Page 5

5

When Drew arrived at the Duke of Pembroke’s town house two hours later, he felt like a king because Mary was in charity with him.

They had walked there, because the rain had ceased and they both liked exercise.

She had donned a bright indigo blue day dress, beneath a navy spencer. Her bonnet was also navy and sported a small clutch of silk bluebells above her right ear. She looked charming, and he was not the only one who thought so, many men noticed her as they walked. Even the attention she drew had not dampened his mood. When they eloped, he told her his horses were the most valuable things he owned. They were not now, she was priceless.

The front door opened. Pembroke’s imperious butler stared at him.

‘Mr Finch,’ Mary acknowledged. The man stepped back, letting Mary pass and with her fingers around Drew’s arm, she took him with her.

‘Is everyone in the upstairs sitting room?’

Drew’s discomfort rose like mercury in a thermometer. He doubted he would be welcome here, but he was here for Mary’s sake.

The butler bowed towards Mary. ‘Yes, ma’am. They are. Shall I show you up?’ He looked down his nose towards Drew.

Drew’s devil spiked. ‘Don’t worry, Finch, we can take ourselves up.’

‘May I take your outdoor garments, my lady?’ the butler offered, ignoring Drew.

‘Thank you.’ Mary smiled as she pulled the ribbons of her bonnet loose. ‘I am still not used to being called a lady, Finch.’

Drew took her bonnet and handed it to the butler, along with his hat and gloves. Then helped her remove her spencer, lifting it from her shoulders. He lay that across the butler’s forearms as his hands were full. He smiled, enjoying putting the butler in his place.

A moment later they climbed the stairs; she eager, he reluctant but enduring.

The upstairs landing was lined by two dozen intimidating portraits of Mary’s ancestors and artefacts gathered on grand tours. They reminded him of her family’s wealth.

Voices travelled from an open door. Mary’s pace quickened.

A drowning sensation took hold. Why did I say I would come?

‘You are an escapist…’ The word he would use was still coward…

He set his jaw and walked on, focusing on the hand on his arm. He was here for her.

When they entered the drawing room, he realised he had been ambushed. The room contained her mother and father, her half-brother and his wife, and her aunts and uncles; the Dukes and Duchesses of Arundel and Bradford, and the Earl of Barrington, Marlow’s brother, and his wife, also some of her cousins.

As Mary led him to a sofa, judgemental looks were cast across the room, in silent speech.

There were lots of children in the room too. Some seated on the floor, playing and giggling, some on the knees of their mothers, and others occupying chairs among the adults.

A sharp pain impaled his heart – the scene was something from fiction books. A fairy tale.

‘Good day, everyone. Andrew has come to meet you.’

As Mary began to make introductions, Drew’s jaw set firm.

It was hard to tell which child belonged to whom, so many of them bore the Pembrokes’ dark hair and pale eyed colouring.

Mary completed an introduction.

Drew was too discombobulated to listen, but he knew the woman was Lady Wiltshire, Arundel’s Duchess.

A circle of boys sat cross-legged in the far corner, contentedly playing cards with fish tokens. His brothers were never that good-humoured, and he was confined to the nursery until he boarded at school, out of sight and mind.

Lady Wiltshire bid two of the girls move from a sofa and make room for him and Mary to sit together. Then she offered him a cup of tea.

He sat in a daydream. This was his first experience of afternoon tea, let alone a happy family.

Mary’s family laughed and chatted around him. He accepted a cup and saucer from her aunt but could not force any words of gratitude from his lips.

A girl who had got up to let him sit brought an embroidery hoop to show Mary, asking for her advice. The girl was her sister…

Drew felt as though he were looking into the room through a window.

Mary’s sister glanced at him, before walking over to her mother.

‘Mary!’ A smaller girl with a ragdoll dangling from her hand rushed to Mary.

‘Jemima!’ Mary mimicked her excitement, caught her and lifted her onto her lap.

‘You are my new brother, are you not?’ Her small hand rested on his thigh.

His cup and saucer were balanced in his hand. He put the cup and saucer on a table beside the sofa, not knowing what to do. A lump in his throat made it difficult to breathe.

The little girl told Mary something about her doll.

Mary’s fingers touched his arm for a moment, as though she understood. But she could not understand his childhood. It would be as inconceivable to her as this was to him.

A deep masculine laugh rang from the group of men. He stiffened, wondering if they were laughing at him.

Harry would be laughing his head off if he could see Drew sat there. Mark would have him sentenced to a madhouse in a week.

Drew cleared his throat, trying to shift the lump within it.

‘Jemima,’ Marlow’s voice beckoned from across the room.

Drew looked up. The men had split up and were joining their wives.

The girl on Mary’s lap slid off and ran to Marlow, with a bright smile. ‘Papa.’ She did not look at all scared of her father, despite the fact he had just barked at her.

He bent and picked her up, balancing her bottom on one forearm. She lifted her doll, saying something. He answered her, his free hand stroking her dark curls.

Drew looked away. He had glimpsed a bond that must hold between Mary and her father, too – years ago it would have been Mary in his arms.

No wonder Marlow had been so angry when Drew stole her away without so much as a by-your-leave.

Drew glanced about the room, as Mary talked to her aunt. His gaze collided with the Duchess of Pembroke’s. She sat in a chair on his left, scarcely a yard away.

She looked at one of the older girls. ‘Helen, dear, please offer people some of the cakes, would you?’

The girl, one of Marlow’s, Drew would guess, and therefore another of Mary’s sisters, did as she was asked.

In his family’s home, that would have been one of the servants’ tasks, but perhaps the children in this room were taught humility.

‘I am pleased you came today.’

The Duchess’s words made his muscles jump. If he had been holding his teacup, the liquid would have been in his lap. He looked at her but could not think of a word to say.

‘You mustn’t let my father-in-law or John put you off. If you prove your loyalty to Mary they will mellow.’

He did not care about them, but he had insulted her, he owed her an apology. ‘Your Grace, I appreciate your…’ What? He began again. ‘I ought to… that is… I am sorry that I?—’

She waved his words away. ‘That is in the past, Lord Framlington,’ she said, then stood up and walked away.

Did I upset her? His gaze followed her as she made her way to Pembroke, who was talking with the Earl of Barrington. Pembroke’s arm lay about the Duchess’s shoulders. He said something. She nodded. Then Pembroke looked at Drew, his gaze hardening with judgement.

Drew looked away, anger prickling.

Mary’s father deposited Jemima on his wife’s lap and kissed the child. When he straightened, as if sensing Drew’s observation, he looked Drew’s way. His expression hardened too. Then he looked at Mary.

‘Mary, may I speak with you a moment?’ Alone . He did not say the last word but his voice did, and Mary heard it, because she pressed a palm on Drew’s thigh and stood.

Her father raised a hand, directing her towards a window seat on the opposite side of the room.

Cut off from her, Drew felt as isolated as he had as a child.

The sofa cushion beside him stirred. ‘Forgive me, I should introduce myself, I am Mary’s Aunt Jane, Lord Barrington’s wife.’

He knew.

A movement on the window seat caught his attention. Mary’s father touched a bruise on Mary’s throat. It was only small, it had been left by Drew’s fervent kisses last night.

‘Mary is precious to us,’ Lady Barrington said. ‘Your marriage has shocked us all.’

He looked at her. ‘It did not shock Mary. It was her choice. A choice she is old enough to make.’

‘Yes. She is also a very kind and loving young lady. We hoped the right husband would give that back to her.’

‘The right husband… Not me then?’ Defiance sharpened his voice.

Was this the plot the men had been hatching in the corner? Remove Mary and send a woman to threaten him, so he would feel unable to defend himself. Clever.

‘It could be you,’ she answered. ‘We shall see. I hope it is you, for Mary’s sake.’

‘Not mine…’

‘At this moment in time, Lord Framlington, you have gained everything in your marriage, and Mary nothing. I think you have enough to be happy.’

His instinct was to stand up and leave, and to take Mary with him. But her family were important to her, and her Aunt Jane was right, he had gained everything; the least he could do for Mary was sit here and drink tea. ‘Mary has gained one thing,’ he said, though, unable to stop his indignation. ‘Me. I know you think me lacking, but Mary does not.’ At least I hope that is true.

His gaze returned to Mary. Her father held her hand as he spoke.

Lady Barrington touched Drew’s arm. ‘I hope you prove us wrong.’ She stood and walked away.

Anger kicked his gut. No one cared about his happiness. Was it any wonder he had become a selfish, bitter man?

Mary’s sister offered him a cake with an almond paste decoration. ‘No, thank you, Helen.’

A moment later, one of the young boys, who Drew had a suspicion had been dared, stood in front of him with a pack of cards. ‘Can I show you a trick I know?’

‘Certainly…’

His next half an hour, until Mary returned to him and said they would leave, was spent with the boys who drifted closer and talked to him about horses and carriages, and other boyish things.

On their walk home, he tucked her arm under his and she held the sleeve of his coat at his forearm. He did not ask what her father had said, and she did not say. Before they left, he agreed to accompany Mary to a ball her family were attending, so whatever Marlow had said had changed nothing.

When they reached The Albany, he asked Joseph to order them a good dinner from Gunter’s, then led her upstairs. ‘Shall we play a few hands of cards or a game of chess?’

If he could learn to fit in among her family, their marriage might yet work…