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He was going to marry Marissa York, and she had no idea at all, poor thing.
Chapter 14
"He was a lovely dancer!" Beth said for the third time that morning. "I could hardly believe it."
Marissa nodded, though she couldn't honestly remember much of his dancing. Mostly she remembered the wide wall of his chest and the strength of his arms as he held her. They'd danced, she knew that. And there must have been other people dancing as well, but they hadn't been visible past his shoulders.
"Really," Beth continued, "he was quite charming. By the end of the dance, I'd forgotten how intimidating he is."
"Yes. He's really very civilized."
Beth gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I admit I was shocked when your brother announced—"
"No, it's fine. I thought the same things when I met him, I admit."
"But now I can understand your affection, and I'm so relieved that I see it now. He's very clever, and his eyes are quite lovely."
His eyes. Yes, they were lovely enough, despite their forbidding darkness. She glanced out the window to the small group of men waiting on their horses. Jude stood out. He was taller. His shoulders wider. His jaw cut from steel, while the other men seemed molded of clay.
He looked toward the house as if he sensed her gaze. Marissa's body thrilled at the thought, and she shifted on her chair. He'd asked her to come to his room last night. He'd been teasing, but still. . . she could have. If she'd dared. He wouldn't have turned her away.
Marissa finished the last bite of eggs, and her eyes drifted toward the window again. Edward finally approached the group, only he wasn't on his mount. He stalked across the lawn like an animal.
"Miss York." The footman spoke quietly at her side. "The baron has requested your presence in his study. He asks that you come as soon as
possible."
She met Beth's startled eyes, and Marissa's chest swelled with dread. "Of course," she murmured. As she laid her serviette carefully on the table, movement in the window caught her eye again. Aidan and Jude had dismounted and now followed Edward back toward the house. Her pulse leapt into racing panic, and she could hardly feel her legs as she pushed to her feet.
Possible horrors spun through her head. She dismissed the idea that her mother could have fallen ill. That hadn't been worry on Edward's face, or even grief. It had been fury.
So what could it be? It had to be her and her awful behavior. Had Peter White called their bluff and spread tales about her?
"Marissa?" Beth breathed.
Marissa forced a smile. "I'm sure it's nothing."
"I'll ask my mother to hold the carriage for a few—"
"Nonsense. Your mother is beginning to look tired. She should get home. Please don't delay your departure for me. Anyway, I'll see you in a few days at the next fete."
Beth gave her a long hug, and then Marissa made herself walk slowly through the entry hall and into the corridor that led to Edward's study. A brief swell of male voices rumbled over her, then ended abruptly with the sound of a door slamming. She turned the corner and faced the last few yards between her and the awful unknown. For a moment, her legs were too heavy to move. Her feet stuck to the carpet, holding her in place.
Something terrible had happened, and it was her fault.
This time she would not pout, whatever the solution might be. Marriage. A trip to the Continent. The nunnery. Marissa forced herself to take one step and then another, and she even managed to turn the knob before her courage gave out again. Every head in the room turned toward her. Her mother, her brothers, her cousin, and Jude. Five sets of eyes waiting for her to close the door. Again.
"It's as we feared," Edward said.
She slipped inside and shut the door as softly as she could.
"He's done it."
"Who?" she breathed.
"Peter White." His hand whipped up, waving a piece of paper. "He's sent his threat."
"Marriage? He still wants marriage?"
