“I approached Albert to appeal for mercy. It was two years after your father had left. I’d hoped he would consider that long enough. But he’d lost yet another brother since then, so he wasn’t amenable to relinquishing his revenge—not without receiving something in return.”
“He wants more? Wasn’t Father’s exile enough for him?”
“It was but, apparently, he has a dilemma of his own that he believes we can fix for him. He made us an offer,” Kathleen said. “But the time has expired.”
“What did he want in exchange for Father’s freedom?”
“I wrote to him the day your trunks arrived, but he hasn’t answered, so it’s likely too late. The opportunity has been lost. We will say no more—”
“You are incredible,” Vanessa said scathingly. “D’you mistake me for one of the twins? I will go to Rathban m’self to find out what he offered—”
“No, you will not!” Kathleen cut in.
“Watch me! I’ll ride to London right away,” Vanessa said, and began to remove the dress to put her pants back on.
Kathleen sighed. “His son—in marriage. That is what he offered. He had the gall to say he wouldn’t ruin us if his son was a member of our family.”
“Did Father divorce you without telling me?”
“Divorce! Of course not. He left to save us from scandal, not to cause one. Rathban wasn’t talking about me. He wants my heir for his son.”
“And I’m your heir?”
Chapter Twenty
“YOU KNOW YOU ARE.”
Kathleen said more, lamenting that William’s lack of curiosity had cost them dearly, that he could have been home by now if he’d just read her letters. Vanessa had stopped listening. She was stunned—and alarmed that she might have to marry a member of the ruthless Rathban family to win her father’s freedom to come home. It was ironic that she’d have to give up her freedom and independence to attain what she’d wanted most these past six years—her father back at home and her family reunited. As awful as it sounded, she reminded herself it would be a solution to her biggest problem, and she hadn’t come up with another solution. But still . . .
“You can’t give them the sordid details,” Kathleen said, wrapping up her long list of complaints. “Unlike you—apparently—they are too delicate for that.”
Vanessa focused on her mother again, though it took a moment to catch up to what she was saying and to realize Kathleen was talking about the twins now and comparing them to her. Disparagement and concern in the same breath?
And then Kathleen added, “This is the most exciting year of their lives. Don’t ruin that for them, Vanessa, just because you don’t like telling a few minor lies to spare them, especially when you could simply avoid saying very much about where you’ve been.”
She hadn’t considered that, so she said, “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now return to your old room. You can’t stay in this wing any longer with strangers.”
There was the disapproval again, but she pointed out, “They aren’t strangers.”
“But they are men. And while they are welcome guests, we are due a private family meal. Join your sisters and me in my suite for luncheon.”
Vanessa hadn’t said yes to any of that, but Kathleen left her room with the assumption that she had agreed to all of it. Her mother ought not to assume anything where she was concerned.
With the room to herself again, Vanessa fell back on the bed with a frown. She had been prepared to bargain with Albert Rathban herself, but marriage certainly wouldn’t have been on the table when she wouldn’t have known that he was shopping for a wife for his son. But with Kathleen making that bargain for her, would he even be open to an alternative—if she could think of one? But this arrangement was the exact opposite of what she’d hoped for in a marriage. She would be giving up her dreams of romance and the perfect husband who would agree she could retain her independence. How could she do that? And why would Albert Rathban even need to arrange a marriage for his son, a wealthy nobleman from a powerful, prestigious family? Was there something wrong with the boy that he couldn’t find his own wife? Perhaps a hideous deformity? That would be unfortunate. She’d been so stunned she didn’t get a chance to ask her mother. What if the boy would actually sign her contract? She ought to at least find out before she weighed all her options.
When she vacated the guest room with her valise repacked and in hand, Monty walked out of his room as well and was suddenly blocking her way. Had he been listening for her? Surely not, but it still felt like an ambush. But she paused—and he approached.
“I may miss the pants,” he remarked, his eyes moving over the pretty dress she was wearing. “Then again, probably not.”
He’d added that when he was close enough to look down at the low cut of the bodice. She had the urge to laugh, but he was being too risqué, and her protective instincts rose instead—for her sisters. Was he like this only with her? It better only be with her.
“Still no blushes, sweetheart?”
“Why would I? You’re a professed rake. I anticipate rakish nonsense to come out of your mouth. But if you try to make my sisters blush . . .”
“I won’t. I don’t misbehave with ladies,” he assured her as he moved forward enough to maneuver her back against the wall. “But I’ll make an exception for you because you’ve worn pants from the moment we met. It’s going to be very difficult to forget that you’re incredibly bold and resourceful. Please don’t punch me again.”
