As well she might, he thought with bitter self-loathing. After all, I have been, it would appear, cast as the Bad Man in this scenario. And perhaps with good cause—my temper has not been the sweetest since I came home. But then, what else do they expect? I am, as they are so fond of telling me, just like my father.
Mary stared up at him from where she crouched on the floor, rebellion in her eyes. Seeing beyond the defiance, though, he glimpsed trepidation.
‘Well?’ he bit out, irritated at the prolonged silence that greeted his question and even angrier at the memory of Mary’s caution around him.
Her reticence now made sense. He had recognised her passionate nature from the first but, until last night, something had held her back, erecting a barrier that prevented her fully responding to him as her body clearly wished. There had been no logical reason for her to deny her desires—she was a widow, not some wide-eyed innocent with dreams of love.
‘Well?’ he repeated, his temper continuing its climb.
Mary glared at him, before bending her head over the children once more, murmuring. As the child’s cries quietened, she rose to her feet, pushing the children behind her.
‘The children were looking for me, my lord. I am sorry they disturbed you. It won’t happen again.’
She was back to ‘my lord’-ing him again: a sure sign of her anger.
‘The children are yours?’ It was obvious, but he asked anyway.
Before she could reply, there was a bustle on the stairs and Mrs Lindley panted into view, followed by Ellen and Trant.
‘Oh, wonderful,’ Lucas muttered in exasperation. ‘Now we have the entire household disrupted. And, as you are now all here, can someone please explain why I wasn’t informed of the presence of children in my house? You are all aware of my views on the subject, are you not?’
‘Of course the children are mine,’ Mary snapped. ‘And the reason you weren’t told they were here is precisely because of the unreasonable way you are reacting now.’
There was an audible gasp from Susan but, out of the corner of his eye, Lucas was aware of Mrs Lindley nudging Ellen, identical amused expressions on their faces.
Curse all old family retainers! ‘Unreasonable? And why, might I enquire, do you deem it unreasonable for a man to dictate his own lifestyle in his own household, Sensible Mary?’
Her colour rose and he saw the familiar flash of hurt anger in her direct gaze. Well, if she was going to ‘my lord’ him...! He quashed his shame over the pettiness of that thought.
‘Of course, it is not unreasonable to have your own views. I apologise,’ she added stiffly. ‘But might I remind you I have helped that same household in caring for you whilst you were indisposed and where I am, my children are. We shall gather our belongings immediately and...’
The small boy stepped from behind Mary’s skirts and stood at her side, clutching at her hand. He was trembling, Lucas could see, but he glared up at Lucas nevertheless.
‘I found your blood,’ he announced in an accusing tone. ‘We rescued you.’
Despite his fury at having his orders overridden—and, astonishingly, his hurt at being excluded—Lucas experienced a sneaking admiration for the way the boy, despite his obvious terror, stood up for his mother. He had done much the same for his own mother, until he had learnt that any defiance of his father resulted in more punishment for them both.
‘Hush, Toby.’ Mary cast an apprehensive look at Lucas. ‘Susan—please will you take the children downstairs whilst I speak with his lordship? I shall be down very shortly.’
‘Yes, you can all go,’ Lucas said. ‘The spectacle is over. The bad man is not going to hurt anyone. Not this time anyway.’
‘Noooooooo, Mama, noooo,’ the boy wailed, clinging to Mary’s arm, his eyes glued to Lucas as tears streamed down his face. ‘Come with me, Mama, pleeeease. I don’t want you to stay with him.’
Mary cast Lucas a fulminating glare before kneeling by her son. She folded him into her arms and rocked him whilst she murmured in his ear, words too quiet for Lucas to make out. Lucas stood his ground, staring stonily at the tableau before him, until Mary planted a kiss on the boy’s cheek, then urged him towards Susan, waiting at the head of the stairs.
Susan gathered the children and ushered them down the stairs, followed by the rest of his household, but within seconds Trant was back.
‘Doctor Preece, my lord,’ he announced, then promptly disappeared again.
‘Well, well, well—’ a jovial voice could be heard from below ‘—no wonder I couldn’t make myself heard at the kitchen door, for here you all are. I let myself in.’ He climbed the last of the stairs and then stopped short. ‘Lucas!’ he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing? Mrs Vale, I am surprised at you. I had thought you to have more sense than to allow—’
‘Do not place any blame at Mary’s feet, Robert.’ Lucas pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against. ‘I was anxious to find out what was going on in my household.’
‘Going on? What do you mean?’ The doctor turned his puzzled frown from Lucas to Mary and back again.
‘His lordship is referring to the fact that I have had the temerity to conceal my children in his household,’ Mary said acerbically. ‘However, my lord, you need concern yourself no longer, for I shall leave immediately and take my two dangerous, undesirable children with me.’
Her voice trembled over her final words and Lucas saw the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. Shame at being the cause of her distress swamped him. He looked at Robert, whose bewildered expression did nothing to make Lucas feel any better.
‘There is no need for that, Mary,’ he said. ‘You do not need to leave. As you said earlier, an extra pair of hands whilst I am indisposed is a great help.’ Her eyes rose to his, hope shining from their depths. Hope that withered at his next words: ‘If you keep the children out of my way, all can continue as before.’
Shame spread through him again, along with irritation that he still felt such a sense of responsibility for Mary’s happiness. Hadn’t he been awake half the night, stewing over his growing distrust of both her and her motives? Why did she still affect him so very much?
He felt his knees sag. ‘I think I need to rest now,’ he muttered as he steadied himself against the wall.
Mary was by his side in an instant, placing his arm across her shoulders and her own arm around his waist.
‘Well, Mary, this is cosy’ he said, looking down at her.
She was so tiny against him. He recalled his parents with a shudder. His father had never allowed his mother’s fragility to inhibit his aggression whenever his temper got the better of him.
‘I can manage!’ He tore his arm from Mary’s shoulders and stumbled along the landing to the Blue Room, the memory of Mary’s hurt expression burning into his brain. He heard a whispered exchange, then Robert followed him into the room and closed the door behind him, pacing around the room until Lucas had settled on to the chaise longue. As he lay back, relieved he had not passed out, Robert pulled a chair forward and sat down to face him.
‘What was all that about, Luke?’
The unexpected use of his childhood name brought a lump to Lucas’s throat. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed past it. He was a grown man now and entitled to behave as he wished in his own house. Why then did he feel guilty, as though it was he who was in the wrong? He was not the one colluding at secrets. He felt betrayed by the two people he had begun to trust.
‘I never wanted children in this house. It isn’t safe.’
‘I actually meant why did you reject Mary’s help in such an unforgivable manner but, as you broach the subject, what do you mean by it isn’t safe? Why should the Hall be unsafe for children?’ A puzzled frown creased Robert’s brow.
‘It is not the house that is unsafe. It is me. You, of all people, should know. You knew my father; he was a vicious tyrant.’
‘But your father is dead.’ Robert looked perplexed.
‘I am his son. I have his
temper. I will not subject any child to that.’
There was a protracted silence. Lucas avoided Robert’s gaze. He had no need to look to know what he would see in his expression: pity, condemnation, disgust.
‘You are not your father.’ The words were quietly spoken, but none the less reverberated around the room. ‘If you do not care to be governed by your temper, as he was, then you have the choice to be different.’
There was a further pause. Lucas continued to stare down at his own clenched fists.
‘And my original question?’ Robert continued. ‘Why were you so antagonistic towards Mary? She has done nothing but help since she first arrived, yet you rebuffed her assistance as though she were made of poison. Is this what you have become? Is this how you repay the people who care about you, Lucas? The people who help you?’
The words hit Lucas like hammer blows. He had not meant to hurt Mary. He had thought to protect her. ‘She reminded me of my mother.’
‘Your mother?’ Robert’s voice was incredulous. ‘She is nothing like your mother.’
‘She’s tiny, like Mama. She could never stand up to me.’
Robert gave a short laugh. ‘Maybe not physically,’ he said. ‘But it’s my belief she would give you a run for your money in every other way. She is a strong lady, despite her size. She has had a hard life, Luke.’
Lucas’s feelings were in turmoil. He wanted her, so badly it was a physical ache, but when he looked into her eyes it resurrected memories of Julia. And, earlier, he had seen his mother, dwarfed by his father. He could not risk hurting her as his father hurt his mother. And now he had discovered the secret he had sensed was being kept from him by everyone around him.
The children.
Hers.
She was a mother. She was more distant than ever.
‘Let me take a look at you, then,’ Robert said. ‘Turn over.’ He examined Lucas’s thigh. ‘That’s healed well. Now, how are you feeling in yourself?’
‘I’m well enough, Rob. I want to go downstairs. I must see to my business.’
Robert looked at him, brows raised. ‘You were very shaky just now, on the landing. Be rational, Lucas. Give yourself time. I understand you have been overseeing estate business from up here, with Mary’s help. You know all is in hand. I fail to see any advantage in you being downstairs instead of up here. You are still weak...’
‘I am tired of being weak. I need to—’
‘You need to regain your strength. Mary—’
‘I do not wish to depend on her any longer. She is going to her father’s house.’
The words were a far cry from the truth. He was not ready to say goodbye to Mary. Not yet. Or ever...? He shook his head, conflicting thoughts crowding his brain.
‘Is that where she is heading? I have not discussed her future plans with her. I shall be sorry to see her leave, she has uplifted everyone’s spirits in the time she has been here.
‘I would still advise you to wait a few more days before tackling the stairs, Lucas. Walk around this room; build up your strength gradually. Do not be too impatient, there is nothing you can do downstairs you cannot achieve from here.’
* * *
‘Is everything all right, ma’am?’ Susan, face pale with worry, hurried up to Mary as she entered the kitchen. ‘What did his lordship say about the bairns?’
Mary glanced around. The room was empty apart from Toby and Emily. ‘He said we do not need to leave...’
Susan’s face brightened. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘...as long as the children are kept out of his way.’
Mary felt her temper simmer. How dare Lucas talk of her children as though they were vermin to be hidden from sight? She watched them as they played happily near the fire, all upset seemingly forgotten. How could any adult resent such innocent beings? What thoughts were inside his head? She could not begin to understand him.
She recalled the way he had snatched his arm from her shoulders, as though he couldn’t bear to have physical contact with her. The abrupt rejection still stung. He hadn’t felt that way when he kissed her. She felt as though the weight of the world was back on her shoulders—a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her arrival at the Hall. She needed to get out of the house, to breathe in the clean, cool air, to feel the wind in her face and the earth beneath her feet.
‘I shall take the children outside for some fresh air,’ she told Susan. She raised her voice, ‘Toby, Emily, come along. Fetch your coats. We are going for a walk.’
Outside, they headed along the front drive, lined with magnificent horse-chestnut trees, their leaves already painted golden and red by the shortening of the days. The afternoon was dry and mild, the light breeze whirling the few early fallen leaves in eddies beneath their feet. Mary strode along, tugging each of the children by the hand until Emily brought her back to the present with a heartfelt wail.
‘Mama! Too fast!’
Guiltily, Mary stopped. She crouched down to give her daughter a hug. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I...’
‘Mama!’ Toby shook her shoulder. ‘Mama, someone’s coming.’
Mary glanced back towards the Hall, expecting to see the doctor in his gig, but there was no one there.
‘That way, Mama,’ Toby said, pulling Mary’s arm, pointing away from the Hall.
Mary glanced along the drive in the opposite direction, towards where she knew the big, iron gates that flanked the main entrance to the Hall opened out on to the road to the village of Rothley. A man astride a rangy bay horse rode towards them at an easy canter. Mary had wondered several times at the lack of visitors to the Hall, although she knew from Mrs Lindley that Lucas discouraged interaction with his neighbours. Quite why was yet another mystery, much like the reason he had banned children. In fact, he did not appear to care overmuch for anyone at all, she thought in disgust, although it seemed his neighbours were more forgiving than he deserved, as this was surely one of them come to enquire after his recovery.
She watched with interest as the rider came ever closer, slowing to a trot and then to a walk as he neared the small group on the edge of the driveway. As he came within hailing distance, however, a familiarity about the visitor sparked a flicker of unease. Mary viewed his approach with increasing concern. Rothley Hall was not many miles from the area where she grew up and she acknowledged, for the first time, the likelihood of meeting someone from her past whilst staying at the Hall.
Chapter Fifteen
The gentleman drew his mount to a halt and doffed his hat. With horror, Mary recognised him.
Sir Gerald Quartly!
Older than when she had last set eyes on him—he must be close on fifty by now, the same age as her father—and even heavier, the years of debauchery clearly having taken their toll. Nausea swelled her throat as she clutched at the children’s hands.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said. ‘I must confess this is quite a surprise. I had not thought Rothley had set up his nursery quite yet, or mayhap you are a visitor, madam? Sir Gerald Quartly, at your service.’ He bowed, his sharp grey eyes glued to Mary’s face. ‘Enchanted to make your acquaintance, Mrs...?’
‘Mrs Vale, sir,’ Mary replied, grateful her bonnet shielded her hair and part of her face from his scrutiny. She thought he had not recognised her, but she felt the urgent need to remove herself and her children from his presence as soon as possible. ‘We are visitors to the Hall, sir. Lord Rothley is—’
‘Ah, yes, Rothley,’ he interrupted. ‘Rumour has it he has had an unfortunate accident. I do hope he is not seriously indisposed?’
‘He is recov—’
‘Have we met?’ Quartly spoke over Mary’s words once again. He was, she saw, quite as ill mannered as she remembered. She suppressed a shudder at the memory of the few times their paths had crossed at her father’s house, times when those same grey eyes had raked her up and down, leaving her feeling as though she had been stripped bare before him.
; She forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘I do not believe so, sir,’ she said with as much hauteur as she could summon. ‘Now, if you will excuse me? I shall tell Lord Rothley you called to enquire after his health. I am afraid the doctor is with him at present, so I shall save you the futility of continuing as far as the Hall. Perhaps you would care to call another day?’
Quartly’s face darkened at her words. ‘I shall be sure to do that, m’dear,’ he said, not bothering to conceal his irritation. ‘You can give a message to your...’ his eyes raked her insolently ‘...to Rothley for me. You tell him the Quarter Day is fast approaching. He will understand.’
Mary inclined her head, battling to keep her emotions from her face lest she inadvertently prompted a memory within him.
‘Good day.’ Quartly wheeled his horse round and set off for the gates at a brisk trot.
Mary, shaking, watched him go before turning the children towards the Hall. She scanned the honey-coloured stone walls ahead. The Hall might be rambling and shabby, but she had become fond of it in the time she had been there. She would be sad to leave, but could delay no longer. If Sir Gerald should remember her... She quickened her pace, hoisting Emily on to her hip when she wailed her protest.
Mary entered the front door with a heavy heart.
Trant accosted her almost immediately. ‘Mrs Vale, his lordship is asking for you.’
Mary’s stomach churned, nervy butterflies flitting through her.
‘Did you tell him I was out for a walk?’
‘I did, ma’am, but...’
‘But...?’
‘He seemed to believe, ma’am, that you might have left us. He became quite agitated...he was most insistent you attend him the minute you return.’
‘Was he indeed?’ Mary stripped her gloves off with a display of nonchalance that belied the tumultuous feelings flooding her mind and her body.
Her emotions had been in turmoil ever since Lucas’s hurtful rejection of her and the unexpected meeting with Sir Gerald Quartly had increased her worries. One thing she knew for certain, she was in no state to face Lucas at the moment. Besides, after his treatment of her earlier, it would do him good to understand she was not at his beck and call. He must get used to it, for she was decided upon leaving in the morning.
Mary and the Marquis Page 14
