The Truth About Lord Stoneville (23 page)

Minerva hurried to keep up with her. “He said he was going to obtain a special license, so I assumed—”

“You assumed wrong.” Her heart might think otherwise, but she wasn’t going to listen to it this time. It had steered her wrong in the past. “There’s no understanding between us, despite the farce played out last night at the ball.”

“But you
know
he cares for you. You can’t go off without telling him!”

“Yes, I can.” If she stayed until he returned, he would fight her leaving. He might only want a half marriage, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone else having her, either. Or her being free to leave England without him.

She was probably being a coward, but she knew if he set the full force of his will against her, she would succumb. And she dared not—he could destroy her. He’d come very near to doing so already.

Grabbing her by the arm, Minerva halted her at the landing. “Maria, you’re not being fair!”

“Fair!” She snatched her arm free. “You don’t know what’s fair! First I’m manipulated into playing out this ridiculous game for the five of you, so I can find my fiancé. And then Nathan, the man I thought to marry, the man I trusted . . .”

As tears rose in her eyes, she realized she’d said too much. Squelching them as best she could, she struggled to speak calmly. “It doesn’t matter. I have to do this, and I can’t have Oliver interfering. This is between me and Nathan.”

“Are you coming back?”

“There’s no reason for me to do so. Your grandmother clearly won’t back down, so Oliver’s plan didn’t work. And I can’t . . . I mustn’t . . .” Her long night and the bad news caught up with her, and her tears spilled down her cheeks.

Minerva looked stricken. “Oh, dear heart, I don’t give a fig about Oliver’s plan. I care about
you
. What’s wrong? What has happened?”

Maria dashed her tears away. “Nothing that I can’t handle.”

“Did Oliver do something he shouldn’t have?” Minerva asked fiercely. “Because if he did, I swear—”

“No, nothing like that,” she lied. “Please, I must go. It’s urgent.”

Minerva nodded. “Very well. Then I’ll help you.”

“How?”

“For one thing, I can pack a trunk faster than anyone I know.”

“Thank you,” Maria breathed. “But what would help me more is if you could help Freddy. He takes forever to pack, and is always forgetting things.”

Maria was relieved when Minerva said, “Done,” and headed for Freddy’s room. If Minerva stayed too close Maria would be tempted to tell her everything, and that would just create a worse mess.

Fortunately, Betty was still tidying up Maria’s room. Though the maid did her best to wheedle out of her where she was going and why, Maria remained silent. They’d finished packing one trunk and were nearly done with the second, when a knock came at the door. Thinking it must be Minerva, Maria opened it.

And there stood Mrs. Plumtree.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Maria watched as Mrs. Plumtree bustled past her into the room, then surveyed the open trunks. “The servants tell me you are going on a journey.”

Maria couldn’t stifle her groan. She’d hoped to escape without having to deal with Oliver’s grandmother. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Pinter has found . . . er . . . Freddy’s brother, so we’re off to fetch him.”

Mrs. Plumtree fixed her with a dark glance. “Then why are you packing all of your clothes?”

Actually, she wasn’t packing them all. She’d had Betty box up everything Oliver had bought, and she was taking only the ones she’d traded her mourning gowns for. But she couldn’t exactly tell the woman that.

Casting Betty a sharp look, Mrs. Plumtree said, “Leave us, if you please.”

With a quick curtsy, Betty fled.

“Mrs. Plumtree, I don’t think—” Maria began.

“Let us put our cards on the table, shall we?” the woman said. “I know Oliver has been up to some scheme, which you allowed for your own reasons.”

“And which you allowed for
your
own reasons,” Maria accused.

“True.” Mrs. Plumtree cast her a rueful smile. “I am afraid I played a role with you that first night. I had to be sure, you see, that you did not mean to take advantage of him.”

“Take advantage of
him
?” she said bitterly. “What about his taking advantage of me?”

“Is that what he did?” the woman asked, a hint of alarm in her voice. “Is that why you are running away?”

Maria sighed. “No.” How could it be taking advantage when she’d thrown herself into their lovemaking like a wanton?

Mrs. Plumtree searched her face. “Beneath all his reckless remarks, he is a good man. And he genuinely wants to marry you—after last night at the ball I am certain of that much. So accept his offer, for God’s sake. And give me great-grandchildren. That is all I want.”

“And what about what
I
want?”

“You want him. I can see it whenever you look at him, the same way I can see it in his eyes whenever he looks at you.”

Maria turned away, her heart flipping over in her chest. “Oliver doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Perhaps.” Mrs. Plumtree came up to lay her hand on Maria’s shoulder. “And that is my fault. I have let him wander in the wilderness for too long. But he is finding his way back at last. And if you leave now—”

“He is
not
finding his way back—don’t you see?” Maria cried as she faced the woman. “He’s still gripped by guilt over that terrible night at the hunting lodge.”

Mrs. Plumtree’s eyes went wide. “He told you about that?”

“Yes. He told me how he wanted to go after his mother, but you wanted to wait. He told me he was the one to find his parents dead. He told me he was covered in blood and you paid off the servants.”

Mrs. Plumtree trembled. “He has never spoken about that to anyone, my dear. Not even me, and I was there. He has never told his siblings, nor his friends, as near as I can determine it. You are the first person with whom he has ever discussed what happened that night. That proves how much he cares for you.”

Maria swallowed. “But not enough to change his ways.”

“If you would but give him a chance—”

“And end up in the same nightmare you put your daughter in?” When Mrs. Plumtree paled, she said, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Mrs. Plumtree stared down at her hands. “No. You are right. I should have seen that Lewis was not the sort of man to be a good husband. I should never have promoted the marriage, never encouraged Prudence’s pursuit of him, or his of her.” She let out a shaky breath. “But I thought that Prudence’s love would change him.”

“Just as you think my love will change Oliver.”

Startled, the woman lifted a hopeful gaze to Maria. “You love him?”

Maria stared blankly at her. Heavens alive. She did. She loved him. She could not pretend otherwise, even for his grandmother.

Yet he could never love her. He thought love was “a fancy word for lust.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she willed them not to fall. Seizing Mrs. Plumtree’s hands, she said, “Please do not tell him, I beg of you. He will use it against me to gain what he wants.”

“My dear—”

“Swear that you won’t tell him! Think of your daughter.”

“I
am
thinking of my daughter. She would want better for her son than the life he leads now.” Mrs. Plumtree gripped her hands with surprising strength. “You seem to think he is like his father, but he is actually like his mother. I do not know why he has pursued his father’s path all these years, but it is not his real character, I swear.”

“How can you be sure?” Maria whispered.

Mrs. Plumtree’s blue eyes held a wealth of heartache. “Something happened to him that night,
before
we went to the hunting lodge. He said he and his mother quarreled, and that is what sent her in search of Lewis. Oliver wouldn’t say what it was about, but I know it wounded him deeply. He has ignored the wound ever since. What he needs is for someone to heal it. And I think you might just do that.”

“I don’t
want
to do that.” She drew her hands from Mrs. Plumtree’s. “I want my life back, my ordinary American life where people say what they mean and do what they—” She caught herself. Even her ordinary American life was a lie. Nathan had proved that.

Still, it was better than the ever-present pain of loving Oliver when he couldn’t love her in return.

“I see I cannot prevent you from going,” Mrs. Plumtree said. “So I will not importune you further. All I can do is urge you not to give up on him yet. Not until all hope is gone. I think he still has the power to surprise you.”

“Of course you think that—as well you should; you’re his grandmother. But I can’t afford to be so blind.”

Turning away, she returned to her packing.

Mrs. Plumtree walked over to the dressing table and picked something up. “You
are
taking these, aren’t you?”

Maria turned to see her holding the box containing the pearls Oliver had given her. “Of course not. I have no right to them.”

“And I say that you do.” The woman hobbled toward Maria with the box. “They belonged to my daughter. I want you to have them.”

“Forgive me, but under the circumstances, I can’t accept them.”

Mrs. Plumtree shook her head. “You are as stubborn as he is.”

“It’s the one thing we have in common.”

“It’s something we all have in common.” A faint smile touched Mrs. Plumtree’s lips. “Very well. I will keep them until you return.” Her voice softened. “You are always welcome here, my dear. No matter what happens between you and Oliver.”

Maria cast her a startled glance.

Mrs. Plumtree’s smile broadened. “I would prefer to have you in the family, but failing that, I would be pleased and honored if you would consider me a friend.”

A lump caught in Maria’s throat. “Thank you. I would like that, too.”

“And I will keep your secret, though I am not sure it will matter. I suspect Oliver will not let you go as easily as you think.”

“Trust me, he will congratulate himself on his narrow escape.”

“You do not really believe that, do you?”

“I only know that if I stay here, he’ll wed me out of necessity. I don’t want to be his wife by necessity.”
Not when passion is clouding his judgment. And mine.

Mrs. Plumtree merely looked skeptical as she left the room.

Maria wished she could believe in Oliver as much as his grandmother did, but she feared he was like any man whose plans had been spoiled. His pride was pricked, that’s all. Once he saw she was gone and there was nothing to be done about it, he would turn to other schemes, other plans . . . another woman who would marry him for his title and his grandmother’s fortune.

She gulped down the pain that surged through her. Then she reminded herself that she would suffer even worse pain if she had to watch him break his marriage vows. It was better to get past it now, than have it repeated for the rest of her life.

Even if leaving him broke her heart.

O
LIVER ARRIVED AT
Halstead Hall near nine in the evening. It had taken him far too long to hunt down the Archbishop of Canterbury and then convince the man to issue him a special license. He could only hope that Maria had not retired early. He wanted to see her with a virulence that surprised him.

Minerva met him in the courtyard as he strode through, headed for the great hall. She looked furious. “How long does it take to get a special license, anyway?”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Maria has packed up and gone, she and Freddy both.”

His heart dropped into his stomach. “Gone where?”

“She wouldn’t say. All I know is that Mr. Pinter came this afternoon with news of her fiancé. Then she and Freddy headed off to join the man.”

“The hell they did!” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Without a word to me?”

“She said she had no reason to stay, since your plan to fool Gran wasn’t working. I pointed out that your getting a special license implied that the two of you had an understanding, but she denied it.”

He stared blindly ahead, his blood slowing to sludge in his veins.
She denied it.
So she’d been sincere last night when she’d refused his offer of marriage. Maria wasn’t a fool—she could tell a bad candidate for a husband when she saw one.
He
was the fool, behaving like a green lad with his first sweetheart.

And here he’d spent the day reconciling himself to the idea of marrying her! On the way back to Halstead Hall, he’d been able to think of nothing but holding her, kissing her, convincing her that they could make a marriage work, even though he wasn’t at all sure of that. Clearly she was even less sure.

He gritted his teeth. What an idiot he was. One word about her fiancé and off she ran, eager to marry that American bastard who cared only for her money. She obviously preferred a fortune hunter to a known profligate, even one who’d seduced her.

But she had no money—how could she travel?

Then he remembered the pearls. She could easily sell those in Ealing to gain money for fares. The pearls were worth enough to fund a trip anywhere in England.

“And she left no note for me?” he couldn’t help asking, though it made him sound like the besotted wretch that he was. “Nothing to say why?”

“No. Something had upset her, but I couldn’t get her to talk about it.” Minerva eyed him closely. “You didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

“Nothing that would provoke her to flee.” Except ruin her for any other man. And offer her a marriage of the sort she found appalling. And desire her with an intensity that made his throat close up at the thought of her gone.

In a daze, he headed for his study. He couldn’t believe she’d left. He couldn’t believe he’d driven her away.

In his study he halted, brought up short by the sight of another of Minerva’s books sitting on his desk. It conjured up a flood of memories—Maria teasing him about the other one, Maria debating philosophy with him, Maria staring up at him with eyes clear as blue glass as she said,
There is always hope.

He scowled. For other men, perhaps. Not for him. He’d lost all hope the day he’d driven Mother into killing Father and herself. Leave it to Maria to recognize the depravity that his family seemed blind to.

Minerva trailed into the study after him. “What are you going to do to get Maria back?”

He uttered a harsh laugh. “Not a damned thing. She doesn’t want to be back. If she didn’t even leave me a note or stay around to—”

He broke off, the words choking him. He’d tried to force her into marriage and Maria didn’t take well to bullying. Was it any wonder that she’d fled?

“You can’t just do nothing!” Minerva protested. “You have to go after her and convince her to marry you.”

“Why?” He faced her with a frown. “So you and the others can pacify Gran? She’s had it with the lot of us. And this . . . madness with Maria is the last straw. You might as well start making plans to live here for all eternity, because Gran is not going to stop until she has us married—and I’m not marrying anyone.” Not if he couldn’t have Maria.

Turning his back on his sister, he picked up the glass near the brandy decanter on his desk and filled it to the brim. He’d been mad to think his life might change. That somehow Maria could “save” him.

No one could save him.

“I don’t care about Gran and her ultimatum,” Minerva said. “But I do care about Maria. And she cares about
you.
”

“Then she’s a fool,” he said hoarsely. “Besides, if she cared, she wouldn’t have run off after Hyatt.”

“I still say that she—”