“Do you object to it if I join you?”
Marianne jumped, her eyes flying open, her heart bumping with violence. “Good heavens, Justin, how you startled me!”
He did not smile. He was standing a couple of feet away, regarding her with a frown and troubled eyes. “Forgive me.”
He spoke as if the words were perfunctory, his mind elsewhere.
Her heart had steadied, but the rhythm of Marianne’s pulse became uneven. Her mind blanked. She could think of nothing whatsoever to say.
Justin drew a breath and sighed it out. “I owe you an apology. I mistook what I saw. I should not have — I had no right to…”
He looked away. Embarrassment? Marianne sought in vain for words to ease the strain. The chasm separating them seemed to widen.
Justin’s frowning gaze came back to her. “Is it true you are planning to leave us?”
Us? No, Justin, it was he alone she was planning to leave. But she could not say so. She seized excuses from the air.
“My services are no longer needed.”
“Your services?” Shock in his tone. “What of your companionship?”
“To whom? Grace has the Dragon now and Jocasta is soon to be married.”
As will you be all too soon. She could not bring herself to say it. Yet Justin’s face showed her he might as well have read the words written across her forehead.
“What you mean is, Marianne, you are leaving to escape me.”
His tone was harsh, hurt rife within it.
Denial hovered on Marianne’s lips. What came out of her mouth was not at all what she meant to say. “Justin, can you not see how impossible this is?”
“I can only see how impossible it will be if you go!”
She stared at him, hardly daring to breathe. Could it be she was mistaken? Did his feelings run deeper than she had supposed? But why should he not have said as much if that were so?
“Justin…”
He moved in, towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. The air closed in around her.
“Purford, there you are!”
Marianne shifted swiftly to one side, even as Justin wheeled to face Ibbotson, smiling a few yards away.
“Ah, and Miss Timperley too. We have settled it we should repair to an inn for refreshments. The children are missing a luncheon and I confess I am devilish sharp-set myself. Will you come?”
Never had a day seemed longer. The Ibbotsons, not content with the noisy party at The White Horse in Ripley — where a selection of viands was consumed along with lemonade for the ladies and flagons of ale for the gentlemen — must needs take it into their heads to return to Purford Park for the afternoon.
Though that was due to Jocasta’s persuasions, conceded Marianne, trying to be fair. Harriet Ibbotson had jumped at the offer, however, squeaking with excitement.
“How dearly I should love to come, Jocasta. What a splendid notion! And we need not return to Send Place until the children’s dinner hour. I declare, the very thought of Grandmama Bentinck’s gloomy countenance is enough to make me wish to park myself upon you for a se’ennight.”
Fortunately, since Grace looked nothing short of horrified, her spouse vetoed the suggestion in no uncertain terms.
“My dear Harriet, there can be no question of remaining away. It is kind of Lady Jocasta to invite us, but I think we would do better to go back to the Place directly.”
A storm of protest greeted this, Grace loudest of all. Marianne guessed she felt guilty for her previous lapse of manners in showing her disquiet at a lengthy stay. Ibbotson perforce agreed to a short visit to Purford Park, but in the event the party remained until the children were dropping with fatigue, their parents having been persuaded to dine. Marianne arranged for the children to be fed and Mrs Woofferton assigned a bedchamber for their use.
Mrs Ibbotson exclaimed at finding it well past seven o’clock when the carriages were called for, since it was still light. Her husband and Lord Tazewell carried the yawning boys down, while the nurse managed a sleeping Lizzybet.
“Oh, only look at my precious little sleepyheads,” cooed their mother, looking fondly upon them and dropping a kiss on each tousled child’s cheek. “Such an adventurous day they’ve had, little dears. I know they will be enraptured forever with their Aunt Jocasta.”
Tazewell coloured a little at this blatant pre-empting of his nuptials, but Jocasta let out a merry laugh.
“Well, they may be sure their Aunt Jocasta will be just as enraptured with them.”
The farewells took an inordinate amount of time as the Purford party necessarily had to wait while the arrangement of half-asleep children was going forward. But at last Harriet Ibbotson leaned from the window to wave, calling out protestations of future meetings and a battery of thanks until the coach turned a corner so that her sight of the waving hosts must be curtailed.
Marianne could swear she heard a collective sigh of relief, and Grace turned instantly to Miss Stubbings, who had joined the party on their return to the Park.
“Pray ring for the tea tray at once, Amelia. I am quite as exhausted as those poor little children.”
Lord Tazewell looked a little dismayed, but since Grace was already entering the house, he addressed himself to Justin. “I’m afraid my sister outstayed her welcome.”
“Oh, nonsense, Tom,” cut in Jocasta before her brother could respond. “It has been delightful. I love Harriet already, and I know we will become the greatest of friends.”
Her betrothed smiled gratefully at her, and Marianne was relieved when Justin spoke up, albeit with what she recognised to be false joviality.
“You need have no apprehension, Tazewell. We have been very well entertained, and I am glad Jocasta had this opportunity to become acquainted with your sister and her family. Shall we go in?”
Jocasta drew Tazewell forward, whispering in his ear, and Marianne made haste to follow. Just as she crossed the threshold, she overheard Alex, who was behind with Justin.
“Doing it a trifle too brown, old fellow. Don’t tell me you ain’t on the fidgets, coz, for I know you better than that.”
Justin was not the only one, Marianne reflected, as she crossed the hall and entered the parlour where tea was to be served. To use Alex’s expression, she’d been on the fidgets the entire day, unable to focus, her mind jumping with questions every moment she was not occupied with organisation or responding to the general discussion.
Fortunately, Jocasta and Grace had taken the brunt of Harriet Ibbotson’s discourse, which left Justin to entertain her spouse and Tazewell, ably supported by Lord Dymond. It did not help Marianne in the least. When the gentlemen were off somewhere else, her thoughts dwelled obstinately on the snatch of a meeting in the copse she’d had with Justin. When they re-joined the ladies, she was unable to think at all, her unruly pulses thrumming to his presence, her attention pulled to him whether or not he was in her line of sight.
On tenterhooks, she could not but be aware that Justin was equally conscious. She caught him watching her several times, whipping her eyes away when she met his glance, her breath instantly short, her heart jerking uncontrollably.
By the time tea was served, Marianne was as much exhausted by the disorder of her senses as the lengthy period of entertaining the visitors. She was inordinately relieved when the Dragon took it upon herself to dispense tea, leaving her free of the necessity to concentrate.
Only Tazewell and Jocasta, engaged in muted talk, were animated. Lying back in her chair in an attitude suggestive of immediate collapse, Grace sipped at intervals with an obvious effort. Justin began by prowling and then came to rest leaning his back against the mantelpiece. But Alex, who brought Marianne’s tea over, took a seat beside her.
“Been hoping for a word with you.”
Wary, she eyed him. “About this morning?”
“That’s it. Shouldn’t have taken snuff, even though my idiot coz did as much. Silly thing to do. Quite right to take us both to task.”
&nb
sp; Amusement lifted Marianne’s mood. “I admit I felt rather like a nursemaid at the time.”
A barked guffaw from Alex caused Justin to turn his head to look at them both. Heat stung Marianne’s cheeks and she took refuge in her tea cup.
“Thing is, Marianne,” pursued Alex, low-voiced, “I might have given you away. Didn’t mean to, but I had to say something.”
Deep foreboding gripped her. “What exactly did you say?”
He looked rueful. “Not what you’d be pardoned for imagining. Didn’t betray your confidence. But he’s pretty sharp, is my cousin Justin. Might have added two and two to make four.”
Her heart thrumming all over again, Marianne could not resist a look at Justin, but his attention was once more concentrated on the empty grate as he drank his tea.
“Just what did you say, Alex? Be plain with me, I implore you.”
“Only told him you’d embraced this notion of my mother’s, to find yourself a husband.”
“He said he’d heard I was leaving.”
“Well, yes, I told him that too. Said you wanted to leave, and marriage was the only way.”
Shocked disappointment flooded Marianne. No wonder Justin had taxed her with it! Of course he would do so, and no doubt meant to renew his suggestion that she married him rather than look elsewhere. He must feel obligated, responsible for her welfare. She must acknowledge he cared enough for that. What a fool she was to dare to hope his coming after her, questioning her, meant more.
The drop, after a day of anxiety she now recognised to be rooted in desperate hope, proved too great.
“Excuse me, if you please, Alex. I am — I am much too tired to think straight. I must go to bed.”
She rose on the words, crossing to set down her cup and saucer. She kept her eyes firmly away from Justin, and addressed herself to her cousin.
“I am going to retire, Grace. Forgive me, but I cannot remain awake any longer.”
“Oh, I shall be right behind you, Marianne. I am quite drained. Such a pleasant couple, but it has been a long day.”
The last was added with a nod and a smile towards Tazewell, and Marianne seized the chance to say a quick goodnight in the direction of the engaged couple, which sufficiently included Justin for her to able to avoid looking directly at him.
Her heart full to bursting, she managed to reach the door in as nonchalant a fashion as she could. Once outside, she flew up the stairs, but the tears were already falling by the time she reached the safety of her bedchamber.
Chapter Eighteen
Justin watched Marianne’s exit with dismay, bewilderment wreathing his brain. He crossed to his cousin and took her vacated chair.
“What the deuce did you say to her?”
Alex’s mobile brows rose. “Nothing untoward, coz. Had to smooth things over, that’s all.”
“Then why did she run off like that?”
His cousin shrugged. “Said she was tired. Couldn’t keep her eyes open. Don’t blame her. Devilish day. I’m minded to turn in myself.”
Justin gave him a glare, muttering almost under his breath. “No, you don’t. I’m not entertaining Tazewell on my own, so don’t think it.”
Alex glanced across to where the betrothed couple still had their heads together. “He might want an early night, for all you know.”
“Not he. Haven’t you learned yet how punctilious the fellow is? He’ll think he has a duty to me as his host to remain and take a glass of brandy.”
His prediction was proven a few moments later when Grace called to Jocasta to come upstairs. Of course she could not be permitted to remain unchaperoned. He sighed as the two ladies, accompanied by Miss Stubbings, left the room and Tazewell turned to him with an apologetic smile.
“I feel I ought to beg your pardon once again, Purford. I might have known my sister wouldn’t leave when she was deriving so much pleasure from being here.”
Justin moved to the bell-pull and tugged on it, dredging up what patience he could find to resume his duty as host. “I am glad Mrs Ibbotson enjoyed her stay. No apologies are necessary. Your sister and her family have become quite a part of ours, which is all to the good, don’t you think?”
Tazewell laughed, though he flushed too. “Very good of you to say so, Purford.”
“I wish you will call me Justin. It is ridiculous to maintain formality under the circumstances.”
The flush in the fellow’s cheeks deepened. He really was excessively self-effacing. Justin was inclined to think it a miracle the man had taken his flighty sister’s fancy.
The door opened and his butler appeared in the aperture, accompanied by a minion armed with a tray, upon which reposed a decanter and three glasses.
“Ah, you’ve anticipated our need, Rowsham. I thank you.”
Alex asked Tazewell some question about his brother-in-law’s estate, relieving Justin of the necessity to make polite conversation while the servants were in the room. Presently, with the tea-tray removed, the brandy poured and served, he was able to usher his guest and cousin to seats either side of the fireplace — innocent of any fire in the height of summer — and draw up a chair for himself next to Tazewell.
“Well, Tom, if I may —?”
“Oh, of course, sir, if informality is to be the order of the day.”
Not that the fellow seemed able to be informal himself. Justin felt as if the few years between them were nearer ten or fifteen.
“I was going to ask if you have hit upon a date for the wedding.”
For want of anything else he could think of. But this Justin kept to himself. He could have cursed. The last thing he wished to discuss was the vexed subject of weddings.
“Well, Jocasta has consented to a date this year, which pleases me. At first she was adamant we should wait. Why she changed her mind, I know not, but I’m happy to think she is so eager.”
Was he deluded? Justin could not judge of the depth of his sister’s feelings, though from his observation the couple had drawn closer through these weeks. A source of unrest to him, since his own situation was unsatisfactory, to say the least.
He came out of this brief reverie to find his cousin had taken the conversation in a different direction, drawing Tazewell to talk of his stable and hunting. An innocuous subject that lasted long enough to enable the obligatory session to come to an end before Justin was driven to the edge of frustration.
At last Tazewell yawned, flushed, apologised and laughed. “I must be more tired than I knew. If you will forgive me, Justin, I think I will take to my bed.”
Nothing could have pleased him more, and as he made the necessary offers of more brandy — and then, when this was refused, a candle from the selection awaiting the gentlemen on the table in the hall where a footman was ready with a taper — he managed a glance at his cousin which he tried to invest with a message to him to remain behind.
It was successful, for the moment the door closed behind Tazewell, Lord Dymond poured another half inch of the golden liquid in the decanter into his glass and turned back to Justin.
“What’s to do, coz?”
Justin sighed. “I don’t really know, Alex. I’ve never known a longer day. I feel as if I’ve been to hell and back.”
His cousin laughed. “Know what you mean. Myself I’d have called it purgatory. Good enough fellow, Ibbotson, but doing the pretty for hours on end is enough to try anyone.”
“It isn’t that. Except inasmuch as their presence kept me too much occupied.”
Alex subjected him to a long look. “Still in the hips, coz? Told you there was nothing in it. Don’t you believe me?”
For an instant, an echo of the molten rage that had enveloped him at finding Marianne in his cousin’s arms crept back. He suppressed it as best he could.
“I do believe you. What irks me is why Marianne needed comfort.”
“Well, you ain’t expecting me to betray her, are you? What do you take me for?”
Justin threw up a hand. “There’s no need to f
ly up into the boughs. I know you would not. But allow me the curiosity to wonder.”
Alex’s jaw was tight. “Wonder no longer, coz. Didn’t concern you. Weren’t mentioned, except when she said she meant to try and marry elsewhere. And I shouldn’t have told you that either.”
Disregarding the note of remorse, Justin stared at his cousin. “What do you mean? How was I mentioned?”
“Damn it, Justin, don’t ask me!”
“Alex, for heaven’s sake! Can’t you see I’m going crazy?”
Alex let out a grunt. “Well, if you must have it, it was me. So shocked by what she said, I told her she ought to marry you if she was set on a marriage of convenience. However, she wouldn’t have that at any price.”
The blow hit hard. He’d been coxcomb enough to think Marianne’s distress signalled a change of heart. His memory flew to the moments he’d stolen to waylay her in the trees. For an instant he’d been sure she cared. Had he been about to kiss her? He hardly knew now what his intention had been. If Ibbotson had not interrupted them, Lord knows what might have transpired.
All day he’d relived the change he thought he’d detected. Had he been mistaken? Had he built a castle on a false premise? How, when he’d seen it in her eyes? And Marianne had been as conscious, he’d swear to that. Protest rose up.
“If that’s true, why did she rush out in distress tonight?”
He was hardly aware of speaking aloud. Alexander’s voice startled him.
“I told you. She was tired.”
Justin smote his knee with one fist. “No, it was more than that. I don’t care what she said to you this morning. When I spoke to her at that cursed Monument…”
He faded out, unwilling to share a conviction that Alex might feel compelled to quash. If he’d given his word to Marianne, he was honour bound and must keep it. But Justin could not rid himself of the suspicion that the comfort Alex had administered had everything to do with him. Why else would she be seeking to escape?
And that was a nonsense. At least he could put a stop to that.
Alex rose and set down his glass. Justin found himself under scrutiny and frowned.
A Chance Gone By (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 2) Page 16
