The Spinster Bride (23 page)

“I
understand congratulations are in order for my dear cousin.” Jeffrey stood by Marjorie, looking at George and Lilianne with an unpleasant sneer. He'd come up to her at the Westin ball as she waited in the foyer for Aunt Gertrude to return from the water closet. She'd never known anyone to spend as much time there as her dear aunt.

“I'll relay your heartfelt sentiments,” Marjorie said, coldly. She turned to her cousin, but he continued to stare at the couple with palpable hostility. “You know they are very happy. Lilianne is a wonderful girl.”

“She must be a saint,” Jeffrey said. “George is a fine enough chap, but I find it difficult to spend any amount of time with him. All those facts and figures and head bobbing.”

“He only does that when he's nervous. You must make him nervous for some reason. Perhaps he sees through your polite façade to the anger and resentment boiling beneath the surface.”

Jeffrey laughed. “It is the curse of the second son to be green with jealousy.”

“But you are a first son.”

“The first son of a
second
son. My father died early because he was racked with envy. Do you know how old your mother was when she had George? Forty. What woman has a child at that age? And your father was nearly sixty. My father, understandably I think, fully believed I would inherit the title. He groomed me that way, you know. Put a few drinks in the man and he'd begin the same rant over and over. ‘You should be the next earl, not that idiot son of my idiot brother.' It got so I could shout along with him.” He glanced at Marjorie to judge her reaction. “He didn't much like that.” He rubbed at his jaw as if still feeling a long ago injury.

“I imagine it must be difficult for you to know you are the next in line and George is marrying and will soon have sons,” Marjorie said, trying to be understanding.

“Oh, do I detect pity from my frosty cousin?” He laughed mockingly. “You don't give a damn about how I feel, and why should you? You have everything you want. Certainly that would change if I were earl. That gown you are wearing is likely worth more than my entire annual income, did you know that? Ah, I can see you didn't. You're so used to having that silver spoon in your mouth, you've quite forgotten that it's there.”

Marjorie furrowed her brow. “You sound so ugly when you speak like that.”

“Yes, I imagine anything like the truth is difficult for you to hear.”

“I have never said or done anything to promote such dislike. And neither has George.”

He shook his head, as if he pitied her naiveté. “You were both born, dear, dear cousin.”

“That is a terrible thing to say.”

“Isn't it now? I am a terrible person.” He tapped his index finger on her nose and smiled. “It's best you remember that.”

She waved a hand at him, annoyed more than frightened. “Go be a terrible person somewhere else then. I came to this ball to have fun and you are ruining my evening.”

He bowed in apology and did as she asked. Watching him go, she wondered just how deep his anger and resentment went. No doubt he'd cursed when he saw the engagement announcement in the paper.

“I don't care for that young man,” Aunt Gertrude said, coming up beside her.

“Aunt Gertrude,” Marjorie said, rather shocked. “He's practically your relation.”

“No blood shared between us, thank goodness, which is why I'm allowed to say such things.”

Marjorie laughed. Aunt Gertrude liked everyone, and the fact that she didn't like Jeffrey was quite telling. “He can't help being disagreeable. His whole life he'd been told he is second in line for the title. The thing is, I know George would happily give it to him if he could.”

“He'd squander it the same way his father squandered everything that was given to him. He may have been the second son, but he had properties that produced a good income. Now all they have left is that ramshackle estate up in Nottingham. I hear it won't be long before that's gone, too.”

Marjorie waved to her friend Theresa, who had been one of her first friends to marry. She hadn't seen her in ages. “I hadn't realized things were so bad,” Marjorie said.

“Is that Theresa Billings coming toward us?”

“It's Lady Westcott now, Aunt Gertrude. She's been married for . . .” She paused, counting in her head. “. . . five years. My goodness,
five years
.”

“When I was your age, I'd been married for six,” Gertrude said with a nod. “And had four children. How many children does Lady Westcott have?”

“Two. A boy and a girl.” Marjorie's smile widened as Theresa reached them. Funny, she looked like a woman who'd been married for five years. She was a bit thick around the middle and her dress was decidedly matronly. She was only twenty-three years old but looked much older.

“It's so wonderful to see you, Margie,” Theresa said, brushing her cheek with a kiss.

“It seems like ages. I was so happy to get your note. You remember my aunt, Gertrude, do you not?”

“Of course,” she said, turning to her aunt. “It's lovely to see you again, madam. Marjorie looks exactly like that young debutante at her first ball, does she not?”

Marjorie was certain her friend meant that as a compliment, but something in her tone was slightly off. Or perhaps she was imagining things. “I don't feel much like a debutante,” she said, laughing.

“Marriage isn't for everyone,” Theresa replied, and this time Marjorie was certain she detected a tiny bit of smugness. “Why, this is the first ball I've been to in two seasons. Caring for my little ones takes so much of my time.”

Marjorie smiled, but her expression had gone decidedly cooler. “You don't have a nanny?”

“And a nurse, of course. And Lord Westcott hints at having more children.” Her eyes went to Marjorie's flat stomach and tiny waistline. “Children give one such joy.” She looked suddenly stricken. “I'm so sorry, Margie. How thoughtless of me.”

“I don't think you were being
thoughtless
at all,” Marjorie said, hoping her friend understood that she suspected her small jibes were well-thought-out indeed. She hadn't remembered Theresa being quite so unpleasant. Or perhaps she was being overly sensitive. She wanted to shout to her friend that she was getting married, would be married within the month. Instead she said, “I wouldn't have given up these last years for anything. I've had such a pleasant time, gone to so many parties and balls, it's been one long whirlwind of amusements.”

Next to her, Aunt Gertrude coughed.

“Doesn't it get tiresome after a while?” Theresa asked with what seemed like sincere curiosity.

“Yes, but I've a feeling this will be my last season.”

“Oh, but you're not so old,” Theresa said, her eyes widening.

Marjorie lifted one eyebrow. “That's not quite what I meant, my dear.”

Theresa and Gertrude gave a collective gasp.

“Truly? You are to marry? I didn't know that. Did I miss the announcement in the
Times
? First your brother, now you. How wonderful. Who is the lucky man?”

Darn. Why had she said anything? Silly, stupid pride. “Lord Shannock has expressed great interest.”

“That old goat?” This from Gertrude, who looked about as enthusiastic over the prospect of her marrying him as was Marjorie.

Marjorie couldn't help it—she burst out laughing. “We'll see, Aunt Gertrude. One never knows what will happen.”

 

After Theresa had gone, Aunt Gertrude sniffed and said, “That girl is decidedly jealous of you. Always was.”

“I hardly think so, Aunt. She was gloating about how wonderful her life was.”

“Because she is jealous, my dear. Now, what is this about this being your last season? And do not patronize me with news about Lord Shannock. That man has been lusting after you since you were a girl, and if your mother allows his suit, then I will have lost all respect for her.”

Marjorie considered telling her aunt, but decided against it. “I was simply trying to put her off. There is no one.”

Gertrude gave her a disbelieving smile. “My dear, you are in love. I am not blind. It is that Mr. Norris fellow, isn't it? And your mother does not approve. I do hope you are not planning to elope.”

“Who is Mr. Norris?” It wouldn't hurt to pretend ignorance.

Gertrude laughed. Apparently it would do no good, either. “You forget, my dear, that I've been at many balls you have attended. The Hartford ball, for example. Poor, dear, Lady Smythe. I hear she is rallying, though. I found it odd, however, that you were not in the room during all the hubbub. And neither was Mr. Norris.”

Marjorie could feel her cheeks bloom with heat, not only from getting caught in a lie but also from remembering what she'd been doing.

Gertrude waved a hand, dismissing Marjorie's discomfort. “I planned to speak to you of that particular indiscretion, my dear, but since you've brought it up, we might as well discuss it now.” She looked past Marjorie and waved someone over. Marjorie turned and nearly fled when she realized her aunt was waving over Charles. And he was walking toward them. With a silly and clearly besotted look on his dear, dear face.

“Good evening, Mr. Norris,” Gertrude said enthusiastically, drawing the pair to a corner of the room where they could have relative privacy. “My niece and I were just discussing you and how you could manage to get married when Lady Summerfield is so violently opposed to you. Though, I must say, I don't understand her reasoning at all.”

Marjorie would have laughed aloud at the expression on Charles's face, but she was too horrified at Gertrude's forthrightness. “I said nothing, Charles,” she said, quick to reassure him, then giving her aunt a glare. “Aunt can be quite canny.”

Charles darted Marjorie a look, then smiled broadly at her aunt. “How we'll go about it is a secret. And foolproof.”

“Not entirely,” Marjorie mumbled, reminding him of their failed effort the previous evening.

“The plan is foolproof,” he insisted.

“A foolproof plan that doesn't involve elopement,” Gertrude murmured. She thought for a moment, then blanched. “No. You mustn't. Really, Marjorie, are you trying to murder your mother? Or yours, Mr. Norris? You cannot think to . . . to . . .” The poor old lady couldn't even bring herself to speak it aloud.

Marjorie touched her aunt's hand. “I know at first it will be difficult. But I firmly believe this is one time when the ends justify the means.”

Gertrude shook her head and tried an appeal to Charles. “My dear young man, have you even gotten up the courage to ask Lady Summerfield? I know my sister can be stubborn, but she has surprised me on occasion.”

He gave Marjorie a quick look. “I did, actually.”

“You did?” Marjorie asked, completely stunned.

“She refused me out of hand. Which is why we are forced to take drastic measures.”

“When did you . . . ?” Her voice trailed off. “Oh. I suppose it doesn't matter when, only that she refused. Does no one tell me anything?”

“She asked me not to and after some consideration, I thought it best.”

“She is so opposed to you. Did you know, Aunt, that Mother threatened to strip George of his title if I allowed Mr. Norris to court me?”

“But that's absurd,” Gertrude said.

“Not to mention impossible,” Charles added, grinning, the maddening man.

“Something's not right here. I know Dorothea can be stubborn and has a ridiculous fascination with titles, but Mr. Norris is the son of a viscount. He has an excellent income.” She looked to Charles for confirmation, and he nodded. “Who is your mother?”

“Lady Anne Hartley.”

“No, no. Who was she
before
she married your father?”

“Anne Wadsworth.”

“Wadsworth.
Wadsworth
.” A look of dawning spread across Gertrude's face. “Eureka, my dear. Your mother loathes Charles's mother.” She began laughing, then coughing, waving a hand at the pair when their expressions grew alarmed. “I'm fine,” she choked. “Oh, dear. It all makes sense now. She will do everything in her power to prevent our families from merging. Oh, dear. I'm afraid she will never agree to a marriage between you two.”

“We already knew that,” Marjorie said. “You're saying there's bad blood between Charles's mother and my mother?”

“That's putting it excessively mildly, my dear.”

“Was your mother Dorothea Stockbridge?” Charles asked hesitantly, as if he truly didn't want to hear the answer.

“You knew my mother before we met?” Marjorie said, sounding confused.

Charles started to laugh, but it was a laugh slightly tinged with tragedy. “I knew
of
your mother. She's legendary in my family. We even bring her up on occasion just to tease my mother when we want to torture her a bit.”

“Is it that awful, what happened between them?” Marjorie whispered.

“It caused such a stir at the time that we all thought your mother and Lady Anne would be tainted with scandal for years and never marry.” Aunt Gertrude clucked her tongue.

Charles chuckled softly. “Turns out, though, that was the moment my father realized how much he loved my mother.”

Marjorie clenched her fists in frustration. “Would one of you please tell me what happened?”

“Fisticuffs!” Gertrude said with an emphatic nod. “At
Ascot
—of all places.”