A Chance Gone By (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 2)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  He did laugh at that. “Nothing defeats you, Marianne, does it?”

  All too much defeated her, but she did not say so.

  For some few minutes, they walked without speaking, heading by common consent for the old oak at the edge of the woods which had ever been their point of rendezvous.

  Justin broke the silence. “How much do you know?”

  “The bare facts, I imagine. I had an express from Lady Luthrie the day before yesterday.”

  He glanced at her, and Marianne saw the frown.

  “She told you I was coming to get you?”

  “And begged me to return with all speed.”

  He looked away. “I hope you will consent, Marianne, or Grace may undo us all.”

  “I will do whatever is needed.”

  He paused in his way and turned to look at her. Marianne found contrition in his eyes and her breath tightened.

  “You never disappoint, Marianne. We have used you shamefully, all of us.”

  She became at once brusque, unable to bear his distress. “Fiddle! None of you ever treated me as less than one of the family, and I’ve done my part, that’s all.”

  He sought and found her hands, holding them hard, the green eyes reflecting more emotion than she had ever seen in him.

  “It is not all. Devil take it, Aunt Pippa was right! Your future should have been looked to, and instead, here you are slaving to make those wretched apartments habitable, and all for nothing.”

  She winced. “Yes, I confess that rather leapt to my eye as well, but it is a small matter after all.” She saw his mouth open to argue and returned the pressure of his fingers briefly. “Don’t, Justin. I am far less concerned with wasted effort than with your situation.”

  With a sigh, he released her. “To tell you the truth, Marianne, I no longer know how to think about my situation.”

  “I don’t wonder at it,” she returned, beginning to walk again and urging him onward with a touch at his sleeve. “What precisely happened?”

  With mixed feelings, she listened to a stilted account of the past few days. Guilt reared its head again when she heard how neatly Lady Selina had planned her escape. Had there been further clandestine meetings after that one in Hookham’s? She had seen how the couple conducted themselves in public. Such detailed arrangements could not have been settled except in a series of tête-à-têtes.

  Should she confess to Justin? Yet what good would it do? More likely it would do harm, adding to his burden of conflicted emotions. That he was, as expected, both hurt and angry was evident in the manner of his recital, but Marianne could not judge whether his heart was touched.

  By the time she was acquainted with all the details of his activities before he left London, they were seated upon the bench that had been cunningly built to incorporate the trunk of the ancient oak. With her cloak to protect her old round gown of brown muslin, she was unconcerned with possible stains, and besides too intent to care.

  Justin fell silent and Marianne watched him for a moment, her heart wrung at his aspect. He sat a couple of feet away, his great-coat hanging open as he leaned his arms on his thighs, staring at the ground between his booted feet.

  She had never seen him look so dejected and it drove from her mind any thought but that of easing him. The words were out before she could think about the wisdom of uttering them.

  “Do you love her, Justin?”

  He reared up, turning to stare at her with knit brows and an expression hard to read.

  “Selina? Good Lord, no!”

  Her heart jerked uncontrollably and then settled to a thrum that pounded in her breast. She could not speak.

  Justin looked away, his gaze roving lawns dotted with batches of trees and interrupted by the swirl of the lake. From here the house sprawled across the horizon, with its round bays situated where the later wings began either side of the long portico with the covered walkway, the central high original part of the building dominating above. Sheep grazed near the trees, and a stray deer from the Crail herds wandered across the grass.

  How much of his domain did Justin see? He looked to have his thoughts turned inwards. Marianne was startled when he spoke, a harsh note in his voice.

  “What rankles is the hypocrisy, the deliberate deceit. When I think how I waited to be sure Selina’s fancy did not light upon another — and for what? Even when we became betrothed and her manner towards me showed her indifference — worse indeed, for I thought often she actually disliked me — she kept silent.”

  Beside him, Marianne remained still, unwilling to interrupt the flow, damping down a rising snake of fury.

  “I taxed her with having formed another attachment, but she denied it. And the Sessays knew! When he summoned me, Lord Sessay was so put about, he mentioned the matter.”

  “He told you?”

  “He said he thought the affair had been long forgotten, but I don’t believe that. In light of events, it’s obvious to me Selina’s parents forbade her to think of this fellow, just as my father —”

  He broke off and Marianne’s heart did a little flip, a hideous conjecture leaping in her mind. Had Justin nourished a secret passion too?

  “What I mean is,” he resumed, a trifle stiff, “I think Selina was subject to this intolerable scheme concocted by our sires. Coerced by it, in fact. She made no secret of her reluctance to wed me. She charged me to cease any pretence that either of us would have chosen the other, had we followed our inclination.”

  “Was that true?” It was out before Marianne could stop it.

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Evidently.”

  “Of you, I mean.”

  He turned to look at her then, a glare in his eyes. Marianne could not tell if it was directed at the ghost of Lady Selina or herself.

  “Don’t be a ninny! Of course it was. When I said I waited, I really meant I was hoping Selina would choose another man.”

  “Yet you courted her last year, or so it was reported to Grace.”

  Justin threw back his head in a well-remembered gesture of defiance. “My father left me no choice. I knew the Sessays expected me to honour the arrangement. I thought if I got to know the girl, spent time with her, we might discover ourselves to be mutually agreeable.”

  “You didn’t expect to fall in love with her then?”

  The glare returned to her face. “I wish you will not keep harping on it, Marianne. Do you suppose I was brought up to pay any mind to such rubbishing romantical notions? I’m an earl, for pity’s sake! I am obliged to marry a female with appropriate status and background.”

  Marianne’s secret hope took a dive, but she rallied. “In this day and age? We do not live in the Dark Ages, Justin. I have heard of several instances of peers marrying to please themselves.”

  “And thereby bringing their title and name into disrepute,” he said, the bitter note pronounced.

  “That doesn’t appear to be confined to marrying beneath them.”

  The instant the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Too late.

  “I thank you, Marianne. Just the reminder I needed.”

  She winced. “Well, I’m sorry, but I do think you are being ridiculous. I dare say there are a score of eligible ladies you might marry, if you chose.”

  “I dare say there are, but —”

  “And since the earl’s daughter picked out for you is no longer available, you ought to be thanking your stars that you can now choose.”

  “Don’t you think I have been? Dear Lord, I was so relieved when I heard the news, I wanted to shout it to the world!”

  “Except that the world is apt to shout back.”

  He let out one of his snorting laughs. “You are nothing if not candid, Marianne. I thought you brought me out here to sympathise.”

  She had to smile. “So I did. But you will scarcely expect me to keep quiet when you talk such nonsense.”

  He grinned. “No, you never could keep your mouth shut, horrible girl! I don’t know why I bear with yo
u.”

  Marianne warmed inside. Unwittingly, she had provoked him into dropping the reserve he’d worn with her for so long.

  “Someone has to keep you in line,” she said, in the bantering tone to which he’d ever responded.

  “Any more, and you’ll be regretting having started!”

  “Oh, do you mean to wreak vengeance upon me?”

  “Have you forgotten how ticklish you are?”

  Menace in his voice, he shifted along the bench, wriggling his fingers as if in preparation, that predatory look entering the green eyes.

  Marianne laughed, holding up her hands. “I surrender!”

  “Faint-heart!”

  She let out a giggle, hardly aware how her gaze devoured him, so heartening was it to be at ease with him again.

  The green eyes were alight as they stared into hers. Then they changed as some thought entered his mind, and the amusement died out of his face. He got up abruptly, took a couple of steps away from the bench and halted, staring out over the grounds.

  Marianne’s heart lurched. What had prompted that? Afraid of losing the closeness again, she did not hesitate.

  “What is it, Justin? What is amiss?”

  He did not turn, but his back stiffened. “Nothing. At least — I just — everything came back.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “You teased me into forgetting for a moment, and I thank you for that.”

  Marianne rose and went to him, setting a hand on his arm. “Don’t shut me out, Justin, please. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Still he did not turn. Watching his profile, she saw his jaw tense.

  “I’ve missed you too. I thought it better — it wasn’t appropriate when…”

  His voice died, but Marianne took it up.

  “When you were going to be betrothed. Yes, I see that.”

  She must have allowed her emotions to sound in her voice, for he did turn then, seizing her hand and holding it fast, his gaze intense.

  “You didn’t deserve it, Marianne. You’ve been such a good friend to me. But I couldn’t — it would have looked —”

  “It would have looked unseemly to be so free with another woman.”

  A flicker of something passed across his face. “You do understand. I should have known you would.”

  She released herself from his loosened hold, the hurt too fierce to endure his touch. She knew it to be unjustified, but that did nothing to lessen its impact. She spoke in as normal as tone as she could manage. “Well, that’s settled then. Shall we turn our attention to what needs to be done?”

  “Done?”

  His brows had drawn together and she could not read the expression in his eyes.

  “About your situation.”

  “That?” He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “What sort of reception have you had in the last few days?”

  The resumption of the subject did not appear to afford Justin any satisfaction. He looked preoccupied. “I hardly know. Whispers and sly looks. No one has spoken directly.”

  “Then it is safe to assume the story you have concocted is at least keeping the gossips guessing.”

  His lip curled. “Hardly. From the pitying glances, I am clearly expected to be broken.”

  “That must be galling to you.”

  “It sickens me, if you want the truth.”

  The hard outer crust was back and regret washed through Marianne. Why could he not have remained easy with her? He was behaving oddly. Not that she’d expected to encounter anything less than anger and hurt pride. But this jerky discomfort, going from one mood to another, was a new Justin and she did not know how to handle him.

  “Well, you must show them you are not broken,” she said in a bracing tone.

  He looked at her. “How? Do you think I’m going to play at gaiety? That would be just as inappropriate.”

  Marianne’s pulse increased as her treacherous heart sent the message coursing into her mind. “You’ll have to engage yourself to someone else as quickly as possible.”

  Justin stared. “Have you run mad?”

  She swallowed down her rising apprehension, forcing brightness into her tone. “I am perfectly serious. If you wish to demonstrate your indifference to Selina’s elopement, why not?”

  He snorted. “All that would get me is the accusation of having taken another woman on the rebound.”

  “There is that.”

  “Besides, how in the world am I to find an eligible female in short order? Do you think I’m willing to marry just anyone?”

  She remembered his earlier slip and a flurry disturbed her already racing heartbeat. Was he pining for another? “Is there — do you also have a prior attachment?”

  “No!” The denial was forceful, almost furious. “What makes you think that?”

  “Nothing. I only wondered.”

  “Well, wonder no longer!”

  Despite everything, Marianne’s patience failed. “You need not snap my nose off, Justin. I am doing my best to help you.”

  He was silent, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

  Marianne waited a moment, but his jaw was set tight. She knew not what to think. Or whether to believe him. What if she probed more subtly?

  “You’ve already made it clear you require a high-born wife.”

  “I never said high-born. I said eligible.”

  “Well-born then.”

  “That goes without saying.” He threw up his hands. “Why are we discussing this? I have no intention of offering for anyone, when I’ve only just escaped from —”

  He broke off, flushing. Marianne eyed him.

  “From one unsuitable marriage.”

  “It wasn’t unsuitable.”

  “How, if neither of you wanted it?”

  “In the eyes of Society, I mean.”

  “And in your father’s eyes. Is that what you want, Justin? To marry someone of whom your father would have approved? He’s been dead for years.”

  Justin rolled his eyes. Then, abruptly, he sat down on the bench again and dropped his head in his hands.

  Marianne watched him, wrung with distress and exasperation both. Was he determined to waste any chance at happiness on account of his father’s rigid views? Left to himself, he would no doubt go off in due course and choose some other obnoxious creature determined upon securing a title merely for the sake of it. What kind of life would he have with one such?

  Her heart rose in rebellion. She could make him happy. Oh, she could! If he truly was heart-free, as he claimed. She loved him dearly enough. And she’d been running his household for years. Who better to secure his future?

  Except that she lacked the one thing Justin believed he must have in a wife. She was a nobody, born of genteel parents, yes, but of no particular renown. An obscure naval lieutenant, second son of a vicar, and the equally obscure though capable Lavinia, whose only claim to notice was the cousin who had captivated the widowed Earl of Purford, quite by chance when he’d met her at an assembly in Bath.

  Marianne was fully alive to the sense of inferiority that plagued Grace, leaving her vulnerable to slights, whether real or imagined, from rival ladies of the ton. If, by some miracle, Justin was brought to think of her in the light of a desirable partner for life, Marianne would lay herself open to precisely that kind of disdain.

  The awful truth seeped in, killing all hope. Bad enough for her, but worse for Justin. The gossips would have a field day at his expense. No, it could not be done.

  Her heart cried out that it should not matter. His happiness was far more important than a parcel of wagging tongues. Only Marianne could not persuade herself it was truly his happiness rather than her own for which she wanted to fight.

  Besides, the sneaking suspicion already raised would not be silenced. Despite his vehement denial, perhaps because of it, she could not shake the notion he did cherish an unacknowledged affection. If so, it must be for some wildly unsuitable creature his father wo
uld not have approved.

  Worse still, if Justin would not think of marrying one he cared for now he was free to choose, there was no earthly hope of his consenting to wed Marianne. She had been crazy to think for a single instant that she had a chance.

  The let-down sent a wash of grief coursing through her veins that demanded instant relief.

  Somehow she kept her countenance. Somehow she dredged up a tone as close to normality as made no odds. Close enough for Justin, wrapped up in his own agonies, to fail to notice.

  “I must go and pack. When do you wish to set forward?”

  Chapter Ten

  Would this season never end? While he smiled and played a role as hypocritical as any played by his erstwhile prospective in-laws, Justin writhed and seethed inside. He had thought his situation bad enough before Selina threw her cap over the windmill. Released from that hell, his life had become almost intolerable.

  His eyes strayed to where Marianne was standing, a little away from Grace and a coterie of matrons. She seemed to be enjoying a conversation with Alexander. Wasn’t that her teasing look? His cousin let out a guffaw and Justin winced.

  Come to think of it, had he not seen his cousin approach her at a number of these gatherings? Had he developed a tendre for Marianne? Ha! Aunt Pippa would soon put a stop to that. She could no more wish her son to marry a nobody than his father —

  No! There was no use in pursuing that thought. The road was closed years ago.

  He had bungled it badly, too deep in his own head to take proper care. He had thought himself long cured, but the sudden taste of freedom had opened a crack which threatened to grow wide and swallow him whole. His desperate attempts to pull the edges back together left him with the feeling of passing through a nightmare.

  He did not think he had betrayed himself. Marianne was astute, but by the time they had set forth, he’d had himself well in hand.

  When he had gone, at her request, to look over the work done in the rooms meant for Selina, he had almost lost that iron control. The transformation in the bedchamber, with Marianne standing there just as if she belonged, very nearly undid him. It was almost as if she had created the place with herself in mind, it suited so well with her personality. But that was nonsense, thank God. She’d made that clear at once, indicating the hangings.