleaded, “do heed what Lord Dunnesford is saying.”

  “And what life would she have with Alexander?” Phineas returned. “She will be safe when I have done with him.”

  “If you would reconsider your situation in the light of day,”
Lord Dunnesford proposed, “I promise you all in my power to assist you and Gertie. I speak not because I bear you any friendship—I had advised Gertie against you—but for her sake, my wife and I would undertake much to see her happy.”

  As would I, Phineas thought to himself. He looked over the Marquess. The man seemed earnest, his rationale sound, but could he be trusted?

  “I wish to know that Gertie is unharmed,” he said, still fighting back his desire to pummel Alexander into the ground. He would have risked exile for the opportunity to bludgeon the man.

  “I will have word sent to you immediately,” Dunnesford assured.

  Straightening himself, Phineas adjusted his coat and replied,

  “Very well.”

  Robert let out an audible sigh.

  “Go home,” the Marquess advised.

  When they walked past the entry to the card room, the crowd had already disbursed. Neither Gertie nor Alexander remained.

  Phineas allowed Robert to escort him home, but only because the latter knew better than to speak to him. Back in his apartment, Phineas allowed his valet to remove his coat and cravat, then waved the man off. He needed space and solitude to think.

  She loved him.

  He would have dwelled on that alone if he were not painfully aware of the difficulty she had placed herself in her attempt to save him. Once more Fate showed her ironic hand. The revelation that Gertie loved him should have brought naught but euphoria. Instead, it would bring about the very end that she had tried so hard to avoid.

  “Your lordship, a woman is here to see you,” Gibbons announced.

  “Send her away,” Phineas replied, unbuttoning his waistcoat and loosening his shirt to take a deep and full breath.

  Gibbons nodded and left. Phineas poured himself a drink and sat down before the writing table. What was to be done now for Gertie?

  Gibbons returned. “Pardon, your lordship, but she insists upon seeing you.”

  Phineas frowned. He was in no mood for the Phillipa Summers and Sarah Farringtons of the world. He doubted he had even the patience for Lady Dunnesford.

  “Send her away,” he repeated.