by Merry Farmer
“I wouldn’t exactly classify William’s friends as houseguests,” Peter said, knowing that whatever came out of his mouth was going to be the wrong thing to say. Like anything he had tried to say to console Anne when she was in a mood. Since he was doomed to failure, the least he could do was voice his concerns about the men. “Any friend of William’s is someone who both of you should stay away from,” he said.
Mariah’s jaw hardened, and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “So now you’re forbidding me to talk to our guests? Should I simply stay in my room for the next few weeks, until everyone leaves?”
Peter’s jaw fell open. Not more than fifteen minutes ago, Mariah was looking at him with a smile that whispered of reconciliation and the potential for ending his lonely nights. Now she glared at him as though he were the devil. And it felt too familiar. He’d traveled this path before, and it had brought him nothing but misery.
“My dear,” he said, trying to keep the weariness he felt out of his voice. “It was never my intention to drop you into the pit of vipers that is William and his friends. I would grab each one of them by the collar and toss them out the nearest window if I thought it would keep you safe. I would carry you off to the Orient if doing so would eliminate the dangers we’re facing right now. And yes, if it stops you from being poisoned again or worse, I would wrap you up in cotton-wool and keep you in a tower. But it’s not because I think of you as a child or incapable. It is because I fear what I might be capable of if William brings this whole debacle to a head. I would rather not have to snap my brother’s son’s neck. Forgive me for seeking out a way to protect you without violence.”
Mariah studied him, tension and emotion radiating from her in the silence. Peter couldn’t tell if she wanted to slap him or fall into his arms. He wanted to give her the world and all it contained, but for the moment the only thing he felt like he could give her was time to think.
“Excuse me,” he said with a short bow. “I need to wash up before supper.”
With a stab of guilt sharper than any sword, he walked past Mariah and mounted the stairs two at a time. Once again, he’d been a fool to hope that his life would be settled and happy at last. There didn’t seem to be a thing he could do that would make a wife happy.
Mariah watched Peter retreat, wanting to scream at him…and wanting to cry out for him to stay. She wasn’t sure where her burst of temper had come from, other than the feeling of being treated like a child. But his words were so beautiful they’d stunned her. It hadn’t dawned on her that his efforts to protect her could come from fear. Nothing frightened Peter. Or so she’d thought. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“William would never be so rude,” Victoria said, gloating.
Mariah glared at her in disgust, but misery quickly overtook that emotion. She snapped away from Victoria and rushed through the hall and the morning parlor and back out into the garden.
“My lady, what happened?” Domenica asked as Mariah fled past her.
Mariah paused in her flight, biting her lip. Part of her wanted to be alone in her misery, but her new American friend was marching toward her as if she wouldn’t stop until she discovered what was wrong. So Mariah smoothed her hands over her skirts, sniffed, wiped her eyes…and burst into fresh tears.
“Mi amiga.” Domenica picked up her speed, closing her arms around Mariah and hugging her like a sister. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m being silly,” Mariah wailed as Domenica walked her over to a bench in the shade of a wisteria-covered arch. She growled at herself, then wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “Peter is probably right to forbid Victoria and I from speaking to the new guests.”
“Who are they?” Domenica asked, rubbing her back.
Mariah shrugged. The gesture turned into an uncomfortable roll of her shoulders. “I’m still not quite certain. Friends of William’s?”
“Lord William has friends?” Domenica’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
It was almost enough to make Mariah laugh. “I know that Peter is only trying to protect me, but why does it make me feel like I’m being treated like a child?”
“How does it make you feel that way?” Domenica continued to rub her back.
“Not letting me speak. Attempting to send me away. Behaving as though I’m incapable of handling the trouble William has caused. It all reminds me of the way people have pitied me and tried to shelter me since Robert jilted me.”
Domenica arched a brow. “Your husband not coddling you, mi amiga. He is protecting you. He doesn’t want you to be hurt.”
“I know,” Mariah sighed, picking at her skirt. “And part of me thinks I’m overreacting. But I’m just so…so angry. And so sad. And a thousand other emotions I can’t keep straight.”
“Truly?” Domenica shifted to face her more fully, a curious look on her face. “Are you usually emotional?”
“No,” Mariah cried, throwing out her hands in a helpless gesture. “That’s what frustrates me. I’m not like this, Domenica, I swear. But ever since marrying Peter. Ever since having my life turned upside down, I don’t know who I am anymore. Did you know that my father failed to mention he’d promised me to Peter until the day before he arrived at our house?”
“Albert told me.” Domenica nodded, then frowned. “Were you forced to go through with the marriage?”
“No.” Mariah’s shoulders slumped, and she went back to picking at her skirt. “Peter and I talked. He was more than willing to let me call it off.”
“But you agreed to marry him. Why?”
Mariah bit her lip. “Because he seemed so kind and…and sad. Like he needed someone in his life. He talked about his first wife, how she died childless after several heartbreaking miscarriages.”
Domenica hummed, nodding.
“And as my mother said, Peter was my last chance of ever marrying.”
“Why?” Domenica shrugged. “You’re still young and pretty, not to mention intelligent. Men should be lining up for your hand.”
Mariah sent her a watery smile. “None of that was likely, thanks to the rumors my former fiancé spread before he died.”
“Rumors?”
Mariah glanced down. “That I was cold, uninterested in intimacy.”
“But you’re not.” Domenica spoke as though she were certain and not just guessing.
Mariah’s cheeks heated. “No, I’m not. In fact, in spite of the fact that Peter was willing to give me time before….” She nodded, hoping Domenica would understand without her having to say it.
A knowing grin spread across her friend’s face. “Then I was right.” Her smile grew.
“Well, you were. Those first few days of our marriage….” Again, she let her sentence drift off with a sigh. “But then everything turned sour once we arrived here.”
“Once William came between you?”
Mariah nodded. “To tell you the truth, I miss the way things were between Peter and I at first.”
“You miss the joy of being one with a man who loves and cares for you,” Domenica said, a wicked flash in her eyes.
Mariah bit her lip. “I wouldn’t say that Peter loves me.”
“You wouldn’t? He looks besotted to me.”
“We’ve only known each other for a month or so.”
“Is that how long you’ve been married?”
Mariah counted the days in her head. It felt as though she’d been at Starcross Castle for years, but between the turmoil of their arrival, the days she lost in bed with food poisoning, and the business of having houseguests, it had been a month.
Something else about the time that had passed struck her as strange, but she couldn’t think what.
She sighed. “This will all be a distant memory if we can convince William to leave,” she went on. “If I can make it that long.”
“You will, mi amiga.” Domenica took her hand and squeezed it.
“I just wish that I could believe we really will have seen the last of William once he’s gi
ven up,” Mariah went on. “But if the man can bribe one of the servants to taint my food and make me sick, there’s no end to what he could do to me. Especially if he’s still Peter’s heir.”
“Well, now, I don’t think he will be for much longer,” Domenica said with a grin.
Mariah shook her head. “If Peter and I don’t find a way to reconcile, if he doesn’t stop treating me like a child who can’t manage my own affairs—”
“And if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive him for wanting to keep you safe?” Domenica added, her expression downright mothering. “Don’t forget that his first wife was of a fragile and unpredictable character. Chances are, he’s not used to women who can stand up for themselves.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mariah said, feeling worse than ever.
“Give him time.”
Mariah let out a weary breath and nodded. “It would be so much easier if William were gone, or if the house weren’t crawling with people, or if I felt right in my own skin.” When Domenica tilted her head in question, Mariah went on with, “I just want to feel like myself again.”
“And you say this odd feeling has been with you since marrying Peter?”
“Yes.” Mariah sighed. “At first I thought it was because my monthly was coming, but—”
She stopped, a wild idea taking hold in her mind. She glanced to Domenica, only to find her grinning as if she knew the answer to a riddle that Mariah didn’t.
“You don’t think….” she began, but was too overwhelmed to finish the thought. Domenica’s smile widened. “But that’s far too soon, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve only known each other for a month.”
“Chiquita, it only takes one time.” She squeezed Mariah’s hands. “I’ve spent most of my life around women who lay with men, enough to know the signs. For some, it never happens, no matter how often they’re with a man. For others, God help them, the first night they spend with a man leaves them with a child.”
Mariah swallowed hard. The idea of being pregnant was one thing, but hearing Domenica speak about such things so openly made her tremble. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Believe me. It is possible. And it seems it is more than that now. How late are you?”
Mariah closed her eyes and counted. “More than a fortnight.”
“And are you reliable?”
A sudden ache filled Mariah’s heart as all of the pieces came together. It wasn’t just time. She hadn’t felt right for weeks. She’d blamed it on starting a new life, food poisoning, and stress. But it was all suddenly clear to her.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered. A moment of terror made her feel hollow, but before she could grab hold of that, a deeper joy filled her. “Peter will have his child so much sooner than he anticipated.” She managed a smile. “William won’t have any sort of hold on him, or Starcross Castle. All we have to do is make through the mess in front of us.”
“And you will make it, mi amiga,” Domenica said, hugging her tightly. “I will be here with you to make certain you do.”
“Thank you, Domenica. Thank you so much.” She hugged Domenica back, unendingly grateful to have such a good friend.
“So, are you going to tell your husband?” Domenica asked.
A cold shiver curled down Mariah’s spine. “I suppose I have to,” she said. “But I don’t know how I can.”
“You will know when the time is right,” Domenica assured her. “And when you do, I’m certain whatever other troubles you have, especially those caused by Lord William, will vanish.”
Chapter 17
There was a reason that courting was a young man’s game. Desperate though he was to chase after Mariah so that he could simply be with her and talk through the muddle between them, Peter found himself tossed from one responsibility to another in the next few days.
“Poole and Robinson are definitely up to something,” Malcolm reported several hours after William’s guests had arrived helping himself to a tumbler of Peter’s finest scotch. Although, it was probably scotch that Malcolm had given him years ago, that he hadn’t gotten around to drinking yet. “The puzzling thing is that I’m not sure William knows what it is.”
“Oh?” Peter asked, pouring himself a fraction of the drink Malcolm was swirling in his glass as he stood by the fireplace in the library.
“William didn’t have the look of a man who was about to launch a nefarious plot as he escorted his friends to their room. If I had to put money on it, I’d say they pose more of a danger to him than to anyone else in the house.”
“Should I send the ladies away after all then?” Peter asked, ready to do anything to keep Mariah out of harm’s way. Even if she would never forgive him for it. He needed to find a way to make her see that what she interpreted as treating her like a child was, in fact, desperation to keep her from another food poisoning incident, or worse.
But Malcolm shook his head. “You, Albert, and I are here, and I suspect that your Snyder would be willing to don battle armor to keep the ladies out of harm’s way as well.”
“But is it enough?” He’d thought so at first, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“I think so,” Malcolm said with an uninspiring nod, narrowing his eyes. “Does Snyder have any idea who William’s helper in the house is?”
Malcolm winced and took a drink before answering, “He’s convinced it could be any of the footmen. Aside from Davy, they’re all new within the last year.”
It was true. Owen Llewellyn had gone to work at the mines, making way for Davy to be promoted, and of the other two footmen whom he’d employed a year ago, Clarence had gone back to work on his father’s farm and John had moved on to his London townhouse. But Snyder had hired the new lads, and Peter had always found his butler to be a good judge of character.
The problems of William’s mole and his guests were only part of what kept Peter from approaching Mariah the next day. He had everything planned, had even asked Nick to pick a bouquet of Mariah’s favorite blooms for him to give to her, but just as he was working up the nerve to ask his wife to accompany him on a ride around the estate, Sinclair showed up at the house.
“Mr. Adler, the surveyor you hired, thinks he’s found something, my lord,” Sinclair explained before Peter could take the man into the library. “It’s not copper, but he thinks you’ll want to see it right away.”
“Not copper?” Peter followed the man as he gestured toward the door and led him outside. “What is it then?”
“He can explain, my lord.”
Those simple words ended with Peter mounting Charger and, instead of spending his day on a pleasurable ride intended to smooth over his troubles with Mariah, it took him from one end of the estate to the other, looking at hillocks and vales while the surveyor explained in painful detail what the presence of certain plants or the colors of rocks meant, and how a large tin deposit was very likely waiting under their feet.
He’d been so weary when he arrived home, late for supper but just in time for a scolding frown from Mariah, that he gave up any hope of wooing his wife in favor of going to bed. After all, the one thing the army had taught him was the importance of a good night’s sleep before charging into battle.
By the third day, Peter was convinced that there was a reason men went courting before the responsibilities of life piled on their shoulders.
“I always thought that people played games at house parties,” Victoria said at breakfast, more of a pout to her words than Peter wanted to think about.
Mariah must have felt the same way. She rolled her eyes at her sister, then glanced in Peter’s direction. Peter had been so distracted by the letter he’d received from his man of business in London first thing that morning that he grinned back at her, forgetting that she was angry with him. He blinked when, instead of frowning, she answered his look with a pink-cheeked smile, lowering her head as if suddenly bashful. But coyness was the last thing he expected from a woman who had argued with him so pointedly just days before. He coul
dn’t keep up.
“What kind of games did you have in mind, my dear?” William asked. He sat next to Mariah at the other end of the table. The edginess that had rippled off him on the day his friends had arrived was gone, though Peter wasn’t sure he liked the feigned casualness he sported now.
“Like charades or cards, or even sardines,” Victoria went on.
“Sardines?” Malcolm asked with a frown. He sat directly across the table from William. The way he constantly glared at William would have put Peter off his eggs.
“It’s such a jolly game,” Victoria said, bursting with enthusiasm. “It starts with one person who dashes off to find a hiding place. Then, everyone else in the party searches around the estate to find them. Once they do, they join that person in hiding. Every subsequent person who finds them hides with them, and so on and so on, until everyone is crammed into a single hiding place, like sardines.”
“Hide-and-seek?” Domenica asked, looking surprised and amused.
“Yes,” Victoria said. “But the other way around.”
“Aren’t we a little too old to be playing hide-and-seek?” Albert asked.
“You’re never too old for fun,” William answered. “Well, unless you’re my uncle here.” He nodded in Peter’s direction without looking at him. “He’s too old for much of anything.”
Robinson snorted, but the others at the table had the good sense to look uncomfortable.
“He’s not too old.” Mariah defended him, but her comment wasn’t loud enough for William to hear. Peter noticed, though, and once again, the light of hope flared within him.
“I think we should play this jolly game of Victoria’s,” William went on.
“Yes, we should.” Victoria clapped her hands, nearly upsetting her tea as she did.
“No.” Malcolm shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.”
