Even if it destroyed any hope of her own happiness.
Seeing his only child wed to his old comrade-in-arms was the marquess’s literal dying wish. The marriage would bring peace after generations of fighting. And the promise had already been made.
Only a monster would prioritize her own selfish preferences above the wishes of her dying father and the peace and happiness her sacrifice would bring future generations.
She sighed. A daughter’s duty was to her father. Any other, less privileged young lady wouldn’t even view this marriage as a sacrifice. Viscount Oldfield was wealthy and titled. An unattainable dream, for most. A coup Tabitha had lucked into from birth, no effort required. She was fortunate. The envy of debutantes everywhere, who would take her place at the altar in a heartbeat.
Tabitha wished she could let them.
“As it happens,” said Viscount Oldfield, as he resumed his open leering, “I have plans to attend the May Day festival as well.”
Oh no.
The viscount dipped his eyes toward Tabitha’s bodice. “You can ride with me.”
An eight-hour drive trapped in a private carriage with him? Untenable.
“Of course,” the viscount continued, “I cannot leave until Wednesday—”
Tabitha seized on the opening. “I cannot wait that long. I’ve several appointments to keep, and must be off at first light. I’m very sorry the timing doesn’t—”
Viscount Oldfield gestured at Mr. Frampton. “Go with her.”
“What? There’s no need to send your—” Attack dog. “—man of business,” she protested. “Mr. Frampton belongs with you. Besides, I already have a maid. One who is well-versed in playing chaperone.”
“Tabitha,” gasped the marquess. “Do as your future husband commands. You will soon vow to love and obey him. It wouldn’t hurt to start practicing that obedience now.”
She ground her teeth behind a tight smile. “Very well. I’ll take Mr. Frampton. We’ll meet you at the festival, Lord Oldfield.”
His eyes still hadn’t left her bodice. “See that you do.”
Tabitha nodded woodenly. Her fortnight of freedom had become anything but free. Instead, she was trapped.
Tomorrow’s long journey was the beginning of the end.
Chapter 2
Early the next morning, Hudson was responding to the last of the investment requests on his desk when the bell on the wall tinkled, summoning him to his employer’s bedchamber.
In most houses, such requests only rang in the downstairs servants’ area, usually upon a wall of bells and cords near the kitchens. Someone was always stationed to watch and listen, and dispatch servants as necessary. Viscount Oldfield, however, never wished to be more than a tug of a bell pull away from his man of business.
As usual, Hudson ignored the call. He would go to his employer soon enough—Hudson always did—but not before he finished writing his response to the latest proposal to cross his desk. This opportunity would make him and the viscount both significantly richer, the latter of which would please his employer.
And as for pleasing Hudson…
Lord Oldfield had no notion that Hudson invested most of his earnings in the same stocks and investment opportunities that he procured for his employer. How would he? The viscount didn’t attend to his correspondence at all. He trusted Hudson to manage everything from financial concerns to social invitations.
Hudson did so with aplomb. He was rewarded handsomely for his talent and effectiveness. And since he had no particular expenses of his own—meals and a private suite were provided for him in each of the viscount’s residences—why not invest his wages and grow rich alongside his employer?
He rang for a footman to deliver the latest round of signed contracts, then strode upstairs to the viscount’s private quarters. If Hudson was not mistaken, his employer had just arrived home from his usual carousing at his gentlemen’s club, followed by a visit to a brothel or two.
As expected, Lord Oldfield was disheveled and clearly in his cups.
“Have you left for Marrywell yet?” the viscount slurred.
“I’m to collect your bride in a quarter hour,” Hudson replied. “Are you certain you don’t wish to accompany us?”
“Bah, I can tup her all I wish in a few weeks’ time. But tonight…” Lord Oldfield swayed forward, his whiskey-laced breath fetid. “I found a pair of whores I like at Vauxhall. They’re sisters, and—”
