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“Are we expecting a visitor?” Rowena said.
“At this time?” Lord Brunlow scoffed. “Do not be absurd. It would be most rude indeed for anyone to arrive so early.”
“Then we must have an unexpected visitor.”
Hearing these words, Violette and her father both moved to their feet and joined Rowena at the window. A carriage was appearing between the tree branches on the far side of the driveway before turning down the drive and heading to the main part of the house. The closer the coach came into view, the more Violette felt her jaw slacken.
“It’s not possible…” she murmured to herself.
“What did you say, Violette?” Rowena asked.
“Nothing,” Violette said hurriedly.
On the side of the carriage was an emblem she had come to recognise well, having seen the family crest on the sides of carriages she had been near to for the last few weeks, and peppered around the house where she had been staying. It showed the Marquess of Whithead’s seal, and as the carriage passed the window, one glimpse into the carriage showed it had two occupants, Lord Northrive and Lord Catling.
***
“Are you quite certain about this?” Walter asked Marcus as the carriage moved toward the front of Lord Brunlow’s house.
“I am,” Marcus said with feeling. He was perched on the very edge of the carriage bench, his body restless and his leg bobbing up and down. “Father has not swayed me otherwise.”
“Good god! I do not think I will forget that argument for a long time,” Walter said with dramaticism as he shook his head and let out a sigh. “I truly feared he would start turning over furniture in his anger at your choice.”
“He calmed down when I said I’d refuse to marry anyone of his choosing. So, he had to either accept my choice or accept that I would never marry,” Marcus said with a shrug, as though the matter were simple.
“You look significantly calmer now than you did last night.”
“I’m not calm. I’m just certain,” Marcus said, looking out beyond the carriage window toward the house. It was a bright sunny day, with the yellow light bouncing off the white brick and Palladian-style pillars of the house. He could remember admiring the same façade the last time he had come to visit the house. He had no idea all that was about to befall him with the young lady sat inside the house at that time. “This is right for me, Walter.”
“Well, that I can believe,” Walter said with a smile. “I do not think you would have been particularly happy with Lady Helen.”
“No, I would not have been.”
“Peter is right, though. You evidently liked Lady Violette so much when she was Victor Blake, it is a wonder you did not see it.”
“Thank you, do I need that reminder?” Marcus asked with outstretched hands, earning a laugh from his brother. When the laughter died, Marcus thought back to the argument with his father.
To begin with, the Marquess had not even remembered who Lady Violette was, despite the fact Marcus had talked about her before with him. When Marcus had explained who she was, the Marquess had absolutely refused to give his blessing, saying that the next Marchioness needed to be someone with class and respect, not someone whom Marcus had already commented on himself was a little different.
At that point from the doorway, Peter had muttered that their father had no idea how different she truly was. Had Marcus not been so drunk, he would have happily pushed his brother back out of the room for that interference, but as it was, the Marquess was too enraged to hear him.
What had followed was an intense argument between Marcus and his father. James’ name was brought up many times, how Marcus had to make the right match for his brother’s sake, at which point Walter had intervened.
“What is James going to think now? He’s dead!” Walter had snapped in a way that Marcus had barely seen him ever do. Even the Marquess turned to look at Walter in surprise. “In his state in his grave, he’s hardly going to care who Marcus takes as a wife, is he? If he could speak now, he’d probably be more concerned about Marcus being happy than marrying someone just to produce a child.”
“It has to be done, though!” the Marquess had insisted.
“Then let me marry the woman I want, Father.” Marcus’ words had somehow seemed to get through to his father at last, though he suspected it had more to do with Walter’s words than his own. They had argued for a little longer before Marcus gave his final ultimatum. He would marry Lady Violette or no one at all, the choice was up to the Marquess’. Unsurprisingly, the Marquess had decided to give his blessing to the match.
“At least Father said yes at last,” Walter said, sitting back on the carriage bench and crossing his arms.
“He said yes, but there is another whose answer worries me more right now,” Marcus said just as the carriage came to a stop outside of the house.
“What? You think Lady Violette will say no?”
Marcus chose not to answer Walter’s question as he climbed down from the carriage. He thought back to that kiss she had bestowed upon him. The intensity of that kiss certainly suggested that she cared for him passionately. Surely then, she would say yes? Yet, it was not so simple. He had rejected her before. Could she forgive him for it?
“Shall I stay here?” Walter said.
