She looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. “You mean you don’t know who wrote it?”
He glanced back at the paper. “There are only initials—J.E.… I will find him though. That is a promise. And when I get my hands on Charles—”
Taking a deep breath, Marcus attempted to reel in his temper. “I apologize, Miss Barrett. But this is piece of drivel is more than I can tolerate. I suppose I shall have to challenge him to a duel. It is the most expedient way to satisfy my honor and also to end whatever plot he has afoot!”
She blinked up at him in surprise, her expression blank as the enormity of what he said slowly sank in on her. “You can’t do that! You must not challenge him!” She protested after a long and very silent pause.
“He’s left me with little choice. This is an insult that cannot be easily forgiven… certainly not when considering the other crimes he has committed against me. If you are concerned, I assure you that I am an excellent marksman and am quite skilled with a sword, regardless of which weapon he might choose.”
“I’m not worried about the type of weapon or even how skilled you might be with it! Do you honestly presume that if Charles were to accept such a challenge that he would fight fairly?” she demanded. “And while I harbor no great affection for him, you are grasping at straws. There is no proof at all that Charles is responsible for this!”
“I do not need proof,” he stated firmly. “This is precisely the type of underhanded thing he’d do. Do you not see that he wants my title along with your fortune and will stop at nothing to get it?”
“I do see that! That is precisely why I refused his proposal! Think of the scandal, Marcus!”
Marcus had been thinking of the scandal. He’d also been thinking of the peace of mind that would be had when he no longer had to wonder from one moment to the next what sort of scheme Charles might be hatching to gain control of everything that was his. “Scandal be damned,” he said and turned from her to re-enter the house. He’d ask Highcliff to be his second.
“Charles had nothing to do with it,” she blurted out quickly.
Marcus halted then, his steps faltering. He turned to her. Her expression was a strange mix of panic and guilt. Seeing that written so plainly upon her face, he began to see exactly what had unfolded. “You sound terribly certain of that, Jane.”
She clasped her hands in front of her and looked unwaveringly at the ground at her feet. “I am certain. I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
Having the blame taken from Charles and placed on her lovely shoulders did a great deal to soften his anger. But there were still matters that had to be dealt with. “Did you seek out this person and start this rumor, Jane?”
“I didn’t have to seek anyone out,” she admitted tearfully. “I am J.E.—Jane Elizabeth Barrett. You asked what sort of endeavors I had taken to support myself and now you know. I’ve been writing snide, nasty, gossipy columns for the London Ladies’ Gazette for four years. I’ve saved every guinea I’ve been paid for them in order to escape my father and stepmother. I wrote that column the first night you returned. It was just panic, blind panic! If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t have! I swear it.”
Marcus couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He blinked at her for several moments as he tried to formulate an appropriate response. He’d expected after her initial statement to hear that she’d had some involvement. He had not expected to learn that she was the author of such a piece.
She continued, truly distraught, “I tried to stop it. I sent a letter to the publisher and pleaded with him not to go ahead with it, but he never replied and I’ve been watching for the delivery ever since, hoping to intercept it so that you wouldn’t see it. It was a horrible, sneaky, dishonest thing that I did. I wrote that knowing full well that you were precisely who you claimed to be. I was only trying to delay our nuptials by forcing you to provide some proof of your identity… that’s all.”
“I see,” he finally managed. Taking several steps, he settled himself on one of the small, garden benches. To say that he was stunned was an understatement. Shocked, but strangely defused of his anger, Marcus allowed the reality of the situation to sink in. It was by no means laughable, and yet he found no small amount of humor in it. “It will be all right.”
“No, it won’t! You’ll never forgive me for it! And even if you could… your father… and your stepmother… and my father… and heaven knows Mrs. Barrett hates me enough already! I’ve ruined everything by being reckless and stupid!” She was practically shouting by the time she reached the end of her long list of potential and actual detractors.
“Nothing is ruined, Jane,” he said. “And frankly, the fact that this was you and not Charles changes everything. I daresay, I find the entire thing rather amusing.”
She whirled then, facing him for the first time. Her lashes were dark with tears and her eyes absolutely luminous. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she said, “Amusing? You find all of this and the potentially catastrophic consequences of it amusing?”
“I do… I’m sorry,” he said, trying to curb his laughter. “I realize you’re very upset, but the entire situation is like a farce fit for Drury Lane.”
“And when your father demands that the contracts be dissolved and my father demands recompense for it? Will you find it amusing then?”
“That will not happen,” Marcus assured her, though the thought was somewhat sobering. “Because there is no need for them to ever know that you are the J.E. responsible for this. I will keep your secret and in exchange, for the time being at least, you will keep mine.”
“What secrets are you referring to?” Jane demanded.
“My suspicions of Charles are well founded. I cannot tell you everything, but what I can tell you is that he is not to be trusted and not to be trifled with. You, I, and our impending marriage mark three very real obstacles to everything that he wants.”
“Charles is unpleasant, to be sure! But I cannot imagine that he is truly a danger to either one of us.”
Marcus shook his head. “There are any number of serious matters that we must address and Charles is but one of them. You must be very careful of him, Jane. He is not to be trusted… not at any cost.”
“Why would you say such a thing? I know Charles is somewhat unpleasant, but he’s hardly a criminal!”
She was too intelligent and too stubborn for her own good. If he wanted her cooperation then it was time to confess everything. “He is a criminal, Jane. In fact, I’m fairly certain he’s guilty of treason.”
Her tears stopped. Shock had taken precedence over everything else at that point. “You can’t be serious! Charles is—he’s certainly not someone that I would trust implicitly, but to be a traitor to one’s own country, especially during a time of war, is something I can’t imagine he would be guilty of.”
“I know it’s difficult because, frankly, it goes against everything that I hold dear. But for some men, money holds more sway than honor. I fear Charles is amongst their number. I need proof. And I have a friend who is helping me to obtain it. Regardless of the scandal and regardless of how Charles wronged me personally, treason cannot go unpunished. So while you were creating a scandal in the hopes of halting our marriage, sadly, one already existed that could have done so.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Jane, your father is after a connection to a dukedom… he wants a title in his family and an esteemed one at that,” Marcus explained. At her continued look of confusion, he said, “If our reputation is tainted by what Charles has done, if it should become public, it is very likely that your father will void the contract and, perhaps, even forbid a marriage between us.”
“He can’t,” she said after a moment’s pause. “That contract is binding and, scandal or not, our inability to move about in society during your absence has destroyed any potential connections he has in the aristocracy. He wouldn’t accept anything less than a marquess and, frankly, lofty, title
d men who are poor enough to marry the plump, bookish daughter of a man not even one generation removed from trade—well, they’re hardly thick on the ground.”
“You can’t be certain of that… and this could be precisely what you wanted. Your freedom.”
*
Jane let that sink in, absorbing the knowledge that he’d willingly handed her what he believed to be the key to ending their betrothal. But he didn’t know her father or his motives. “Questioning your claim to the title was the only thing I believe would have swayed him, farfetched as it may be. This is about his ego, you see. He wants to know that someone of his bloodline will muddy the pristine waters of the aristocracy. It’s pettiness really, I suppose. He has always resented those born not to wealth, but to rank, because, try as he might, putting on whatever airs he could mimic, he would never be accepted there. But by marrying his daughter into it, one day his descendants will be. Possibly even in his lifetime.”
An awful thought occurred to Jane then, one she was terrified to voice. But proceeding without knowing the truth would be infinitely worse. “Would you rather use this information to end our agreement?” she asked softly. “I understand if you have had second thoughts—”
“I have no second thoughts. I know precisely what I want, Jane. I want to put this mess with my cousin behind me, I want us to be married, and I want us to settle into a life together at Thornwood Hall. I think we could be happy together, Jane, if you’re willing,” he offered earnestly.
“Two days ago, I would have refused quite adamantly… because I was still holding on to old resentments and old hurts. I didn’t think that you and I would suit one another at all. But I’m no longer entirely certain of that,” she admitted hesitantly.
“You don’t have to be certain,” he offered. “Not yet, at any rate. We have a bit of time before they begin braying at us again. But if you’re willing to proceed with the betrothal, if not necessarily the wedding itself just yet, I have something for you.”
When he produced the small box that she could only presume held a ring, Jane felt her heart skip a beat. Theirs was not a love match, and yet they were carrying out the very scenes that she’d fantasized about as a child. His chivalry in battling her brutish stepmother, his forgiveness and even amusement at what most men would have found to be an unforgivable offense, and now a romantic gesture that typically happened between people who were very much in love—all of it rekindled the infatuation she’d held for him as a young girl. But she wasn’t a girl, she was a grown woman with a woman’s doubts and fears. It took more than a pretty ring and a proposal to ensure a happy marriage.
She’d never thought to have love in her life. But having sampled desire, one of its many components if her betrothed was to be believed, she wasn’t certain she could willingly settle for less. Of course, that did not mean she could not love him and he her. Regardless of where they currently stood on that front, he had done everything that was right and proper for a perspective bridegroom.
“I’m still not sure.”
“You are not wearing the ring because we are to be married. You will wear the ring because you are considering it… that is all, Jane. Our personal agreement from that first night still stands,” he vowed. “When you are legally able to take control of the annuity your grandfather left you, then you may tell me to go straight to the devil.”
“I don’t think I will do that.” Her reply was accompanied with a rueful chuckle. “I’ve been rather impossible to you since your return.”
“I’ve had moments of being rather impossible myself,” he admitted. “Let us try. That is all. And tonight, when we are at the theater, be mindful of Charles. He would not have suggested this outing if he didn’t have something planned.”
His tone was sharp and his expression guarded. It was becoming a familiar expression from him for he wore it whenever he spoke of his cousin. Suspicion reared and Jane elected to be blunt. “You said he might be guilty of treason… but there is something more, I think. Something that he has done to you personally. Tell me.”
His answering sigh was all the verification she needed that she had been correct in her assumption.
“At Corunna, I saw Charles. And he saw me… hours before I was captured. But our paths crossed again. He was standing only yards away from me when the French soldiers took me captive. I was dressed in a lower ranking uniform than Charles was at that moment—and I cannot tell you the reasons for that. I did many things in the war that still cannot be discussed openly.”
“So they didn’t take him… only you, when by all rights he should have been the more valuable captive?” Jane allowed the enormity of that accusation to sink in. “And then he lied. From the moment he returned home, he denied any knowledge of having witnessed what happened to you there. Why would he do such a thing?”
“Because he wants the title for himself… and he pursued you because he wants a fortune to go with it. Charles, regardless of my return, would not simply forgo his ambitions. I’ve no doubt he still has his gaze fixed firmly on both of his aims.”
The warning elicited a shiver of fear from her. She’d never truly feared Charles, only been mildly repulsed by his toadying. But if Marcus was correct, the man was far beyond simply greedy. He was also utterly without conscience.
“I will be wary of him,” Jane agreed. As she turned to walk back into the house, a horrible thought occurred to her. “You should be wary, as well. There are other heiresses he could hang his hopes upon, but there is only one title he can ever hope to lay claim to. You are far more of an obstacle to his aims than I could ever be.”
“We are agreed then to both be on guard,” Althorn offered. “Don’t run away so soon, Jane. We have this garden to ourselves.”
“We do not, Lord Althorn,” Jane replied, her tone heavy with reprimand. “The servants are well aware that we are out here together. I’ve no doubt that several of them are watching us at this very moment.”
“Would it be so terrible for them to see a betrothed couple kissing?” he chided softly.
“When one member of the betrothed couple is still having second thoughts about marriage, it could be very bad, indeed. Any hint of impropriety between us, my lord, and any illusion of choice that I have may well be forfeit,” she stated firmly. “Pleasant as those interludes have been, I think it unwise to continue them until we are both more certain of our course.”
“My course is certain, Jane. But you are the current and I am at your mercy. For now, I will agree to your demands. Should the opportunity arise for us to indulge in such activities without being viewed by others, that agreement becomes null and void,” he warned.
Jane wanted to protest, but her own traitorous desires wouldn’t permit it. Instead, she offered a curt nod and did the only sensible thing she’d done in days. She fled.
Chapter Eleven
The theater was quite crowded. While it had been some time since Jane had been able to attend any performances, the number of people clamoring together to get a good look at the “Missing Marquess” seemed disproportionate to her memories. It also seemed to greatly exceed the number of patrons that the theater could, in fact, safely accommodate.
“Whatever else has occurred, thank heavens your friend, Highcliff, arranged a box for us. It would be positively nightmarish otherwise,” Jane uttered under her breath.
She didn’t see Marcus smile, but she could sense that he did. The houselights had just been shuttered and the orchestra was warming up.
“Highcliff is full of surprises,” Marcus replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “For example, I had no idea that we’d be utilizing the Royal Box and in full view of the entire gathering.”
Jane frowned. “Oh my goodness. It is. Such elevated circumstance and I didn’t even notice. My father may well disown me.”
“Are you certain?” Marcus asked. “If that is the case, Miss Barrett, I assure you that you have never been more appealing than in this very moment.”
Jane di
dn’t allow the giggle to escape, muffling it behind her hand. In truth, if they could both be disowned by their families, their lives would be infinitely improved. It would all be infinitely less complicated if they didn’t have such a convoluted history together and if there weren’t so many other people involved in what should have been a private matter between the two of them. Jane could admit freely, to herself at any rate, that had she encountered Lord Althorn as the man who sat beside her that evening, without any past knowledge of him, she’d have been utterly charmed by him and would likely have had no hesitation in agreeing to his courtship.
Was it spite against her father that prompted her repeated inclination to turn him down? It was an uncomfortable thought but one that had to be entertained. She didn’t think that was the entire reason for her hesitation, but she wasn’t foolish enough to discount it entirely. There was also a healthy dose of fear that kept her from giving him anything other than a very guarded “maybe” as an answer. She lacked the ability to keep her heart secure against him. The more time spent in his company the more certain she became of that. While his intentions were clear, his feelings for her were not. Being trapped in a marriage, loving her husband and having no hope of ever having her love returned seemed to Jane the worst sort of pain a woman could endure.
Preoccupied with her own thoughts, she found herself paying little attention to the actors on stage. She did, however, frequently steal glances at the perfectly-chiseled profile of the man beside her as she struggled with her own indecision and her own motives.
In fact, Jane was so lost in thought that when the curtain dropped for intermission and the applause began, she was quite startled by it.
“Are you quite all right?” Althorn asked her.
“I’m fine. Just a bit warm in here I think,” she said.
“I’ll go and fetch you something to drink if you’ve no wish to brave the crowd,” he offered.
The Missing Marquess of Althorn (The Lost Lords Book 3) Page 13
