by LeFey, Liana
“I would simply like to know in advance if he is to attend an event at which you are also expected.”
“Are we to contact his secretary and take down his schedule, then? I am not his wife to be privy to such information and neither are you his mother-in-law.” Yet.
“He ought to have mentioned he was to attend when you first spoke of it in conversation. It would have been a courtesy. That he did not deign to reveal the information tells me—”
“And I suppose he arranged for your illness, too?” Eden interrupted, angry beyond caring. “Yes, I see it now. He deliberately neglected to mention his plans to attend and then cursed you with this cold so that you could not be there!”
“Eden!”
“Will you not simply admit your prejudice against him? No matter what he says or does, you will not forgive him his past!”
Silence.
“You are correct,” said her stepmother at last. “I cannot. What I know of his past—and I know only part of it, I’m sure—is unforgivable. He is, however, a marquess with many influential friends. As such, we cannot afford to offend him.”
Eden knew she was thinking of Thomas. Though he was but eight years old, the heir’s future was already paramount in his parents’ minds.
Catherine continued. “Therefore, our only course is to proceed with the utmost caution, behaving in every instance with perfect propriety and upright conduct. Anything less will result in your ending the Season unwed and unmarriageable.”
“You are determined that he is out to ruin me.”
“What other motive can he possibly have?” asked Catherine. “Does it not alarm you that he’s friends with two of the men you refused last Season? Does it not make you wonder at his sudden interest in you? Men are like wolves in so many ways, Eden. They hunt in packs, and are both cunning and ruthless. They prey upon the weak. You cannot afford to stumble lest you fall.”
All her doubts concerning his connection with Lord Wells came flooding back. She pushed them away. “And what if he does abide by your guidelines? What if he does come up to scratch?”
“You mean if he does not jilt you at the altar?” Catherine’s smile was bitter. “As I am but your stepmother I don’t suppose my opinion holds much sway with you, but for what it’s worth let me make my position perfectly clear. A union with that man will bring you no joy, Eden. Therefore, though the rest of the world may approve of it, I cannot.”
Eden had no choice but to accept this, though it was a bitter draft to swallow. “I thank you for your honesty. Despite your words, I will yet hold to the hope that I may one day change your mind. I have every intention of marrying Lord Tavistoke.”
“Do not expect my blessing, for even if your father capitulates to such insanity, I shan’t.”
Not knowing what else to say, Eden made to leave.
“Eden.”
She stopped, but didn’t turn to face her adversary. “Yes?”
“I want you to know that I am in no way wroth with you. My frustration is with Tavistoke and entirely on your behalf. You are young and know so little of the ways of men such as him. He is handsome and charming, and you are enamored of him. For now. If, by some miracle, you do get him down the aisle, I shall be here for you in the event things don’t go as happily as you envision.”
Without answering, Eden stepped out and shut the door behind her. Needing air, she went downstairs and out into the garden. There would be an almighty uproar when Percy declared his intentions. Until then, she must do whatever she could to keep things calm.
“I was wondering why the curtains at your window were open so early.”
Yelping, Eden turned to see Genevieve’s smiling eyes peering at her from above the wall separating their two gardens. “Oh, you gave me a fright! What has you up and about before the noon hour?”
“The new girl dropped a breakfast tray in the hall outside my room. I could ask you the same, though I suspect it has something to do with this morning’s Tatler.” She grinned. “Mama was honking to Papa about it when I came down.”
Eden’s stomach tightened. “Indeed. I was yet abed when my stepmother summoned me to discuss it,” she admitted, making a snap decision. “Genevieve, I must talk to someone or go mad. My nerves are frayed beyond all hope of settling.”
“Tavistoke?”
She nodded. “He wishes to court me, but—”
“I knew it!” whispered Genevieve, triumphant.
“But my stepmother is set against it,” Eden finished. “What am I to do?”
Genevieve’s grin only stretched farther. “Meet me down by the gate.”
…
Wednesday
Percy’s jaw clenched as he read the missive from Eden concerning Lady Catherine’s terms and conditions for seeing her.
The woman had indeed taken umbrage at his impulsive act. She would not permit him to court Eden—at least not officially. Winning the dragon-lady over would be nigh unto impossible. Tossing the letter into the grate, he watched its edges turn orange before the paper crisped to ash.
Grabbing his pipe, he filled it with tobacco, working the leaves into the bowl with angry little jabs. His future mother-in-law must have something else in mind for Eden, else he would have been welcomed with open arms and sunny smiles instead of glares. Perhaps today, if he was careful and observant, he might be able to puzzle out exactly what. If the woman wanted to keep him at bay, she would have to rise early.
At least Eden had been able to warn him. It would’ve been far worse to leap into the fire blind. If he could just speak to her father without the wife present, he’d have no trouble accomplishing his goal. Men were infinitely more sensible than women when it came to such matters. But if Eden was right, any request to meet with Sir Geoffrey Lowther would likely be sabotaged.
Holding a lit rush to his pipe, he puffed until his cupped hands glowed cherry red when he drew.
Blast it all. Why did he always want that which was most difficult to obtain? There had to be a way to get around the confounded old badger. He experienced a sudden urge to take himself off to White’s and spend a few comforting hours in the company of his fellow sex. In addition to being more sensible, men were also far less frustrating.
In the wake of this thought came a brilliant idea.
Lady Catherine might hold sway when it came to what happened beneath her roof, but the woman would never set foot in White’s nor in any number of other places frequented by her husband. A smile turned up the corners of Percy’s mouth as sweet-scented smoke wreathed his head. Whether or not Sir Geoffrey frequented a club was something he must find out.
For now, there was the matter of today’s call. Dressing for an occasion had never been something he’d taken lightly. The clothes did not make the man, but they certainly spoke volumes on his behalf. Eschewing the amber brocade laid out by Seamus, he instead called for something more sedate. If he wanted to be taken seriously, he needed to look the part. He must exude quality, elegance, and above all, power.
When the Marquess of Tavistoke ascended the steps of Eden’s place of residence an hour and a half later, he was resplendent in dark blue with gold trim. It was a regal ensemble, almost militaristic. Gone was the dandified rakehell. Everything about him stated his rank and authority, right down to the golden crest gracing the head of his walking stick.
It was time he reminded certain people who he was.
The servant answering the door greeted him with round eyes, affirming his choice. Upon being shown to the drawing room, he was gratified to see Lady Catherine’s eyes widen an increment, too. Eden’s expression was one of both approval and warm appreciation.
“Lady Catherine, Miss Lowther. I am your most devoted servant.” He bowed over Eden’s hand, careful not to let his lips touch the back of it. Despite her cool acceptance, a brief flicker of disappointment in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
“We are pleased to see you again, my lord.” Her stepmother’s tone belied the polite words.
> “Madam, I am honored to be so graciously received.” Though it was spoken with perfect sobriety, he knew it nettled her none the less. He was here, and here he would remain despite her unwelcoming demeanor. Turning to Eden, he smiled. “I confess that since the party I have thought of little but your keen wit and good sportsmanship. Never have I been so roundly drubbed or enjoyed losing so much.”
“I thought you played exceedingly well,” Eden countered, moving to take a seat and gesturing for him to do the same.
Ignoring Lady Catherine’s black look, he sat and continued conversing with Eden as if the woman weren’t in the room. “You are too kind to say it. I confess I was much distracted that evening. I promise to be a better partner when next we play.”
The twinkle in her eye told him she’d taken his meaning. “Why not test your skill now?” She turned to their sour-faced chaperone. “We have several games here, haven’t we?”
“Indeed,” came the flat response.
“Will you not join us?” asked Eden.
The older woman’s lips pursed. “Such games are for children. I prefer to sit quietly and read.”
So obtuse was the insult that Percy almost laughed aloud. He was a man of thirty-four and no child, unless one counted his childish delight in bedeviling hypocritical moralists. He knew all about how the woman had gotten Sir Geoffrey down the aisle—and it wasn’t merely by batting her eyelashes. She was awfully prim for a woman who’d won her wedding ring in a card game where her virtue had been the stakes. A betting man, Sir Geoffrey had won the battle but lost the war, so to speak.
While Eden went to the cabinet to select a game, her stepmother went to the bookshelf and without even looking at its title plucked a volume from it. Taking a seat in direct line of sight, she opened it—and proceeded to stare not at the page, but directly at him.
If she thought to discomfit him, she was mistaken. No one was better at ignoring censure. Smiling, he directed his attention wholly toward Eden, who bustled over with a backgammon board. Her blue eyes glowed with silent laughter, and the grin she shot him as she began setting the board was pure mischief. He couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of his own mouth. She was aware of her stepmother’s displeasure and cared about it as much as he did.
Again, he was reassured in his choice. A formidable creature indeed, Eden would be an excellent match for him in all respects.
Though distracted—not by their chaperone but by her delectable charge—he managed to win several games. Talk was restricted to light conversation, of course, but what could not be said aloud was said with their eyes. He didn’t hide his admiration for her because her stepmother was present; on the contrary. Subterfuge would avail him nothing at this point. He needed to persuade the woman his interest was genuine and his intent serious.
In this pleasant manner they passed the time. Whenever footsteps sounded out in the hall, he looked up only to see a passing servant. Sir Geoffrey must surely come down at some point. After more than two hours, however, they were running out of games to play, and he was beginning to despair.
At last, just after the clock struck seven, the master of the house made his appearance, striding through the door, paper in hand. “Catherine, I—oh, I say,” said Sir Geoffrey, brows rising as he spied Percy. “Lord Tavistoke, I was unaware you were to join us for dinner this evening.”
Rising, Percy went over to greet his host. “I’m not. That is to say, I have not been invited. My humble apologies, Sir Geoffrey. I did not intend to stay so late.”
“Ah, no matter.” Sir Geoffrey smiled and glanced at Lady Catherine. “Tell them to set an extra place at the table, my dear.”
With a face to curdle new milk, the lady rose and went to do her husband’s bidding.
Percy seized the moment. “Sir Geoffrey, I’ve been meaning to invite you to join me at White’s for a few rounds of cards. Would you be available this Thursday evening?”
Sir Geoffrey’s brows rose again. “Indeed I would.”
“Excellent. I shall look for you then.”
“Hello, Papa,” said Eden, coming up to kiss her father on the cheek. “Forgive me, but I must go and change for dinner.”
“Of course, my dear.”
As soon as she was gone, Percy looked to his host with all sobriety. “Good sir, I don’t wish to be abrupt, but there is a matter of some importance I would like to discuss with you before the ladies return, if I may.” Having attained the man’s full attention, he forged ahead. “Sir Geoffrey, I formally request your permission to—”
“Gentlemen, dinner will be served in half an hour,” Lady Catherine announced loudly, sailing into the room.
Sir Geoffrey fixed her with a stern glare. “Do you not need to change for dinner, wife?”
“I am already adequately attired, husband.” The smug gleam in her eye told Percy everything. She’d anticipated his intent! “Oh… Have I interrupted a conversation of import? Please, forgive me. Shall I await your leisure elsewhere?”
No married man in his right mind would answer “yes” when his wife asked it thusly, and Percy suspected Sir Geoffrey was quite sane.
“That will not be necessary,” the older man said stiffly.
He was not alone in his displeasure. Percy imagined picking up Lady Catherine and cheerfully tossing her out a window. The next quarter of an hour was spent in stilted conversation, his unresolved request hanging in the air between the two men. When Eden returned, it was to an atmosphere as tense as that before a storm.
Unable to answer her unspoken query, Percy resolved to pick up the thread again on Thursday when Sir Geoffrey came to White’s.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Despite his host’s repeated attempts to be genial, his wife’s manner put a damper on the atmosphere. Had his desire for Eden been any less, Percy would have excused himself and left in full affront. Never had he been treated with such outright hostility. The woman had all but declared open warfare.
By the time dessert was brought out, Lady Catherine had managed to thoroughly cow her husband. Percy now wondered whether the man would indeed come to White’s on Thursday. Never had he encountered a more controlling female!
This was the woman he would one day call mother-in-law. It was a sobering thought.
No matter, he told himself. Once married, she’d have little choice but to accept him. Regardless of what she thought of him now, he would change her opinion of him over time—provided certain aspects of his life remained private.
It was a discussion he’d have to have with Eden at some point, one he both dreaded and anticipated. The burden of secrecy was one he’d decided he didn’t want in his marriage. Eden was strong enough to bear it with him. If all went well, he might even find in her an ally.
But not if he couldn’t get her father’s permission to marry her.
Once again, he found himself in the awkward position of having lost the high ground. He declined the halfhearted offer of an after dinner brandy and pipe, knowing it would be a futile exercise to again attempt broaching the subject of courtship. Lady Catherine, malevolent wasp that she was, had effectively headed him off.
The triumphant smile on her face as she bid him farewell made his teeth itch. The glow in Eden’s eyes, however, was all the encouragement he needed to stay his course. If by some miracle Sir Geoffrey did show up at White’s, he would make another attempt. Then, too, there was the Sheffield ball.
Chapter Ten
Eden wanted to scream. However, as an outburst would only reinforce her stepmother’s argument that Percy was a bad influence on her, she restrained herself. A cool head was needed to think this through. Unable to sleep later that night, she decided to go to the library and fetch a book. As she passed her parents’ chambers, she heard Papa’s voice through the door and stopped.
“I cannot stress to you enough the importance of her marrying well, and Tavistoke is a fine candidate for the job—you know our situation—yet you treated him with contempt bordering on outright rudeness! I�
��ll be surprised if he ever shows his face here again.”
“Good,” snapped her stepmother. “Geoffrey, you know what is said of the man. Is that really who you want marrying your daughter?”
“Much of what is said of many people is no more than rumor. The man is a marquess, Catherine. A wealthy marquess!”
“There are other wealthy men,” replied Catherine. “As a matter of fact, I have a much better suitor in mind for her.”
Eden’s heart stopped.
“Whom?” asked her father.
“Lord Bracknell’s son, Viscount Ravenwood. Bracknell approached me weeks ago concerning Eden. Then last week he inquired again, this time with promises on behalf of his heir. If she marries the lad, your daughter will one day be countess. I know it is not as lofty a title as marchioness, but is it not good enough?”
Silence reigned for several moments during which Eden’s breath returned in a painful rush of disbelief. Her stepmother was the daughter of an earl. She’d married Papa for love, crushing her family’s ambitions, but she had never let him or anyone else forget her lofty origins.
“Why did you not tell me of this before now?” asked her father, echoing Eden’s foremost thought.
“I was waiting for the right moment.”
“The right moment would have been the day you spoke with him. I’m her father, Catherine. I should have been informed at once. No, you withheld this knowledge for another reason. I would have it now, if you please. The truth.”
“At first I did not think they would suit, but I am now reconsidering,” explained Catherine.
“Then you are aware of his reputation,” he shot back.
“Ravenwood is by far the lesser of two evils,” her stepmother replied. “He’s much younger and far less jaded. Eden would have a better chance of reforming him. Tavistoke is a hardened roué. Any display of moral rectitude on his part is surely false.”
“And if Eden prefers him, despite you trotting out this other fellow?”
“She won’t.”
Eden’s blood boiled at her presumptuous tone.
