The Marriage Wager (20 page)

“I know. It is just…It is so unfair! The wind blew my hat from my head, and my hair went every which way. It was so wet, and then I could not put it back up right. I know I looked a mess. But it was not Dominic’s fault,” Constance insisted.

“It is an unfortunate circumstance that your absence was so long and so public. Even more unfortunate that your cousin dropped out of the party, and Calandra and the others had to stay with her,” Francesca commented. “And it is even more unfortunate that Muriel is such a spiteful fool that she would do everything she could to hurt you, even at the risk of losing precisely what she wants.”

“Why would she do such a thing?” Constance exclaimed.

“I am sure she would not have if she had realized what Dominic would do. However, she misjudged my brother, because she does not know him at all. She assumes that everyone else in the world has the same lack of honor and scruples that she does. I think that Muriel must have thought that if she branded you a loose woman, Dominic would distance himself from you. She did not understand, of course, that he would not let your reputation suffer, that he would, of course, act in an honorable manner.”

Francesca helped Constance out of her riding jacket as she spoke, then began to work at the buttons of her skirt.

“Muriel is desperate, of course. That may have clouded her thinking. No doubt she sees my brother as her last hope of marriage. Her family’s fortune ensured that she would have ample suitors, but her cold, unforgiving temperament has frightened them all off. And, of course, the number of available men whom she would accept was rather low to begin with, as she refused to look as low as a baron for a mate. Muriel sees little point in marriage unless one improves one’s standing.”

Constance shook her head. “Dominic must not marry that woman,” she said fervently.

She slipped her skirt down and let it fall to the floor, then sat to remove her boots. Francesca went to the dresser and took out Constance’s dressing gown, coming back to hold it up as Constance finished skinning off the rest of her clothes and slid her arms into the robe.

Constance felt warm for the first time since she had dressed in the cottage, and she hugged the dressing gown to her gratefully. She turned to Francesca.

“But Dominic must not marry me, either,” Constance told Francesca earnestly. “You know that better than I. He told me about the encumbrances on the estate. I know that he must marry to help his family. He cannot marry someone who has not even a decent dowry, let alone a fortune. I cannot let him make such a mistake.”

Francesca looked at her for a long moment. “Dear girl, you must let Dominic decide for himself what he will do. Quite frankly, you have no other choice. No one can make Dominic do what he does not want to, I am certain of that. He has always been his own man.”

Still, Constance could not help but fret. She could not allow Dominic to ruin his life out of a sense of obligation to her.

After Francesca left, as Constance lay soaking in the soothing warmth of the tub and later, as Maisie helped her dress and do her hair, she continued to worry over her problem.

She could not bear to have Dominic forced into marrying her. What made it all worse, of course, was the fact that she wanted to marry him. She had realized today how very much in love she was with him. It was for that reason that she had made love with him in the cottage. When she allowed herself to think of being his wife, her heart thrilled inside her.

But, of course, she could not give in to that longing. She could not sacrifice Dominic’s future for her own happiness. He was a man of duty, and if he married her, he would be ignoring that duty. More than that, she was certain that he did not want to marry her; he had announced that they were engaged only to protect her honor. He did not love her. Even when they had been making love, he had not told her that he loved her. He had wanted her; she was quite certain of that. But he did not love her as she loved him.

It would have been a different matter if he had asked her to marry him because he could not bear to live without her. If he had ignored his duty to his family because he could not face the unhappiness of never having the woman he loved, then Constance knew that she would have tossed all caution to the winds. She would not have cared if she had to live the rest of her life in poverty, as long as she was with Dominic.

But he did not love her. He had not asked her to marry him. And she did not want him without love any more than she wished him to be forced into marriage.

Something must be done, she knew, and she was the only person who could do it. She glanced at the clock on her dresser. There was still time before supper. She must do what she could to right this wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she strode purposefully out of her room.

C
ONSTANCE MADE HER WAY
down the corridor to her aunt and uncle’s room. She knocked softly at their door and entered at her aunt’s response.

Her uncle was sitting in a chair, waiting for his wife, who was fussing over her hair and jewels in front of the vanity mirror. Both of them turned to look at Constance in some surprise.

“Well, come in, girl,” her uncle said jovially. “You need not look at us like that. We are not angry with you. You took something of a risk, I must say, but it has turned out well.”

“I have come to ask you to let me return home,” Constance told him.

“What?” Her uncle stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Whatever are you talking about, you silly girl?” Aunt Blanche added. “Why would you want to return home? Oh, there may be a little whiff of scandal, but Lord Leighton has done the proper thing, and it will all pass in no time. Unless, of course, you draw attention to it by running away like a scared rabbit.”

“I know that Lord Leighton said that we were engaged,” Constance went on. “But it isn’t true.”

“Mayhap it was not when he said it, but it is now,” Uncle Roger retorted smugly. “He came to me tonight as soon as he got in and asked for your hand, just as he should. Of course I gave him my approval. I would never have thought you were such a sly minx, Constance.” He smiled at her as though they shared a secret. “But you have done very well for yourself.”

“I did not do anything sly!” Constance protested. “Do you think I arranged it so that Dominic would have to marry me?”

She might have known, she thought, that even if Francesca knew her to be the sort of person who would not do such a thing, her own family would not.

“If not, you were very lucky indeed,” Aunt Blanche put in.

“I cannot marry him,” Constance shot back. “Dominic does not wish to marry me. He said that only because Muriel Rutherford was doing her best to create a scandal.”

“Stupid girl,” her aunt commented, giving a shrug. “Ah, well, her loss is our gain. Just think…we will have a countess in the family!”

She beamed, looking positively starry-eyed. “One cannot help but wonder at such a man, of course—why, he paid not the least attention to Margaret and Georgiana, and they are, of course, of a far more eligible age. But still…Margaret is quite hopeful of that charming Mr. Carruthers. His attentions have been most marked the last few days. And once the girls are related to an earl, the possibilities will be endless. You will be able to introduce them to the very cream of society when you are Lady Leighton.”

“I shan’t be introducing them to anyone,” Constance told her sharply, “as I will not be Lady Leighton.”

Her aunt stared at Constance, her eyes bulging. “What? What are you talking about? Have you run mad?”

“I am not mad. I am instead, I am beginning to think, the only one here who is quite reasonable. Dominic does not wish to marry me, and I will not make him.”

“Make him?” Sir Roger trumpeted. “What are you talking about? He has already offered for you.”

“Only because he felt he had to,” Constance retorted. “Can you not see the difference? He feels constrained to marry me.”

“Of course he does. Quite right, too. A gentleman cannot play fast and loose with a young lady’s affections,” her uncle declared.

Constance sighed. It was clear that her aunt and uncle would never understand her objections to the nature of the proposal. They were far too intent on seeing the advantages of a marriage to Viscount Leighton. She could not look to them for help. She must turn to Dominic. He had to be made to see reason.

“I apologize for bothering you,” she said, turning away and starting toward the door. “Pray excuse me.”

Her uncle mumbled some reply, but her aunt called out sharply, “Constance!”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“Just remember this, my girl,” Aunt Blanche said sternly. “If you should turn down his offer, your name will be ruined. You will never get another offer. You will not, in fact, even be received.”

Constance just nodded and continued out the door. She went down the stairs. It was almost time for supper, but perhaps she could manage to catch Dominic alone for a few minutes.

When she entered the anteroom where everyone routinely gathered before dinner, she was aware of a pause in the conversation as everyone’s eyes flickered over to her. Dominic started toward her, and immediately the others began to talk again, though Constance was certain that all the guests were still watching her and Dominic, whatever they were talking about.

Dominic gave her an elegant bow; he was, she was certain, emphasizing his regard for her. “Constance, it is good to see that you are looking well. I hope you feel well, also.”

“Yes, I am quite all right.” She smiled tightly at him. With everyone eyeing them from all over the room, she did not feel comfortable talking to him, at least about anything but the merest polite nothings. “And you? I hope you did not catch a chill.”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all.” He extended his arm to her. “Come say good evening to Francesca and my parents.”

His parents were perhaps the last people she wanted to see—well, other than Muriel or Lady Rutherford—but she knew that this meeting was probably the most important one for tamping down gossip. Presumably his parents would be polite to her, not wanting a scandal, but she could not help but be afraid that they would cut her, shaming her in front of everyone. They could not be happy, she was certain, to have learned that their son was engaged to a near-penniless woman instead of the heiress whom they had chosen for him.

Fortunately, however, they greeted her politely, if with a degree of coolness that convinced Constance that they had as little liking for the match as she had supposed they would. Neither of them, she noticed, offered her any felicitations on the match. Francesca, at least, greeted her with her usual warmth and proceeded to keep the conversational ball rolling with little enough help from anyone else. Neither Lord nor Lady Selbrooke seemed inclined to talk, and though Constance would have liked to help Francesca, she was too aware of the fact that everyone in the room was watching her.

So she looked at Francesca, pretending to listen, but hearing not half of what she said. The smile on her face felt frozen. Lord and Lady Selbrooke remained in the small circle of conversation, which surprised Constance. She imagined that they found the exchange as stilted and uncomfortable as she did. But after a while she realized that they, too, must be hoping to avoid talking to anyone else—or to let Constance talk to anyone. She suspected that they reasoned the less said about the surprise engagement, the better their chances were of somehow disposing of the awkward matter.

Of course, marooned there with his parents and Francesca, there was no opportunity to broach the subject of ending their engagement with Dominic. She knew that she would have to wait until after the meal was over.

At last they were called in to supper, and Constance was able to leave Dominic and his parents. Of course, she was now also away from the protection of their presence, which meant that the other guests would be free to ask her questions.

She took some comfort in the fact that at least Lady Rutherford and Lady Muriel were not there; for surely they would have asked the more penetrating and embarrassing of questions. The Norton sisters would merely want to hear all the details of the engagement, and since she knew none, that would doubtless prove to be difficult, but at least with them there would be no intent to wound her.

Mr. Willoughby, much to Constance’s relief, was as polite and gentlemanly as ever, and after murmured felicitations, did not bring up the subject of the engagement again. Nor did he mention this afternoon. Sir Lucien, on her other side at the table, had clearly been instructed by his friend Francesca, for he talked wittily and at length about almost everything but the engagement.

But the gentlemen, of course, left after the meal was over, and Constance had to face the other women.

“It is so exciting!” Miss Elinor Norton said, coming up and linking her arm through Constance’s as the women trailed out of the dining room. Her sister posted herself on Constance’s other side.

“I had no idea that there was any understanding between you and Lord Leighton,” Miss Lydia added. “How long have you been engaged? How did he ask you? Did he go down on bended knee?”

Constance felt herself coloring. “Please, it isn’t really…I mean, I have known Lord Leighton for only a short time.”

“How romantic!” Elinor exclaimed, pressing a hand to her bosom. “Did you look at him and know immediately that you loved him?”

“Um, well…” Constance looked around a little desperately, wishing that Francesca or Calandra would save her.

“Oh, Elinor, you are embarrassing her,” Lydia scolded her sister. She squeezed Constance’s arm, saying, “Don’t mind Elinor. She is quite mad at the moment about weddings and betrothals.”

As Constance could see scarce a ha’penny’s difference between the two sisters’ interest, she was unsure how to respond. Finally she said, “It is really much too soon to say anything. Lord Leighton should not have brought it up.”

“A secret engagement,” Elinor contributed breathlessly.

Constance was not sure but what she was making things worse. A secret engagement sounded a little haveycavey. “Well, um, I don’t know that it was secret, exactly.”

“Well, of course your aunt and uncle knew,” Lydia offered. “Lady Woodley was telling me all about it.”

“She was?” Constance asked, rather alarmed at this news. Heaven only knew what Aunt Blanche might take it upon herself to say.

At that moment Francesca joined them, saying, “Miss Norton, you must play for us, as Lady Muriel is not with us this evening.”

The sisters were diverted momentarily from their interrogation by a discussion over which of them should play. Francesca suggested, beaming, that each of them play several tunes, adding, “And your sister may turn the pages for you.”

The girls bade Constance a quick farewell, and Francesca took her place at Constance’s side. “I am dreadfully sorry,” she apologized. “I could not get away from the Duchess. And if I offend her, I will never hear the end of it from my mother.”

Constance smiled. “You need not apologize. Indeed, I should beg your pardon for putting you in this position.”

“It will not last much longer, I hope,” Francesca said. “Once you and Dominic have a chance to confer, you will know what to say in answer to their questions.”

They sat down near the door of the music room, and Constance was relieved when Calandra came over to take a seat on her other side.

“At least we will not have to listen to Lady Muriel’s playing tonight,” Calandra remarked cheerfully.

“Or at all,” Francesca added. “I understand that she and her mother are leaving at dawn tomorrow.”

“Really?” Constance asked.

“She can hardly stay,” Calandra pointed out. “Not after what she did this afternoon. I heard Lady Rutherford talking to her when I went past their room coming down to supper.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “I almost felt sorry for Lady Muriel. Her mother was shrieking at her like a fishwife. She said that Lady Muriel had ruined all her chances.”

“She never had a chance with Dominic,” Francesca stuck in. “But she has chased off a number of other suitors. She will have to find someone whose pockets are completely to let.”

“And marry him posthaste before he has an opportunity to get to know her better,” Calandra added.

Francesca smiled, saying only, “Callie, you are unkind.”

Calandra shrugged. “Muriel threw her cap at Sinclair, you know.”

Francesca’s eyebrows vaulted up. “Indeed. When?”

Calandra shrugged. “I am not entirely certain. When I was much younger. Well, you can imagine how she would enjoy snaring a duke. But of course she hadn’t the slightest chance. I remember her discoursing to Sinclair on how a child should most effectively be reared. Of course, in her opinion, I was growing up in the worst way.”

A grin flashed across Francesca’s face. “I am sure Rochford took that well.”

“You can imagine. He gave her such a set down that even Muriel turned scarlet with embarrassment.”

Miss Lydia began to play at that moment, and they fell silent. Her skill at the piano did not approach Muriel Rutherford’s, but the tune was livelier, and when the two sisters began to sing, it was altogether more enjoyable.

The men rejoined the women more quickly than was usual. Constance, seeing the way Dominic and his father studiously ignored one another, suspected that the atmosphere in the Earl’s smoking room had been rather chillier than the guests liked.

Constance felt another pinprick of guilt. Because of Dominic’s decision to marry her, the tension between father and son was worse than ever.

After another song or two, the party began to break up, with several of the older guests retiring. Lady Selbrooke, looking not so much tired as unhappy, was among the first to leave. The people who were left in the music room began to drift into groups, several of them gathering around a table for a card game, and Mr. Carruthers and some others hanging about the piano with the Norton sisters. With their singing and the chatter from the card players, there was ample noise to cover a private conversation. So when Dominic made his way over to where Constance sat, she seized the chance to talk to him.

They took a stroll about the long rectangular room, and she pulled him to a halt at the farthest end. “Dominic, we must talk.”

“Yes, we have to decide when and where I asked you to marry me,” he said, smiling faintly.

“No. No, that is not what I meant. Dominic, you must not do this.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Mustn’t I?”

“Yes. Don’t be difficult. You know as well as I do that marrying me is the last thing you should do.”

“It is precisely what I should do,” he countered. “You must see that.”

“I will not let you sacrifice yourself just because Muriel Rutherford caused a scene this afternoon.”

“Constance, I’m not sure you understand what the consequences of that scene are. Your name will be besmirched if we do not marry. I realize that this is perhaps not what you would wish for.”