She had never seen her mother’s face distort with such fury. “What are you talking about, you ungrateful girl? Why on earth would you want to cry off such an advantageous marriage prospect?”
She was quaking in her shoes. If it wasn’t for the night of passion she had spent in Michael’s arms, she wouldn’t have found the courage to speak. “I am in love with another.”
Her mother shot up from the bench like an avenging fury. “Who? Who have you been seeing behind my back, you unmitigated hussy?”
Her mother’s gaze burned through her with such intensity she had to lower her eyes. She had expected this conversation to be the most difficult thing she had ever done, and yet it was even worse than she could have ever imagined. Her mother’s hand grabbed her chin and lifted her face so that she was forced to meet the woman’s full anger as she answered.
“Lord Michael. His brother,” she confessed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her mother drew back her hand and slapped her across her cheek. It stung, but not as much as the disdain and disappointment in her mother’s eyes.
“You stupid harlot. I can’t believe I raised such a sorry excuse for a daughter. A younger son, with no prospects other than a dubious military career? You could be a duchess! Instead, youwould rather be with a worthless younger son? That is, assuming he has honorable intentions and not simply dallying with you.”
“We are in love, Mama,” she replied between sobs. “He does have honorable intentions. He has wanted to speak with father from the beginning, but I begged him to wait.”
“From the beginning? How long has this been going on?”
“Just a week. I met him by accident the day we arrived.”
“Have you been sneaking off to meet him this whole time?”
She couldn’t say the words, so she just nodded.
The contempt in her mother’s face could have scorched her soul to cinders. The only thing that kept her going was the memory of Michael’s kisses. His supportive words. The comfort of his embrace.
“I must speak to your father. We need to put a stop to this immediately.”
Her mother blazed to the bell and rang for the maid.
“Please, Mother. We didn’t mean to. We met by accident. At first, I mistook him for Lord Montfort. Before we knew who we were, we…” What? Had kissed? Had fallen in love? What could she possibly tell her mother that wouldn’t make her more angry than she already was? “We found we had an affinity for each other.” God, how lame that sounded.
Her mother laughed. An ugly laugh, full of contempt. At that moment, the maid peeked her head into the room and her mother barked the order to fetch Lord Dunhaven and ask him to come to his wife’s room immediately.
Oh no. This was becoming more of a disaster by the moment. Now it seemed they would join forces against her. She had not expected her mother to be happy. After all, her mother was very proud of the match they had secured for her. But she had not expected such virulent opposition either. After all, if alliances and connections were what they sought, she still wanted to marry into the same family. Just a different brother. She hadeven hoped—foolishly, it now seemed—to have her mother’s support to talk to her father.
How naive she had been. It would be her and Michael against the world. She had no doubt he would stoically withstand whatever came their way. She must have the same strength. Taking a deep breath to draw in courage, she went to sit by the window bench as her mother huffed to the dressing room to don a dressing robe.
After a few long and tense minutes, a curt knock sounded on the door, and when her mother bid entrance, her father's stern figure crossed the threshold, closing it behind him.
“Did you wish to speak to me, milady?”
“Yes, my lord. It seems our ungrateful daughter has some foolish notion of dissolving the advantageous match we have arranged for her. It is my hope you can talk some sense into her, for I have lost patience.”
His father's response was as cold as her mother’s had been heated, but not less disapproving. A raised eyebrow was all he needed to convey his profound disapproval.
“Is this some ill-conceived jest?” He directed the question at her, the lack of emotion in his eyes freezing her in place.
“N-no, Father. As I told Mother, I don’t wish to marry Lord Montfort. I appreciate your efforts in arranging the engagement, but—”
“Silence! I don’t wish to hear another word from you.” He turned to her mother, dismissing her and her concerns. “How long has this been going on?”
“I just found out, but apparently this hussy has been running around meeting Lord Montfort’s younger brother in secret.”
“This is all your fault. You were supposed to be chaperoning her, and yet you just found out about this? God save me from incompetent females.” The insult, made even more cutting forbeing delivered in such even and precise tones, left her mother sputtering.
This was a great representation of their marriage. Cold civility covering deep contempt and little tolerance, sprinkled with a fair amount of resentment. As far as she knew, her parents had never had a loving marriage. In her entire life, she had never seen a display of affection between them. No wonder they placed little value on love and compatibility.
This was the type of marriage she would have if she married Lord Montfort. With the added aggravation that she would have to keep seeing Michael and forever wonder what her life could have been instead. It would be like dying of thirst next to a crystalline spring.No. Unbearable. The bleak image bolstered her resolve. There was no way on earth she would consent to marry Lord Montfort. She couldn’t.
“You both will leave today. Take her to the London house and keep her locked in until she comes to her senses. I’ll try to do some damage control here. Make our excuses to the duke and duchess. See if there’s any way to salvage this engagement.”
