“Is someone in there?” If someone were there, they wouldn’t answer, nor could a mouse speak.
With the toe of her boot, Aloria nudged the door wide and peered inside.
The small amount of light given off by the candle on her washstand didn’t reach far into the dressing-closet, but she could see something—or someone—crouched in the back corner.
“I am armed,” she whispered. “Come out or I will come in swinging!”
Which was rather absurd since she’d much rather run screaming from the room.
Thankfully, neither came to be.
The figure straightened and she recognized the small woman.
“Mother!” Aloria sighed and dropped her parasol, her hands shaking. “You half scared me to death. What are you doing hiding in there?”
She wanted to know how much Lady Garland had heard. There was no other way into the dressing closet; evidently she’d witnessed Aloria’s collapse.
It saddened her.
“Do come out.”
Timidly, Lady Garland walked from between her daughter’s dresses, so unlike the woman who’d fainted to save Aloria from dancing with Lord Haston, whom she viewed an unsuitable partner.
“I am sorry, my dear,” her mother sighed. “I only meant to hang Aloria’s portrait and be gone before you returned. Your father said you had a difficult morning. I wanted to lift your spirits.”
That her mother thought the oversized painting of her great ancestor in a provocative position would ‘lift her spirits’ was more than a bit depressing.
“Why would father think I was having a trying morning?”
“Oh, I am not to mention that,” her mother uttered evasively. “I really should be going. I have been under the weather, as you know.” She made to duck past Aloria and escape, but Aloria stepped in her mother’s path, blocking her departure.
“Not so fast, mother,” she scolded. Sometimes being the adult in their mother-daughter relationship was downright exhausting. “What exactly did father tell you not to mention to me?”
“Before I tell you anything…” Lady Garland glanced about the room. “We must—“
And Aloria knew what her mother needed. “Yes, I know, mother.” Her mother’s sense of security was easily stripped from her—confined spaces made Lady Garland feel safe, the same as the color pink did for Aloria—and, as a loving daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to question her mother’s basic need for a sanctuary.
Within a few short minutes, Aloria and her mother had constructed a noteworthy encampment just large enough for the pair of them out of her two sitting chairs, various pillows, and her bedcover. They set a candle close to give them light.
But her mother wasn’t prepared to speak, and Aloria couldn’t push her before she was ready.
Aloria thought—not for the first time—that she had given her whole self to life, in direct opposition to her mother, who chose to hide. Aloria had known great happiness with her family and close friends, but had also experienced great sorrow early in life. Even her friendship with Delilah was much the same. She loved her dear friend, valued their connection; yet her actions had caused much grief. But that did not hamper Aloria’s ability to be happy for her friend and the match she’d chosen with Canterbourne.
How she’d longed to despise her friend, cast Delilah from her life without a second thought. What would she have gained from that but needlessly hurting another? Losing another? Added to that, Aloria firmly believed that the heart wants what the heart wants, and one has little control over whom the heart falls in love with.
Lady Garland had taken a different path in life, favoring a close relationship with her husband, fostering a great child, and keeping all negativity from her circle—as much as she could. She had few close friends and almost never left their townhouse, or ventured from their country estate when there.
Aloria had been shocked at her willingness to host the ball the previous evening. True to form, however, her mother had acted faint early on, and Aloria had escorted her to her chambers.
She’d asked her mother, and tried to bribe her father, into disclosing her mother’s reasoning behind it all, but both only shared their joint distrust of the cruel world around them. Yet, neither blamed Aloria for choosing to be a part of it.
Beatrice, sitting cross-legged on top of a small pink pillow looked to Aloria. The sadness in her eyes broke Aloria even more. She didn’t want to be the cause of her mother’s pain. It was as if she knew her daughter’s thoughts and wanted to banish them.
“You cannot protect me from every hurt,” Aloria whispered.
“I wish there was no need for any of us to be protected.” Her mother appeared small, almost childlike beside her. “Why are people so cruel?”
Aloria wondered what unpleasantness her mother spoke of. “Maybe they do not see the full ramifications of their actions or the effect they have on others.” This was the reason she couldn’t stay mad at Delilah and Canterbourne—they were in love, and therefore, oblivious to everything around them. They did not set out to purposefully hurt Aloria or her family. “What did Father ask you not to mention?”
Her mother fidgeted with the corner of a pillow, avoiding once more. “Oh, he did not forbid me mention it, only asked that I refrain from speaking of it until you had worked it out on your own.”
“And what does Father think I need to work out?”
“Your feelings for the Duke of Wolfeton of course.”
“My feelings for Wolfeton?” Her father had imparted the real reason Marcus had set his sights on her the previous evening. “Why would he think I have any feelings—good or bad—for the scoundrel, Wolfeton?”
Beatrice peeked up with a knowing smirk, and Aloria regretted her question. “He saw the two of you leaving your chambers last night during your ball.”
Words escaped her—she hadn’t thought someone would see her and Marcus depart her room, nor had the thought to look about even crossed her mind.
“Oh, dear,” her mother gushed. “He wasn’t spying on you.”
Aloria laughed, her father eavesdropping and spying was the least of her worries.
“He was coming to see me and saw the duke escorting you down the hall.”
If her father thought she and the duke had affection for one another, then why would he cast doubt on the man this morning? He could have kept the comment to himself and allowed Aloria to believe Marcus favored her over what her family could offer him. Except that was not how the man worked. It was as if he were more informed on Aloria’s situation than she or Marcus were.
“I do not have a tender for Wolfeton, mother.”
“If you say so,” Beatrice said. “I can only speak to what your father shared with me.”
“And how is he so sure something between the duke and I exists?”
“He said you had a certain look about you—your eyes were alight.”
“How does he know a simple look means anything?” Aloria questioned.
“Because he insists it is the same look I bestowed on him the day we met.” Her mother made to stand. “I must be going now. I think you have much to think about.”
Aloria didn’t stop her mother from crawling from their fort. Nor did she try to stop her from leaving the room.
She was right—as she often was. Aloria had much to ponder.
It didn’t matter that she looked to Marcus with interest, it mattered only how he looked at her. One can love another—invest all of their being—and still be crushed because that love is not returned.
While Aloria wasn’t disillusioned enough to believe that she’d loved Danderfur, Plumberly, or Canterbourne; she’d thought there was a chance of love developing and a true fondness for one another to evolve over time.
Had her first instincts about Marcus been wrong, or could he want her—as well as need her?
Chapter Twelve
“Can I help you, my lord?” the Garland’s butler asked.
“I am here to see Lady Alo
ria,” he repeated the statement for the third time in under twenty-four hours.
“May I announce who is calling?”
He knew the answer would be the same as soon as he gave the man his name. “The Duke of Wolfeton.” He’d given it to the same servant on each occasion, yet the man insisted on acting as if he didn’t recognize Marcus.
“Please wait here.” The door slammed in his face for the third time. No invitation to enter the foyer was issued.
Marcus needed to see her—to explain everything, even if she decided to throw him from the house after. And so he waited, just like before. Hope surfaced when the servant took longer to dismiss him than the previous two times he’d called.
He shuffled his feet and pulled his overcoat tighter to ward off the early evening chill. He’d planned his final call carefully to ensure that Lady Aloria would be at home, and if she once again denied his visit, he would have no other choice but to call off, for he did not want to harass her. At this time of day, she should be home, preparing for the evening entertainments.
The door opened once more, but with a little less force than previously.
“Right this way, my lord.” The butler issued a curt bow, catching Marcus off guard. “My lady awaits you in the drawing room.”
Finally, she was ready to hear what he had to say—or she’d only relented to get him to stop calling. Either way, Marcus would be able to express his apology in person.
His footsteps echoed through the open foyer and the butler preceded him down a long hall. It was familiar, and Marcus knew the ballroom was situated at the far end. Instead of going that far, however, they stopped before a closed door.
“She is expecting you,” the butler said before turning on his heels without announcing him.
“Thank you,” Marcus called to his retreating back.
Breathing deeply, he knocked on the door.
“Enter,” a whimsical voice chimed from within.
Confused, Marcus grasped the knob and turned. Either Aloria had forgiven him or…
“Ah, my lord,” a woman—who most assuredly was not Aloria—called from across the room. “Do come in and have a seat.”
The small woman, he’d describe her as a pixie if he believed they existed, reclined on a long sofa, a blanket covering her from the waist down—an open book across her lap. She looked much like Aloria, yet older.
“My lady.” Marcus bowed before taking a seat in the nearest chair.
“You are quite handsome, indeed,” she mumbled as if he couldn’t hear her. “My Aloria is a fortunate girl.”
Marcus wasn’t sure Lady Aloria would agree.
“My lady,” he said again in greeting. “I am the Duke of Wolfeton, but please call me Marcus.”
“Oh, I know exactly who you are.” She laughed with merriment at his puzzled expression. “I am Lady Garland, Aloria’s mother. I know we look more like sisters, but I can assure you, she is my daughter.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Garland.” He couldn’t help letting his gaze wander the room. “Will Lady Aloria be joining us?”
“Heavens no.” She laughed again at some private joke. “She has declared to never speak with you again. Silly child.”
“Well, thank you for seeing me.” Marcus stood. There was nothing more to say. “Let her know I will not pester her further.”
“Do sit down, my lord.” Her words were curt, letting him know not to challenge her.
Marcus quickly regained his seat, staring at his clasped hands like a petulant child ready for a tongue-lashing. And he deserved just that—and more.
“Do not look so nervous, Marcus,” her voice softened once more. “I did not agree to see you to condemn your person. My husband, Lord Garland, is convinced there is something between you and our Aloria—and I had to see it for myself.”
He wanted to ask what she expected to see. He was here, while Aloria was not.
“She does not know I agreed to see you,” Lady Garland confided. “And I do say, she will be rather peeved with me when she returns.”
“Returns from where?” Had she left town? He would never forgive himself if he’d caused her to flee London to avoid seeing him. “Is there anything—“
“Do calm down. She only went to visit Lady Delilah.”
Marcus sat back in his chair, commanding his heartbeat to slow in an effort to focus on Lady Garland.
“Aloria is a strong girl. Your deceit would not cause her to leave her home—you may be handsome and charming, but your powers are not great enough for that.”
“I wasn’t thinking—“ He’d been soundly put in his place.
“Yes, you were.” Placing her book on the table before her, Lady Garland stood and walked over to a portrait hung on the far wall, her fingers lightly caressing the wooden frame. “It is not to say she isn’t wounded and hurt, because she is. But she has come to expect such things from men—other than her father, of course.”
Marcus didn’t know if the woman was lecturing him on being an honorable man in the future or merely explaining Aloria’s position.
“I have come to apologize and explain everything.”
“And how will she know you speak the truth now?”
He’d believed all along he was speaking the truth to Aloria. Every word, every action—the kiss—had been genuine. From the moment he saw her in the hallway, he’d forgotten his father’s debts.
“I can tell you did not mean to hurt her,” she said.
It should alleviate his guilt, but it only led to more questions.
“How do I convince her of my good intentions?” he asked. Short of writing her a letter, professing his sincere apology, Marcus was at a loss as to how to fix things. They’d met a mere three days ago, but nothing had mattered more to him in his whole life than making things right with her.
“It would be foolish of me to help you, my lord,” she said, shaking her head as if she were sorry she couldn’t fix everything herself. “Your words and actions must come from your heart, not mine.”
“I do not mean to offend, but why are you telling me this?”
“Simple.” She regained her seat across from him. “I love my child with my whole heart.”
“But I lied to her.”
“I am not sure it was meant to be a lie, Marcus.” She eyed him, waiting for him to confirm this. “Besides, one can have several reasons for pursuing a certain person. Love and money are not mutually exclusive needs.”
Marcus wasn’t sure he loved Aloria after their brief time in each other’s company, but he was positive that money was not his sole purpose either.
“Given time, do you think she will listen?” Marcus didn’t have time, but he’d wait as long as it took for her.
“Do not give her time, Marcus,” she instructed. “If you want her, make her see your heart is true.”
For the first time in many years, Marcus missed his mother—desperately, for she would have given him the same advice. He hoped Aloria would listen to him—and understand—because he would really enjoy having Lady Garland in his life.
“If you must know, she and Lady Delilah plan to attend the Theatre Royal at Covent Gardens this evening.” Inclining her head, Lady Garland signaled that their visit had come to an end. “And please, do not tell Aloria I sent you her way. I imagine the two of you would have eventually found one another again; I am merely speeding things along.”
Marcus nodded. “I will not tell, my lady.”
“Very good.” She retrieved her discarded book.
“Do you think you could love her?”
Marcus hadn’t expected this. “I…”
“Oh, you have no need to answer my question,” she laughed again. “But it is something you should ponder greatly before making your next move.”
He nodded, lacking any response that would endear this woman to him.
“Now be gone before Aloria returns, or Lord Garland catches me meddling in her affairs.”
“As you wish,” Ma
rcus said with a quick bow. “I do hope to make your acquaintance in the future.”
“That rests on your shoulders, my boy.”
And it weighed considerably.
The butler was waiting to show him out when he left the room.
Marcus hadn’t a moment to spare before this evening. So many ideas rushed through his mind as he alighted Canterbourne’s coach.
One thousand pink flowers—no, blue—she said she thought blue was best.
A short play, acted out on stage to show her his true intentions.
Mayhap a simple declaration from him in front of an audience would suffice?
He discarded the ideas one by one. Flowers could never capture all he wished to say. A scene from the actors at the theatre was too easily misinterpreted. And a declaration? He wasn’t convinced he knew how he felt yet. How would he ever convince her?
The ride to Canterbourne’s townhouse was short, and he was no closer to figuring out a plan when the coach stopped in the drive. He had limited time to dress and depart if he wanted to arrive before the theatre was filled to capacity.
There was little hope, even with Canterbourne’s help, that he could locate her in the crowd.
Marcus hadn’t had a solid plan for the evening, but he’d never felt surer of his odds at gaining Aloria’s forgiveness. If he were his anything like father, he’d be at White’s placing several bets; even knowing his father had lost most of their family fortune in a similar fashion. Part of him understood his father’s need to risk it all in the hopes of gaining tenfold.
The front door opened wide to admit him entrance into Canterbourne’s home. It would be nice to have his own butler and footmen attend him once again.
“Good afternoon, Myers,” he greeted the servant whose arms were outstretched to take his coat. “Is Canterbourne about?”
“No, my lord,” he answered, hesitantly. “But you have a caller in the study.”
A caller?
Only a limited number of people were aware that he was in town; mainly the few who’d recognized him at the Garland Ball. He dreaded coming face to face with Gwen once more after her horrid treatment of Aloria.
The Siege of Lady Aloria_World of de Wolfe Pack Page 7
