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Marissa felt like pouting, but she wasn't about to let Jude know. So she sniffed, "You make the oddest jokes," and pretended to straighten her skirts. "Are you ready, then?"
"I think I'm past offending, yes."
"Did you muss my hair?"
He made a show of tilting his head this way and that, then walked slowly around her, sending her body into tight awareness of his gaze. When he reached her front again, Jude stole a very quick kiss. "You look perfect." That easy kiss felt so natural that it startled her. And when she took his arm, she felt the same strangeness. Three days ago, she hadn't known him. Two days before, he'd been an unattractive acquaintance. Now he felt like a friend.
Like everything else to do with Jude, it made no sense, but there was no point poking at it with a stick. She should just be happy he was tolerable.
No one seemed to notice them when they entered the room. Even Beth didn't look up, absorbed as she was with watching Mr. Dunwoody dance with Nanette.
But Edward had been watching, and when Marissa gave him a small nod, he walked toward the musicians, his mouth set in too grim a line.
He held up his hands, and the music faded to a stop, the harp trailing out as if the song did not wish to end.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have wonderful news tonight, and I'm thrilled you are all here to share in our family's joy. Mr. Jude Bertrand, an honorable and good friend of the York family, has asked for my sister's hand in marriage, and I was only too happy to give them my blessing." A murmur of shock trembled through the room. "Please join me in sharing congratulations with the happy couple." He gestured toward them, and the whole room turned as one. "We are all very... happy... with the arrangement."
No one seemed to notice her brother's awkward ending. They probably hadn't heard past their gasps and whispers. Every single face was etched in some measure of disbelief.
Smiling, clutching Jude's arm, Marissa looked around and caught Mr. Dunwoody's gaze. His face looked slightly crooked, torn between disbelief and horror.
In fact, several of the faces looking back at her could conservatively be described as horrified. Marissa tried to smile more widely, but embarrassment made her lips stiff. Embarrassment for herself, if she was being honest, but also for Jude. Nobody clapped. Nobody made noises of encouragement. Not one person could believe that
Marissa York would marry this man. And of course, under any normal circumstances, she wouldn't, and that knowledge was a rough stone lodged in her stomach.
But when she glanced up to Jude, he looked not the least bit discomfited.
"I'm honored," he said loudly, "that Miss York would even turn a smile in my direction, and I'm humbled that she has accepted my offer."
"Here, here!" Edward called, and the room had no choice but to follow suit. Aidan began to applaud, and the rest echoed him. Finally, the music started again, and Marissa felt faint with relief. It was done. And there was no doubt that talk of their engagement would overshadow any other talk drifting about.
Jude offered her a wink as a few brave souls approached, and his good humor helped to steady her nerves. Any other man she knew would be red-faced and fuming at this point. But Jude was steady as ever. In that moment, his brutish size seemed the least important thing about him. His strength was something entirely more than muscles and bones.
They accepted strained congratulations for a few moments before Cousin Harry clapped Jude on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. He was in on the plan, of course, but his acting had always been impeccable. Dear Harry was the star in every one of her mother's productions, and he played this role with aplomb as well. His hug was warm and genuine. His congratulations hearty but still surprised. The tension in the room eased, and Marissa found herself relaxing as she laughed and hung on Jude's arm.
For a moment it almost felt real. She was happy, and she'd he married, and she would love this man. And then Marissa caught sight of Beth's face, frozen with shock, and she remembered that this was all a terrible mistake.
Chapter 9
Marissa pushed the horse hard through the chilled dawn air, clouds of steam billowing from its nose to slide past her boots and disappear into the gray light. She didn't enjoy the hunt, she didn't like jumping, but this she loved. Speed. A horse running so fast that Marissa felt she might fly.
She wished she could fly.
There'd been no dancing after Edward's announcement had been made. There'd been a drama to rehearse and friendly gambling and charades, but no dancing. Marissa had used that as an excuse to retire early. Really, she'd been trying to escape the subtle questions and sly looks of forty people trying to puzzle out her relationship with Jude.
Beth had looked more than puzzled. She'd seemed downright frightened, and when Marissa had heard a soft knock on her door close to midnight, she'd pretended to be asleep. She couldn't tell Beth the truth. If Marissa was with child, she'd be sure that no one but her immediate family knew the truth.
She would not dishonor Jude in that way, nor the child.
The thought slackened her grip, and the mare began to slow. There was the faintest fog this morning, and while Marissa could see clearly twenty yards ahead, the world began to recede at that point, as if the earth ceased to exist once it got too far from her. That was a blessing today, so she let Cleopatra trot for a distance before slowing her to a walk and turning back. Today, her loneliness was welcome.
She wasn't with child. She was so sure of that, but no one believed her. She felt exactly the same as she had before that night, not even changed in the way that she should be. What did that say about her? Was she cold or callous? Was she missing some essential femininity that made one a woman? She'd always felt different, though not one person around her had seemed to notice. Not her brothers. Not her parents. No one... until Jude had come along. He saw her, truly, but she didn't know if she wanted to be seen.
It felt like a violation, sometimes, not being able to control what he knew of her. He didn't know her secrets because she'd told them. He saw them written on her in gilt script.
But out here in the fog, she was safe and alone, and her future was as fuzzy as the line of trees to the west. Even her cold skin was a relief from the hot blushes that had taken it so often of late.
Still, she could not stay lost forever, and the men were likely gone now on their morning hunt. If she could only find a way to avoid Beth as well . . .
