It was all the same to him whether Patrick wanted his company or not. Likely, he had only wanted to vent about his latest love’s absence. Now that she had sent some soppy love note, undoubtedly explaining herself, everything would be set right, and Nathaniel had little desire to hear any more about the matter.
Food was the priority for the moment, he decided. Yes, he would eat a quick, light meal before the other guests arrived in a rush, then leave discreetly without anyone noticing. Patrick could find his own way home or stay somewhere else for the night.
Turning to look up and down the corridor to make sure no one might follow his lead or try to keep him company, Nathaniel pushed open the door and quietly stepped backward into the room.
When he turned around toward the well-provisioned buffet tables, however, he stopped dead at what he saw.
What the hell is she doing?
CHAPTER 2
“Mary has spent three days without dinner,” Cecily pointed out to her grandmother as the carriage rocked along the cobbled London streets, bearing them toward Mildenhall House.
“Your sister will be without dinner until she does her duty and agrees to the advantageous match that your uncle has so thoughtfully and generously arranged for her,” her grandmother responded implacably. “A diet of bread and water will bring her to her senses eventually. She is lucky that my son has not yet taken his belt to her.”
Cecily shuddered, remembering all too well the cruel punishment meted out during their childhood for even the most minor infractions.
She had always tried to protect Mary as much as she could, even taking the blame and the blows when she could. Their grandmother had never protected them and had even oftenencouraged their uncle’s mistreatment. There was no reason that Lady Holt should change now.
But how could Mary be extricated from this latest savage trap, the worst of them all? If only their parents had not died so young and so suddenly in a coach accident. If only their father had thought to make provision in his will for their dowries. If only their uncle had been a different man.
So many ifs and little assistance.
Although she was feeling helpless at the moment, Cecily knew she could not allow the awful union to happen.
“Even in prisons, the inmates are given gruel and broth with some taste of meat and vegetables,” she argued with her grandmother again. “Mary is not a criminal. She is only a young woman and ought to be married to a young man. It is not right that she should marry a man of Lord Ashworth’s age. He has children almost twice her age.”
“What has that to do with anything, Cecily?” Lady Holt snapped. “Men age like fine wine and women like milk. At six-and-twenty, you are of no interest to anyone. At six-and-sixty, Lord Ashworth is an eligible man, in good health and more than capable of siring children with Mary.”
Those words made Cecily feel quite ill. She decided that she would kill that disgusting old goat before she would let him lay a finger on Mary. Even if she hanged for it, Mary would then be free.
Unfortunately, their uncle would doubtless only find another equally dreadful husband for Mary, and one could only die once.
Cecily put melodramatic thoughts of murder out of her mind and tried again to come up with more effective and morally acceptable ways to rescue Mary.
“If you starve Mary until she gets ill, she won’t be in a condition to marry anyone,” she pointed out tartly.
“Mary looks perfectly healthy to me, Cecily,” Lady Holt dismissed this concern easily. “Do you think the poor have meat and pudding every day? Of course they don’t. They live well enough on bread and water and like it too.”
Her flippant dismissal of both Mary’s suffering and the undoubtedly greater hunger of the poor was breathtaking. The Baroness had never been one to see what she did not wish to see.
It was also true that Mary was not yet starving, nor anywhere as hungry as she might have been. Cecily had been carefully saving half of her own food whenever she ate alone, snatching bread rolls from plates when her uncle’s head was turned, and even sneaking slices of pie from the larder for her sister. If the servants knew, they were wise and compassionate enough to say nothing.
“Yes, Mary is well for now, but even the young and strong cannot thrive on such a diet forever,” Cecily countered carefully. “I urge you to reflect on this and change Uncle’s mind. Is it not punishment enough that she is missing the musicale today?”
Cecily was accompanying her grandmother to the musical evening hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Mildenhall, and the program included some Mozart works that Mary particularly liked. All three of them should have been there, but Lord Holt had canceled all of Mary’s social engagements until she agreed to marry Lord Ashworth.
Although Cecily had tried to get out of attending to stay with Mary, her uncle had refused her request. Lady Holt was elderly and insisted that Cecily accompany her. It was unreasonable to expect her to take a maid or a hired companion when she had an unmarried, able-bodied granddaughter.
This meant that not only did Cecily have to put up with a whole evening in her grandmother’s company, but that Mary would have no food, since they would be eating at Mildenhall House.
“Do not tell me how to reflect, you ignorant chit,” Lady Holt scolded. “Your sister is the one who ought to be taking this opportunity to fast and reflect on the error of her ways and her ingratitude for her uncle’s kindnesses. You, too, ought to reflect on your own situation and selfishness. As a spinster, you’re likely to be a burden on poor Preston forever.”
Goaded almost beyond bearing, Cecily met her grandmother’s beady gaze with unusual fire in her naturally soft brown eyes.
“Do not talk about kindness to me. Uncle Preston is selling Mary to the highest bidder as though she were a prize heifer rather than his blood relative. My parents must be turning in their graves.”
“How dare you! Your insolence surpasses even that of your father before you,” Lady Holt began to rail, but then the carriage came to a jolting halt, and she almost fell off her seat, steadied only by Cecily’s arm.
