Page 5 of The Broken Marchioness (Lords of Inconvenience #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

“W hat the hell were you thinking?”

Allan lifted his head from the back of the chair and rubbed the sore spot on his temples. He had barely slept and hadn’t even bothered going to bed. Instead, he’d spent the night here in his parlor, sometimes drinking the lone brandy that kept him company at his side.

“Good morning, sister,” he said, attempting a cheery tone as she burst into the room though he failed miserably.

She flung herself inside, her hair wild and barely in its updo at all. Behind her, Stephen ran in as well.

“Good morning, Allan,” Stephen said with a somewhat amused grin on his face.

“This isn’t amusing,” Dorothy snapped at him at which he attempted a serious expression.

Allan was in no mood for their bickering ways. Stephen, his oldest friend, had turned into a very natural suitor for his sister though the two had denied it vehemently for some time. Only when Dorothy was nearly courted by another did she and Stephen realize what they meant to one another.

Allan found their constant arguing wearying though.

“If you have come simply to shout at me, Dorothy, I do not need that headache.” He gestured to the empty brandy glass beside him. “Brandy has given me the headache already.”

“You look a mess,” Stephen said, moving toward him and picking up the tailcoat from where Allan had slung it across the back of a chair. “Have you not been to bed?”

“No.”

“It’s morning,” Dorothy reminded him.

“You know, I wondered what that great yellow thing was through the window. Must be the sun.”

“Allan, this is no jest!” Dorothy flung herself down onto the settee opposite him.

“You heard what happened then?”

“Charlotte turned up at my house this morning. A friend of hers came to her even earlier and told her what had happened. Gosh, I wish we had stayed longer at the ball last night,” she said with a heavy sigh as she looked at her husband. “Maybe we could have stopped it.”

“You were tired from taking care of the children,” Stephen reminded her, leaning on the back of Allan’s chair. “And I hardly think we would have been of much use in stopping Allan and Frederica keeping their hands off each other.”

“Stephen!” Dorothy snapped in outrage.

Allan simply glowered at his friend. Stephen raised a comforting hand.

“Do you want to tell us what really happened?” Stephen asked, his tone softer and more serious as he moved to sit beside his wife.

“I just came across Frederica in an upstairs corridor at the assembly rooms.”

“What were you doing up there?” Dorothy asked, nearly falling out of her seat in her restlessness. Stephen laid a hand across her back, clearly trying to calm her.

“Don’t ask, Dorothy. Allan is a man of the world.”

“Ew.” Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “On second thoughts, you’re right, I don’t need to hear what woman you had a rendezvous with.”

“The point is,” Allan spoke quickly, not wanting this discussion to continue for much longer, “I came across her, and we started talking. I know she’s been missing for this last year.”

He paused at this moment to judge the fact Dorothy’s cheeks were pinkening. She also looked rather guilty. She was fidgeting an awful lot.

“I wanted her to go and speak to her parents, to let them know she was alive and well. She refused. I took her hand then released her, and she… she tripped at the top of the stairs. I reached out and caught her, and that’s when we were seen.”

“No wonder people are saying you were embracing then,” Stephen said with a heavy sigh. “And she wasn’t exactly missing, Allan. Dorothy knew where she was.”

Allan glowered at his sister, who wriggled all the more in discomfort.

“Charlotte and I both knew,” she muttered. “But it was for the best. To escape him.”

“Who?” Allan leaned forward abruptly. When Dorothy wasn’t forthcoming, he pushed on, “Dorothy, I returned just three months ago, and all I have heard is that Frederica vanished very suddenly after some gossip was spread. What exactly was this gossip?”

“Scandal.”

“Stephen!” Dorothy snapped at him. “I think I know better than you, don’t I?”

“At least I was giving an answer. You’re just sitting there very quietly.”

“No more arguing, please.” Allan held up his hands, rubbing his temple again. “My head can’t take it. Dorothy, what exactly happened to Frederica?”

“She turned up at Charlotte’s house in the middle of the night a year ago.” Dorothy spoke very fast indeed. “Her parents had been pushing her into the grasp of a gentleman — a man whom Frederica loathes. She was refusing his suit, and then he tried to force her to kiss him at a dinner party at her parents’.”

Allan leaned forward, feeling rather sick. The idea of anyone forcing Frederica into a kiss disgusted him. His hands balled into fists so suddenly that his knuckles cracked, something that Stephen plainly noticed, for his eyes rested on Allan’s hands.

“Charlotte helped her to escape. She has been hiding in the countryside with a relative. As to why she came back last night,” Dorothy shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Allan scratched his jaw in thought.

“She kept asking after your welfare,” he said slowly. “Are you well, Dorothy? Have you told Frederica in any letters that you are unwell at all?”

“What? I am perfectly well.” Dorothy frowned deeply. “Surely you do not mean she came back to London to ask after my welfare?”

“That I do not know.”

“Anyway, what has happened has happened.” Stephen sat back, with his brow creased. “The point is that Lady Frederica is now a lady who has suffered two scandals. You can be certain her parents will be rushing her into the quickest of marriages.”

Allan found himself looking around for that brandy glass again, but Dorothy must have sensed what he was thinking, for she snatched it away and placed it on a table closer to her instead, out of his reach.

“What are you going to do, brother?” she asked. “You were caught in scandal as much as Frederica was last night.”

“Men can survive scandals,” Stephen reminded her quietly. “Women… they do not do so well.”

“I’m surprised you need ask what I’m going to do next.” Allan stood from his seat with his mind made up.

* * *

Allan pounded on the door of the townhouse. There must have been some commotion and noise inside, for in the end, he had to knock three times before the butler came to the door to answer it.

The poor man looked rather harassed and flustered.

“My apologies, sir.” He bowed and backed up. “Come in. The household is a bit… well, never mind.”

“Please, do not worry.” Allan closed the door behind him, handing his top hat to the butler though he chose to keep his frock coat on. “I will not be staying long. Would you take me to the gentleman of the ho —” He did not get chance to finish the question.

Across the house, there was a shouting match going on.

“You will marry him. If I say you will marry him, then you will. If I say you have to dance an Irish jig, then you will do it now. Do you understand?” It was Lord Campbell, the commanding and furious tone unmistakable. “Your ways have got this whole family into this mess. I will get you out of it, but only if you do as I say.”

Allan looked at the butler who blushed the color of a poppy in embarrassment.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “Perhaps it would be best to come back at another time?”

“No need. I believe I may be able to put an end to the shouting match. Please, do not trouble yourself to announce me. I think I can find them all on my own.”

The butler looked rather relieved not to have to go into that room again. He bowed his thanks to Allan and then hurried off toward a servants’ stairwell.

Allan looked down the corridor as the shouting continued.

Lord Campbell had to be yelling at his daughter, but someone was crying too. The somewhat deeper tone told him it was not Frederica crying. It had to be her mother.

Allan reached for the door handle, his fingers hovering over it as he listened to what was being said inside.

“You will do it,” Lord Campbell said again.

“I will not.” Frederica was standing her ground. “If you put me in a church with that man, I will refuse to take the vows. I will. I ran away from him last year. Does that not tell you everything you need to know?”

The woman crying yelped, as if she had been physically hurt by these words.

“You have no honor, no sense of dignity, and no sense of family responsibility.”

“And you have no sense of family love, dear Father.”

“When did you become so insolent!?”

Allan couldn’t listen to this anymore. He turned the handle and opened the door wide, stepping inside.

All eyes turned toward him in alarm. Lord Campbell looked so shocked indeed that he was in danger of falling over. His hands were loose at his sides, his jaw slackened. Lady Campbell had looked up from the handkerchief she was crying into, and Frederica, who hadn’t yet changed out of the pink gown she had worn the night before, paled to the color of a newborn lamb.

“Good morning,” Allan said in a level tone.

No one answered him. They were plainly in too much shock.

“Ahem.” When Allan cleared his throat, it created a sudden movement from the Earl of Campbell.

“Lord Padleigh. You do us the greatest honor in coming to see us.” He scurried toward Allan, like an ingratiating rat, as he bowed so low that his hooked nose was in danger of brushing the floor.

Far behind him, Frederica actually turned her eyes up to the ceiling, clearly pleading the heavens for patience.

There was a lot that was reassuring in seeing that Frederica was sensible of how ridiculous her father’s ambitious ways were.

“I hope you forgive my words last night,” the Earl said as he stood up straight.

“You mean when you accused me of keeping your daughter as a lover?” Allan countered. Lord Campbell now turned the color purple, struggling to attempt a simpering smile that looked much more like a painful grimace.

“It was my anger and panic speaking. I do apologize sincerely for my words.” He bowed deeply again, even lower this time, so that Allan wondered if his back would click, and he’d be stuck in that strange position forever.

“We are greatly honored by your presence,” Lady Campbell found her own voice. All signs of her tears were now gone. She sniffed heartily and shoved her handkerchief up the long sleeve of her gown then curtsied deeply too.

Allan looked away, finding Frederica’s eyes.

She seemed greatly shocked indeed to find him there — even confused — her brow furrowed deeply. She had barely moved a muscle since he entered the room.

He carefully walked around her father, who hadn’t yet fully stood from the bent position he was in. As he neared her, he took in as much of her as he possibly could.

There were heavy shadows under her eyes, her hair was a little wild and falling out of its updo. The gown — as beautifully as it had suited her the night before — was just as fine today though she had plainly pulled at the sleeves and skirt in stress.

“Have you slept?” he asked with concern.

“No.” She shook her head.

“My daughter needs to understand what she has?—”

“I am speaking to Frederica now, Lord Campbell.” Allan cut the Earl off. He was very aware how rude he was being, but he hardly cared. He had to take control of this situation if it meant stopping this scene before it could get any worse. “Clearly, you have had a chance to yell at her all night. You can wait a few minutes, can you not?”

Lord Campbell looked so flustered that he didn’t know what to say. He attempted to stand tall, pushing out his rounded stomach. The effect was as if he were a heavily stuffed animal who had been taken to a taxidermist.

“Lady Frederica.” Allan cleared his throat and turned to speak to her, being careful to use her title as he didn’t think her parents would appreciate it if he used any sort of informality now. “After what has happened last night, I must act.”

“Act?” she repeated in alarm.

“Yes. I am content to obtain a special license so that the ceremony can take place as soon as possible.”

He spoke quickly, determined to discuss the particulars and have it over and done with as soon as possible. “If all goes according to plan, then it could take place within a week. It shall have to be a small affair, of course, but that should mitigate much disaster that could incur from the speculation in the scandal sheets. In fact, if we can announce the betrothal as soon as possible, that will help stop speculation too.”

“Wait,” Frederica said, stepping toward him. “Lord Padleigh, are you asking me to marry you?”

“Didn’t I say?” He blinked, hardly remembering what words he had said. It was obvious, wasn’t it? It was their only path forward now.

Yet the way she looked at him, those pretty blue eyes staring up at him, he paused, not answering her question right away.

If years ago, he had told himself he would someday be offering marriage to Frederica, he wouldn’t have believed it. She had been so quiet and mild in manner at the time; he didn’t think there was any partiality on her side toward him. All he had ever noticed was that she was pretty, and he had given no more thought to the matter. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“As long as I have your father’s blessing?” He looked toward Lord Campbell, who was already nodding very fast indeed with his wife at his side who was offering another ingratiating curtsey.

“Of course,” Lord Campbell gushed. “We would be delighted to offer our blessing, would we not, dear?”

“Yes, yes, indeed,” Lady Campbell seconded. “What a happy family we shall all make together.”

“Yes, very happy,” Lord Campbell said with a giggle, as if no scandal had happened at all.

“The arrangements shall have to be made quickly, of course,” Lady Campbell was saying to her husband.

“Yes, yes, we can see to all of that.”

Allan ignored their stream of conversation. He was staring at Frederica. He was very aware about something as those pretty eyes looked back at him. They were rather like aquamarine stones in this light. They were delicate, soft, and endearing.

He blinked hard, trying to stop the power those eyes had over him.

She hasn’t given me her answer.