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Francis nodded, turning to follow Michael out the door. Lydia felt fear pierce her chest, though, as though if he walked out the door, their wedding might not actually happen.
“Wait!” she cried.
The family all paused, startled by her outburst. Michael strode back to her, taking her hands in his
“I will see you soon,” he said, then placed another chaste kiss on her lips. “We will be married soon.”
* * *
Michael was so preoccupied with getting home to make arrangements for the wedding, that he almost forgot that Francis was joining him. He jumped, finding Francis at his elbow.
“This isn’t some other trick of yours?” Francis asked, skeptically.
“No, definitely not,” Michael said, climbing into the carriage. Francis sat across from him, practically glaring at him.
“I cannot help but feel that this is a farce, a way to get yourself out of your duty to my niece.”
“If anything, I would argue that this scandal was perpetuated by you, or her family, to ensure a marriage between us,” Michael said, scowling. “After all, that letter she wrote was pressed into your hands, by all accounts.”
“My hands?” Francis asked, eyebrows raised. “How on earth would I have obtained a copy of her correspondence?”
“The maid told Lady Lydia that she gave the letter to you to post while we were at Marigold.”
“I posted no letters for Lydia while at Marigold,” he assured Michael. “Let alone read any of her correspondence. Do I take that to mean you were aware someone had been reading her letters?”
“At least one,” he replied. “Upon seeing that pamphlet, I immediately thought you had sought to expose her, or somehow blackmail me into marrying her, or settling a sum against her for another suitor.”
“Why would I do such a thing?” Francis cried, hanging onto the edge of the carriage as it rocked in the bumpy London streets. “Sure, the family is in a bit of dire financial circumstances, but without money, all you have is your reputation. I would not risk that.”
“Hmm,” Michael mused, perplexed. He wiped his hand across his eyes, tension building behind his brows. If Francis had not been the one to confiscate the letter, then someone else had, and the maid was in on it.
“Regarding settlement,” Francis said, interrupting his thoughts. “I explained to you before, the girls’ allowances are quite small. I have made some arrangements to take out at least a portion of the sums for two girls to be married, but not three in one Season. I may need to take out a loan if the other two ceremonies go through in the weeks to come.”
“I may be able to help with that,” Michael assured him as they came up to the Marigold townhome. He climbed out of the carriage, Francis following quickly behind. They had not climbed out of the carriage before Joseph rushed down the front steps.
“What on earth is going on?” Joseph demanded, concern filling his face. “The duchess said you left the ball in a hurry. You didn’t make your announcement.”
Joseph’s eyes fell on Francis and his brows knitted together. He looked quickly to Michael. “Michael, what is going on?”
“I’ll explain everything inside,” Michael said, grabbing Joseph’s elbow as he pushed past. “Are aunt and uncle home, too?”
“Yes, they came home with Kitty and I as soon as we heard you had left,” Joseph explained, following Michael into the house. Francis followed quietly behind them. “Michael, what happened?”
“Lydia and I are getting married tonight,” Michael explained.
They passed a footman, so Michael called over his shoulder, “Call the family down to the front parlor at once.”
“You’re getting married?” Joseph cried, then shot a furtive glance over his shoulder. Whispering, he asked, “Michael, are you getting blackmailed?
“What?” Michael asked. “No!”
“Why are you marrying her? What is happening?”
They pushed into the sitting room and Michael steeled himself to face his cousin. He had been operating with the sole intention of marrying Lydia that he had not thought of how his own family would react. He turned around to face Joseph.
“Up until just a few hours ago, you had sworn that you would never marry, ever. Why, all of a sudden, have you changed your mind? Do you need a second for a duel? Should we call the constables?”
“I have decided to marry Lady Lydia with a special license, tonight,” Michael told him in a steady voice. “The circumstances are not important.”
