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Chapter Three
Young, beautiful, andvoluptuous, with decidedly scholarly pursuits. Apparently shy and without a garish bone in her body, unlike most young American heiresses he had the misfortune of meeting.
All in all, the eighteen-year-old Mary Ashton was not without remarkably good points. Even so, Warren Wellesley, the former Duke of Flanders, still did not want her for his son.
He nodded curtly when the girl curtsied at him, a lifetime of lessons on manners preventing Warren from openly snubbing him. He thought he had successfully concealed his disdain until his wife cornered him, the look on her face making him grimace.
As Rathe and his companion preceded them to the dining room, Alyssa curled an arm around his. “Give her a chance first,” she murmured.
Her knowing gaze disconcerted him, and Warren muttered, “I haven’t said a thing, have I?”
She shook her head with a low laugh. “Who are you fooling, my love? You and I both know you donothave to say a thing to express your displeasure. You are the Duke of Wellington’s descendant, after all.”
His lips tightened as he gazed after the younger couple. “She’s not for him. She’s too young.” He paused then added curtly, “We both know he’s found it difficult to handle the consequences of our relationship. What more now that it’s him who’d be—-”
She interrupted him quietly, “If it’s love, he will be able to do anything.”
“Ifhe loves her.” His tone hardened as he continued, “Andifshe truly does love him.”
Mary straightened in her seat when Rathe’s parents joined them in the dining room. Rathe’s mother Alyssa was indeed as angelic-looking as her photos, a blond beauty who could easily be mistaken as Rathe’syoungersister. Her patterned wraparound dress was the perfect complement to her husband’s more somber-looking suit and tie, while her smiling countenance made Warren Wellesley appear less formidable.
Her nervousness returned as the older couple claimed their seats, causing her to almost knock Rathe’s glass down as she reached for her own.
Under the table, Mary felt Rathe cover her hand in a reassuring grip. And then he was looking at her, murmuring under his breath, “There’s no need to be nervous.”
She forced a smile as she squeezed his hand back. His desire to comfort her meant the world to Mary, but it pained her, too. If only she were older, more mature, more sophisticated, there wouldn’t be a need for him to reassure her in the first place.
As the first of the seven-course meal was served, Mary could feel Warren Wellesley’s gaze occasionally going her way but tried not to mind it. One look at the older man’s cold face, and she had known with a sinking heart that Rathe’s father disapproved of her.
And if she were honest...she couldn’t really blame him. Next to Rathe, she was nothing, a lowly American commoner with a junkie prostitute for a mother and a murderous rapist for a stepfather.
When the next course arrived, Mary let her gaze roam, trying to distract herself from the tension by appreciating the elegant decor of the place. The dowager duchess’ feminine touch was present throughout the house, with fresh and prettily arranged flowers in every room. Shades of lavender also showed up in a myriad of things, ranging from the wallpaper in the living room to the table runner in the dining area.
By the time servants began taking out the main course, Rathe was extremely close to loosing his cool. It had not escaped his notice that while Warren Wellesley had been anything but polite to Mary, his father had also been more aloof than usual.
“I heard you’ve enrolled in our local university?” Alyssa asked.
It was not the older woman’s first attempt to include Mary in her conversation and though she appreciated the gesture behind it, Mary would have been happier if she had been allowed to be a wallflower. Anything was better than having Warren’s attention focused on her.
Before she could answer, Rathe already did so for her. “It’s a three-month course on biology, specializing in local marine species.”
“That sounds interesting,” Alyssa commented, genuinely impressed. Turning to her husband, she asked, “Don’t you think it would make Mary a good companion the next time you go fishing?”
Warren smiled briefly. “I’m sure she would.” But he neglected to invite her, something which none of his companions failed to notice.
Mary felt Rathe stiffen beside her, and she squeezed his hand desperately, not wanting him to say anything.
Time dragged ever so slowly, without anyone breaking the silence. In Mary’s mind, she could hear her friend Saff-March Aehrenthal, a genius who also had a knack for saying the most unwittingly funny things, chanting just one word.
Awkward. Awkward. Awkward.
She privately agreed, but when the dessert plates were already taken away, Mary also knew she had no choice. Etiquette dictated that she thanked her hosts for the meal. The thought of being the first one to speak made her cringe inwardly, but she forced herself to do so anyway, not wanting her manners to reflect badly on Rathe.
Clearing her throat, she stammered, “T-that was a lovely meal.”
Alyssa glanced meaningfully at Warren before answering Mary with a warm smile, “I’m honored you think so. I hope it means you’ll be joining us for more dinners in the future.”
