Page 93 of Rogue of My Heart
“You know, you could always give me something to do,” he said, following the line of his father’s pacing with his eyes. “Something with the managing of the estate. What’s this I hear about a dispute over fresh water and property boundaries between us and Ned Woodlea’s estate?”
“The property dispute with Lord Garvagh is none of your damn business, boy,” his father snapped.
Christian flinched back at the vehemence of his father’s statement, raising his hands as if to appease the man. “I was merely hoping to find some sort of employment that might be of help to this family that you think I should prize and respect more than I do.”
“Ah ha! So you admit that you don’t respect it?” Miles said with a victorious leer.
“I said no such thing,” Christian defended himself, even though it felt pointless. As the oldest son and heir to the earldom, Miles had always been an arrogant prick. He’d tortured Christian mercilessly all through their childhoods, letting Christian know exactly where he stood, both in terms of rank and with their father’s affections. Indeed, even though Christian always had the sense that he was never enough for his father, he’d never truly shaken his desire to try to please the man and earn his love at last.
“Just…just tell me what I can do to make up for this sin in your eyes,” he said, his heart sinking. He didn’t think anything he’d done came close to being a sin. Lady Marie certainly hadn’t been offended. Far from it, she’d been a delight. He’d fallen asleep with the memory of her laughter ringing in his ears the night before and the flash of her green eyes tickling every bit of his remembrance. So much so that he couldn’t resist frigging himself senseless as he imagined a different way their encounter might have turned out. But those thoughts were the last thing he wanted his father to have so much as a hint of.
“You can behave yourself and do as you’re told,” his father said, coming to a stop in front of him with a sharp glower. “That begins with marrying.”
A light of hope blossomed in Christian’s chest. “You want me to marry?” he asked.
Instantly, he thought of Lady Marie. She was the daughter of an earl, after all, and his social equal. Granted, he’d only just made her acquaintance, but if he was being forced into matrimony, why not marry the woman who had sparked his imagination in such a delightful way? There had certainly been enough of an initial spark between them to suggest that they might be a brilliant match. The more he considered it, the more he was in favor of the idea.
“All right, Father,” he said with a shrug, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “I’ll marry. In fact, I have a woman in mind who?—”
“I’ve already arranged a marriage for you,” his father cut him off.
“Arranged?” Frustration burned where hope had been inside of Christian a second before.
His father glanced at his pocket watch. “In fact, she and her brother should be here now. Come along.”
His father turned sharply and gestured to Miles. The two of them started out of the room, leaving Christian stunned in their wake. He leapt into motion after them, his heart lifting again. His father had arranged for him to marry, and the woman was there with her brother now? Marie had a brother. Fergus O’Shea was responsible for his sisters. It couldn’t possibly be that his father had done something he might actually approve of, could it?
He marched down the hall from his father’s study to the morning parlor, his heart lifting with each step. It swelled near to the point of bursting as the three of them walked into the room to find his mother already hosting what looked like a delightful tea party.
And there she was. Lady Marie looked like a dream in light green silk, her ginger hair pulled up in the latest style. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes flashed with good humor as she sat beside his mother on the settee, entertaining her with what must have been a cheeky story, judging by his mother’s amusement. There were two other people in the room, a lady and a gentleman, but Christian only had eyes for Marie. Everything was going to turn out the way it should after all.
“Ah, there you are,” his mother said, rising from her seat with a smile. “I’ve just been listening to the most delightful story from your fiancée, Miles.”
At first, Christian didn’t think he’d heard right. Marie glanced in his direction, their eyes met, and it was as if the rest of the world disappeared for a moment. Even though several yards separated them, Christian felt the same rush of excitement and rightness that he’d felt the morning before, as he and Marie had played their prank on the hapless old woman. Yes, he could marry Marie. He could easily marry her. And the two of them would be happy together and?—
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head and dragged his eyes away from Marie to frown at his mother. “Did you say Miles?”
“Yes, you dolt,” Miles said, shifting to stand by Christian’s side with a superior smirk. “We’re both getting married.”
Christian’s pulse kicked up as he glanced from his smug brother to his father, then on to his mother, and finally, Marie. “We are?” His voice sounded far away in his own ears.
“Yes, and what a happy day it is,” his mother said. “Lord Ballymena here has agreed to have his sister, Lady Marie, marry Miles, and Lord Boleran has graciously given over the hand of his darling sister, Lady Aoife to you, Christian.”
Christian’s jaw dropped as his mother gestured to a pale, rather mousy-looking young woman with downcast eyes who looked as though she didn’t have enough spark within her to light a match. The hopes that had towered so high within him moments before came crashing down.
Four
Marie gasped so hard at Lady Kilrea’s revelation of who was engaged to whom that she instantly burst into a fit of coughing. She couldn’t believe it. She simply couldn’t believe it. But more immediately, she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Good heavens, my dear, are you well?” Lady Kilrea asked, resting a maternal hand on Marie’s back.
The gesture was pure and sweet, which only twisted Marie’s heart in her chest and prolonged her fit. “I’m fine,” she managed to croak as Lady Kilrea gestured for Lady Aoife to fetch Marie’s teacup from the low table in front of the settee.
“Here you go, Lady Marie. A spot of tea will make everything well again.” Lady Kilrea handed her the teacup with a worried look in her eyes. Not just a worried look, a shrewd one. The older woman glanced from Marie to Christian for a moment before focusing on helping Marie steady herself. “It must be a shock to learn you will be a countess someday.”
A thousand different emotions ricocheted through Marie. Shock was indeed one of them, but it had nothing to do with her becoming a countess. She swallowed a second mouthful of tea and did her best to smile gratefully at Lady Aoife.
Lady Aoife, who looked like a porcelain doll that had been left at the back of the shelf. One that hadn’t been painted vividly enough to catch anyone’s interest. Lady Aoife, who could barely lift her eyes to make certain Marie wasn’t choking to death, who had turned scarlet when it was announced she was betrothed to Christian. Lady Aoife, who damn well wasn’t going to marry Christian Darrow if Marie had anything to say about it.