“I did meet a nice young man and had courted him. I thought that I had, perhaps, found my husband. But…it did not work out quite as I hoped.”
She looked away and Marcus caught the glint of moisture in her eyes. He waited patiently, suppressing the urge to move closer, to put his arm around her. To hold her close to him. He had a feeling that she would not rebuff him but, always, the thought of the deception he was practicing against her brought him up short.
“My father took over and arranged for me to marry a much older man. The Duke of Christleton.”
“I am aware of him,” Marcus said gravely.
“A cruel man. He made it clear my function would be to produce him an heir. That I should be happy that I was marrying into wealth. Grateful. Can you believe that?”
There was incredulity on her face, animation in her tone.
“I can believe it, but I do not agree with it,” Marcus said, “it is an unfortunate characteristic of the attitude of the aristocracy to marriage. I thank god that I spent my formative years amid more grounded folk.”
He realized his mistake as soon as he said it and clamped his mouth shut. Again, the alcohol had loosened his tongue. Selina frowned.
“But you were raised here, surely? That is what I remember. I know we always met at my grandmother’s house in Wilmington, but…”
“My teachers were the household staff. Not my father,” Marcus added hastily, “that is what I meant. And of course, the times we spent together. I did not feel as though I was part of the high-born culture that my father was part of.”
Selina smiled wistfully. “I remember, now that you mention it. Those houses we used to spend in the Fairy Dell, do you remember it?”
Marcus nodded, wondering where it was. Somewhere in the trackless wilderness of the Downs, perhaps? Woodland near Wilmington.
“You always talked about feeling at one with the land and having more in common with the farmers than the Dukes.”
My brother said that? What kind of man was he anyway?
Marcus realized that she was waiting for an answer. “Yes, I remember it. Tucked away in the Downs.”
It was a stab in the dark, but her expression told him it had hit the mark.
“So, you ran away?” he asked.
She nodded. “I could not marry that…creature. I could not bear the thought. When I challenged him, he…he struck me.”
Her hand went to the bruise on her cheek, and again, Marcus felt the urge to comfort her with his body, with an embrace. He put his arm on the back of the chaise. His outstretched hand was less than a foot from Selina’s shoulder. He could lean just a little and brush her arm. The thought was intoxicating but he forced himself to focus on her words, keeping his growing feelings of attraction contained.
“The worst part of it…” Tears sprang from Selina’s eyes.
She looked away, hiding her face. Marcus saw her shoulders begin to shake and could no longer hold back. Telling himself that it sounded like exactly what Arthur would have done, he moved across the chaise and gently put his arm around her shoulders. Selina turned and buried her face in his chest, the sobs breaking through like a river bursting its banks.
“He just stood there. The one man who is supposed to protect me above all others. And he just stood there!” she wailed.
Marcus tightened his embrace, stroking her hair and whispering soothingly to her. His anger at her father brightened to the intensity of the sun. It threatened to dwarf the hatred he felt for his own father.
What manner of man allows his own flesh and blood to be struck. I should like to horsewhip him!
For a long time, she wept. Marcus held her, rocking her, letting the grief flood from her until she quietened. He reached into a pocket and produced a handkerchief which she dabbed at her eyes with.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “look at me. Of all the ways I imagined meeting with you, this was not one of them. Drunk and blubbering. God, what you must think of me.”
Marcus smiled gently. “I have been in far worse states, I can assure you.”
“Well, now you know the whole horrible story. I know I have complicated your life. That confrontation and then the…the…kiss,” her cheeks flushed, “do you want me to leave? I would not blame you.”
“I do not want you to leave,” Marcus replied honestly. “You’re right in that this is a complicated situation we find ourselves in. I am trying to undo the reputation which my father and…” Marcus had been about to say brother but remembered that few people knew of the existence of Marcus Roy, forgetting him during the long years of his exile. “…Which I inherited from my father. But I think I have a solution to the little knot we seem to have gotten ourselves into. You are over one and twenty years of age, are you not?”
Selina frowned at the question. “I am four years and one month younger than you, Arthur.”
