A Lady to Remember

by Samantha Grace

  “Thank you, but your assistance is neither wanted nor needed. I will speak with our cook if necessary.”

  Harry groaned. “I cannot listen to you two quarrel. It matters not who speaks with the cook. I have no appetite.” He lugged himself from the chair. His pants hung looser on his frame. “I refuse to waste time seeing another doctor. The pains will pass.”

  Millicent lifted her nose, smiling triumphantly in Adele’s direction as Harry left the room. To have him side with their stepmother stung. Perhaps it seemed petty for Adele to fight over her position at Corbyn Place. She would marry soon and have her own household to manage. Harry would need someone to help him once she was gone, but she refused to hand the reins to Millicent. Beneath her handsome exterior, ugliness oozed in her veins. The woman had wormed her way into their father’s life by promising to share his burdens, then pushed Adele and Harry out of their home—and eventually their father’s heart.

  Adele had been too young to take a stand against Millicent then. Now, she wouldn’t bend.

  “I want you to leave. Go, and do not return without an invitation.”

  Millicent puffed out her chest. “You have no authority to toss me from the premises. I will appeal to Harry.”

  “You”—she jabbed a finger in her stepmother’s direction—“will stay away from Harry. You fooled our father, and perhaps Harry is too ill to see you for what you are, but I am not. You are an opportunist, and I will protect my brother at any costs. Now, either you leave Corbyn Place peacefully, or I will have you removed.”

  “How dare you”—Millicent’s porcelain cheeks bore crimson streaks as if she had been slapped with a paintbrush—“you ungrateful little bitch!”

  “Mother!” Leo bolted from the sofa to intervene. “It is time to go.” He tried to lead her from the drawing room, but she snatched her arm free to wheel on Adele.

  “You would have been married to a man three times your age if I hadn’t saved you. Fortunately, I had your father’s ear and convinced him to send you to live with my family.”

  “Liar.”

  Millicent snarled. “Your father couldn’t bear the sight of you. You look like your mother, and it broke his heart. He wanted you gone.”

  Leo grabbed her arm. “Enough!”

  Adele’s legs shook as he hauled her stepmother from the room. She dropped onto the chair Harry had vacated, her heart pounding in her throat. Could it be true? Had her father despised the sight of her?

  She heard a carriage pull away from the house. A moment later, Leo surprised her by returning to the drawing room.

  His smile was rueful. “Do not listen to the ramblings of a madwoman. Sometimes Mother rattles on about things she cannot know. I am sure our father loved you.”

  Poor, innocent Leo. He had likely been sheltered from the ugliness all these years, and she couldn’t bring herself to burst his happy fantasy. She blinked against the sting building at the backs of her eyes, gazing at her lap.

  “I am sure he did,” she lied. For no matter how unreliable Millicent was, her words rang true.

  Leo came to sit on the arm of the chair to give her a sideways hug. “I know it is not the same as hearing this from our father, but I love you.”

  Lud. She couldn’t stave off the tears now. As they rolled down her face, splatting on her skirts, he squeezed her shoulders once more in brotherly affection.

  “And so does Jefferson, Harry, and your Mr. Fletcher. Not to mention Tilde and Lars. In fact, you are quite a lovable girl, and anyone who cannot see it is dicked in the nob and damned.”

  “Leo!” She sounded properly scandalized, but his words actually soothed her. Furthermore, they were shocking enough to make her laugh.

  “There,” he said. “That is better. Now, at the risk of being labeled single-minded, should we make our way to the Drayton? I believe it will do us both good to be among friends.”

  She swiped at her damp cheeks and smiled up at him. “You are single-minded, but wise.”

  When they arrived at the theatre and she received her first glimpse of Marcus, her world began to right itself. As it turned out, Leo was wrong about his words being less important than their father’s. Being loved by her friends, brothers, and the man who had stolen her heart was enough. No, it was more than enough. It was everything.

  Ten

  Adele and Marcus strolled arm-in-arm alongside the water on Chalk Farm grounds located just outside of London. A grey sky hinted at rain and kept other couples inside the tavern instead of enjoying the pleasure gardens, allowing her a rare moment alone with her betrothed.

  “This was a lovely suggestion,” she said, delighting in the occasional brush of his arm against her side.

  A sharp gust of wind quivered leaves on tree branches stretched over the path, and the deep-throated rumble of frogs came from the water’s edge. She had forgotten how peaceful the English countryside could be. It was a welcome change after her time in Paris and London, and it was certainly nice to be away from the theatre.

  While she liked her new friends at the Drayton, privacy was scarce. The setting was not conducive to serious discussions without the threat of interruption. As her youngest brother had reminded her that morning, her wedding day was drawing near, and she and Marcus hadn’t spoken about Harry since their first meeting at the theatre. She shouldn’t procrastinate now that she had him alone, but they were getting along well, and she didn’t fancy ruining their afternoon. Nevertheless...

  She cleared her throat, preparing to ease into the topic of her brother. “I once overheard Lady Liliwen boasting to Harry about a duel fought to protect her honor at Primrose Hill.”

  Marcus stiffened beside her as if he sensed she was not making idle chitchat about her brother’s former lover. She cringed inwardly, realizing how her indirectness could be interpreted as manipulative. They walked in silence while she considered how to proceed. Losing some of her resolve, she steered the conversation away from Lady Liliwen and Harry.

  “It is beautiful here,” she said. “It is difficult to imagine anyone choosing this setting to satisfy a challenge.”

  “Indeed.” His voice had a droll quality, and his eyes twinkled with mischief when he slanted a look in her direction. “Every gentleman of my acquaintance prefers to be shot at Hyde Park.”

  His good-natured teasing shattered the tension. She laughed softly and hugged his arm. “I suppose Hyde Park is nearer to home.”

  “Precisely.” He drew her closer, erasing any concerns she’d had about him being upset with her. “Young men these days are a lazy lot.”

  She wrinkled her nose and recalled the countess’s complaints that Harry lacked the passion she craved in a beau. Adele, however, had appreciated his practicality on such matters.

  “You are beginning to sound like Lady Liliwen,” she teased. “The countess thought the current crop of bachelors lacked the romantic sentiment exhibited by the young men in her day.”

  “I am well versed on her thoughts on such matters,” Marcus said.

  “Are you?” A twinge of jealousy vibrated inside her. The countess had an appetite for handsome men and had often indulged her whims, even while she had kept Harry on a tether.

  Marcus had lived a life before meeting Adele, but she preferred to pretend he hadn’t. She certainly didn’t want to imagine him with Lady Liliwen or any woman of her ilk.

  “I was unaware you knew the countess.” Her throat was tight; she could barely eek out the words.

  He chuckled. “Certainly not in the way you are implying.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She halted on the dirt path, dragging him to a stop. “I was not implying anything.”

  One side of Marcus’s mouth curved higher than the other. “Weren’t you?”

  “No! I was simply unaware you were acquainted with her.”

  “I had the misfortune of dining next to her once. Nothing more.” He was still grinning like an idiot. Was he lying to her?

  A hot rush of blood roared through her v
eins. “Well, you have never mentioned her,” she snipped. “And there were many opportunities, such as when I told you how Harry and I arrived in Paris. You know she was our traveling companion. You could have mentioned a passing acquaintance then. Why didn’t you mention dining with her?”

  “The encounter was unimportant.” His smile widened. “Are you jealous, darling?”

  “Of her? You—you cannot be serious. I—I...” She sputtered, unable to fully deny the accusation. Law! She was making a cake of herself, and she was jealous—embarrassingly so.

  “Liar.” He laughed, grabbing her around the waist, and walked backwards into the bushes.

  She playfully swatted his chest, laughing at her own foolishness. “Put me down, you brute.”

  He set her on the ground but kept his hands locked at the small of her back. His affectionate smile warmed her to her toes. She twined her arms around his neck, leaning into him when he nuzzled her cheek. Even if anyone ventured outside, she and Marcus would be hidden from view.

  “Should I let you go?” he asked.

  “Never.”

  She closed her eyes as he feathered a kiss across her temple then rested her head on his shoulder. His spicy scent—comforting and uniquely his—transported her back to Paris. They had enjoyed an intimacy they couldn’t quite recapture now that they were home. How she longed to confide in him about Harry’s illness and her stepmother’s machinations, but Marcus’s attempts to distract her with his caresses left her uncertain. Was this how it would always be between them—this invisible barrier that kept them from being completely together? She refused to believe Marcus wanted this wall separating them any more than she did.

  No more tiptoeing.

  She took a cleansing breath and eased from his hold in order to read his expression. “I think we should talk about Harry.”

  The light in his eyes dimmed. “Adele...”

  A plea was present in his voice, a longing she couldn’t fully comprehend. She desperately wanted to fulfill his need, but she didn’t know how.

  She took his hands in hers. “Tell me what I should say, please.”

  His lips parted; she leaned closer. A fat drop of water plopped on her dress, leaving a darker splotch of green. She looked up, bemused. Another drip from a leaf overhead landed on Marcus’s hat. A light summer rain had begun to fall, but the canopy had been sheltering them until now.

  He pulled her toward the path. “We will discuss this later. Let’s get out of the rain.”

  They hurried for the tavern hand-in-hand. Adele’s gown and shift were damp by the time she and Marcus pushed through the front door. Marcus led her to a crowded table and ordered two bowls of soup before squeezing on the bench next to her.

  They ate their soup while making small talk. On the carriage trip back to Town, Marcus’s guards were back in place. He was no longer vulnerable like he had been beneath the ash trees, and Adele was sorry the moment was lost to them.

  He smiled at her across the carriage. “I do not want you to fret about your brother. I am certain we can reach an agreement that pleases both of us.”

  “Have you reconsidered allowing him to be part of our lives?”

  “I am conflicted,” he said. “To forgive him when he has offered no apology seems too much to ask.”

  Heat stung her cheeks. Harry had withheld his apology? But of course he had. Why should he make her life any easier? “I will speak with him.”

  “I prefer you not intervene. His regret must be sincere if he ever offers it. As to regaining my trust, I cannot promise that is possible. I hope you understand my position.”

  Her gaze dropped to her folded hands on her lap. “Of course,” she murmured.

  “Nevertheless, I fear I cannot have you unless I make some allowances for your brother.”

  She snapped her head up. “But I’ve agreed to marry you. I want to be your wife.”

  His sad smile initiated a dull ache in her chest. “A part of your heart will always belong to Harry. You will come to resent me if I turn him away.”

  “That is untrue.”

  He scooted to the edge of the bench and reached across the carriage to lightly capture her chin. His touch branded her. Even though she loved her family, she belonged to him. “You cannot predict the future, darling,” he said.

  She wanted to protest that neither could he, but he kissed her, silencing any argument she might offer. When he pulled her into his lap to deepen the kiss, she surrendered for the moment. They would have a lifetime together for her to prove her devotion. No one would ever come between them again.

  Eleven

  Marcus rarely dined with his parents. The experience was never pleasant, primarily due to his sire. Marcus had no objections to his mother’s company, although she was a different person around her overbearing husband. When she was in Sampson Fletcher’s presence, she became a ghost of herself—passive, quiet, and too agreeable to his whims.

  In exchange, Mother was allowed a life of her own and resided in a town house her father had placed in a trust for her that she could not sell or give to her husband. She entertained her own friends and kept a longtime lover who had never married. As long as she was discrete and did not cause trouble for Sampson, he left her alone.

  Perhaps that was the source of Marcus’s concern. He would have no support from her if Sampson decided to be uncooperative this evening. Nevertheless, Marcus couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer. Adequate living arrangements must be made for his bride tonight. He would be damned if he brought Adele to reside under Sampson’s roof and Marcus’s bachelor quarters were unsuitable.

  His teeth were set on edge by the time the footmen cleared the last course. Sampson had subjected Marcus and his mother to mind-numbing talk of the coming Royal Ascot races. Sampson attended every year, and usually lost large sums on long shots. Once the footmen left the dining room and before Sampson could suggest he and Marcus retire to his study, he initiated the conversation.

  “I have an announcement,” Marcus said. “I am to be married. Lady Adele Sinclair has accepted my proposal, and we will apply for a license next week.”

  His mother’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Wasn’t there a quarrel between you and her brother? You were adamant I must refuse Lady Adele’s invitation to visit her and her brother in the country last year.”

  Marcus’s smile was strained. “I am not marrying the Duke of Corbyn. Simply his sister.”

  “Well, that is delightful news—about you and Lady Adele, that is.” His mother became animated for the first time this evening. “Congratulations.”

  His sire grunted. “The Duke of Corbyn’s sister, eh? I imagine she carries a hefty dowry.”

  The calculating gleam in his eyes left a bitter taste at the back of Marcus’s mouth. Given half a chance, Sampson would fleece Adele just as he had done to Marcus. Ignoring his sire’s observation, he stayed focused on his goal.

  He had the perfect place in mind to begin his and Adele’s life together. Crossing Rivers Manor, where he had spent the first seven years of his life under the care of his governess and a dozen doting servants, had been his favorite home as a boy. His happiest memories involved fishing on the riverbank and hunting rabbits in the fields around the modest manor home. When he fantasized about having a family of his own, he always pictured a life at Crossing Rivers.

  Unfortunately, the property did not fall under the stipulations of his grandfather’s will. It came to Sampson through marriage, through Marcus’s mother’s dowry. His sire had sole authority over the house Marcus loved.

  “I would like use of the house in Warwickshire,” Marcus said. “It is suitable for a new bride and will accommodate a family nicely.”

  Sampson scoffed. “Do you have a whelp on the way already?” When Marcus glowered and didn’t respond, Sampson laughed and shot a mocking look toward Marcus’s mother. “You would not be the first gentleman who could not keep his cock in his trousers and had his hand forced. Is that not correct,
Mrs. Fletcher?”

  Mother blanched and busied herself with folding her napkin. Marcus’s fingers curled into a fist. How many times must he be forced to hold his tongue while his sire taunted his mother over losing her first love due to an indiscretion with another lady? She never defended herself, and she had begged Marcus to leave it be. Sampson was a vengeful man. His taunts were not the worst he could do to her.

  “Crossing Rivers is a lovely house,” Mother mumbled. “I am certain Lady Adele will be content there.” Once she had the napkin in order, she pushed away from the table. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the hour grows late.”

  Marcus stood in deference to her while his sire insolently lounged on his chair. “Allow me to escort you to the door, Mother.”

  She waved away Marcus’s offer. “Thank you, dear, but you should stay to finalize matters.”

  When Sampson made a snide remark about her swift exit, Marcus bit the inside of his jaw to keep from cursing him. The blackguard deserved a punch in the face for the crass and unprovoked attack on his mother, but Marcus just wanted to be done with him—for good.

  Sampson gestured toward the door. “Let us retire to my study, shall we? I have a matter to discuss with you, too.”

  Marcus followed him, stiff-backed and fists at his sides. He hadn’t chosen a chair in the study before Sampson ambushed him. “Crossing Rivers is yours, but I want something in return.” He sauntered to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and withdrew a sheet of paper. Sliding the pot of ink and quill across his desk, he avoided meeting Marcus’s gaze. “Sign this.”

  “How convenient. Has this been sitting in your drawer for weeks?”

  “I had it drawn up yesterday, after word reached me that you were courting a lady.”

  “You knew I would ask for Crossing Rivers.”

  “Predictable as always.” Sampson’s chuckle was smug.

  Marcus stalked to the desk, snatched the document, and scanned it. He growled. “You want to sell more of the estate. Have you spent everything you earned already?”