“Thank you,” she muttered. Sick humiliation cramped her belly. She cringed away and her shaking hands fumbled uselessly with the shredded bodice. Shivering as if she had a fever, she hunched into the coat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elias reach for her. She couldn’t endure his kindness without breaking down completely. She backed off on shaky legs. “I can’t—”
“I’ll kill the bastard,” Elias hissed.
“No,” she begged. “No, for pity’s sake, that will make things worse.”
“By God, I’ll know the meaning of this,” her father spluttered.
Casting Elias a nervous glance, Tranter grabbed her hand. “I’m overjoyed to tell you that Lady Marianne has consented to be my bride.”
She jerked free and regarded Tranter with abhorrence. “I’ll never marry you, you brute.”
“You will damn well marry him,” her father blustered. “There’s no hiding that he’s compromised you.”
“My love, I know you’re upset that we’ve been found out.” The spurious sympathy in Tranter’s face turned her stomach. Raising her chin, she struggled to retain some dignity. Almost impossible when she’d been caught half naked and her face felt like a hive of bees had attacked it.
“Can’t you see that there’s been some plot?” Elias asked, whirling on her father. At least he didn’t try to touch her again, or attack Tranter. The toad deserved a beating, but a brawl would only deepen the scandal. “We all heard her scream.”
“Lord Tranter enticed me here under false pretenses, Papa,” she forced out. “He’s a stinking liar.”
The avidly curious audience craned their necks to see more of the confrontation—and of Marianne. Burning color flooded her smarting cheeks and she huddled into the coat. Elias’s distinctive scent enveloped her. Right now, that reminder of him seemed like a reprimand for her rank idiocy. Impulsiveness had lured her into this disaster. Perhaps it was better to be a compliant little coward.
“I wanted a private moment with Lady Marianne so I could propose.” Tranter had the temerity to smile at her. How was it that she felt so dirty and wrong, and he looked like he was on the side of the angels? It wasn’t fair. “A mere formality, of course. Our mutual affection is no secret.”
“Stop lying,” she snarled.
“My dear, all will be well when we marry. I’m sure these good people can overlook a lapse between a newly engaged couple.”
“A torn dress and violence go beyond a lapse,” she spat.
“Did this bastard hurt you?” Elias bit out, curling his hands into fists at his sides.
“Not your concern, Wilmott,” Tranter snapped. “You’ve been sniffing around Marianne for months, but you’ve lost.”
“Fascinating as this discussion is, perhaps it should continue in private,” Lord Hillbrook said magisterially from the hallway.
“If you’ll all move away.” Richard pushed forward to stand beside her father and face the onlookers. “I’m sure you’ve heard more than enough.”
Marianne could see that few people agreed with him. She’d loathed being the brunt of last year’s tattle. The talk would be worse this time round. Especially when she didn’t marry the author of her downfall.
“Sidonie, will you take Lady Marianne to her room and look after her?” Hillbrook suggested. It sounded more order than request. “Lord Tranter, Lord Baildon, shall we retire to my office?”
“Excellent idea,” Richard said, and he and Genevieve started to herd the listeners away with a steely charm that Marianne was in no mood to admire. The excited buzz of conversation receding down the corridor confirmed her fears of scandal.
Tranter had been so clever. And she’d been so fatally stupid.
“I want to be there,” Marianne insisted in a croaky voice. She was so deathly sick of male arrogance. No way on this earth was she leaving decisions about her future to any thickskulled man.
“That’s not necessary,” her father growled.
“The lady has a right to decide what becomes of her,” Elias said sharply.
“More right than anyone,” Sidonie agreed in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Very well. Come with me, Lady Marianne,” Hillbrook said gently, taking her arm to lead her from the conservatory. “You look like you could use a brandy.”
Never had she imagined that Jonas Merrick’s scarred face could look kind, but when she glanced up, she was surprised to read concern in his dark gaze, along with a reassuring absence of criticism.
“Th-thank you.” Reaction set in and she felt sick and unsteady. Her head pounded from Tranter’s blows. Hillbrook’s arm was all that kept her upright.
“I’ll see to our guests,” Sidonie said from beside her. “Perhaps I can persuade them that gossip will only cause harm and discretion is the better choice.”
Nobody graced that overly optimistic remark with a reply as Marianne turned to her friend. “Please, will you stay with me?”
Sidonie’s brown eyes swept the unrelentingly masculine group surrounding Marianne. “Of course.”
It was a subdued company that assembled in the room Lord Hillbrook used for his business activities. Marianne looked around the prosaic space and guessed this must be the heart of Jonas Merrick’s financial empire. In a way, she appreciated the lack of ostentation. Tonight’s negotiations wouldn’t be pretty either.
Lord Hillbrook guided her to a leather chair and poured her a brandy. “This will help,” he said softly, touching her shoulder in a gesture of encouragement as she sank into the seat.
She blinked back grateful tears and rested her throbbing head on the back of the chair. “You’re being so good.”
“Nonsense,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“I’ve spoiled your house party,” she said in a choked voice.
“I forgive you. Now drink up.” In an unexpected mark of support, he stood next to her chair. Having such a powerful man on her side bolstered her failing courage.
She sipped her brandy, surprised that the burning warmth did make her feel marginally better. It also reminded her that she possessed a shred of pride. She refused to act like a whipped dog, cowering in the shadows. Tilting her chin, she reviewed her surroundings with a more critical eye. Sir Richard might have dismissed the merely curious, but still a daunting number of people filled this workaday room.
Tranter sauntered in with her father. His brashness sat oddly with the scratches she’d inflicted. Obviously he couldn’t believe that she’d prefer notoriety to marrying him. He started in Marianne’s direction until her blistering glare brought him to a halt near the window.
In the center of the room, her father looked livid. He also looked old and tired and ill. Guilt speared Marianne that she’d brought him to this.
Sidonie stood beside her husband, taking his hand in a loving gesture. Marianne turned to give her a wobbly smile. The Hillbrooks had wordlessly declared themselves her supporters. Shaky and shabby as she felt, she appreciated their endorsement.
Next to arrive was Lord Desborough. He also looked tired and disheartened. Another pang of remorse stabbed Marianne. This was the second time his marital plans had dissolved into scandal through no fault of his.
Elias marched in and closed the door after him in a clear signal for everyone else to keep out. Her father cast him a narrow-eyed look but, to Marianne’s relief, saved his ammunition for the upcoming battle. Elias propped himself against the mantel in a characteristic pose, his black eyes running over the company. She had no idea what he was thinking.
“I’ll arrange to have the banns called,” her father said grimly, once he was sure of no further intrusions. “As soon as the flood subsides, my daughter and I will return to Dorset. A quiet, quick wedding in the family chapel is the best we can do. At least away from London, we’ll escape the worst of the talk.”
“Capital,” Tranter said with a cheerfulness that made Marianne itch to flay him. “I’ll come through Town and put a notice in the papers.”
“As y
ou wish,” her father said heavily without looking at him.
Regret and lifelong love made Marianne lean forward and extend a hand. “Papa…”
He stared over her head. “I’ll give you what countenance I can with a wedding, but I don’t want to see you once the match is made.”
She flinched from this new pain, although she’d known when he found her in Tranter’s clutches that he’d never forgive her. “I understand that you’re angry—”
“You have no idea.” He stared directly at her and she quailed at the distaste in his eyes. “No use trying to mend what can’t be fixed. At least Lord Tranter is willing to do the right thing.”
Pity and shame had briefly submerged her rage. Now anger stirred anew. “The man is a swine.”
“I say, that’s strong,” Tranter complained. Neither Marianne nor her father paid him any heed.
“You should have thought of that before meeting him on the sly.”
“I didn’t,” she said in a thick voice. I will not cry. I will not cry. “He tricked me into that conservatory. You heard me scream.”
“A modest woman’s reaction to a lover’s natural ardor,” Tranter said with a smile that indicated this was something these men of the world would understand. Nobody smiled back. Despite his scratched face, he attempted to appear the harmless milksop she’d thought him in London. She wondered if the act was convincing anyone. She couldn’t tell from the somber expressions around her.
“Tell us what happened, Marianne,” Sidonie said.
What could she say that wouldn’t make her sound a wanton? She licked dry lips and made herself respond. “I received a note asking me to go to the conservatory. When I got there, Lord Tranter proposed. I said no and he…he took it badly.”
Somehow admitting that he’d hit her seemed too humiliating. She’d worked out that Tranter had employed slaps not punches to avoid incriminating bruises. However raw her cheeks felt, his assault would have left little visible trace. Even at the height of violence, he’d been cool-headed enough to resist marking her. Another reminder how blind she’d been to his true nature.
“I credit you for trying to save your reputation, but we were caught, my dear,” Tranter said. “Time to pay the piper.”
Her hands clenched on the arms of the chair. How she wished she was a man and she could smash this lying worm to a bloody pulp. “I’d rather beg on the streets than take you.”
“You may have to.” The disappointment in her father’s eyes threatened to crush her. “I can see that if the fellow turned nasty, you feel some reluctance, but you’ll have to learn to live with that. A wedding is the only way to rescue the family name.”
“I won’t marry Lord Tranter,” she said stubbornly, wondering what on earth she could do if her father threw her out. A woman without a reputation had few choices. All respectable employment was closed to her, as was a decent marriage.
“Lady Marianne is welcome to stay at Ferney as long as she wishes,” Hillbrook said. “Sidonie and I would be honored to have her as our guest.”
“You don’t see that my daughter must restore the Seaton honor?” her father asked in rising umbrage. “In that case, you’re not a man I want to do business with.”
“Regrettable.” Lord Hillbrook’s tone indicated he didn’t care. “My offer of hospitality stands.”
“Don’t stick your nose in,” Tranter said nastily. “She’s marrying me, and that’s that.”
“I’d shoot myself first,” Marianne stated.
From near the door, Desborough cleared his throat. “Lord Baildon, I have made a commitment to your daughter. If she won’t have Tranter, my proposal of marriage stands.”
Shocked, Marianne stared at her staid suitor. She’d forgotten he was present. “My lord, that’s astonishingly generous.”
“Too generous,” her father said. “She’s made her bed with Tranter. However much I despise the way he went about winning her, it’s Tranter she’ll lie with.”
“Just so,” said Tranter, shifting toward her.
“If you come any nearer, I’ll scratch your eyes out—and this time I’ll succeed,” she said in a low bitter voice. “Nothing on this earth would make me accept you as my husband. You’re a bully and a liar and you won’t salvage your fortunes by tying my life to yours.”
“Ah,” Lord Hillbrook said.
The single syllable dropped into the room like a pebble into a pond. All eyes focused on him.
“I know you don’t like me.” Tranter sounded childish. “But I ruined Lady Marianne. I should make it right.”
“Perhaps.” Hillbrook paused. “The question is why stir up such an outcry. I’ll wager you bribed that maid who came shrieking to us about nasty doings in the conservatory. The timing was too apt. We have to suspect some agenda.”
Tranter shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but maintained his defiance. “I wanted Lord Baildon to hear of our engagement as soon as possible.”
“Yet expecting Lady Marianne’s father to appear, you went ahead with seducing her?”
“He didn’t seduce me,” Marianne protested, turning frantically to the Hillbrooks. She wished she could tell whether Elias believed her, but he didn’t look up from the fire.
“I know.” Sidonie placed a hand on her shoulder. “He wants it to look that way so you’re forced to accept him.”
Marianne sucked in a great relieved breath. The Hillbrooks had already fathomed Tranter’s wicked scheme.
“What rubbish,” Tranter blustered. “I’ve been dancing attendance on the chit for weeks. Everyone knows there’s a match in the offing.”
Lord Hillbrook bared his teeth. “At least that’s what your creditors thought. They delayed pursuing payment because they heard you were about to wed the Seaton heiress.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Tranter said, looking shifty.
Hillbrook continued in that measured, condemning voice. “Then they learned that Lady Marianne was likely to marry Lord Desborough. It’s no accident you followed her down to Ferney. You were desperate to stake your claim in any way you could.”
“I’m a man in love.”
“You make me sick.” Marianne surged to her feet and turned on him. “You don’t love me. You love your vices.”
“This is all very well,” her father interjected. “But everyone in this house saw Tranter with his hands on her. He’s not the man I want for my daughter. He still has to marry her.”
“He’s a cheat and a thief and a slave to the gaming tables, Baildon. I wouldn’t entrust a torn handkerchief to him, let alone my flesh and blood,” Hillbrook said, his voice dripping contempt.
“Steady on,” Tranter said.
“My offer to marry Lady Marianne remains on the table,” Desborough said doggedly.
Marianne realized she’d always underestimated him. And because of that, he merited better than a tepid attachment. “My lord, I appreciate your gallantry, but my recklessness reflects badly on you. I can’t allow you to sacrifice your standing for chivalry’s sake.”
“Then what the devil’s to become of you, girl?” her father demanded. “Be damned if you’ll live under my roof, flaunting your folly.”
“Lord Baildon, I’ve offered your daughter a home while she considers her choices,” Hillbrook said as Marianne flinched from her father’s condemnation.
“We’d love to have you,” Sidonie said.
Her hosts’ generosity overwhelmed Marianne. Bravado told her to claim she could manage on her own, but the sad truth was that without her father’s support, she was penniless. “What about the scandal?”
To her surprise, Hillbrook laughed. “You call this little fuss a scandal? It hardly rates against the storms our family has weathered. Please say you’ll stay.”
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” Marianne said huskily. “I’ll be very glad to accept.”
“I commend the Hillbrooks for coming to your rescue, but that’s not your sole option,” a deep voice said from near the
roaring fire.
Marianne straightened and surveyed Elias with all the courage she could muster. “I won’t marry Tranter and it’s not fair to marry Desborough.”
He stayed leaning with apparent ease against the mantel. He was in his shirtsleeves and his black hair was ruffled as if he’d run his hand through it. “You could marry me.”
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
Predictably Elias’s calm statement made Marianne’s father erupt. “Like hell she will. I told you in London that if she weds you, she won’t see a penny of my money. She’ll come to you in her petticoat.”
“And I told you in London that your daughter is treasure enough for me, my lord.”
“Elias…” she said, stunned. “Do you mean it?”
He stepped across and took her trembling hands in his. After Tranter’s violence, the tenderness in his touch squeezed her heart. “Of course I do. I’ve always thought you utterly magnificent.”
“What about when I resisted you?” she asked. As Sidonie stepped away to grant them some illusion of privacy, Marianne caught the satisfied glance she cast her husband.
The familiar smile lengthened Elias’s lips. “Then you were magnificent, but misguided.” His expression turned intent. “So will you take me, my love?”
Feeling unsteady, Marianne curled her fingers around Elias’s. She stared into his face, hoping she was right to read love in his unwavering black gaze. “My father won’t give me a farthing if I marry you. He’s the stubbornest man I know.”
“I don’t give a tinker’s damn about the money. Surely you understand that by now. Even if you don’t, when I marry you, you’ll have to believe I’m no fortune hunter.”
“I won’t change my mind,” her father said mulishly from the middle of the room.
Elias glanced at him. “I never wanted your money. I only ever wanted Marianne.”
Tranter lunged forward. “Get away from her.”
“No, you don’t.” Hillbrook grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back. “You’ve done enough damage. In fact, it’s high time you left.”
Three Proposals and a Scandal: A Sons of Sin Novella Page 10
