Much Ado About You

Page 45

Lady Griselda gave her a sympathetic smile from the opposite divan. “I know that marriage must be the very last thing on your mind,” she said.
“Yes, it is,” Tess said gratefully.
But Griselda proved herself a traitor by saying, “I would never push such a thing upon you, Tess darling, but truly we must move quickly to protect Annabel’s reputation. Nothing can be more fatal than if the ton gained the impression that you were four Scottish hoydens. I’m afraid that there is a lamentable misunderstanding about the morals of women from northern climates.”
Tess frowned. She saw no reason to kowtow to the prejudices of Londoners. But Griselda wasn’t finished.
“I am going to speak quite, quite freely,” Griselda said, with all the gentle force of an advancing army. “Annabel is lovely. Truly lovely. She can marry whom she pleases. But she does not present herself as a young lady of utmost propriety, if I may be frank.”
Tess nodded, wondering what on earth this had to do with marriage to Griselda’s brother.
“It would be fatal,” Griselda said, “if those in London were to decide that Annabel was cut from the same cloth as her sister Imogen. And if it gets about that you were all here, under Rafe’s dubious chaperonage for more than a day or so, Annabel’s reputation will be ruined. I am also worried that Lady Clarice’s wrath will lead her to say imprudent things of the family.”
Tess stared at her. On Griselda’s face was the force of utter conviction.
She rose from her seat, saying, “Annabel’s chances of an excellent marriage will be ruined, and I promise you that with all my years in London behind me. Oh, she will marry. But her suitors will not be of a caliber of man whom I would wish for her. But I shall leave the two of you to decide this business between you. Whatever you decide, Tess, I shall do my very best to protect the three of you from the high sticklers.” And with that she left the room with a waggle of her fingers and a last encouraging smile for her brother.
“Rafe is doing his best as a guardian,” Mayne said. He was still holding Tess’s hand. “But he doesn’t go into society much.”
Tess knew that. Her darling guardian drank too much and cared too little to cut a figure in society.
“He won’t be a help to Annabel and Josie,” Mayne said quietly. “But I can be such a help, Tess, if you wish. Should you appear in two or three days as the Countess of Mayne, the ton will follow your lead without hesitation. Grissie thinks it would be much better if it appeared that we were already married by the time your sister eloped.”
Tess took a deep breath. “You are not marrying me for love, Lord Mayne. Nor—as far as I see—due to any overwhelming feeling of a less…less proper nature.” She could feel color rising into her cheeks.
“Now that’s not true,” Mayne said. There was a hint of wicked laughter in his eyes, and his fingers tightened on hers. “I feel quite improperly toward you.”
Goodness, but he was attractive when he wasn’t hedging, when he was being honest. “Are you not disturbed by the fact that we do not feel warmer emotions for each other?” she asked him.
“I would be disturbed if we did. In my estimation, marriages based on anything other than mutual respect and a genuine affection for each other are often disastrous. I do not wish for a tempestuous marriage, although I am quite certain that there will be sufficient warmth between us.”
“And in your estimation, tempests must accompany love,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Only the foolish, romantic sort of love,” he answered. “I think it would be no hardship at all to care for you deeply, Tess. And I most gravely hope that we will both feel that emotion for the other. But I would never marry when I was under the grip of the sort of fever that passes for romantic love. Never.”
Tess could see that he meant it. “Why are you so cynical?” she asked.
He shrugged. “To be utterly frank, I have slept with many wives who entered their marriages in a burst of rosy enthusiasm. I made up my mind years ago that when I chose to marry, it would not be due to a heady emotion that fades in days or weeks. I would like to have children, and have those children raised by parents who were not engaged in constant battles.”
“Your parents?” she asked.
“A warring duo,” he acknowledged, with a twist of his lips.
Tess was silent. “I know very little about constructing good marriages,” she said. “My mother died many years ago, and my father never showed the slightest interest in taking another spouse.”
“We can find our way together,” Mayne said. “If you are amenable, my uncle, the bishop, could arrive this evening. I sent off a message at first dawn.”
“So soon?” Tess asked faintly.
His fingers tightened on hers again. “I loathe the idea that I am rushing you into this occasion. But if you still wish to marry me, I think we could help your sisters in the best possible fashion by marrying with expediency. If you don’t wish to marry me, the situation is quite different.”
The question in his eyes startled Tess.
“Mr. Felton has not returned,” she said, grasping at straws. “What if he brings Imogen back with him? What if he managed to stop the elopement altogether?”
“The news will leak out. Elopements are like murders; they refuse to stay buried. Imogen is ruined, no matter whether Lucius somehow manages to wrench her away from Maitland or not. ’Twould be better for her now if Lucius didn’t manage to catch her.”
“How can you say that!” Tess cried. “Maitland is a fool!”
“He’s not quite so bad as that,” Mayne said. “Is it worse for her never to marry, and be bundled away in the country, or marry the man she loves?”
Tess said nothing, and he followed up his advantage. “For she does love him, does she not? I saw her looking at him, and a clearer case of calf-love I never saw.”
“I cannot like it,” Tess said, wringing her hands.
“The important thing is that we make it possible for your other sisters to marry men who do not share Maitland’s uncertain qualities.”
“Yes, I see.”
“Good,” Mayne said promptly. “Then we shall be married first thing in the morning. My uncle has many responsibilities and will make only a short stay with us.”
“Tomorrow morning? And if—if Mr. Felton has not returned with—”
“As I said, that is irrelevant,” Mayne said with a hint of impatience.
“Yes, of course,” Tess said.
“You will make me the happiest of men.” He leaned toward her and brushed his mouth against hers. As kisses go, it was light, almost nonchalant.
Quite pleasant.
Chapter 23
Later that evening
“I ’ll tell you what pleasure is,” the Bishop of Rochester said jovially. “Pleasure is seeing this rapscallion nephew of mine nicely espoused, and to a lovely woman like yourself, m’dear! This is a true pleasure.”
Tess tried to smile at him, but she was feeling queasy, and smiles seemed to die in her cheeks before she moved her lips. When Mayne spoke to her in that forthright manner as he had used when proposing, she felt she could marry him, and even without hesitation. But when he was full of flummery and manners, as he had been all afternoon, she felt increasing waves of panic. He was always putting her hand to his lips or whispering compliments to her confidentially. It was wearing merely to watch him. How could she live with such a man for years?Annabel had a gossip sheet that Lady Griselda had received that morning, and was asking Mayne about names that appeared in its columns.