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“You abandoned me, you ignored my letters asking for explanation. You do not get to come here and pretend that you did not act abominably. I will not be forced where my heart does not lay. My father giving you permission to court me is irrelevant.”
“Is this about that blasted man you raced away with earlier? I made some inquiry, and the man is nobody, Payton. It is shocking that you rode with him without a chaperone and allowed him to kiss you.”
“Please excuse me.” She owed him no explanation, and she did not look back as she fled to the sanctuary of her chambers.
Several hours later, the door to the Rose Room swung open without a knock. Payton lifted her head in startled surprise. This was where she escaped to etch her drawings and to craft the stories. Hardly anyone ever intruded after Lady Calydon made it known the Rose Room was to be Payton’s sanctuary whenever she visited.
Aunt Florence stood in the doorway looking flustered.
Concern curled through Payton, and she closed the book with her drawings. “Yes, Aunt?”
“You are needed in the smaller drawing room, my dear. Your parents await you.”
“Mother and Father?”
“Yes.”
She’d tried to speak with her father after leaving Lord Jensen, but her father had indicated he was busy and would call for her at his earliest convenience. Payton had wanted to speak with him alone.
An audience with her mother and father was never a good thing. It meant they were in perfect agreement with whichever torturous command they would soon inflict. She stood and tucked the leather-bound volume under her arm.
Could it be Lord Jensen had taken his asinine demands again to her father? Dear God, she hoped not. More than two hours had passed since she rejected him, and from the windows in her chambers she had witnessed him walking on the lawns with Lady Ophelia Clayton, and Payton had hoped he’d accepted her rejection. She moved rapidly to keep pace with her aunt and arrived at the smaller drawing room in short order. Payton paused and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, and then entered behind her aunt.
Her father stood by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him. He turned at the closing of the door, and Payton’s heart jerked at his serious expression.
“You asked for me, Father?”
His gaze roamed over her, searchingly, but he did not speak. She glanced at her mother who sat stiffly on the chaise in the far left corner, her lips thinned with displeasure.
What is it?
She stepped farther into the room, while Aunt Florence went to sit beside her mother and clasped her hands.
Sudden fear jerked through Payton. “Are Phillipa and Phoebe well?”
“Your sisters are well,” her father said, his voice neutral.
Relief pulsed through Payton, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Thank heavens.”
“You will marry Lord Jensen St. John within the fortnight.”
Surely she misheard.
“I was compelled to ask His Grace for his assistance in obtaining a special license. You will marry the honorable Jensen St. John.”
It was as she feared, and shock held her immobile. A dull roaring sounded in Payton’s ear. “A special license?”
Her father waved toward the corner, and it was then she noticed the duke standing by the mantel, his face carefully blank.
“Yes,” her father snapped, his face mottling.
She pressed her clasped fingers to her stomach, hoping to stop the churning nerves that would see her chucking up her light luncheon. “Forgive me, Father, I do not understand. I have no wish to marry Lord Jensen. He made an offer earlier, and I rejected it. I have expressly told Mother and Aunt Florence I am not—”
“It matters not what you wish,” her father roared. “I have accepted his offer, and you will marry him or so help me God…”
The anger he vibrated with had Payton’s stomach plummeting. What was wrong? He had always been her most avid supporter. “Father—”
“I allowed you too much freedom. I indulged you and Phillipa, and disgrace was almost brought to this family. If not for the honor of Lord Jensen, we would have been none the wiser of your behavior, young lady.”
My behavior? Confusion rushed through her at the sob from her mother. What was going on? Nothing would induce her to marry the man who had treated her with such contempt, and Payton knew she had a fight on her hands. “Will someone please tell me what is happening? Mother is crying and, Father, you are speaking of matters of which I am ignorant.” She did nothing to hide her exasperation, though she feared her anxiety bled into her demand, betraying the depth of her nervousness.
“Lord Jensen has informed us of the shocking encounter he had with you last season at Lady Graham’s midnight soiree,” Aunt Florence said softly.
The memory of the night scythed through Payton, and she visibly jerked, a blush staining her face.
“Good heavens,” her mother cried, quite theatrically. “It is true.”
The room went deathly quiet with the crackling fireplace the only sound. What could she say? He had kissed her, more than once, and she had returned his embraces. He had just proposed, and the excitement of helping her family attain what they had longed hoped for had swept her away.
“I believe this is where I exit,” the duke said, his fathomless gaze piercing Payton. “This is a family matter best discussed in private. I will procure the license.”
She clasped her hands to hide their shakiness. “Please, Your Grace, I beg you not to. I cannot marry—”
A growl slipped from her father, and he rose to his intimidating height. “You will marry the man you thoughtlessly gave your virtue to. The man who has sought to do right by you, and whom you have ignored every step of the way. He thought there was a child, Payton. Lord Jensen believed this was the reason we had rushed you off to the country…to hide the child you had created,” her father ended on a near shout.
She blinked stupidly at her father. A child? Who had a child? Clarity broke through her muddled mind with sharp precision. She stiffened, outrage pouring through her. “I assure you my virtue has not been compromised. Lord Jensen only kissed me!” Mortification burned through Payton, but she held her father’s volatile glare.
He gave her an incredulous look. “Do not believe me to be a simpleton, daughter. I may have been neglectful in doing my duties since I have been in England, but no more.”
Anger nearly choked her. “You cannot be serious. Lord Jensen and I…I…never…” Her entire face burned to be having such an intimate discussion with her father, and in the presence of Calydon. Why would Lord Jensen behave in such a despicable manner?
She moved closer to her father. “I swear to you, Father, on the night he proposed to me, he kissed me twice, very chastely I might add, nothing that would warrant a wedding.”
“Why would Lord Jensen, the heir to the viscountcy, lie about—?”
“How do you know they were chaste kis—?”
Her parents broke off their simultaneous questions to glare at her.
“Lord Jensen would not lie.” Her mother spoke first. ?
?He is a gentleman. The son of a viscount. You must allow him to do the honorable thing and marry you.”
Payton stared at her appalled. As if Lord Jensen’s title elevated him above being despicable. “He is lying,” she insisted. “I cannot fathom his reasons, but I assure you, Mother, I never acted in the manner he is insinuating.”
Aunt Florence exhaled with relief and gave her a small encouraging smile.
Her father ignored all of that, clasped her shoulders, and peered down into her face, his eyes blazing with anger. “How did you know St. John’s kisses were chaste, young lady?”
What?
“Father, this is utter madness.” She wanted to throw her hands in the air and scream. She felt attacked from all sides, without a supporting face in the library.
“How?” he roared, and she jumped, pulling from his tightening grip.
Instinctively her gaze flicked to Calydon. A blush heated her face, and she saw awareness dawn in his eyes, then a pleased smiled curved his lips. Why was he pleased?
“Father…I…I am assuming, I am not sure of anything at this moment,” she ended, ashamed to feel tears burning behind her lids. “I would appreciate it if you would lower your voice.”
Her father advanced, and she retreated. Never would she have imagined this confrontation at being summoned. Why would Lord Jensen do this? According to his mother, Payton’s possession of a sizeable dowry was her only recommendation, and it had not been good enough.
Acting on the instinct of flight, she rushed to the door.
“You will not leave this room until you have answered my questions to satisfaction,” her father snapped. “Lord Jensen alluded he saw you riding alone with…with a horse breeder, and I had not believed my daughter could act with such wanton impropriety.”
Her mother gasped and then swooned, quite dramatically.
“Mr. Konstantinovich is not a stable hand. He is His Grace’s man of affairs and a friend. Yes, I rode out with him, but we were in view of the croquet party.” Not quite true, but she could not bear to reveal any more. The entire situation was mortifying and heartbreaking.
“I am ashamed,” her father said quietly, and she flinched.
