Janice Preston - Mary and the Marquis

‘I come from a village close to Newcastle where...’

‘But that is not where you grew up.’

‘Well, no. How did you...?’

His lips quirked. ‘I detected a hint of an accent, Mary. I guessed you were Scottish.’ His face grew serious, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared at her. ‘Have you really walked all the way from Newcastle to here?’

‘No, not all the way, w— I encountered many generous souls along the way who offered to share their transport. I have been very fortunate.’

‘Your husband failed to leave provision for you? How did you live, before he died?’

‘He was steward to a gentleman and we lived in a cottage on his estate. Michael, my husband, died in a fall and his employer allowed u—me to remain at the cottage. I took in sewing for the household and I also helped with correspondence and other business in return for food and pin money. But then Mr Wen— the gentleman died unexpectedly...’

Mary faltered. They had been dark days, with two young children and losing the one hope she had of remaining independent. ‘His son did not wish to continue his father’s arrangement and I had no other way of earning money to pay rent. I had to leave.’

Rothley’s dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘His father’s arrangement?’

‘Yes. As I said, I did sewing and some letter writing. He entrusted me with both the household and the estate accounts. I have a good head for...’ Mary registered Rothley’s expression and his tone. She was momentarily lost for words. ‘Oh!’ She hauled in an indignant breath. ‘You think...you think...!’

Words failed her. Belatedly, she understood precisely what Rothley implied.

‘I do not condemn you, Mary. The father clearly had excellent taste, but I can understand the son’s reluctance to take on his father’s obligation. I see now the difficulty in obtaining further employment in the area.’

She leapt to her feet, her cheeks burning. Rothley’s hand shot out and grasped her wrist. She twisted and pulled, but could not break free.

‘Wait, Mary, please. There is no need to be ashamed. You said yourself you are only travelling from necessity and that your intended destination is not from choice. I can offer you an alternative. Stay here, with me. I will take care of you.’

He wants me as his whore. He is no better than Simon. As his grip loosened, Mary snatched her wrist free and backed out of his reach. She whirled to face him.

‘Just because I am a widow you gentlemen seem to believe I exist simply to slake your thirst. Well, I don’t! Do you hear me? I shall never...’

She paused, willing her voice not to wobble. ‘I am a respectable woman and I beg leave to inform you I resent your...your...insinuation...that I might have behaved immorally with Mr Wendo— with my employer. He was a lovely gentleman and extraordinarily kind to me and my...my...Michael. I...’

To her horror, tears blurred her vision. She had never imagined Mr Wendover’s kindness to her could be so badly misconstrued. Her breath juddered, loud in her ears. She must get out of here. She ran to the door.

‘Mary...wait...’

She ignored him, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter Six

Lucas tightened his hands into fists. What had possessed him? Of all the cack-handed fools! He didn’t even want a mistress. The words had spilled out without thought. He had eagerly anticipated Mary’s visit and now he had driven her away with his ill-considered words. Why had he blurted out his suspicions? Would it have hurt him to conceal his thoughts, at least until he could decide if there was any merit in them?

Her reaction had been an honest one, he felt sure, although it would not be the first time he had been taken in by a woman. But...Mary? Was she such a skilled actress, to put on such a convincing performance?

He was roused from his conjectures by the rattle of the doorknob. His heart leapt at the sound, but it was not Mary’s expressive countenance that met his eager gaze, but the impassive features of Trant.

‘The doctor is here to see you, my lord.’ The valet crossed the room to pick up the tray discarded by Mary. ‘Shall you require me to remain?’

‘No, thank you, Trant, there is no need. Please send Dr Preece up.’

‘Very well, my lord.’

‘I showed myself up,’ a cheerful voice announced from the doorway. ‘No need for Trant to be put out, I know my way around well enough by now.’

Lucas experienced an unexpected spurt of pleasure at the familiar voice and features of his old friend, Robert Preece. He felt his heart shift in his chest. The burden that had weighed so heavily on him since his father’s death eased a fraction.

‘Rob...’ he held out his hand ‘...it is good to see you.’

Why had he been at such pains to deny all his old friends and neighbours since his return to Rothley? Had he really convinced himself no one in this world could be trusted? That every person beyond the boundaries of the Hall was blighted by the same immoral bankruptcy as his erstwhile London intimates? Could he now put the past behind him and rebuild old friendships?

Robert approached the bed, a quizzical smile on his lips, and grasped Lucas’s hand.

‘It is a pleasure to hear you say that, Lucas. After all, you have not been the most attentive friend and neighbour since your return from the metropolis.’

‘Touché, my friend. As direct and to the point as ever, I see.’

‘I have determined to make the most of your current weakened state, old chap, for I am persuaded that, once you are on your feet again, you will revert to that evasive fellow I have been trying to pin down these past two years.’

Guilt washed over Lucas at his treatment of his old friend. ‘I fear I would have provided very poor company in those years.’

‘That would make no difference to a true friend, Lucas. What happened in London to make you shun all company bar that of your mama?’

Despite himself, Lucas laughed. ‘Goodness, man, you never hesitate to walk where others fear to tread, do you?’

Robert shrugged. ‘You might bite my head off for asking difficult questions, but at least you are incapable of knocking my head from my shoulders at such presumption.’

He stood smiling down at Lucas for a moment, then turned away and placed his bag on the table at the foot of the bed. He removed his coat, then approached the bed, rolling his shirtsleeves to his elbows.

‘Whilst you are deciding how little you can reveal in order to satisfy my curiosity, let us dispense with the tedious medical side of this visit,’ he suggested. ‘Then we can have a proper catch-up of all our respective news. For I, too, have led a full and active life since we were last confidants. You may therefore rest assured that my side of the conversation will not be confined to inane responses to your titbits...’ His voice rose an octave, mimicking the tone of a gossiping woman. ‘“Did you really, Lucas?” “And what did you say then, Lucas?” “Goodness, whoever would have believed it?”’

They both laughed, then Robert sobered.

‘No problem becomes easier by keeping it to oneself, Lucas. You would do well to remember that.’

‘Who says I have a problem?’

‘That is your pride talking, my friend.’ Rob eased Lucas forward in the bed, helped him to take off his nightshirt and removed the bandage from his shoulder. ‘It is no secret your father did not leave the Hall in the best of financial situations. Sir Gerald has made certain of that, gabble-mongering about his expectations, both in the village and all around the district.’

‘Expectations?’

‘The terms of his loan to your father are no secret. He is convinced he will be in possession of that land of yours next to Dunwick by the end of the year.’

Lucas clenched his teeth, both against the stab of pain as Rob manipulated his shoulder and at the mention of Sir Gerald Quartly, a local landowner and mine owner who lived on the far side of the village at Dunwick Manor. The loan had been secured against the Hall’s best pasture and arable land, and the next payment was due on the Quarter Day: Michaelmas, the twenty-ninth of September. Barely three weeks away.

Dread snatched at his insides, twisting his stomach into knots. Unless he obtained a good price for his livestock at Hexham market he would default on the loan and the estate would lose its most productive land. Thank goodness he had been in the right place to stop the theft of his sheep.

‘That seems fine, all healing very nicely,’ Robert said, rupturing the silence that had greeted his comment about Sir Gerald. ‘You have a good range of movement in the joint, which is a positive sign. Now, let me examine that thigh.’

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.