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Chapter Thirty
“Are you sure that you’re ready for this?” Marcella asked, gazing at Reginald with bright, concerned eyes.
He rolled his shoulders back and curled his hands around the bannister, gazing onto the floor below as their guests arrived. “I’m not,” he replied. “I would like to believe that those villains were merely lying about what they said, but I suspect they weren’t. Otherwise, how would they have known about my aunt? I doubt men like that follow the ladies of theton.”
Blaire and Simon entered along with the Duke of Mavis. Marcella bit her lip as they entered the drawing room. This would not end well, and she could scarcely imagine what Reginald was thinking about it all. He liked his Aunt Blaire, and Marcella had also tried to please the lady. It seemed so impossible to think that she might’ve hired men to attack anyone.
Marcella placed her small hand on his, trying to offer some measure of comfort. “I will be with you when you confront them. All of them. You don’t have to carry all your burdens alone anymore.”
He nodded. “Thank you. I’m…I’m glad you’re back. You were very missed.”
“So were you,” Marcella said softly.
Her thoughts went to how Reginald had looked the night they’d reunited. He’d been fighting and by all rights, should’ve looked dreadful. He hadn’t, though. Instead, Reginald had looked simply dashing with his disheveled hair, his passionate eyes, and his sweat-dampened skin.
“Shall we?” Reginald asked, offering his arm.
Marcella smiled, basking in his warmth as she curled her fingers around the crook of his elbow. He escorted her down the stairs, the picture of elegance, but Marcella could still sense that wild fire burning inside of him. There was a confrontation coming, and Reginald was ready for it. Welcomed it, even.
As they entered the drawing room, everyone stood. “Marcella,” Blaire greeted them. “Reginald.”
Marcella smiled, although she hardly felt like showing courtesy towards Reginald’s aunt, not until they knew the truth of everything. “Thank you for joining us today,” Marcella said.
While Blaire smiled brilliantly, Simon offered a curt nod. Reginald’s father looked delighted. He looked, in fact, years younger than he had when Marcella saw him last.
“I was quite surprised by the invitation,” the Duke said, lowering himself into a chair. “What is this important matter which you wished to discuss so urgently?”
While Blaire and Simon sat beside one another, the Duke of Mavis seated himself across from them. Reginald and Marcella took the remaining seat.
“I suppose we should begin,” Reginald said. “I’m unsure if any of you were aware of this, but I recently made a trip to Southwark following a quarrel which I had with my wife.”
The Duke of Mavis leaned forward, concern clear on his face. “A quarrel?”
“We’ve since resolved it, Your Grace,” Marcella replied. “Both of us did things which we regret.”
“I’m glad you’ve made amends,” Blaire said. “I was dreadfully worried.”
“I’m sure,” Reginald replied, not entirely able to hide the edge in his words.
Blaire’s cheerful expression faltered just a little. Beside her, Simon seemed suddenly fascinated with the cushion of the loveseat upon which he sat.
“I left in a fit of passion,” Reginald continued. “It was a choice made in haste, and I went at once to Southwark. Marcella very courageously pursued me and resolved to return me to my rightful place. As you can see, her efforts have succeeded.”
The Duke of Mavis’ face settled into an expression of thoughtful concern. This must be difficult for him, Marcella reflected. “I must thank you, then,” the Duke said.
Marcella shook her head. “I only did what Reginald once did for me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Marcella saw her husband smile.
“Indeed,” he replied. “It wasn’t the usual trip, though. Marcella was cornered by some ruffians in Southwark. Fortunately, I arrived in time to help her before something worse could happen.”
“How dreadful!” the Duke exclaimed.
“Are you unharmed?” Simon asked, his cold face showing something like concern.
“Yes,” Marcella replied.
“What happened to those villains?” Blaire asked. “Surely, they’re not still wandering the streets and accosting young ladies! If they are, I can reach the constable in London and—”
