She learned why, when in the middle of a conversation with Lady Needham about knitting—the single feminine art that Merry actually enjoyed—she was approached by Quick.
“Miss Parks,” he said in a discreet voice, “I believe Miss Delaford and her parents would like to speak to you in the Blue Room.”
She’d been hoping that Alex would have sent for her.
But knowing that she still had no explanation for Miss Delaford’s actions the night before, she rose, eager to confront the other lady.
The Blue Room, as she knew from her previous visit, was decorated in the chinoiserie style, and was mostly in shades of red, from the silk wall hangings to the dragon-footed settee in the center of the room. It was called the Blue Room for reasons no one in the family could remember. But it had always been called the Blue Room, so that it had remained.
When Merry entered, she found that Alex, Mr. Ponsonby, and Lady Katherine were there, as well as the three Delafords.
Mr. Delaford, looking unusually cowed, looked up as she entered and his expression was one of relief.
“Ah, yes, Miss Parks.” He turned to the room at large, and said, “Now that you’re all here, my daughter can make her apologies, and we can be on our way.”
Alex, who had moved to stand beside Merry before the fire, spoke up. “Not to put too fine a point on it, Mr. Delaford, your daughter put both these ladies and my infant cousin in grave danger last evening. I’m not sure a mere apology will be sufficient to make amends.”
Miss Delaford, who had been staring down at her hands, seated as she was in the center of the dragon settee, looked up at that. Her mother, who was beside her, patted her on the back. Merry watched as the older lady cooed something soothing in her ear.
For all that she was nearly twenty years old, Miss Delaford looked like a child as she cringed against her mother.
“For heaven’s sake, Wrotham,” said the older man, “the girl didn’t know what she was doing. Just let her speak her piece and then we’ll be gone. Though I hope you’ll promise not to spread word of what happened any farther than necessary. Emily’s reputation will be marred as it is.”
Curious to know what his daughter had to say for herself, Merry said to Miss Delaford, “Why don’t you tell us why you locked us in the icehouse, Miss Delaford?”
At Merry’s words, Emily Delaford looked to her father, as if asking for permission. When he gave a slight nod, she said, “I came here with the understanding that I would be the only unmarried young lady in attendance. Then, when I arrived, Lady Katherine was here.” She directed a venomous look at the blonde, who moved a little closer to Mr. Ponsonby. “I had hoped to have his lordship’s undivided attention. But that, it seemed, would not be the case.”
No one spoke as they waited for her to continue. And she didn’t disappoint. “However, Lady Katherine seemed to be quite taken with Mr. Ponsonby, so though Lord Wrotham wasn’t scheduled to arrive until the next day, I was happy to wait. You see, I’m meant to marry a titled man. Perhaps it sounds mercenary, but my parents have assured me that our bloodlines go back further than even the Ponsonby’s. It’s what I deserve, as a Delaford, you see.”
“So, you must have been quite put out when Lord Wrotham arrived with Miss Parks,” said William wryly.
“He was meant for me,” she said simply. “She wasn’t even supposed to be here.”
“And yet, here I am,” Merry said, unable to keep the edge of anger from her voice. It was hard for her to believe she hadn’t noticed the arrogance in this girl before now.
The look Miss Delaford trained on her was razor sharp. “Yes, the daughter of an undistinguished baronet, without looks or charm, has somehow managed to ensnare a handsome viscount. I do wonder how you managed it, Miss Parks?”
The intonation of her words said precisely how she thought Merry had managed it, and it wasn’t with her verbal charm.
Merry instinctively stepped forward at the insult, but Alex put a hand on her arm. “Miss Delaford, you are insulting the lady who will soon be my wife. Perhaps you’d better finish your tale of imagined woe and be on your way. You may not care to celebrate the holiday, but we do.”
Her eyes narrowed at him, but she continued. “I was angry. I saw that Lord Wrotham’s family wasn’t precisely pleased with Miss Parks, thanks to Mrs. Northman’s little speech over cards. Imagine my surprise when it turned out that Mr. Ponsonby was the one hiding the secret.” Her brows rose at the last, and she shot a little chiding tsk at William. “Poor Lady Katherine must have been quite overset.”
The enmity in the girl’s gaze at Lady Katherine gave Merry a chill. And suddenly she recalled the way Miss Delaford had stared behind them on the sleigh ride. Had she been watching Lady Katherine and Will whose vehicle followed theirs?
This time it was Mr. Delaford who prodded her. “Emily, stop airing your grievances and tell them the rest. Your mother is exhausted.”
Merry noted that he seemed to be telling the truth about his wife. She did indeed look tired and wan. Apparently reassuring one’s daughter that her bloodlines were superior to everyone else’s at a holiday party was quite fatiguing.
With a look that might have been contempt for either one of her parents, Emily continued. “After enduring the day of her playing lady of the manor by Lord Wrotham’s side while I was forced to listen to the inane chatter of that lackwit Vessey, I decided to teach Miss Parks a lesson And when Lady Katherine turned up as well, I decided to include her. She was hardly innocent, after all, given how she’d taken to monopolizing Mr. Ponsonby.”
The offhand manner in which the girl described her reasons for placing them in danger was chilling. “What of Lottie?” Merry asked, unable to stop herself. She could think of no reason why the girl would wish revenge on an infant. If Lord Wrotham was her matrimonial target, Lottie shouldn’t matter to her at all.
“Oh, I needed some reason for the two of you to go into the icehouse on your own,” Miss Delaford said with a shrug. “You both seemed so taken with her, it was logical to think the sight of her in the cold of winter would lure you inside. It was easy enough to accomplish just after we returned from the sleigh ride.”
With a slightly triumphant smile she added, “I was right.”
“You risked my infant daughter’s life for no reason?” Ponsonby said with a growl. A staying hand from Lady Katherine was the only thing that kept him from confronting Miss Delaford up close.
“There was reason, Mr. Ponsonby,” she explained with a shake of her head. “I’ve just explained it all to you. Now, as my father has instructed me to do, I hope you’ll all accept my abject apologies. I have no excuse except that my temper sometimes gets the better of me and makes it impossible for me to rein it in.”
Merry waited for some further words of apology, but none, it seemed, were forthcoming.
Looking embarrassed, but defiant, Mr. Delaford offered a deep bow to Alex and a nod to the rest of them. “I thank you for your hospitality, my lord, but I fear we must depart for home now. I hope you all have a happy Christmas.”
He opened the door and indicated that he wished his wife and daughter to follow him, which they did. Miss Delaford was at the front, looking triumphant, followed by her mother, who walked upright, but carried an air of defeat.
Once the door closed behind them, Alex, Merry, William, and Lady Katherine looked at one another and laughed nervously.
“That is the most unsettling encounter I’ve ever had,” Alex said with a stunned expression.
“She certainly has an idea of what she deserves,” Merry said with a shudder. “And I hope the next person who gets in her way is as lucky as we were to escape with our lives intact.”
“Surely she’d have come and set us free before too much time passed,” said Lady Katherine with a hopeful tone.
“She went to bed last night after she told us she’d lost you,” Will said with a speaking look, “and she didn’t come back downstairs until just now. If it were up to her, the t
hree of you would have frozen to death last night.”
“Should we alert the authorities?” Merry asked. “Though I suppose Mr. Delaford is rich enough to ensure that any suspicions that might fall on her would disappear quickly.”
Alex rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I actually have an idea of someone who might be able to put a warning about Miss Delaford with just the right people. It would likely make her quest for a title more difficult, but at the very least, other young ladies whom she might consider rivals would be safe.”
“Grandmama?” Ponsonby asked with a grin. “Finally, a way to put her skills to use in the service of altruism.”
“No one is irredeemable,” Alex said simply. “Not even the dowager.”
Chapter Twelve
Once they were alone again, Will and Lady Katherine having gone upstairs to check on Lottie, Merry turned to Alex, and the look in her eyes gave him pause.
“What is it?” he asked. Gauging by Merry’s expression it was important.
“I’ve something to ask,” she said, her voice steady, but her manner almost apologetic. “And it won’t be an easy thing for you to grant.”
“Anything,” Alex said, and meant it. He would do whatever she asked. Without question.
Merry stood up straighter and her chin lifted. “I’d like you to let me speak to the dowager. Alone.”
His gut clenched. He’d done his best to keep his grandmother from cornering her since they’d arrived. He knew Lady Wrotham was unhappy with Merry’s presence here, but he’d confronted her about that. And it was obvious in the way she’d studiously avoided Merry that she was trying to abide by his orders to leave her alone.
“I give you my word,” he said, tracing a thumb over the back of her hand, which he still held in his, “her days of riding roughshod over this family are over. She won’t bother you again.”
“I need to make peace with her, Alex,” Merry said, her dark brows drawn with understanding. “I need to put the past behind us so that this family can move forward with no ill feelings among us.”
At that, he couldn’t stop a harsh laugh. “My dear, this is the Ponsonby family. There will always be some sort of ill feeling. It’s too deeply ingrained in the blood.”
But she didn’t laugh with him. “I believe you’ve been too accustomed to the dowager’s—and, yes, your cousin Cassandra’s—unkindness. I will not live like that. And, if you must know, I wish to ensure that your grandmother knows I will never leave you like your mother did. She needs to know from the beginning that I am not the young lady she intimidated into leaving five years ago. I won’t let you go.”
Alex felt the anxiety in his gut turn to admiration for this determined, beautiful woman who stood before him.
Leaning in to kiss her, he told her without words how much her reassurance meant to him. And with her response, she told him she was his.
When he pulled away, she was smiling at him. “What?”
“Thank you for agreeing,” she said. “I know it’s difficult for you to let me go alone. But it’s something I have to do. For myself as well as for our future.”
“You don’t need my permission,” he said with a slight shake of his head.
“No,” she said in agreement. “But I wanted your blessing. Because despite what she’s done, she’s still your grandmother. The dowager Lady Wrotham. And I know your instinct is to protect us both.”
He didn’t disagree with her.
“When will you go to her?” he asked, slipping his arm through hers.
“I believe I’d like to get this interview over with as soon as possible,” she said with a crooked smile. “Wish me luck.”
And with a kiss on his cheek, Merry withdrew her arm from his and, head held high, left to fight this particular battle alone.
* * *
Despite her declaration to Alex that she was determined to confront his grandmother, Merry felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach as she stepped into the sitting room where the dowager was holding court. The ladies, among them Lady Willowvale and Mrs. Northman, were all sewing, though the dowager was the only one with a frame before her. Merry could see as she approached that it was an intricate floral pattern—the sort that would bring her to frustrated tears within minutes of placing the first stitch.
“Miss Parks,” the dowager said, without looking up from her sewing. “I see you’re recovered from last evening’s adventures. Such an odd start for Miss Delaford. I’m sorry to say I was unaware of her ill temper when I invited her here.”
Then, to Merry’s astonishment, she added stiffly, “I am pleased to see you looking fit. And that Lady Katherine and my great-granddaughter were unharmed as well.”
Merry felt the avid stares of the room’s other occupants, as if they were watching a tennis match and waited to see her return the ball.
She gave a curtsy. “Thank you, my lady. I am recovered, and also pleased that Lottie and Lady Katherine seem none the worse for wear.”
The other women turned to the dowager, who finally raised her eyes from her needlepoint frame and gave Merry a searching look. Reading the expression on Merry’s face correctly, she said to her coterie, “Pray excuse us, ladies. Miss Parks and I have a few matters to discuss about this evening’s entertainment.”
Looking disappointed, the ladies gathered up their sewing things and filed from the room, expressing their sympathies for Merry’s ordeal in the icehouse as they went. As Mrs. Northman approached, Merry was surprised to see a look of regret on her face. “I didn’t say so before,” she said quietly, “but I’m sorry for what I said the other evening. It was badly done. I can only say that I was unaware of the truth of the situation and my protective instincts for Wrotham had been raised.” She gave a glance in the dowager’s direction. Then, facing Merry again, she said, “I’m pleased to see you are unharmed. My cousin would be very unhappy if you’d been injured. And he is a good man.”
With that, Mrs. Cassandra Northman gave her a pat on the arm, and left the room.
When she was alone with the dowager, Merry approached the older woman with a feeling of mixed agitation and dread. This woman was responsible for the greatest unhappiness of Merry’s life. And yet, she was also the grandmother of the man she loved. Without her, Alex wouldn’t exist. And for that, at least, Merry was grateful to her.
“Don’t stand there dallying,” Lady Wrotham said wryly. “I won’t bite. Come have a seat over here. I know you do not sew, but you may untangle some of these skeins of thread for me.”
Merry knew it was at once a set down and a bit of a peace offering, so she sat beside the matriarch and took up what turned out to be quite a tangled knot of variously colored flosses.
“I am quite hopeless at keeping my threads separate,” the dowager admitted with a sideways look at Merry. “Though I do like for everyone to think I’m perfect, I do, in fact, possess some flaws.”
That was a conversational trap if ever Merry had heard one, so she kept silent, following the line of dark green thread through the tangle in silence.
“You may as well say whatever it is you came to say,” the dowager said, sitting back from her sewing frame at last. “My grandson has already read me a towering scold over my actions five years ago. It only needs your input to put that business behind us.”
This interview was not at all what Merry had expected. She’d been prepared for coldness and recriminations. Not this pragmatism.
But she, too, wished for the events of the past to be laid to rest.
“What you did,” she said, turning to face the lady beside her, who was smaller than Merry remembered, “was inexcusable. I was preparing to marry your grandson, and in bullying me to leave him, you harmed us both. Almost beyond repair.”
There was silence between them for a moment, as the two women looked at each other. Merry’s face was grim, the dowager’s searching.
“Is that it?” the dowager asked. “I expected more spirit from you, gel. Are you not the same chi
t who charged into Wrotham House in London with an infant in tow? Where is that fire, I wonder.”
“You and I both know what you did, Lady Wrotham,” Merry said tartly. “I see no reason to belabor the point. I am here because I know that despite what you’ve done to manipulate the circumstances of Alexander’s life—what you did to force his mother away, how you ended my attachment to him—he loves you. And I wish for him to have you in his life. You are, for better or worse, his grandmother.”
The dowager smiled a little. “That’s somewhat better. But I believe there is something I should tell you, Miss Parks. Something I haven’t even told my grandson. It’s time for the truth, though I did think it better at the time to let him believe some untruths.”
Merry frowned. Was she to be treated to some false tale of the dowager’s heroism, she wondered.
“My grandson believes,” Lady Wrotham said, her green eyes—so much like Alex’s—shadowed with pain, “that in addition to my son’s detestable behavior, I contributed to make his mother’s life difficult here, causing her so much unhappiness that she left this house without taking him.”
Since this was true according to what Alex had told her, Merry nodded.
“What he does not know,” the dowager continued, “is that my reasons for doing so were, despite what they appeared to be, an effort to remove her from my son’s immediate proximity.
“You see,” she said, “I knew long before they married what Edward, Alexander’s father, was. He was a cruel, spoiled boy and he grew up to be a cruel, spoiled man. His father was good, but he died when Edward was a child and wasn’t there to offer him the strong hand he needed. And I fear that the loss of my dear husband led me to dote on him. My daughters were older, and not as defiant. But Edward was born with high spirits. And I indulged them, thinking he would grow out of them. But he did not.
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