Page 86 of Wedding the Widow

She straightened her shoulders, drawing imaginary battle armor around her.

“Blackham, I demand to know what you have done with my husband.” Pushing past her, Mama sailed forward on a cloud of indignation. She didn’t stop until her feet almost touched the desk, and she towered over the marquess, staring at him like an avenging fury.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Blackham sat back, his disconcerting smile widening. “You have aged gracefully, Lady Wentworth. I will give you that. You were a beauty as a girl and are beautiful still. I had hoped time would ravage you a bit more severely, but I confess I find now I am happy you have retained your looks.” He stared at Mama like a moonstruck boy.

“Little good flattery will do you, Blackham. After the hell you have dragged my daughter through, and now Wentworth and myself as well, you had better pray for divine grace and my sense of Christian charity to save you rather than weak flattery. Where is Wentworth?”

“He will be along shortly, never fear. I wanted a word with you, Amelia, before he arrives.” His lordship rose, his eyes still fixed on her mother. “Shall I ring for tea?”

“You can go to the devil for all I care, Blackham. I demand that you release me and my daughter this minute.” Mama’s eyes blazed, and Elizabeth feared she would resort to violence against the marquess.

“Come, Mama.” Elizabeth clutched her mother’s arm. “We will wait for Papa and Jemmy in the foyer. We need not speak more with his lordship.”

“Not so fast, Mrs. Easton.” Blackham peered at her as he came from behind his desk. “I have something to say to your mother. To you as well.” He headed for the sideboard and a glittering decanter of spirits.

“Then, for God’s sake, speak your piece, my lord, and let us be done.” Elizabeth’s nerves crackled, and she clutched her reticule in a death grip. This madness had to end.

“Does she know that her troubles with her marriage to my son can be laid at your doorstep, Amelia?” He hefted the decanter and poured several inches into the glass. “Does she know she would have been a marquess’s daughter had you done your duty and married me?”

“Yes, my lord, I am afraid I do know that.” Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height and stared the man down. “I know, and I understand completely how my mother must have felt. If she was in love with someone else, she had a duty to follow her heart and marry the man she loved.”

“Pah.” Lord Blackham’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Romantic twaddle. Damn Lord Byron and all his ilk. They’ve ruined every woman with the ability to read.” He glared at Elizabeth. “Do you realize you will make my son miserable for the rest of his life if you marry him? It is not too late. If you will release him, he can still marry the daughter of a duke.”

“One that he does not love.” Defiance welled up in Elizabeth’s chest, and she glared at the marquess. “I rather see it that I am rescuing your son from a life of misery, to be fettered to a woman he would never love.”

“Just as you never loved his mother.” Mama thrust in that barb.

The marquess paled, then his brows lowered almost to his nose. “You have no right to speak of her.”

“I have every right. Louisa was my dearest friend. You married her to drive a wedge in our friendship, to keep her from ever seeing me again. And I never did, once she married you.” Mama’s chest heaved, and tears threatened. “But she wrote to me. Did you know that? You couldn’t keep her from doing that much.”

“I did forbid her to correspond with you. I didn’t want your sentimental claptrap to ruin our perfectly amicable agreement.” Blackham shrugged. “I found out eventually that she had written to you. Found your letters in her correspondence after her death, although I still have no idea how she accomplished it.” His smile flickered again. “She was a spirited woman. I enjoyed that about her. Fortunately, she valued the title marchioness far more than you ever did.” A long pull at his drink, and the glass stood empty.

“You married her to spite me. Because I wouldn’t have you.” Mama’s voice had risen to a shrill pitch, anger underscored with hurt. “So you struck at me by taking her away.” Her lips trembled. “She was so sweet, so good. You didn’t deserve her.”

“Come, Mama.” Elizabeth slid her arm around her mother’s shoulders, trying to steer her away.

“She was sweet, and perhaps the best woman I have ever known.” Lord Blackham’s words fell like a stone into a well.

The plaintive tone, so foreign to the marquess’s normal voice, made Elizabeth jerk her head around. “And you did not marry again, did you my lord, after her death?”

“There was no need, Elizabeth. He’d gotten the two things he wanted most, children and to hurt me for my refusal.” Mama’s tears began in earnest. “He didn’t need another wife.”

“With five young children and a marquessate to manage, he needed all the help he could get, I imagine.” Something lurked in the back of Lord Blackham’s eyes, something she’d not seen before. “You didn’t want to replace her, did you my lord?” If she poked at him enough, perhaps they’d arrive at the truth. “You fell in love with her, didn’t you?”

Waving a hand, Lord Blackham suddenly turned away, hiding his face. “We had had sufficient children. I did not feel that I need marry again.” He turned back, his hand crashing down on the table. “Louisa and I had a perfectly fine marriage without all the trappings of love. Had you married me, Amelia, you would have understood how that could be an asset.”

“Because it would be inconvenient to grieve a wife that you loved, I suppose?” Men could be such cowards about love. Elizabeth shook her head. “So sad to deny your love for your wife because you might lose her. I suspect you and Mama would have had a much less successful marriage together.”

“Neither would Elizabeth nor your son be here today.” Papa strode into the office, followed closely by Jemmy, who rushed to her side.

“Wentworth, thank goodness.” Throwing herself into Papa’s arms, Mama burst into tears. He enfolded her in his arms and glared at Lord Blackham over her bonnet.

Elizabeth flung herself into Jemmy’s arms, praying the nightmare of the day would soon be over.

“Are you all right, my love?” He kissed her cheek and held her tightly against him. “What has he done to you?”

Lowering her voice, she whispered in his ear, “Only talked to Mama about her refusal of him long ago. This whole scheme seems to hinge on his revenge for a very trivial slight. Has he always been this vindictive?”