Page 7 of The Broken Marchioness (Lords of Inconvenience #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“W ill you not utter a word?”

Frederica jerked her head towards her mother, for she had barely been paying attention. She had been working on another of the silhouettes she liked to make, though she was so distracted that she cut her fingers with the scissors. She put the scissors down and sucked on the end of her finger to try and stop the blood.

Across the room, Magaret was staring at her blankly.

“Nothing to say?” Margaret held her arms out wide.

Frederica had many things she wished to say. She wished to shout about the injustice of being forced into a marriage so quickly, the anger at being back here under this roof again, and the fury that her mother and father had very little to say about her time away beyond their indignation that she had left at all. She didn’t say any of it though.

Principally, most of these thoughts were blocked out by another.

Lord Padleigh has asked me to marry him. How can this be?

When he had said the words that morning, she had been in such shock, she didn’t think she had truly understood the repercussions of his words. It was only now that a few hours had passed, and she had been allowed to rest, bathe and change, that she understood completely.

I am to be married to Dorothy’s brother.

“Say something,” Margaret begged again.

“Very well.” Frederica pushed the implements away she had been using to make the silhouette. She tried not to concentrate too much on whom in particular she had been making with that paper. She stood and faced her mother fully, who had at last stopped crying.

At least there had been no tears since Lord Padleigh had appeared and declared his intent to marry her.

“I am grateful that Lord Padleigh appeared before you and father had chance to write to Lord Wetherington.” Her words made Margaret grip her chest.

“Why?” Margaret whispered in a sort of horror. “Lord Wetherington loved you. Was that not something? I know your father and I could not refuse Lord Padleigh. After all, he is a marquess. The connection this could bring your father…” She trailed off when Frederica glowered at her. “Are you not at least sad to miss out on Lord Wetherington’s love?”

“It was not love, Mother.” Frederica shook her head. “Whatever he felt for me sounds more like infatuation than love, and if you think for a single second I could return it…” She paused, staring at her mother. “… then plainly you listened to none of my complaints against marrying Lord Wetherington last year.”

Margaret looked rather hurt. She sat down and reached for the teapot, trying to pour out tea for them both.

“Come and sit with me. Let us share tea and talk as if nothing has happened.”

“But so much has happened,” Frederica said, marching toward her mother. “Do you really intend to sit here and drink tea as if nothing has changed?”

“It’s what we must do.” Margaret calmly took a sip of tea. “If we are seen to panic, dearest, it will make people talk all the more. If this second scandal is to be avoided, then we must appear perfectly calm and in control, mustn’t we? I’m sure it’s what your betrothed would want.” She tried to push a second cup toward Frederica.

Lord Padleigh. What would he think of this, I wonder?

Frederica regretted all that had passed in conversation with Lord Padleigh that morning. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she hadn’t actually thanked him for trying to save her reputation at all.

Neither had she brought up the fact that he clearly had a lover though it was a doubt now niggling in her mind. Wouldn’t he rather marry this lover than her? After all, he was on his way to meet her last night at the ball.

There is so much I wish I said to him.

“Here, drink.” Margaret tried to pass her the cup another time.

Frederica took it though she refused to sit down and look calm with her mother. She took to pacing around the room instead as she distractedly sipped her tea.

She kept replaying the conversation she’d had with Lord Padleigh in her mind. Never had she seen him so assertive or firm before. It had shocked her even though she knew he had the capacity for such assertive behavior. After all, Dorothy had talked much of him over the years.

“I’d like to go and see my friends,” Frederica said with finality, returning the cup to her mother’s table. Lord Padleigh had assured her that Dorothy was well, but it was not the same as seeing Dorothy with her own eyes.

The danger is past now though, is it not? Surely when Lord Wetherington hears I am to be married, he will give up any pursuit. He will not harm Dorothy…

She still had to be sure.

“You are going nowhere.” Margaret stood up, with such sudden rage that her face was white, and her hand shook around the teacup. It made the cup clink in its saucer.

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Margaret repeated. “You ask me that? You vanished in the middle of the night last year. You are a flight hazard. You shall stay here. In fact, you are not to leave this house until the wedding.”

“Mama, please. I ran away last year to escape a hurried marriage to Lord Wetherington. Evidently, I do not need to worry about that now.”

“It does not matter.” Margaret shook her head. “I do not trust you outside alone.” She took a step toward Frederica.

She had always known that her mother had the capacity for great strength. What disappointed Frederica was that such strength was now turned against her.

“Other than to leave this house in my company to visit the modiste for your wedding gown, you shall stay under this roof.”

“Is a new gown really necessary?”

“Of course, it is. That ridiculous pink thing you turned up in the other night was so far from being fashionable…” She trailed off and shuddered, as if a ghoul had spooked her rather than a gown. “You need something new. Whoever bought you such a gown had taken leave of their senses.”

“I liked it,” Frederica insisted, but her mother was no longer listening. Instead, she had opened up one of the women’s pamphlets and stretched it across the tea table, pointing toward ‘fashionable’ gowns which had far too many frills and were nowhere near as elegant as the style Frederica had liked so much.

“This discussion is at an end. Whilst you are under this roof, you are staying under it,” Margaret snapped. “Now, what about this one?”

Frederica didn’t answer her mother as she sipped her tea. She was wondering when she was under Lord Padleigh’s roof instead, how much freedom she would have in comparison.

* * *

“Three days and no word from you?” Dorothy cried as she stood in the doorway. “What were you thinking, Allan?”

He stood on her doorstep with his arms folded. It was true he hadn’t been to see her for the last few days.

“I’m sure you have heard my news regardless.”

“Of course, I have. The scandal sheets are full of the fact you and Frederica are to marry after your scandal.” She turned back into her house, beckoning him to follow just as Stephen appeared though he was not alone.

He was running down the corridor, chasing after two toddlers who were doing their best to outwit him. The taller of the two, Peter, was racing ahead, dragging his little sister behind him, who was struggling to keep up, for she had not long been walking.

“Peter!” Stephen shouted.

“Yes, Father?” Peter cried back with an innocent tone.

“Careful with your sister!”

Young Arabella was too busy sucking on her thumb to notice where she was going as she ran. Fortunately, when she tripped, she fell into her brother’s back. Peter caught her with ease and laughed happily beneath his sister, who promptly complained he wasn’t a very comfortable pillow at all.

Stephen raced to catch up with them, swinging his daughter into the air, kissing her on the cheek, then pulling Peter up to stand with just one hand.

“Now, is that what we do when I ask you to help look after your sister? You run away?” Stephen asked, crouching down to sit beside his son.

“Yes,” Peter said, laughing joyously as he did so.

Stephen shook his head and tutted.

“I swear you do not get your mischief from me.”

“He does,” Allan and Dorothy said in unison together.

Stephen turned, clearly noticing Allan’s arrival for the first time in the doorway.

“Aha!” Stephen said, standing and picking up Peter with his other arm, so he was carrying both children. “Who wants to greet Uncle Allan today?”

“Allan!” It was Arabella who shouted his name the loudest.

Allan laughed, smiling freely for the first time in days as he took his niece into his arms and carried her into the drawing room, following his family. She proceeded to pull on his cravat, trying to tie it around her tiny hand. Peter was promptly placed down with some wooden horses to play with, and then Arabella kept pulling on the cravat until Allan put her down so she could join him.

“Looks like there will be more children soon,” Stephen observed as he sat down near his children.

Allan flinched and looked at his sister, wide eyed.

“You’re not —”

“He doesn’t mean me.” She waved a hand in the air and clapped Allan around the arm in reprimand. “He’s talking about you.”

“Me!?” Allan spluttered. He didn’t even have a ring on his finger yet, and they were already making predictions about him having a child? “I’m not married yet!”

“No, but you left it to the scandal sheets to inform the ton that Frederica had accepted your proposal. Speaking of which…” She promptly tapped him around the arm again, a little harder this time.

“Ow,” Allan complained.

When Stephen looked starkly between his own children and Allan and Dorothy, he shook his head.

“I’m beginning to think we have created two copies of you two. They’re as mischievous as you two are.”

“We are not,” Allan and Dorothy complained in unison, at which Stephen laughed loudly.

Dorothy bustled him into a chair though Allan only perched on the very edge, for he was busy watching his niece and nephew together as they played. Something in what Stephen had said conjured a sadness.

Allan had told Frederica when he proposed that he didn’t have to have an heir. He would certainly never demand she went to his bed. He wouldn’t consummate the marriage if that was not what she wanted, but he couldn’t help being sad at the thought of not having a child of his own.

He rather liked the idea of chasing his own mischievous son through the house. As if aware of his thoughts, Peter came towards him and gifted him a wooden horse to play with. Allan thanked him then Peter returned to his sister to continue their games.

“She said yes, then?” Dorothy asked excitedly.

“She did, eventually,” Allan said, looking at the horse and avoiding looking at his sister at all.

“Well, I imagine she was in shock,” Dorothy whispered. “She has always had a soft spot for you, so it can’t have been —”

“What?” Allan nearly dropped the horse. He had to catch it to stop it from falling and breaking.

“Frederica,” Dorothy said as if Allan had suddenly become an imbecile. “She’s always had a soft spot for you.”

“I think not.” Allan shook his head. Nothing in Frederica’s response to him the last few days had induced him to think she cared for him at all.

“I know my friend’s mind better than you do, Allan.” Dorothy sighed and sat back beside her husband. “Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have a marriage for love like our parents.”

“And us,” Stephen reminded her, pretending to look affronted with a deep frown.

“Maybe one where I don’t bicker as much with my wife as you two do will make me happy.” Allan sat back, laying the horse down beside him, growing increasingly sadder by the minute that he may never have a child.

“You do not believe in love, brother?” Dorothy asked pointedly.

“I do not think it possible with Frederica, now.” Allan refused to look at either his sister or his brother-in-law. He stared at the pile of toys instead, deciding that this simple statement would have to do.

He wasn’t going to tell them that Frederica’s prettiness was infuriating him, nor that he had always been attracted to Frederica from the moment they had met years ago. He couldn’t even tell them that he felt sincerely protective of her, for it might lead them to make more jests as his expense.

“There is something I need to know, Dorothy.” Allan tried to make his tone serious. He glanced at the children, but seeing they were too distracted with their game to listen, he pushed on. “What exactly happened with Frederica and this suitor you mentioned before?”

“He was too forceful,” Dorothy explained. “Frederica hated him from the very beginning. She said he would look at her like he wanted to eat her instead of talk to her. He was demanding. I think the final straw came when he grabbed her under a dining table and tried to kiss her.”

Allan felt his gut curdle again. That protectiveness swelled inside of him. He would make sure that this man was not invited to their wedding. He had to hope they wouldn’t come across him in their future either, or he might very well punch this last suitor and break his nose for what he tried to do to Frederica.

“And she was so scared of him, she ran away? Where?”

“I think you should ask her about the rest yourself. These are her secrets, Allan. They are not mine to share,” Dorothy said with a softness to her voice that was rather unlike her.

“Hmm.” Stephen murmured as he watched Allan intently.

“What?” Allan asked, trying to get his oldest friend to stop looking at him in such a way. Stephen knew his mind better than anyone else did in this world. He didn’t need Stephen to keep looking at him with such discernment.

“You are hardly indifferent to her, Allan,” Stephen pointed out. “I could have sworn the year Dorothy and I married that you and Frederica… well, that there was something there between you.”

“Ha, a work of your imagination, that is all.” Allan tried to laugh it off. “Love was in the air for you, and you mistook everyone else for feeling it too.”

Dorothy laughed too but rather sadly. Stephen on the other hand didn’t look convinced at all.

“It is a shame. I thought you could offer my friend something more than just an acquaintance for a husband,” Dorothy said softly.

Allan ruffled his dark hair, deep in thought.

She doesn’t want more from me.

“Well, when is the wedding to be then?” Stephen asked. “I hope we shall be there.”

“You will be,” Allan said with a nod. “Stephen, I hope you’ll be my best man.”

Stephen sat taller, a big smile on his face.

“Thank God, because I would have wrestled any other man in church for that position,” he said, making them all laugh.

“What about Frederica?” Dorothy asked. “Does she have any bridesmaids?”

“That I do not know.” Allan shifted uncomfortably again. “From what I understand in her father’s last letter, they are not letting her out of the house at present to see anyone. They clearly think she may run again.”

I wonder if she had the chance, would she run from me as she ran from the last man who pursued her?

Allan reasoned that she would not. After all, he had taken the pains to ask her alone if she wanted to marry him, and she had said yes. Even if it wasn’t a gushing and excited yes, she had still assented.

“When is the wedding then?” Dorothy asked with concern, biting her lip.

“Saturday.”

“That’s three days away!”