But her words were cut short by the arrival of another much-unwelcomed face.
“Lady Marjorie! When I heard tell of your accident, I simply had to come by!” Lady Catherine Howard simpered, racing to the side of the bed and sitting down as though the two girls were old friends.
“You’ve heard?” Marjorie asked with a questioning glance.
“Of course! It’s all anyone can talk about! How you single-handedly rescued that poor old man from the stable!” she began, then something in her countenance shifted, replacing her earlier generous nature with a much darker tone. “But your appearance! You were always so beautiful and now… oh, I should say, I know you will be as charming as ever very soon! But I actually came to call so that I could assure you, never fear, Lady Marjorie, your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret might that be?” she said, scoffing. “It’s not as though a dozen people were not standing there attending the blaze.”
“Oh, you must be speaking of your unfortunate attire. Well, yes. That’s scandalous enough, I suppose,” Lady Catherine continued, her eyes glittering. “But I’m talking about the reason the Duke called off your wedding.”
“I have not yet spoken to the Duke, so I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Marjorie answered plainly.
“Well, the reason, I mean. Don’t misunderstand me, it’s certainly fortuitous that you happened to be in the barn when the fire broke out. But I’m referring towhyyou happened to be there to begin with.” Lady Catherine pinned her back with a fiercely intense glare, as though daring Marjorie to argue.
“I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’m sure—”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m simply letting you know what the whole ton speaks of.” Lady Catherine gave her a sad smile, practically begging her with her eyes to inquire. “Rest assured, though, as we are old friends, I will do my utmost to put these rumors to rest whenever I should happen to hear them!”
Marjorie refused to give her the satisfaction of asking for an explanation. Instead, she turned to Harriet and said, “Would you let Diana know that I’m far too tired for any more visitors?”
“Don’t let me keep you from your rest,” Lady Catherine interrupted, holding out a hand to stop Harriet and rising to go. “I was leaving anyway. Oh, and lest you entertain any ideas about digging your desperate talons into the Earl while you’re taking advantage of his mother’s generosity, remember that would not be wise. You should know that my Father has already spoken to the Earl on several occasions, and an arrangement will be forthcoming at any time.”
She turned and left, leaving a faint waft of expensive perfume and the rush of heavy fabrics behind her. Harriet watched her go and waited until the door closed before turning to Marjorie.
“What did she mean, sister? What rumor does she threaten you with?”
“I know not, nor do I care,” Marjorie replied wearily. “What’s done is done, and while I’m laid up in bed I certainly cannot dispute the ugly tongue-wagging of people who go looking for scandal where there is none.”
Still, though her words might appease her delicate sister, Marjorie was seething inside. Try though she might, she couldn’t not reason out how she would deal with the many crises at hand, especially in her condition.
Chapter 25
Evan looked out the window of his upstairs apartment, viewing the city below. The rain had finally let up, leaving a fine mist that clung to the cobblestones. Carriages rolled along at an unsteady pace, hindered by the congestion of dozens of carts and wagons. Now with the rain finished, it was safe to venture out again, and it seemed as though the entire population of London had done precisely that.
All except Evan. He’d scarcely left his London home since his arrival four days again. It wouldn’t be proper for him to have remained at the estate, what with Lady Marjorie and Lady Harriet staying on the premises. His own mother had suggested he stay in the city for appearance’ sake, but in truth, there was more to it than that.
Evan was determined to be one step ahead of Lord Mortham.
He had no proof, of course, as the man they’d caught in his stables on the day of the fire refused to speak. Whomever was behind the “accidents” on his property must truly be paying him well.
Still, Evan was certain Mortham was behind all of the harm that had befallen his horses. He’d been too conveniently positioned when the fire occurred, too ready with the accusations against him. First the claim was that he was a thief, then that he was a salacious scoundrel who’d compromised Lady Marjorie. Evan still fumed over the confrontation, not over the ignorant old man’s words but over the fact that he’d cared not one whit for his daughter’s life.
Marjorie…Evan thought, a new sickness rising in his stomach again at the memory of her charred clothes, her dangerously quiet coughing,if any harm comes to you, they will actually need a magistrate when I’m through with the man who’s responsible.
Never before had he felt such murderous intentions, but never before had he felt such a stirring over a young lady either. Lady Marjorie was the singular person who had managed to capture his attention, turning it from thoughts of increasing his holdings and building his stable’s reputation. Instead, she forced him to think of sharing his home and his heart, increasing his family rather than his wealth. He knew not where that power she held over him came from, only that it burned inside him as real as any flame that had claimed his property.
“My Lord?” the valet asked from the doorway. “Will you be dining out this evening? I can lay out your attire now.”
“No thank you. I’ll be staying in. Please let the cook know?” Evan answered without turning away from the window.
“Very good, sir.” The valet left, closing the door behind him and leaving Evan to his thoughts. He reopened it briefly to ask, “Should I bring your correspondence up with the tea?”
“That will be fine, thank you,” he muttered, still staring out at the streets below. Moments later, the valet returned with the tea cart and a silver tray bearing a stack of papers.
Evan rifled through the letters without interest, tossing some aside to read later. He clutched at the letter he recognized from his mother’s own hand and tore it open, seeing that the date was at the top of the page per her usual style.She must have had it delivered in person, he thought, suddenly fearful of what might be so urgent.
My darling son,
