The Genuine Article (21 page)

For the proper dramatic exit, she ought to grab Jessica's arm and sweep out of the room, but drama and intelligence weren't always related. Marian knew better than to leave until she had the promise of the men that this would go no further. From their resounding silence, she could see that she had more work to do.

The marquess lifted a mocking eyebrow. "You may stay the night. Now depart so we may continue our conversation in private."

"Conversation? Is that what you call it in America? Your drawing rooms must be
vastly
amusing of an evening." Unable to rely on any of the gentlemen at the moment, Marian glanced over her shoulder to her sister. "Jessica, can you climb up over that mantel and retrieve the pistols? Then we can leave the gentlemen to their 'conversation.'" She drawled the last word in imitation of the marquess.

As Jessica obediently drew a heavy Jacobean chair toward the mantel, Darley spoke up. "This has gone entirely too far. Jessica, leave that chair alone before you hurt yourself. Sir," he glanced at the marquess, "the insult has been to the lady I wish to marry. It is my place to call Montague out."

Reginald uttered a guttural groan, threw up his hands, and crossed the library to pull Jessica down from her precarious perch. She squealed, but she made no protest as he reached for the pistols and put them in her hands.

"Take them to your mother. And take your damned sister with you, if you can. I promise not to kill anybody if you do."

Marian noted Montague was speaking to her sister but not to her. That was a pretty kettle of fish after what he had done, but she wasn't going to quibble with his tactics. She just wanted the situation defused and her questions answered.

She turned to the damnable marquess. He really didn't seem angry. In actuality, she thought he was laughing at all of them. His eyebrows quirked as he caught her gaze, and he waited to hear what she had to say. Marian wondered if her father had been that annoying. She shouldn't wonder that her mother would have wished him to an early grave, if so.

"I think you should present yourself to my mother, sir. She has been most apprehensive of this visit. We'll promise not to tell her you've been lurking in the woodwork if you'll promise to behave."

He grinned, a wide grin that went from ear to ear, although drawn up badly at one corner because of his scars. He looked to the other men to see if they were as appreciative of her challenge as he was. Lord Darley still seemed furious and perhaps a bit confused. Montague shrugged his shoulders as he escorted Jessica and her tightly clenched pistols.

"She'll jaw you to death if you don't," Reginald warned.

The marquess stopped smiling. His hand went to the scarred side of his face. "I'll not upset the lady unduly. It would be better if I remained an invalid outside this room. If you ladies will excuse us, I think we gentlemen can settle things amicably without you." He took a firm grip on Marian's arm and pushed her toward the door.

She grabbed a bookshelf and refused to go farther. "Unhand me, at once, sir! There is nothing to be 'settled' that does not concern me."

Reginald crossed his arms and looked to the appalled viscount. "Well, old friend, there's the woman you wish to make wife. Control her, if you will."

When the marquess attempted to pry Marian's hands from the bookshelf, she stamped on his toes and smacked his hands, then darted out of his way. Hands defiantly on her hips, she glared at all three men. "I don't need any of you!"

She swung around and walked out the door—right into her mother's arms.

All three men cringed at the polite, lady-like tones from the hall. "Why, whatever is going on here, Marian? I do hope it is proper. You are looking flushed, dear."

The marquess was already trying to blend in with the bookshelves when Lady Grace sailed into the library. She went pale at the sight of Jessica attempting to hide the pistols behind her back, and accusing blue eyes circled the room.

When they reached the stranger hiding in the shadows, she straightened and headed straight for him. She frowned at his frozen stance. "You are undoubtedly a Lawrence, sir, even the scars cannot hide it. If you are anything like that reprehensible old man who was your grandfather, I can see why you might try to disguise yourself, but it won't do. Introduce yourself, and explain all this taradiddle at once."

Jessica and Marian stared at their mother with awe. They had never seen the Marchioness of Effingham in action. The Lady Grace had always been a fey, pampered lady who smiled indulgently and allowed her husband to make the decisions. Squire Oglethorp had reveled in his role and indulged her slightest whim. She had never, ever lifted her voice to anyone.

Unaware of the lady's true nature, the marquess hastened to do as bid, introducing himself formally and making a polite—if slightly rusty—bow over her hand. When she seemed undaunted by his scarred visage, he visibly relaxed.

"Matters are at a pretty pass, madam, and I cannot promise to rectify them immediately, but I wish you to know that you and your daughters are always welcome in this house. It is more yours than it will ever be mine."

"Very well said. We will discuss 'matters,' as you style them, in the morning. This has been a very trying day. I suggest that we all retire now." With an imperial wave, she gestured for her daughters to follow her from the room.

Marian hung back long enough to give Reginald a steely look that he could interpret any way he liked.

He preferred to interpret it as a challenge. He waited until the ladies were gone before boldly turning to the marquess. "Circumstances require that I offer to wed Marian, but if you will just return the necklace, Effingham, I think we can all get out of this relatively unscathed."

Reginald dodged Darley's furious punch, walked past the stunned marquess, and helped himself to the nearly empty brandy decanter on the far table.

The marquess glanced to the hapless viscount. "Back home, someone would have put a bullet between his eyes long ago."

"That's what being civilized does for us," Darley answered grumpily. "One cannot live on an island for long and not try to get along with the other inhabitants or we would kill each other off."

The marquess chuckled. "I like you, Darley. Or do I call you 'my lord' or some other such nonsense? I haven't quite got the hang of this title business yet."

The viscount looked vaguely irritated as he watched Reginald pour two more glasses of brandy. "You rank higher than me. You can call me anything you damned well wish. 'Cousin-in-law' was what I had in mind."

Gavin Lawrence shook his head. "That won't do, and we both know it. I like you too much to give you to my cousin. She'll make life hell for you. We Lawrences are a stubborn, arrogant lot. What about the other one? Miss Jessica? She seems to be quite attractive, and obedient, I noticed, much more so than her sister."

Darley sent him a look of loathing. "Affections cannot be manipulated so easily. Miss Oglethorp is entirely too young to know her mind yet."

Reginald returned carrying the brandy. "Then begin your assault in the morning and teach her. I wager she'll come around soon enough. Once she knows her mother and sister are taken care of, Marian will be free to find someone more suited to her temperament."

Darley scowled and took a deep drink of the brandy offered. "That's bloody rot." He set the glass aside. "And if I cannot have her, you must offer for her. After what we all witnessed here tonight, there is no better solution."

The marquess sipped his brandy and allowed Reginald to speak first.

"There are a thousand better solutions. I do not have the wealth she requires. You know perfectly well why I cannot offer for her. She is the daughter of a bloody marquess, for heaven's sake! She could pursue Devonshire if she wished."

The marquess cleared his throat, distracting the attention of the two combatants. "I think the lady has made her choice, and Mr. Montague has sealed his fate by encouraging her. I'll have your offer now, Montague, or your head at dawn."

Reginald drained his glass and set it aside, turning to glare at Marian's cousin. "She'll refuse me, and rightly so. You would do better to inspect my background before offering Lady Marian as a sacrifice to your American morals. We can keep what happened here to ourselves. There is no need for it to be mentioned elsewhere."

The muscle over his jaw tightened. "And if you'll persuade that thieving valet of yours to return the necklace, she will have all the dowry she needs to attract a suitor more worthy to her station."

The marquess shrugged beneath his loosely tailored coat. "Even if I knew where the necklace was, it belongs to the estate and not to Lady Marian. And I have thoroughly investigated your circumstances, Montague. That shop of yours is doing quite well. You have paid off a monstrous debt in a few short years. You are in a position to keep my cousin quite comfortably."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Montague stared at the American. Darley recovered first.

"That is privileged information, sir. You should not have access to it. But since you do, you must surely see why Reginald cannot marry Lady Marian. She would be appalled to discover he is a shopkeeper. As much as I would like to see him brought to justice, we must consider the lady's position."

The marquess no longer looked amused. "What a damned bunch of hypocrites! I suppose you would have the timid Jessica marry this arrogant bastard because she is the daughter of a country squire and more suited to a shopkeeper? You all have bats in your belfries." He turned to Reginald. "I'll have your offer or your head. Which will it be?"

Stiffly, Reginald nodded his head once. "Your permission to ask the Lady Marian for her hand, sir?"

The marquess grinned and slapped him on the back. "Well done! We'll discuss the settlements in the morning after you pop the question to her." He turned hopefully to Darley. "I don't suppose you'll want to take the other one, would you? I can see that Lady Grace is kept off your hands."

Darley looked glum. "I'm not much of one for the ladies. Marian's the only one as has ever listened to me. I'll wait for her answer to Reginald's proposal."

Reginald cursed and wished there were more brandy. For Marian's sake, he needed to persuade her
not
to accept his offer. For Darley's sake, he needed to persuade her that she
must
accept his offer.

What a bloody rotten fix he found himself in now.

* * *

Hearing Jessica's breathing even into that of sleep, Marian climbed out of bed and slipped over to the window. A light rain had started to fall again, and she could see very little other than the row of evergreens swaying on the lawn. She would have seen very little more had the moon been shining brightly. Her mind was elsewhere than the front park of the manor.

Her thoughts were on the way Reginald Montague had kissed her. Worse yet, they were on the way he had touched her. Her breast burned through her heavy nightgown with just the memory of what he had done. She should be red with shame and embarrassment, but it was curiosity that held her in its clutches.

She wanted to know more of those kinds of touches. She had a vague notion that they led to the forbidden, but she had been certain what had happened tonight
was
the forbidden. She could not imagine what could be more dangerous and shameful than what she had already done.

She was not a silly young miss. She knew Montague would have to offer for her. She did not know why he had done what he had if he had not meant to offer for her, but she knew that hadn't been his intention. Reginald Montague was not one to marry where he must.

But she hadn't thought him one to toy with innocent misses either. She was beginning to suspect that there was a great deal more to the gentleman that she did not know, but she would find out the hard way if she must marry him.

She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to shudder. When she had thought of marrying Darley, it had only been the wealth and comfort that he could offer that she had considered. She had chosen a gentle man who did not drink heavily and would not be abusive, because even in the country she had seen what could happen to wives if they did not marry the proper sort of man. But she had not thought beyond that.

Her mind was feverishly thinking beyond that now. She was quite certain that what Reginald Montague had done to her in the library this evening had more than a little to do with what happened between husbands and wives. She had never given any thought to the physical act of marriage.

It was not a topic discussed among gentlewomen, particularly unmarried ones. She had received vague impressions from her reading that men did something to women that eventually caused them to bear children. Even though she had lived in the country, she had never quite learned the process by which hens had chickens or cats had kittens. The squire had kept them very protected, after all. She just hadn't realized how protected until confronted with her own ignorance.

Surely what she and Mr. Montague had done would not lead to children. That did not make any sense. The sensations that she had felt then, the ones she felt now, left her to believe there was something more, something that might have happened had they not been interrupted. She wanted to know where those sensations led.

And she could not apply them to Lord Darley. Try as hard as she might, she could not imagine kissing Lord Darley and feeling the way she felt now. Perhaps that wasn't necessary when one was married. Perhaps she need only let him do what he wished with her and everything would be quite as she had expected it to be. But that wasn't enough any longer. She needed to know what she would be missing.