“I do know, as a matter of fact. Not just a dance you’ve been waiting for either, is it?” Lady Jersey’s eyes were uncomfortably sharp. “Don’t waste any more time, Glenkellie.”
“I’m trying, my lady.”
“She’s skittish, and rightfully so, but I believe she trusts you. Don’t let her down.”
“I won’t.”
Behind Lady Jersey, Alex saw Marianne re-entering the ballroom, Lady Havers by her side. Her colour was a little high, but she was holding her chin up defiantly, her green eyes flashing fire.
Alex approached quickly, making a low bow. “Lady Marianne,” he said. “The second dance is about to begin, if you are still willing to grant me the honour?”
She hesitated, and then said, “Would you mind if we danced the third instead of this one? I would like a little fresh air.”
The French doors leading to the terrace were thrown wide open to allow cool air into the room, so Alex led her in that direction. Outside, he was careful to lead her to the balustrade well in view of everyone in the ballroom, so nobody could say any impropriety might be occurring.
“I saw you leave the room in something of a hurry a little while ago. Did your nephew say something to upset you?” Alex asked, trying to be tactful. He wanted to demand answers—maybe punch Arthur a few times for putting that look on her face—but he had no right to demand anything from Marianne.
“He seems to manage it on a regular basis,” Marianne said, her mouth twisting as though she tasted something bad. “Pray, do not concern yourself.”
“But I do concern myself,” Alex let a little of the intense emotion he felt spill over into his words, “I find myself very concerned for you, Marianne. If gossip has reached your nephew, he could make your life very uncomfortable.”
Her face tightened a little, but she met his eyes steadily. “I hope my friends know who I truly am... Alexander.”
“I know who you are. You are not only the most beautiful woman I know, you are also the bravest person I’ve ever met, man or woman.”
STARTLED AT HIS DESCRIPTION of her, Marianne blinked. “I’m not brave.”
“How can you say that? You survived a living hell of a marriage for eight years, never letting anyone else know your true feelings. You carry scars to the soul as deep as any soldier, and yet you concern yourself more with the happiness of others than your soul. Your courage both awes and humbles me.”
They stood a decorous foot apart, staring at each other, yet Marianne felt almost as though he enfolded her in a warm, comforting embrace. There was no doubting the sincerity of Alexander’s words... or the depth of his regard for her.
“I cannot bear to see you insulted and degraded,” he said at last, when she could not find words to speak. “I cannot. I know you do not wish to marry, and I would never press you, though my heart’s desire is... well, I said I would not, and I will not.” His jaw clenched as though he was struggling with himself, and she saw his fists were opening and closing at his sides. “Instead, I wish to offer you something else, with no expectations. My mother plans to travel to Italy to visit with her sister this year; she will remain at least a twelvemonth. She has taken a liking to you and pressed me to ask if you would like to accompany her.”
Marianne’s mouth fell open. “Your mother wants me to go to Italy with her?” she said at last, incredulously.
“Indeed. My aunt is widowed and lives in Florence; she is a duchessa and very well respected. You might wish to remain with her there, if you wish.”
“Because here, there will always be gossip and innuendo,” Marianne said quietly. “You’re offering me an escape.”
Her hand rested on the stone balustrade at the edge of the terrace, and he reached out to put his own over it. “I would offer you everything I have, everything I am, if only you would accept,” Alexander said.
She could see it in his eyes, his love as intense and unchanging as the day he had been forced to leave her to go to war. “I promised I’d wait for you, and I couldn’t,” she whispered.
“I promised I would come back for you, and I failed you. I can never make up for what you suffered, but please, Marianne. Allow me to be of service, in this or any other way you wish.”
His fingers were warm on hers, and she wanted more. Wanted his arms around her, wanted the safety of him, the sure and certain knowledge that he sought only to make her happy.
“Ask me.” She could barely get the words out, her voice a thin croak, and she had to repeat herself before Alexander’s eyes widened in comprehension.
Slowly, he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Lady Marianne,” he said, and she loved him all the more for his choice to be formal while avoiding the hated name of Creighton, “would you do me the very great honour of granting me your hand in marriage?”
She had to take a deep breath to answer, but he had called her the bravest person he knew, and his belief in her courage made it easier to believe in herself.
“Only if you promise we can go to Italy on our honeymoon. I’ve always wanted to see Florence.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alexander could hardly believe what he was hearing as Marianne spoke, her words making all his dreams come true. “Anything,” he promised fervently. “Anywhere you wish.”
“Only, perhaps we could wait until later in the year? I did promise to go to Amelia Pembroke when she is brought to bed with her child, and I think Ellen Havers may need me in August for the same reason.” Marianne gave him an appealing look, one he knew he would always struggle to resist.
“Wait until August to get married?” Alexander’s distress at the thought of waiting so long must have been quite obvious, because Marianne chuckled and squeezed his fingers gently between her gloved ones.
“No, no. Just to go to Italy. I should like to get married as soon as it can be arranged, actually. I think we have waited quite long enough.”
“Far too long,” he agreed, lifting her hand to kiss it again. A loud cough nearby recalled him to their situation and the distinct lack of privacy, and he lowered her hand with a grimace.
“This is a poor time and place for this conversation, but I hope you will allow me to say that you have made me the happiest man in England.”
“Perhaps you might call for me tomorrow and you can tell me then,” Marianne teased him.
“A drive in Hyde Park?” Alexander suggested, and she inclined her head in acceptance.
“So long as you remember to bring the bread.”
“Oh, I will not forget, I promise. I cannot ever recall seeing you so happy as when you fed the ducks the other day!” Her laughter had been a balm to his wounded soul; he had sent his driver to get more bread so they might stay longer. If Marianne wanted to hand-feed every duck on London on a daily basis, he would buy a bakery to provide her with an endless supply of bread.
Marianne giggled, her eyes bright with mischief. “I can only think of one other time I have ever been so happy, Alexander... and that is right at this very moment.”
“You have truly made me the happiest man in the world,” he said through a thick lump of emotion in his throat. “I can only strive in every way I can conceive of to give you equal joy in return.”
They returned to the ballroom in time for the third dance. Alexander felt lighter than he had in many years as they moved together through the patterns of the dance, Marianne’s happy countenance buoying his spirits. Spotting his mother standing near the edge of the dance floor, he sent her a joyous grin. This was not the appropriate venue to announce their engagement, but tomorrow he would send a notice to the newspapers and perhaps his mother would host a dinner party in the next week or so.
Since Marianne was a widow, there was nobody Alex need apply to for her hand, though he supposed he should do her nephew the courtesy of advising him privately of their engagement. Perhaps he’d stop by the Creighton townhouse after he returned Marianne home tomorrow.
; “September would be a good time to leave for Italy,” he remarked to Marianne as the dance brought them together. “The seas will not be too rough then, and winter is much milder in the southern climes. We could spend much of the summer at Glenkellie if you like, before going to Havers Hall in August, and then taking ship once you are happy to leave Lady Havers.”
“I think that sounds a wonderful plan,” Marianne agreed. “Shall we see Rome as well as Florence?”
“Indeed, and Venice too, and anywhere else you might wish. Do you wish to see only Italy, or have you a hankering to visit other places in the Mediterranean?”
“You truly will take me anywhere I wish to go, won’t you?” Marianne said in wondering tones as the dance ended.
Alexander offered his arm to lead her from the floor. “Of course I will. Anything you wish for, you need only name it. The throne of England might be slightly beyond my resources, but any lesser goal, I will do anything within my power to attain for you.”
“Now just a minute,” a loud voice interrupted, and Alex looked around to see Lord Ferry scowling pugnaciously at him. “Are you trying to cut me out, Glenkellie? Damn it, I knew you overheard in Brooks’. Lady Creighton,” he turned to Marianne, “I can assure you, my resources are beyond anything Glenkellie can muster from his Scottish hillsides. You may name your price.”
Gasps of shock rippled around them, and Alex tensed. What the hell was Ferry thinking? He’d just propositioned Marianne in public!
“Lord Ferry,” Marianne said in a very clear, cold voice, “I am not for sale at any price.”
“Come now...” Ferry blustered.
But Alex had heard more than enough. “Ferry,” he said, in a low, dangerous voice, “you are speaking to the future Marchioness of Glenkellie. You may apologise now, or you’ll meet me at dawn.”
Ferry froze, mouth wide open as he took in Alexander’s murderous expression, before he gulped audibly. “I, ah,” he said, “Ah, ah, do beg your pardon, Glenkellie.”
“Not apologise to me,” Alexander said in disgust, “to the lady.” God, the man was a complete craven. It would have been satisfying as hell to run him through for the insult. Instead, he had to stand and watch Ferry’s panicked, fawning apology to a tight-lipped Marianne.
“Go away, you repulsive little man,” Marianne said at last, and everyone with earshot, all of whom had been hanging on every word of the confrontation, burst out laughing.
Crimson-faced, Lord Ferry fled.
“His poor wife,” Marianne said with a sigh, turning back to Alex. He was fighting down his own laughter and couldn’t speak.
“Well done, dearest,” another voice said, and Alex turned to see his mother approaching. She drew Marianne into a fond embrace. “What a marchioness you will be! You must let me introduce you to my very dear friend, the Duchess of Balford. Alexander? Do get us some champagne, there’s a dear.” She pressed an empty glass into his hand and drew Marianne away into a crowd of elegantly dressed ladies.
Alexander could hardly get near Marianne for the rest of the ball. Ladies who had twitched their skirts aside earlier in the evening fawned over her now, and word spread fast of her magnificent set-down of Lord Ferry... faster than news of their engagement, as they were soon to discover.
“A HIGH-PERCH PHAETON!” Marianne clapped her hands with glee as she descended the steps of the Havers townhouse on Alexander’s arm the following morning. “I have always wanted to ride in one of these!”
“I know. You mentioned it once to me, long ago. I said one day I would have one and take you driving in it, do you remember?”
“I do, though I had not thought on it until this moment. I’m surprised you remember!” She turned luminous eyes up to him as he handed her carefully up into the seat and accepted the reins from his tiger.
“The dream of riding with you proudly sitting at my side kept me going through some of the darkest times during the war,” he said quietly, drawing a thick blanket placed on the seat over her lap and tucking it in to keep her warm.
Laying one hand on his arm, Marianne tilted her head deliberately to show off her pretty hat and said, “Then let us to Hyde Park, my lord. You shall have your fill of riding with me today. We might even need to stop for fresh horses!”
Alex’s laugh lingered behind them as the horses set off at a brisk trot.
Talking and laughing and having to stop every few minutes to greet someone who wished to congratulate them, they had been parading through Hyde Park for over an hour when Marianne spied her family. “Look, in that open landau there! We must stop, Alexander.”
Lavinia was smiling, Diana beside her waving excitedly until her mother placed a gentle restraining hand on her arm. Marianne smiled back. She and Lavinia would never be close, but at least she was reasonably confident Lavinia wouldn’t try to force any of her daughters into marriages they did not want. Hopefully she would check the worst of Arthur’s ambitions and be an advocate for her daughters if they needed it.
Arthur did not look pleased to see them. “A word, Glenkellie?” he said crisply once polite greetings had been exchanged.
“Since I suspect this concerns you, would you care to accompany me?” Alexander asked Marianne. “I will gladly deal with it if you would rather not.”
“I think I would prefer to be involved in discussions about my own future,” Marianne decided. “Pray excuse me.”
“Go home,” Arthur instructed Lavinia. “I will walk back; it’s not far.”
Lavinia looked at Marianne, her expression concerned, but Marianne gestured she should go. After all, what could Arthur do to her with Alexander present? She was quite safe.
They left Alexander’s tiger holding the horses and followed Arthur across the grass towards the Serpentine, a glassy, reflective silver under the winter-grey sky. A pair of mute swans floated serenely by, a stark contrast to the churning in Marianne’s stomach. Even though she tried to tell herself Arthur had no power over her, the prospect of a confrontation brought back old terrors.
Alexander’s arm under her hand was strong and rock-steady; she drew strength from his calm assurance. This was her choice, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to let Alexander handle all her problems, though she was confident he could do so. She was taking control of her own life and doing what she wanted, with his support.
Finally Arthur seemed to judge they were far enough from others to speak privately, and he whirled to face them. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” he half-shouted. “A confrontation in the middle of a Society ball over her?”
Marianne blinked.
Alexander looked startled. “I beg your pardon?” he snapped, not sounding apologetic in the least. “Would you have me allow Lady Marianne’s good name to be publicly sullied by a disrespectful arse of a man? Not while I breathe.”
Arthur didn’t even seem to hear him, puffed up with his own rage. “And you!” Turning on Marianne, he jabbed a finger at her. “Two paramours almost coming to blows over you, in public! You whore!” Spittle flew as he shouted, and she instinctively took several steps back. Arthur looked only too much like his uncle, her dead husband, in one of his rages.
Alexander moved in front of her at once, letting out a sound a great deal like a snarl, but salvation came suddenly from a far less likely source.
One of the swans which a moment earlier was floating so peacefully on the water obviously took exception to Arthur’s threatening gestures and shouts. In a swirling storm of white wings and enraged hissing, the swan attacked, thrashing at Arthur’s face with beak and wings.
Cursing as he tried to beat the swan back, Arthur stumbled backwards, toppling into the shallow water behind him with a gigantic splash and a high-pitched shriek.
“Well,” Alexander said with a deep chuckle as the swan continued to harass Arthur, “that saves me from planting him a facer, I suppose. Do you think your friends the ducks set that swan on him on purpose?”
Marianne could not hold it in; she burst out la
ughing, a release of tension like a spring uncoiling inside her bubbling up and out of her mouth in throaty giggles. She could only lean on Alexander and watch as her nephew received a thorough thrashing, quite at the mercy of the furious bird.
The swan finally backed off, retreating to guard its mate, still hissing in Arthur’s direction occasionally as the Earl of Creighton climbed out of the water, sobbing with rage and cradling one hand close to his chest in obvious pain.
“If you ever again speak to, or about, my future wife in any kind of derogatory way, I will kill you,” Alexander said, his tone cold and dispassionate. “It is only for the sake of your wife and children that I allow the punishment God’s creature has meted out to be satisfactory. Let this divine retribution be your final warning!”
They walked away with Marianne still laughing, hoping she would never forget the image of the dripping, spluttering Earl of Creighton casting fearful glances in equal measure at Alexander and the swan.
“Divine retribution indeed,” she managed to splutter at last, as they returned to the phaeton and Alexander lifted her carefully up to the seat. “That was wonderful!”
“Perhaps we should foster a rumour that God will wreak vengeance on any who offend you.” Alexander cast her a teasing grin as he took up the reins. “I daresay it would save both of us a great deal of trouble!”
In the distance, Arthur Creighton began the slow, soggy trudge across the grass away from the Serpentine, moaning at the pain in his injured hand and still keeping a wary eye on the swan.
The sun broke through the clouds just then, thin rays of bright yellow sunshine streaming down on the phaeton as the horses set off once again in a prancing trot. Marianne turned her face upwards, smiling as she thought that not so long ago, she would not have dared for fear of a freckle appearing on her nose. Alexander would likely tell her any emerging freckles were his favourite thing about her, because they were gained while she was enjoying herself. Snuggling closer to him under the thick blanket he tucked over both their laps, she rested her head against his shoulder and sighed with utter contentment.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 33
