It's Marriage Or Ruin

by Liz Tyner

  He could imagine her in that role, too, but if he remembered correctly, it didn’t end well for either of the lovers.

  ‘Let us search out our own path.’

  ‘I’ve met your father before,’ she said, one eyebrow lifting, ‘and I have heard tales of him. I know what kind of woman he would seek in a daughter-in-law. A society sovereign. I doubt I can ever win him over.’

  ‘Try. If you discover a method that works, let me in on it.’

  They walked closer to his father and the brows turned downward.

  ‘Father, you’ve met my Emilie, haven’t you?’ Marcus gave a nod to Emilie and faced the frost flowing from Avondale without a flinch.

  His father’s smile appeared briefly only to be replaced by an opposite turn of the lips. ‘The lovely lady with whom you will be establishing a family.’ The words sounded forced, which didn’t surprise Marcus. His father could have easily faked acceptance of Emilie, but it suited him better to exude coldness.

  Emilie gave him a greeting, then added, ‘I’m so honoured to be a part of your esteemed family. It was beyond even the greatest expectation I could ever have to catch the notice of someone such as Marcus.’

  His glare relaxed, but his chin was at the top of the flagpole and hardly likely to ever be lowered.

  ‘You do not have to worry about me making him unhappy,’ she said. ‘I yearn for him to have the absolute greatest happiness. I would say we will have a traditional marriage. I...’ she touched a hand to her heart ‘...will of course stay in the background, alone, while Lord Grayson goes about conversing at his clubs. I would not want to irritate him.’

  His father opened his mouth and squinted. ‘The noise of the guests is so loud—I didn’t hear you.’

  She moved closer and Marcus heard nothing else but her next words. ‘I would hope not to irritate Lord Grayson—’ She leant closer still, intent on her speech.

  His father’s lips tightened. ‘I think you should discount that as a possibility. I have given up on that with all my three children and my wife. You should know that Westbrooks, either by birth or marriage, are easily irritated.’

  She waved his words away with a gloved hand. ‘I am aware that Lord Grayson must have his role. He is of the peerage. Marriage will not be a surprise to me. I would not tie my husband to my corset, or expect him to anticipate my every whim. I am an artist.’

  His father blinked, the usual way he had of dealing with an errant servant. ‘I am hoping we will be so blessed as to have a grandson soon. The sooner the better.’ Marcus’s father studied Emilie, then raised a brow. ‘I am under the impression it is a possibility.’

  She started to speak, then briefly looked at Marcus before beaming at his father. ‘I have contemplated that. Motherhood is a noble endeavour. I would like to have one child soon, perhaps another one to follow along shortly behind.’ She inclined in his direction. ‘Are there, perhaps, twins in your family? I’m not sure I’m up to that, but it would be a magnificent accomplishment.’

  Turning to Marcus, she said, ‘Wouldn’t that be glorious? Two cherubs to start with. And if they are boys, we will be certain that your father is a strong influence in their lives. I want them to grow up as you are.’

  His father’s eyes narrowed again.

  She lowered her voice, speaking to Avondale. ‘We will, of course, want the firstborn son to be named after you, but not so close in name as to get you both confused. Perhaps you and Marcus can come up with some suitable names and I could leave that to the two of you. A lovely surprise for me. Wouldn’t that be grand?’ She shrugged slightly. ‘I would not mind a daughter, you understand. But I strongly believe, with my disposition, sons would be the best fit.’

  ‘You would let Marcus and me choose the name of the firstborn?’

  She blinked and he wondered if she even knew she did that almost exactly as his father had. ‘I would suppose so. After all, I am sure you had something to do with naming Marcus and Nathaniel, and their names do them proud.’

  He grumbled.

  ‘And what is your mother’s name?’ she asked.

  ‘Cleone.’

  She contemplated him. ‘Would that be a suitable name for any daughters Marcus and I might have?’

  ‘Perhaps not.’

  ‘I will not give it any more contemplation then. It is rather putting the cart before the horse as I much anticipate sons.’

  She glanced over Avondale’s shoulder. ‘Now I must speak with my mother. She’s thrilled at having Marcus in her family and I do want to hear the many praises she is going to heap upon your family’s lineage.’

  Marcus and his father remained silent as she departed, then the Duke of Kinsale captured Avondale’s attention and the two engaged in comparisons over who was most pleased concerning the event.

  Across the garden, Emilie and her mother spoke, heads close together. Cannon fire might have interrupted their attention, but he doubted it.

  Emilie crossed her arms in such a way her breasts swelled upwards, while she spoke with her mother. True ladies of the ton did not cross their arms in public, but Emilie would do things her own way. He felt like loosening his cravat, nabbing Emilie’s arm and making a run for it. The night had been long. No groom should have to endure a wedding breakfast.

  Nathaniel appeared at Marcus’s side again, this time with a glass filled to the brim.

  They both watched Emilie.

  ‘She is a puzzle, lost in her own games and her fascinations,’ Nathaniel muttered. ‘I do not envy you. Or understand you. I give you my best wishes, however, on your future.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Marcus reached to take the glass from his brother’s hand.

  ‘I’ve shared so many humorous anecdotes with everyone regarding your courtship that I amazed myself.’ Nathaniel scrutinised his drink. ‘You two are thoroughly over the moon for each other, in case you were wondering.’

  ‘Give me a few days alone while I sort out the situation.’

  ‘Situation?’ Nathaniel sipped his wine. ‘That sounds accidental. But I swear I remember the past year listening night after night when you quoted innumerable verses to her name.’

  ‘Yes. I was eloquent.’

  Nathaniel sobered. ‘I had no idea it was truly you she was after. As she partnered me the other night, I could have sworn I was in her mind for an encounter.’ He watched Emilie. ‘I told her a ridiculous story and she laughed, and no one laughs at that jest who isn’t foxed. I imagine she was attempting to make you jealous.’

  Marcus’s teeth locked. She’d cosied up to Nate. He’d known it. But it didn’t matter. That was over. Done. Nate didn’t even know she’d selected him. And Marcus would lock it out of his mind and forget all about it.

  ‘I concede defeat.’ Nathaniel held his own glass up to Marcus’s. Glasses clinked.

  Nathaniel lowered his voice confidentially. ‘Her sisters have arrived and I have been talking with them. I am taken with each of them, although I am not sure yet what their names are. They are all lovely.’

  ‘Keep those musings to yourself.’ Marcus gave a soft backhand to his brother’s arm. ‘Neither her father nor our own will accept another quick union today.’

  ‘I have no expectations of those eternal ties.’ Nathaniel took out a handkerchief and gave an exaggerated mop across his brow. ‘I fear it would be the death of me.’ He handed his glass to Marcus, then folded his handkerchief, putting it in his pocket.

  Marcus returned the drink to him. ‘I don’t doubt you. How many days ago did I have no marriage in my future?’

  ‘That special licence did not appear by itself.’ Nathaniel took a hearty swallow, emptying the liquid. ‘You must have been entirely too angry at Father.’

  Marcus pressed his lips together, then gave a sideways glimpse at his brother, unwilling to discuss his true feelings. ‘I was bored and tried to conclude what I
had already experienced and what I didn’t yet have. The choices were narrowed to a castle or matrimony and I knew of no castles to be had.’

  ‘Nonsense. You’re jesting again. You and I could have found a way to build a castle. Much easier than marriage from what I’ve heard.’ He tapped the empty glass. ‘Don’t worry about tripping over me. I will locate some woman who will understand how I have been thrust into the streets and will offer me shelter.’

  ‘Let me speak with Father. I may want you to stay and I may move.’

  Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. ‘You will have a little more trouble getting a woman to accept you’ve been displaced tonight.’ He smiled. ‘Tomorrow, yes. Tonight, no.’

  ‘I’ll leave in a few days.’

  ‘If it is to Mother’s, it might work. If you plan to live with Father, you’ll disrupt his latest relationship. He usually has a new one every year or so.’

  Marcus didn’t speak.

  ‘One other small thing,’ Nathaniel added, ‘you might need to be aware of before you talk with Father. When I told him of the marriage this morning, he asked if he was going to have a grandchild. Apparently, Robert has assured him of your deep longing to litter the landscape with little replicas of yourself, and now, for your safety, we have convinced Father that the woman has told you a child is on the way. You might want to break the news to her.’

  Marcus moved sideways and stared at his brother.

  ‘Oh, oh.’ Nathaniel shifted his feet, increasing the distance between them. ‘No fisticuffs permitted on your wedding day.’

  Marcus spoke through clenched teeth, keeping his tone low so no one could overhear. ‘Father will be furious at both her and me. Believing her duplicitous and me duped. I’ll have to convince him otherwise or he will hold it against her.’

  ‘Let him have his joy now and perhaps you can confuse him that eight or so months have passed when it is actually a year. That is the plan I would go for.’ He turned to the refreshment table.

  ‘Which immediately causes me to discount it,’ Marcus said.

  Nathaniel whipped around. ‘Unless you do have a child on the way. You big brother, you. You example-setter. You married man.’ He coughed, turning away. ‘Almost choked on that last one. Hope it’s easier for you to swallow.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let us pray for a miracle and you’ll convince Father it takes some women ten or twelve months to deliver a child. You had best keep planning ahead.’

  ‘I have no plan for tonight,’ he said, ‘but sleep.’

  ‘Brother,’ Nathaniel said as he moved closer to Marcus’s side, draping an arm across his shoulders as if he could not imagine having to impart such knowledge. ‘You are married. You do not even have to kiss her, but if you’re given a treat, it isn’t polite to refuse.’

  ‘Nathaniel.’ He used his wiser, older-brother voice. ‘I do not like to do things halfway.’

  ‘When I marry—if—’ Nathaniel said. ‘I do not want you to pick out my beloved.’ Nathaniel dropped his hand from Marcus’s back. ‘The woman has addled you beyond repair. Next, you will be staying home alone with a proper nightcap on and scribbling poetry about daffodils. Or picking the petals from them and saying, She loves me. She loves me not.’

  Nathaniel appraised Marcus and jumped back. ‘Calm down. I’m your brother. Bad manners to kill a sibling today. You must wait.’ He sped away to another guest.

  Marcus surveyed the people milling in the garden, but his attention roamed until it stopped at his father, knocking back another glass. He’d probably had enough to be in a softened frame of mind.

  Before Marcus could move half the distance to his father, someone gripped his arm.

  He turned to see Tilly smiling up at him. He remembered her from their childhood. She was at Beatrice’s first wedding breakfast as well, only she was permitted to be with the adults and they were the same age. She had dismissed him as they’d passed in the hallway, but later recalled him fondly at soirées.

  As he turned to her, her touch didn’t drop away, but she pulled herself closer to him.

  The years had enhanced the girl he remembered. He took in the coiffure which seemed too thick to easily stay in place and the dress which showed her to perfection. Tilly was alluring, but to him, it was much more like the temptation of a deadly viper trying to finesse prey into the right location to trap it.

  He recognised the promise she exuded.

  ‘I must give you my salutations on your wedding day,’ she said. ‘And welcome you into our family and our hearts. My little cousin has done herself, and the family, proud. We are so happy...’ She brushed her fingers along his sleeve.

  He didn’t know what she would have said next, because something pushed against his back and he shifted his feet aside, and Emilie popped into place at his arm.

  He noticed the feigned innocence. ‘Oh, I am so sorry, Marcus, I fear I couldn’t be away from you a moment longer.’ She reached to him to be steadied and, as he did, he realised she had moved him from Tilly’s touch, and now her own hand rested on his elbow.

  For a woman who’d not seemed to mind if he went his own way, she had a firm grip on him.

  ‘Tilly, is not my new husband the most handsome man?’ Emilie bunched her shoulders, as if shivering at the prospect of Marcus as a husband.

  Marcus watched her. He could see no evidence of acting.

  ‘He is.’ Tilly gaped at him with no less fervour than she had shown before. ‘But, somehow, I surmised you preferred Mr Westbrook.’

  ‘I wished to make Marcus jealous.’ Her lashes fluttered gently. ‘I couldn’t forget his magnificence.’ As she spoke, she moved slightly against him.

  ‘Cousin, you have had no man very deep in your intellect unless it is for someone you plan to use as a model,’ Tilly said, daring disagreement.

  ‘My dear husband, Marc, has been there.’ Emilie’s eyelashes nearly caused enough breeze to fan him.

  The adoration disconcerted him.

  Emilie filled her lungs, letting the wonder of her good fortune show.

  Marcus gazed at his too-serene helpmate and glanced across to the narrowed stare of her cousin.

  ‘And how are you to make me trust such nonsense?’ Tilly asked, her mouth twisted into a grimace.

  ‘What difference does it make? We are married.’

  Tilly glared at her cousin, not letting go of her topic. ‘When did he tell you of his fascination with you?’

  ‘That is an indiscreet question,’ Emilie said. ‘A tale for only our ears and one we will remember fondly.’ Emilie turned her adoration back to him. He ascertained she was making sure he wouldn’t dispute her words.

  ‘And the billiards room was not an ambush?’

  ‘We had, perhaps, both presumed we’d be surprised. I did want a wedding that people would remember,’ she admitted. ‘Did you not hear of the special licence he had ready?’ She pivoted in his direction. ‘Magnificent.’

  ‘The planning was elaborate,’ he said. ‘For weeks I had dreamed of nothing else but you at my side.’

  Her fingers skimmed her throat.

  He pulled her hand to his lips, gave her a kiss and said, ‘Sweeting, we should not talk of this. It might make your cousin blush.’

  He released her and she turned to Tilly. ‘I must be the luckiest woman to have a man such as Marcus. He is handsome. As the elder son, he will inherit his father’s lands. He is all a woman could want and, I must say—more.’

  She warmed to her subject. ‘So many women have conspired to catch his fancy and now to be aware that his affections, his very being...’ she touched over her heart ‘...he has put at my disposal so that I might continue to create the paintings he loves.’ She turned to him and devotion shined. ‘He so admires my watercolours.’

  She smiled, a superior one. ‘He married me because of his rapturous feelings
when he admires my works. He adores my art.’ She beamed at her cousin. ‘Among other things.’

  ‘You have done well, Emilie,’ Tilly said, wryly, ‘and now I will converse with your mother and let her know how happy you are as she is under the impression that the events were different.’

  ‘I could not share the secret of our fondness for each other,’ Emilie said. ‘It was dear and I relished having it as my own. We wanted a short betrothal.’

  ‘Are you...?’ Tilly inspected the area of Emilie’s stomach. ‘So you were both forced into marriage by the prospect of a child?’

  ‘No,’ Emilie said. ‘But, when I have a child, I should hope it has Marc’s eyes.’

  Marcus took her hand, raised it to his lips and spoke. ‘I should hope it has your eyes.’

  ‘I should hope you both don’t get your wish and it is limited to two eyes.’ Tilly frowned at them both and made her way to Emilie’s mother.

  Emilie peered at him. ‘You are good at this.’

  ‘I’m a husband, now. It’s what we do.’

  ‘Ah...’ She nodded, swaying against him. ‘Now I understand why women are warned about the Westbrook men and why they don’t heed it.’

  Marcus clamped his teeth together. Westbrook men? He would have preferred Emilie to have only referenced him. He didn’t like to be reminded that she’d first written to his brother.

  He wanted to ask her if it mattered which Westbrook man she’d obtained. But he didn’t. A woman, on her wedding day, would be a fool to answer the question with any name other than her husband’s.

  Or exceptionally honest. And that integrity would certainly darken a wedding celebration.

  * * *

  He caught his father as the older man reached the refreshments. Seeing Marcus, his father grumbled, ‘I need this more than you.’ His father moved the glass closer to his body. ‘But you obviously know the direction to Fortnum & Mason as I have seen the bills.’

  ‘Will you walk with me?’ Marcus moved to indicate the path through the middle of the garden and away from the guests.