Page 41 of Mistress of Misfortune

Both of her parents stood as soon as she entered, and Lady Starling gave her a silent measuring look, her brows rising as she took in the borrowed gown.

“You never came home last night, Daughter,” Lord Starling said, sounding very stern.

“I did not.” Looking at her father’s dour expression made Meredith straighten. She would not cower anymore; she deserved a chance for a happy life. “I stayed over at Dredthorne Hall. I am in love with Colonel Thorne, Papa, and we are to marry.”

The shrieked tirade she expected from her mother never came. Lady Starling simply nodded to her husband, who left the room without another word.

“Sit down, Meredith.” Her mother waited until she did before she said, “You have disgraced yourself, and shamed this family to a degree that I never dreamed possible.”

“I am in love, Mama,” she repeated softly.

“You have returned home without your clothes, brazenly unrepentant, and baldly confessed to your licentious behavior. All of the servants have seen you. By this time tomorrow all of our friends and everyone in the village will know what you have done.” Lady Starling came closer. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She sighed. “Mama, I am marrying Alistair. I will be the mistress of Dredthorne Hall.”

A beringed hand slapped Meredith’s face so hard her teeth cut into the inside of her cheek.

“You are finished with Dredthorne Hall,” Lady Starling snapped. “Your father and I forbid you to ever return to that place, or have anything to do with that disgusting man. We will send for Percival directly, and you will accept his offer of marriage. That may preserve what few shreds remain of your reputation.”

Meredith touched her throbbing face, the taste of blood strong in her mouth. She had never seen her mother like this, but then she had never defied her so openly.

She has never seen me like this. We have become strangers to each other.

“No, I will not. If you send for my cousin, I will refuse him again. Spare him that humiliation, please.” Slowly she rose to her feet. “We will talk about this when you have had time to calm yourself.”

Leaving the sitting room, Meredith walked past a gaping Annie in the hall and went upstairs to her bed chamber. She needed to pack for when Alistair would come to the manor, for she expected she would be leaving with him. She saw the jade silk dress, newly cleaned, hanging in her armoire, and took it out. Annie had somehow removed the boot blacking and repaired the tear with tiny, invisible stitches. Since it was the finest gown she possessed, it would serve as a wedding dress.

Meredith smiled as she imagined Alistair seeing her in it, and then helping her out of it.

She went to her dressing table and looked at her reflection in the mirror, which showed the livid marks of her mother’s hand blazing against her pale skin. She touched the dark red patches, still unnerved by what had happened. Before today Lady Starling had never once lifted a hand to her. And why did she regard Alistair with such vehemence? She had been quite the reverse when Lucetta had first proposed they catalog the colonel’s library.

In any event, Lucetta had been wrong. Nothing, it seemed, would soften this blow.

* * *

Thorne slowly openedhis eyes to see the afternoon sun streaming through the windows of his bed chamber. He sat up, still drowsy, and reached for his pocket watch. It assured him that he had slept most of the day away.

How long had it been since he had felt so replete? All thanks to the woman he loved.

He looked at the other half of his bed, and the small indentation on the pillow beside his own. A smile curved his mouth as he bent over to bury his face where Meredith had lain her head. The covering still smelled of her, and he breathed her in deeply. She had been everything to him in the night, friend and lover and consoler. Very soon she would be his wife, and he would share his bed with her every night.

Thorne didn’t just feel like a new man. He felt like a different one. A man of hopes and dreams, not guilt and despair. Meredith had done that for him. It had started from the moment she had arrived in his life.

He dressed quickly but carefully, choosing a conservatively-cut dark green tail coat and black breeches. His cravat he tied simply but elegantly. When he faced the Starlings, he wanted to present the image of a son-in-law, not a dandy.

Emerging from his chamber, he took the stairs at a trot and followed the sound of Lucetta’s voice where it came from his study. Some of the men were busy cleaning up the last traces of the fire, while she was peering carefully up inside the hearth.

“Miss Branwen.”

“Colonel Thorne.” She straightened and marched over to him. “Well, sir. You are still intent on marrying my cousin after last night’s escapades, of which I have full knowledge, I might add?”

He grinned. “The moment she will have me.”

“Good show. Then I will not shout at you or drink up all your brandy.” She gestured toward the fireplace. “Harshad is up on the roof, inspecting the chimney for signs of tampering. In that bin there is what we removed from the ashes. Shattered lamp glass, and coals soaked with whale oil. You were correct about the fire being intentionally set.”

“Is there anything you do not know?” he asked her gravely.

Lucetta thought for a moment. “As of this moment, who is responsible for these attempts to harm you and my cousin.”