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Ewan cried out, “I think we had better split up for the afternoon. Mother, you’re looking terribly ill. Should I take you upstairs?”
“Don’t be foolish, Ewan,” Aunt Margaret barked.
“I’ll tell you,” Lord Remington said eerily. “You know my relationship with the Regent, don’t you?”
“Everyone does. The two of you run thick as thieves. And I’ve little respect for either of you,” Baldwin whispered.
“That’s all well and good,” Lord Remington said. “But you must know that because you’re a first cousin to the Regent, it’s necessary that the Regent approve whoever you wish to marry. I know you don’t necessarily bother yourself with the rules of our society, but this is one you won’t be able to avoid, given your current situation.”
Throughout his speech, he smeared a broader smile across his face. Marta’s heart sunk deeper. She suppressed a sob. She’d never heard this rule, but she assumed now that it was true. When she glanced at Aunt Margaret, she seemed to glow with recognition. This, it seemed, was her last beacon of hope. Perhaps Marta could marry the Duke after all.
“You think you’re so terribly clever with these threats, don’t you?” Baldwin blared.
“I don’t think of this as a threat,” Lord Remington said. “Only a description of the broader picture.”
“You’ve forgotten something, Lord Remington,” Baldwin said. “Something rather important.”
Lord Remington’s eyes sparkled. “I imagine I haven’t.”
“You’ve forgotten that you aren’t the only person with connections in your midst,” Baldwin said. “While you’ve marched your way up the ladder, I’ve put in good and diligent work with various members of the privy council. Beyond that, you might remember that I’m 25 years old. This means that I’m just a few months away from age 26, at which time I am exempt from the requirement of demanding my dear first-cousin, the Regent’s approval.”
Baldwin snaked his arms over his chest and returned Lord Remington’s massive grin. Marta so yearned to rush into his arms and hug him close and whisper how proud she was of him, but she held herself back, latched to her chair.
Lord Remington’s face lost all its colour. He blinked at Baldwin several times and cleared his throat. “I see,” he said.
“I dare say you’re still a rather new Duke, aren’t you? Only just recently granted your nobility and title,” Baldwin said, dismissing him as though he were only a child. “This sort of thing won’t be taken kindly to in the future, but I imagine that together, myself and the Thompsons and Marta herself will find a way to forgive you.”
Lord Remington’s features coloured markedly. He looked on the verge of explosion. He turned his eyes towards Aunt Margaret, who now seemed to stare down at her untouched plate, unable to meet him.
“Margaret, I don’t suppose you have something to say about this?” Lord Remington barked.
Instead of speaking, Aunt Margaret slowly shook her head no. It was clear that she’d been cornered in her own game.
“All these weeks you’ve been grooming me for a future with Marta, and now you allow me to die here at your dinner table,” Lord Remington blurted. “It’s a horrendous act, Margaret. One that I will declare to as many of my constituents as I can.”
“What do you think you’re doing? Threatening a woman older than yourself?” Baldwin retorted.
“This isn’t your business, Baldwin,” Lord Remington said through clenched teeth. “Besides. Aunt Margaret, you’ve told me over and over again I’m the rightful match for Marta. You told me that she had no business with the likes of Baldwin. You told me that you would fight tooth and nail to ensure that Marta would be my wife.”
“And I have done that,” Aunt Margaret murmured. Her eyes had become sharp like those of birds. She directed her gaze back towards Lord Remington and said, “Baldwin should have come to me for approval prior to making any sort of decision.”
“Tell them that you still perceive me to be the better match for Marta,” Lord Remington blared. His cheeks were again tomato-red. “Tell them that this Baldwin affair is short-lived.”
Aunt Margaret opened her lips and whispered, “I still perceive you to be the better match.”
“Aunt Margaret!” Marta cried. “I’ve chosen the one I wish to marry.”
“I know you only to be a woman of incredible promise, Marta. Perhaps your love for Baldwin is a mistake,” Aunt Margaret said, her voice low. “I know many women who have made incredible mistakes in marriage.”
“Are you suggesting that Baldwin himself, a man you’ve known through most of his life, is a mistake?” Marta returned.
“As you’ve just said, I’ve known Baldwin for years, Marta, and I recognise that your personalities are like oil and water. Don’t think of the love you hold for him now, for that will surely change and fade,” Aunt Margaret murmured.
“Don’t you hear her words?” Lord Remington cried. “She speaks eternal truth, Marta.”
“Regardless of her wishes, I will not marry you, Lord Remington,” Marta said. She felt the stony nature of her face, the hatred in her own eyes. “Perhaps I make the biggest mistake of my life with this marriage, but it is a mistake I’m willing to make due to the power I feel for Baldwin in my heart.”
“This is quite rich, isn’t it?” Lord Remington cried. He surged back against the dining room wall and pounded his fist against it, an act that seemed to make the entire house quake. When he turned back, he yelled, “If you do not marry me, Marta Schnitzler, I will see to it that your entire family is ruined.”
