by Fanny Walsh
Both Duncan and Beatrice nodded.
Before they could plan a place and time, two men quickly approached the group. Duncan stood up straight, moving so that he stood between the men and Mary.
“Uncle!” Mary said, looking both pleased and surprised.
“Good evening, my dear,” the elder man said, kissing Mary’s hand. Duncan tried to relax, seeing as it was Mary’s relatives who had approached. He could not, however, shake his unease. He stepped aside so that Mary could properly greet her family.
“You look lovely, Mary,” the younger man said, taking her other hand.
“Good evening, Samuel,” she said. Duncan frowned. She had never mentioned anyone named Samuel. He stiffened again.
“Your cousin and I are quite surprised to see you here,” Mary’s uncle said, speaking to Mary, but eyeing Duncan with strange regard.
Duncan remained silent, not wanting to embarrass Mary with a display of his protectiveness in front of her family. He felt foolish for allowing himself to feel jealousy at the mention of another man’s name. He knew he had no claims to Mary, but he realized then that the idea of her socializing with other men bothered him greatly.
“Beatrice asked me to accompany her tonight, and I agreed,” Mary said carefully.
“Ah, yes, please, do forgive my manners,” Mary’s uncle said, bumping into Duncan as though he did not see him as he moved toward Beatrice. He took her hand and kissed it for what, to Duncan, seemed much longer than was necessary.
“How are you, Miss Beaumont?” the elderly gentleman asked.
Beatrice smiled warmly.
“Very well, thank you,” she said, curtseying.
“I think that John should like to know that you are in attendance this evening,” Mary’s uncle said, his eyes twinkling.
Beatrice blushed and averted her eyes, and Mary frowned. Duncan wondered why.
“Uncle, please allow me to introduce you to Lord Tornight,” Mary said quickly.
The man bowed stiffly.
“I know the Viscount,” he murmured.
“And Lord Tornight, this is my uncle, Kent Hillington.”
Instant recognition flooded Duncan’s mind. Hillington was the name of the man to whom Theodore said he had lost the large sum of money the day he stumbled into Duncan’s clinic. He had no idea that the man was Mary’s uncle.
His first reaction was one of complete shock. His second was to grab the man by the shoulders and shake him for taking his gullible cousin for everything he had.
Duncan recovered quickly so as to not draw unwanted attention to his reaction, especially from Mary. He thought, however, that the elderly man had noticed, and was smirking at him with amusement.
“It is a pleasure, Mr. Hillington,” Duncan said, giving a smile that felt more like a grimace.
The older man scoffed, clearing his throat to attempt to cover the sound.
Mary seemed to notice the tension. She gave Duncan a confused look as she stepped toward her uncle. She smiled, but her face looked tense and worried.
“Did you wish to speak to me, Uncle?” Mary asked, obviously attempting to change the subject.
“Actually, I wished a word with the young Viscount, if I may,” he said, looking at Samuel and nodding. Samuel then took Mary’s hand and whisked her onto the dance floor before she could say another word.
Beatrice stood in equal surprise, looking unsure of what she should do.
“I believe that I shall go bid John hello,” she said.
“Very good,” Kent said, smiling warmly. As Beatrice walked away, the man looked around. He tried to be nonchalant, but Duncan sensed that the man did not want anyone within earshot of whatever it was that he had to say.
At last, he turned his attention to Duncan.
“I know who you are,” he said, keeping his voice low, despite being so far out of earshot of the other guests of the ball.
Duncan blinked, surprised at the man’s animosity toward him.
“Oh?” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “And who might that be?”
“Do not play coy with me,” the man said, now almost snarling. “I know what it is that you want from my dear Mary, and I will tell you now that you shall not have it.”
“And what is it that you believe I want?” Duncan said, his blood now boiling.
Kent scoffed.
“I can see the hunger in your eyes. Mary is nothing more to you than a means to a fortune and a title that will never belong to you,” he said.
Duncan’s blood roared in his head, and he was barely able to suppress his rage at the accusation.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Duncan said coldly.
Kent interrupted him.
“You will stay away from Mary. Or else,” he said, his eyes defiant and heated.
It was Duncan’s turn to scoff.
“Or else what, Hillington?” he asked, mocking. “Or you will order Mary to stay away from me? Her own physician?”
Kent’s face flushed purple.
“I am Mary’s physician,” he said, his voice rising. A small group of people who had moved closer to the balcony window began looking at the two men.
Kent took notice and forced a hearty laugh. He did not speak again until the group was no longer looking in their direction.
“What kind of nobleman had to become a doctor?” he asked, laughing again, this time bitterly.
Duncan’s fury rose. That he could criticize him after what he had done to Mary’s leg was atrocious, and he had to restrain himself from saying so.
“Being a physician did not seem so bad when you proclaimed to be Mary’s doctor just now,” Duncan said.
Kent’s terrible smile faded into a more terrible scowl.
“You will stay away from her. There is no way I would ever give my blessing to any relationship you tried to seek with her.”
“Does she need your blessing?” Duncan asked, chuckling. “Mary seems quite capable of making her own decisions. She is, after all, the countess, and her father is dead.” He winced inwardly, grateful that Mary was not there to hear him say it aloud.
“I am her uncle, and I know what is best for her,” Kent said, his face turning blue with the effort to not yell the words.
“Then surely you know that Mary detests having people who tell her what to do and make decisions for her?” Duncan said, some of his anger giving way to amusement.
“What I know is that she is vulnerable, and men like you want nothing but to take advantage of that vulnerability,” Kent hissed.
“You do your niece a grave injustice, sir,” Duncan said.
“I will not say it again. Stay away from her,” Kent said.
“Perhaps we should ask Mary what she wants,” Duncan said, his amusement growing. “She is the only person to whom I must prove myself and my intentions. And I am sure that Mary would agree.”
“Indeed,” Kent huffed again. “Perhaps, we should ask her if she is in need of a suitor who has a pathetic gambling drunkard for a relative.”
At this, Duncan stepped quickly toward the man. An instant before it was too late, Duncan stopped himself from grabbing the man’s coat front.
“Are you blackmailing me, Hillington?” Duncan growled.
“The idea had not occurred to me,” Kent said, with a chuckle that spoke directly to the contrary. “But, now that you mention it, if it should become necessary, I suppose it could be arranged.”
This caught Duncan off guard. He had not mentioned much of his family to Mary thus far, and he certainly did not want her to find out about his cousin’s problems; at least, not yet. However, he refused to be intimidated by the man’s threats. He relaxed his posture and smiled bitterly.
“You would be willing to let Mary know that you proudly took the money of a pathetic drunk, then?” Duncan asked.
Kent curled his fingers slowly into fists. For a brief moment, Duncan believed that the man might hit him. However, he relaxed his hands, pointing a finger in Duncan’s face.
“Let us assume for a moment that you really do care for Mary,” Hillington said. “You would not wish to subject her to the bouts of madness to which your family seems to be so terribly prone, would you?”
This stunned Duncan into silence. He had allowed his feelings for Mary to continue developing, with little thought to the thing he feared most. He would indeed never wish to subject Mary to a madman, should he go mad himself, or to give her children who might succumb to insanity as they grew older.
These thoughts saddened Duncan, and he remained silent.
Kent smiled, satisfied that he has accomplished his goal.
“I suspected as much,” Kent said. “Heed my warning, doctor. Stay away from Mary.”
“So long as she is choosing to see me as a patient, I will do no such thing,” Duncan said, but his voice had lost much of its previous conviction.
Kent sensed as much and laughed. Then he shook his head in amusement.
“You have been warned,” Kent said. Then, he walked away.
Duncan stared after the man. He remembered Mary saying that he was protective of her. He just wondered if she knew exactly how true that was. He had meant what he said, that he had no intention of not seeing Mary again.
However, he now believed that it might behoove him if he was somewhat more careful about their meetings.
Chapter 15
The conversation at dinner was light and pleasant, but Mary was not listening with full concentration. She could not stop thinking about the meeting she was to have with Duncan the following day.
She told herself that she was simply worked up because of the nature of the meeting. However, it was becoming more difficult every day to resist her attraction to Duncan, especially since the dance they shared at the ball.
She could not deny how touching it was that Duncan had so kindly assisted her with the dance. Of all the men with whom Mary had spoken at Season balls, Duncan was the first to even consider such a thing. And when she had put her hand in his, her stomach took flight, in a way she would have never believed possible.
In fact, as she danced around the ballroom with him, in those moments she believed that anything was possible. He was indeed attractive, but at that ball, Duncan hardly took his eyes off of her, despite all the other lovely women vying for his attention and affection.
It had made her feel as though she were the only person in the world, to him, at least.
Mary also thought that he was very deeply invested in her wellbeing, and she wanted very much to be right about that. Yet, despite her desire to trust in Duncan, she could not ignore her uncle’s intense dislike for him. She did not understand the reason for her uncle’s feelings, but she did, at least, trust him.
Then, there was lingering, the distinct feeling that he was not being entirely forthright with her. About what, she was unsure, but she felt certain that there was something he was hiding.
No matter how often she had offered up personal details about herself, Duncan seemed to almost adeptly avoid doing the same. His eyes were kind and honest but guarded. His voice, when he was not being quiet and reserved, was warm and gentle.
She had no doubt that Duncan did not intend her any harm, and a part of her felt guilty for even suspecting him of having some deep, dark secret. However, a man who hid things so well must have some reason for hiding them.
And she could not be sure what that reason was.
Mary noticed her uncle watching her carefully. She hoped that he had not asked her something that she was too lost in her thoughts to hear. She forced herself to put a bite of the roast beef on her plate in her mouth.
“You seem distracted tonight, my dear,” Mary’s uncle said. “Are you alright?”
The meat seemed to swell in her throat. The last thing she wanted to do was bring up Duncan tonight and incur more of her uncle’s wrath. But she also knew that he would not believe that she had not been in deep thought about something.
She took a sip of her wine to keep the traitorous piece of meat from lodging in her throat. Then she smiled.
“Oh, I am quite fine, Uncle,” she said. “I was just thinking about my last talk with Beatrice.”
“She is not unwell, is she?” her uncle asked. Mary felt a wave of relief at having successfully diverted his attention, and a twinge of guilt at her deception.
“Oh, not at all. We were just talking about our respective positions, and how things have been going.” Silently, Mary thought of how grateful both she and Beatrice were that they had each other. No man understood the unique difficulties that women in their position always faced, not even those of equal or lesser titles.
“How is she adjusting to her responsibilities?” Her uncle asked.
“About as well as you might expect,” Mary said. “Although I envy her ability to make it all seem so easy.”
“Miss Beaumont does seem quite content and carefree,” Kent said. “Has she mentioned an interest in any of the young gentlemen she has met this Season?”
Mary thought for a moment. The question was an innocent one, and it would be easy enough to answer truthfully. However, she could not afford to slip up and accidentally mention Beatrice meeting a man if she told her uncle now that she was not interested in anyone.
She knew she must choose her words carefully. Her uncle could know nothing of her plans with Beatrice, and certainly not Duncan.
“She has mentioned a couple of men, but I cannot say for certain what her interest is,” Mary spoke the truth, even though she was sure that her friend’s interest was nothing beyond the business they were conducting for her.
“She certainly deserves to marry well, also,” Kent said. He speared another piece of beef with his fork, then he hesitated before bringing the cutlery all the way to his lips.
“I do hope that one of those suitors is not Winstanley,” he said coolly.
Mary blushed at the utterance of Duncan’s name. She regretted it immediately, praying that her uncle did not notice.
“She mentioned their names, I believe, but I do not recall them at the moment,” she said.
“She would do well to stay away from the likes of Winstanley,” he said as if Mary had not spoken. Then, he met her gaze with his own firm one. “As would you, my dear.”
Her blushed deepened, this time with frustration. Whether her uncle was wrong or right to distrust Duncan, she hated her uncle telling her with whom she should and should not interact.
“You have not decided to go against my advice, have you, Mary?” Kent asked, watching her suspiciously.
Mary worked hard to keep her expression neutral. Any sudden change in her face would give her away to her uncle at once, and he would never let the subject rest.
“Of course not, Uncle,” Mary said, hoping to reassure him.
“Oh? The two of you looked rather friendly at the ball.”
This time, Mary could not stop the flush from creeping into her cheeks.
“I only wanted to thank him again for being so kind to me the day of the carriage incident.”
Kent scoffed.
“There are only two kinds of gratitude displays men like him are interested in: money and titles.”
“Uncle, please,” Mary said, twisting her napkin in her lap.
“Mary, my dear, I am thinking of nothing but your happiness. And there would be nothing but a broken heart and the ruin of your family’s fortune and good name.”
Mary was furious. She could feel tears begin to sting her eyes, and it took a great deal of restraint to not ask her uncle to show himself out of her house. She loved him dearly, but she was tired of him working so hard to structure her life, especially when it came to men.
“I would never think to meddle in your affairs, of course,” Kent continued, seeing Mary’s distress. “But please, dear, for your own good, stay away from that man.”
“Yes, Uncle, I will,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and steady. “But really, you should not worry so much. I am capable of mak
ing wise, intelligent decisions.
Kent put down his fork onto his plate and gave Mary an indulgent smile.
“Of course, dear. But with everything you have suffered over the last year, the stress of choosing a man wisely could cause you to make a hasty decision. I only wish to serve as your advisor, not as a jealous, brutish uncle,” he said.
Mary’s heart melted. She smiled at her uncle.
“I understand,” she said. “Now please, let us enjoy the rest of the meal. Let us have no more such unpleasant conversation.”
