Piper glowered at her mother and for the briefest moment, something vulnerable showed through Celeste’s shrewd gaze.
“Darling, I’ve never wanted you to experience a moment of life’s uncertainties. Not as I have. Think about the benefits that will be yours. Not only a title and wealth, but security. The settlements and jointure Rutledge offers are beyond generous. You will never want for anything in life. What more could I ask for than to know my child is settled in the best possible situation?”
The words rang with a truth Piper didn’t often hear from her mother. A smidge of sympathy crept into her steadfast resolve. Contracting an advantageous marriage for their daughters was the cornerstone of a mother’s ambition and hallmark of their success. All the girls at her boarding school had mothers who said that very thing. Many who’d accomplished it.
Perhaps Celeste was no different from them, after all.
“I want nothing more than to see you safe and sound,” her mother added. “Well taken care of.”
Piper’s defenses rose once more at that addendum. Her mother might be like all the rest in wanting the best for her child. Contrary to the notion, the last thing Piper would be as Viscountess Dormer was safe or well taken care of. Not in his hands if there were the tiniest grain of truth to the rumors.
She wasn’t willing to take that chance. “I will not do it, and Harry would never insist. Of that, I am confident.”
“Lady Sedmouth.” Rutledge smoothly employed the lesser title Celeste abhorred so much. Piper might have admired his maneuvering against her mother if she weren’t furious with them both. “Perhaps you might allow me a word alone with your daughter?”
Such a disregard for propriety provided even Celeste a moment’s pause. A second later, she blinked away her consternation and stepped toward the door. “I’ll be right outside, your grace, if you… I’ll be right outside.”
She left, shutting the door firmly behind her. Either she had incredible, unfounded confidence in the duke’s good manners or Piper’s reputation was nothing in comparison to her ambition for a duchess’s tiara.
Piper knew which it was without a second thought.
“Do you know, from what I’ve heard about you, I imagined a feeble-minded child with naught but beauty to recommend her?” He shook his head and clucked his tongue, as if the folly of rumor were tiresome. “It’s true.”
“My guardian may not be present, but I assure you, I’m strong enough to stand up for myself.”
“Yes, I can see that. Admirable quality.” Rutledge took her arm and drew her away from the door, insistent yet gentle. Lacing her arm through his, he propelled her into a measured promenade around the room. His head bent close to hers. “You are young, my dear. Perhaps too young to realize that there are only three things that truly matter in life. Power, wealth, and reputation. The first two will get you far. Nevertheless, without the third, a man is nothing. My good name has been besmirched by malicious defamation against my son. A wife of noble repute and impeccable lineage will go far to restore the Waldegrave name.” The duke paused near the window and smiled down at her, the gesture taut without a hint of emotion. “While you’ve quite charmed me with your vivacity and steadfastness, my dear, I think you will find that I, too, am known for my determination. I will have this union.”
Dread curled in her gut at the chilling declaration. Piper steeled herself. “With respect, Duke, I must decline.”
He braced his hands on the mantel, one on either side of her, effectively pinning her in place as he loomed over her. “You refuse the title of duchess?”
A lump formed at the back of her throat. She swallowed it back. “No, your grace, I refuse to wed your son.”
Though his expression had remained impassive until then, his eyes glittered with something she couldn’t identify yet instinct tempted her to flee from it. He stepped back and she took a deep breath. “Is that so?”
In that moment…for the blink of an eye, it felt like Piper had achieved a victory.
The merest blink. That was all.
Chapter 1
I pray Harry can sway Mother from her absurd plan to force me into marriage with the viscount. The turn of the century draws near, after all. Arranged marriages are so passé.
~ from the diary of Piper Brudenall, Dec 1892
Dinton Grange
Home of the Marquis of Aylesbury
Aylesbury, England
Late June 1895
“For all that is good and holy, please, just go.” Connor MacKintosh pinched the bridge of his nose, primarily in effort to refrain from pitching his sister yet another look of exasperation. He’d been heaping reassurance on top of reassurance upon his sister and her new husband for a quarter hour straight thus far to no avail. “I assure ye, I can handle this.”
“Are you quite, quite certain?”
Connor lowered his hand and imparted his mounting frustration with a glower and something close to a growl. “Dearest Heather Blossom, I love ye, by God I do. And as I would like to continue doing so for the rest of my days, I’ll be needing ye to get yer bloody arse into that carriage and drive away now before ye make it impossible.”
Fiona’s jaw sagged before she snapped her mouth shut, a fierce frown burrowing its way between her brows. Her newly acquired spouse released a bark of laughter before biting back a grin.
“Don’t you encourage him, Harry Brudenall! This is serious business.”
“Aye,” Connor agreed with a nod. “And if ye hadn’t thought me capable of taking on this serious business, ye wouldnae have bothered to ask it of me in the first place, aye? Or did a ring on yer finger and a fancy new title somehow elevate ye to some intellectual and moral high ground of which we were previously unaware?”
Sparks snapped in her bonny green eyes as she wielded her ridiculously frilled parasol like a rapier. “That was before I realized everything you do while we’re gone will reflect on me!”
Perhaps marriage had raised his sister to some higher plane of existence. As far as Connor could tell, entrée into that institution had brought a change to each of his older brothers, as one by one they entered into it. Fiona carried it quite differently than they. He and his sister had spent a lifetime engaged in banter of some sort. From playful to fierce. In the week since donning the mantle of marchioness, the constant pecking that had long bemused their siblings had become a far more irksome henpecking.
Could be it was nothing more than nerves on her part. The weight of her new position combined with the desire to make a suitable impression. And aye, Connor would allow that as a representative of her family, all he did in her absence would indeed reflect upon her.
On the other hand, a man only needed a score of reminders of the fact to accept her point with due gravity. Not a bloody deluge of them.
“While I continue to appreciate the finer aspects of your sibling squabbles, I’m afraid we must be on our way if we are to make our train.” Harry checked his pocket watch for the third time since they’d exited the house. His internal clock must not have been as fine-tuned as Connor’s, who’d been able to tick off each excruciating minute as it passed. “I’m sure you’ll manage it well enough, Connor. I’ve faith in you.”
“Good to know someone does.” Connor held out a hand and clasped his new brother-in-law’s firmly. “God bless ye, Harry, I hope ye ken what ye got yerself into by wedding her. Howbeit, I offer my thanks for taking her off our hands.”
The marquis grinned. “So you’ve said. Time and again.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Fiona mumbled under her breath. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to assure myself that the family representative we’ve appointed to care for Dinton Grange will do a quality job of it.”
Connor glanced up at the façade of the sprawling mansion that cast its shadow over them. Harry had told him that it had once been nothing more ostentatious than the average lordly English manor before his stepmother pestered his father into “reflecting his station in a more outward and appropri
ate manner.” After the addition of two rambling wings and a revamped exterior, the behemoth was better suited to sit among the French Renaissance châteaux of the Loire Valley than to rise from the bucolic pastures of Buckinghamshire.
Aye, it reflected the station of the Marquis of Aylesbury…if pretentious and extravagant were part and parcel of the rank.
Still, it couldn’t hold a candle to another beastly mansion built out of spite.
“This place is easily half the size of Glen Cairn Manor,” he reminded his sister, referring to the MacKintosh family manor in Glenrothes, Scotland where they’d been raised. “No doubt it’ll take me less time and manpower to clear the trees from a hundred acres of the Grange than it does an army of maids to dust the main floor of the manor.”
Fiona conceded the point with a sigh, aware she couldn’t argue the fact. “Quite likely true, nevertheless I feel I mus— Oh!”
Enough was enough. Connor heaved his sister up and over his shoulder, ignoring the fists pounding his back and narrowly avoiding a foot to the groin. Carrying her to the waiting carriage, he dumped her inside without ceremony. “Ye have a nice honeymoon, Blossom.”
“Connor MacKintosh!” She straightened her absurdly broad and bedecked hat and waved her equally frivolous parasol at him. “You see, I’m right to worry! You haven’t a serious bone in your body.”
“Nonsense.” He brushed his hands together. “I’m quite serious in my intent to see as much distance as possible put between us straightaway.” Turning to the marquis, he begged with a hint of humor, “Keep her too busy to write and bedevil me, will ye?”
“My pleasure.” Harry’s grin broadened. “I’m sure you’ll do fine here. I have every confidence in you.”
He offered the sentiment with more conviction than Fiona. Connor appreciated that. He hadn’t had the opportunity to acquaint himself with Aylesbury beyond polite small talk as yet. Harry’s hasty wooing of Connor’s sister had led to a shockingly abbreviated engagement prior to their recent wedding. However, he liked what he’d seen thus far. His new brother-in-law had proven himself a man of few words, lacking the tendency toward the undue badgering that Fiona favored. A man of solid character and impeccable opinion, as evidenced by his support of Connor’s ability to handle the challenge he’d been presented with.
Connor anticipated the opportunity to prove himself as a capable land manager. Not only to Harry and Fiona but to his brothers, as well.
To accomplish something…not merely something to be proud of. Something satisfying? Fulfilling? He shook off the peculiar thought.
“Ye’ll have another five hundred acres of arable land by the time ye return,” he promised the marquis. “And the irrigation and drainage to manage it all.”
Harry nodded. “Many thanks. And I appreciate you not mentioning the goats again.”
“What’s wrong wi’ goats?”
Connor grinned as the marquis climbed up into the carriage with a wave. As the door closed, he saw Harry haul Fiona into his lap and silence her protests in a thorough manner that turned his brotherly stomach. It’d be a fair wager that he’d have yet another niece or nephew to add to the ever-increasing herd within the next year.
Dinton Grange would have its heir.
And a tribe of goats, too, if he had anything to say about it.
* * *
“It’s nice to have you back out in the country, Jane.”
With the social Season in London winding down and the ton retreating from the city for the summer, Piper’s dearest friend had finally returned to Meadowcroft a week past. The Langston estate bordered Dinton Grange. As a result, they’d been friends since the cradle. The past several months had been intolerable without her.
The past several weeks even worse.
“And I’m glad to see you looking like a lady once again.” Jane Langston smiled as they rode side by side through the wooded park surrounding the manor at the Grange.
Jane presented the perfect picture of a lady in her stylish powder blue habit with a matching hat set upon her blonde head. Then, her friend always appeared that way, even when they’d been children. Clean, wrinkle-free frocks and pristine bows in her hair while Piper ran about rumpled and dirty most days.
The riding habit Piper had chosen was one of her favorites. Crimson superfine with a black satin vest under the tailored jacket and a black silk tie knotted under the collar of her white blouse. Though the style was some years out of fashion and the buttons strained across her bosom, she did feel more the genteel lady than she had in quite some time. She wrinkled her nose at the comment.
“Once again? What do I normally look like?”
Jane wrinkled her nose right back. “Depends on the day. Death, for the most part.”
Amusement tugged at Piper’s lips. With her ebony hair, wearing unrelieved black tended to give her an air of tragic drama. Or so her friend had claimed in the years following the death of Piper’s father. These days, she mourned a different sort of loss.
Today, with a sense of freedom and revelry she hadn’t experienced in months, she’d set aside her usual mourning attire.
“I swear,” Jane continued, “it’s been years since I’ve seen you dressed like something other than a tragic widow, or worse, lowly housemaid. Whatever it was that inspired the change, I applaud it.”
“The last of the guests departed this morning, and Harry and his wife shortly after,” Piper told her friend. “I’m a free spirit today and accept your applause.”
The pair shared a grin.
Visitors rarely descended upon Dinton Grange, however, the past weeks had brought a slew of guests to the estate in celebration of the Marquis of Aylesbury’s nuptials, necessitating Piper’s absence from the house. She’d watched with a rush of relief from the fringes of the park woodland as the last convoy of carriages made its way down the drive and out the gates.
“I was hoping to see you at the wedding. I saved you a seat despite the difficulty in explaining it to my mother.”
Jane’s hushed remark held a hint of admonishment. Piper accepted the scolding without comment. It wasn’t the first she’d heard from her friend…the housekeeper, the cook, the butler, and any of the dozen others who likewise periodically saw fit to express their thoughts on the matter. Nor would it be the last. It had gotten to the point that their opinions rolled off her like water off a duck.
The subject of the reprimand wasn’t as easy to dismiss. Her brother had wed the Scottish Earl of Glenrothes’s sister at the parish chapel in Aylesbury almost a week ago. Though the church was small, it had been stuffed to the gills with townsfolk, friends, and the bride’s vast family. Harry had no family present. That fact had compelled Piper to the church, draped in her widow’s weeds and veiled to disguise her identity. The wail of the discordant organ music within had set the door handle juddering beneath her hand, setting her nerves atremble. Before they failed her.
“In my defense, I did go to the church. I simply didn’t enter.”
“If you’d gone that far, why not take the final step?”
A lifelong friend and confidante, Jane was the only one privy to most of Piper’s secrets. Most, though not all. It was difficult to explain what had held her back.
Why hadn’t she gone in to witness the wedding?
She’d been reconsidering every reservation that had kept her from her brother for the past two years since that day over a month ago when she’d gone into the village. The trip hadn’t been unusual, other than the day had been so fine she’d again boldly forsaken her mourning garb in favor of a muslin walking dress. She and Hilde, the cook at Dinton Grange, had just left the bodega when Piper heard her name called. It had been so long since she’d heard Harry’s voice, she’d involuntarily turned in surprise.
For an instant, all the alarm and resentment had been washed away by the joy in his eyes. By the hope.
He’d taken a step forward and that same anticipation resounded in her. Time stopped. Breath bated, heart stalled, she�
�d absorbed the changes two years had wrought in her brother and wondered what he saw in her. Wondered what words might fall from his lips.
Then another woman called his name and he’d gone to her without hesitation, demonstrating how much Piper truly meant to him.
Bringing all the heartbreak of the past few years back to the forefront. And with it all, the treasured memories of the years preceding those.
Her brother and their father had both doted on her as a child, but it had been Harry who’d showered her with the attention and affection a child confined to the nursery and lacking maternal love needed. Each day, he’d gifted her with time and companionship. He played games with her. Brought her treats and gifts from town when he went. He listened with admirable patience as she played, or rather fumbled over the piano. While they lived in London during the season, he’d taken her to the museum and the circus.
Back home, he taught her to ride and accompanied her on many long rides around the estate. As she did now with Jane, walking their horses at a sedate pace through the widely spaced trees and enjoying the mottled patches of shade to cool them down after a spirited gallop through the open countryside.
She missed it all desperately.
“Your brother confronted me at Lady Onslow’s ball last month.” Piper sucked in a breath and stared at her friend in surprise. Jane carried on without looking at her. “I know you made me promise never to mention him, regardless I cannot hold my tongue any longer. He insisted I tell him where you’ve been hiding. He said he loves you.”
Piper had once thought so as well.
Then their father had died. Though Harry had been named her guardian, she’d continued to live with her mother. When they’d returned to London the following year, he relocated them from the Aylesbury townhouse on Belgrave Square to another in Victoria Square.
From a child’s point of view, it felt as if he’d abandoned her to Celeste’s care. Logically, she’d known it was unseemly for a young girl to live in a bachelor household without a female companion.
A Question for the Ages (Questions for a Highlander Book 7) Page 2
