It Happened One Autumn
Page 74
“Is that what this is about? That I haven’t worded things to your satisfaction?” Westcliff shook his head impatiently. “Very well. Will you marry me?”
“No.”
His face turned thunderous. “Why not?”
“Because sleeping together isn’t sufficient reason to chain ourselves together for the rest of our lives.”
He arched one brow with impeccable arrogance. “It’s sufficient for me.” Picking up her corset, he handed it to her. “Nothing you say or do will alter my decision. We’re going to marry, and soon.”
“It may be your decision, but it isn’t mine,” Lillian retorted, sucking in her breath as he took hold of the laces and tugged them deftly. “And I would like to hear what the countess will say when she is told that you intend to bring yet one more American into the family!”
“She’ll have an apoplectic fit,” Marcus replied calmly, tying her corset laces. “She’ll go on a screaming tirade, at the end of which she’ll probably faint. And then she’ll go to the continent for six months, and refuse to write to any of us.” Pausing, he added with relish, “How I’m looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER 19
“Lillian. Lillian, dear…you must wake up. Here, I’ve sent for tea.” Daisy stood over her bed, her small hand gently shaking Lillian’s shoulder.
Grumbling and stirring, Lillian squinted up at her sister’s face. “I don’t want to wake up.”
“Well, you must. Things are happening, and I thought you should be prepared.”
“Things? What things?” Lillian lurched upward and put her hand to her aching forehead. One glance at Daisy’s small, concerned face caused her heart to thump unpleasantly.
“Sit back against the pillow,” Daisy replied, “and I’ll give you your tea. There.”
Accepting the cup of steaming liquid, Lillian painstakingly gathered her thoughts, which were as fuzzy and scattered as rolls of carded wool.
She had a vague memory of Marcus secreting her in her room last evening, where a warm bath and a helpful housemaid waited for her. She had bathed and changed into a fresh nightgown, and had popped into bed before her sister had returned from the festivities in the village. After a long, dreamless sleep, she might have convinced herself that the events of the previous night had never happened, if it wasn’t for the lingering soreness between her thighs.
What now? she wondered anxiously. He had said that he intended to marry her. In the light of day, however, he might very well reconsider the offer. And she was not certain whether it was what she wanted. If she had to spend the rest of her life feeling like an unwanted obligation that had been forced upon Marcus…
“What ‘things’ are happening?” she asked.
Daisy sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. She was wearing a blue morning gown, her hair pinned untidily at the nape of her neck. Her concerned gaze fastened on Lillian’s weary features. “About two hours ago, I heard some kind of to-do in Mother and Father’s room. It seems that Lord Westcliff asked Father to meet with him privately—in the Marsden parlor, I believe—and then later Father returned, and I poked my head in to ask what was going on. Father wouldn’t explain, but he seemed quite excited, and Mother was having conniptions about something, laughing and crying, and so Father sent for some spirits to calm her. I don’t know what was said between Lord Westcliff and Father, but I rather hoped that you would—” Daisy broke off as she saw that Lillian’s cup was rattling on the saucer. Hastily she reached over to take the tea from Lillian’s nerveless hands. “Dear, what is it? You look so strange. Did something happen yesterday? Did you do something that Lord Westcliff took exception to?”
Lillian’s throat closed hard around a wild laugh. She had never felt this way before, caught in the perilous margin between anger and tears. The anger won out. “Yes,” she said, “something happened. And now he’s using it to force his will on me, whether or not I wish it. To go behind my back and arrange everything with Father…Oh, I won’t stand for this! I can’t!”
Daisy’s eyes turned as round as dinner plates. “Did you ride one of Lord Westcliff’s horses without permission? Is that it?”
“Did I…God, no, if only that were it.” Lillian buried her scarlet face in her hands. “I slept with him.” Her voice filtered through the cold screen of her fingers. “Yesterday, while everyone was gone from the estate.”
A shocked silence greeted the bald confession. “You…but…but I don’t see how you could have…”
“I was drinking brandy in the library,” Lillian said dully. “And he found me. One thing led to another, and then I was in his bedroom.”
Daisy digested the information in wordless astonishment. She tried to speak, then took a sip of Lillian’s discarded tea and cleared her throat. “I suppose when you say you slept with him, it was more than just a nap?”
Lillian shot her a withering glance. “Daisy, don’t be a pea wit.”
“Do you think he’ll do the honorable thing and make an offer for you?”
“Oh yes,” Lillian said bitterly. “He’ll turn ‘the honorable thing’ into a big fat bludgeon and batter me over the head with it until I surrender.”
“Did he say that he loves you?” Daisy dared to ask.
“No.”
His face turned thunderous. “Why not?”
“Because sleeping together isn’t sufficient reason to chain ourselves together for the rest of our lives.”
He arched one brow with impeccable arrogance. “It’s sufficient for me.” Picking up her corset, he handed it to her. “Nothing you say or do will alter my decision. We’re going to marry, and soon.”
“It may be your decision, but it isn’t mine,” Lillian retorted, sucking in her breath as he took hold of the laces and tugged them deftly. “And I would like to hear what the countess will say when she is told that you intend to bring yet one more American into the family!”
“She’ll have an apoplectic fit,” Marcus replied calmly, tying her corset laces. “She’ll go on a screaming tirade, at the end of which she’ll probably faint. And then she’ll go to the continent for six months, and refuse to write to any of us.” Pausing, he added with relish, “How I’m looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER 19
“Lillian. Lillian, dear…you must wake up. Here, I’ve sent for tea.” Daisy stood over her bed, her small hand gently shaking Lillian’s shoulder.
Grumbling and stirring, Lillian squinted up at her sister’s face. “I don’t want to wake up.”
“Well, you must. Things are happening, and I thought you should be prepared.”
“Things? What things?” Lillian lurched upward and put her hand to her aching forehead. One glance at Daisy’s small, concerned face caused her heart to thump unpleasantly.
“Sit back against the pillow,” Daisy replied, “and I’ll give you your tea. There.”
Accepting the cup of steaming liquid, Lillian painstakingly gathered her thoughts, which were as fuzzy and scattered as rolls of carded wool.
She had a vague memory of Marcus secreting her in her room last evening, where a warm bath and a helpful housemaid waited for her. She had bathed and changed into a fresh nightgown, and had popped into bed before her sister had returned from the festivities in the village. After a long, dreamless sleep, she might have convinced herself that the events of the previous night had never happened, if it wasn’t for the lingering soreness between her thighs.
What now? she wondered anxiously. He had said that he intended to marry her. In the light of day, however, he might very well reconsider the offer. And she was not certain whether it was what she wanted. If she had to spend the rest of her life feeling like an unwanted obligation that had been forced upon Marcus…
“What ‘things’ are happening?” she asked.
Daisy sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. She was wearing a blue morning gown, her hair pinned untidily at the nape of her neck. Her concerned gaze fastened on Lillian’s weary features. “About two hours ago, I heard some kind of to-do in Mother and Father’s room. It seems that Lord Westcliff asked Father to meet with him privately—in the Marsden parlor, I believe—and then later Father returned, and I poked my head in to ask what was going on. Father wouldn’t explain, but he seemed quite excited, and Mother was having conniptions about something, laughing and crying, and so Father sent for some spirits to calm her. I don’t know what was said between Lord Westcliff and Father, but I rather hoped that you would—” Daisy broke off as she saw that Lillian’s cup was rattling on the saucer. Hastily she reached over to take the tea from Lillian’s nerveless hands. “Dear, what is it? You look so strange. Did something happen yesterday? Did you do something that Lord Westcliff took exception to?”
Lillian’s throat closed hard around a wild laugh. She had never felt this way before, caught in the perilous margin between anger and tears. The anger won out. “Yes,” she said, “something happened. And now he’s using it to force his will on me, whether or not I wish it. To go behind my back and arrange everything with Father…Oh, I won’t stand for this! I can’t!”
Daisy’s eyes turned as round as dinner plates. “Did you ride one of Lord Westcliff’s horses without permission? Is that it?”
“Did I…God, no, if only that were it.” Lillian buried her scarlet face in her hands. “I slept with him.” Her voice filtered through the cold screen of her fingers. “Yesterday, while everyone was gone from the estate.”
A shocked silence greeted the bald confession. “You…but…but I don’t see how you could have…”
“I was drinking brandy in the library,” Lillian said dully. “And he found me. One thing led to another, and then I was in his bedroom.”
Daisy digested the information in wordless astonishment. She tried to speak, then took a sip of Lillian’s discarded tea and cleared her throat. “I suppose when you say you slept with him, it was more than just a nap?”
Lillian shot her a withering glance. “Daisy, don’t be a pea wit.”
“Do you think he’ll do the honorable thing and make an offer for you?”
“Oh yes,” Lillian said bitterly. “He’ll turn ‘the honorable thing’ into a big fat bludgeon and batter me over the head with it until I surrender.”
“Did he say that he loves you?” Daisy dared to ask.
