“I married because you died. You have no excuse because you have appeared alive, and I am already a widow.” She didn’t know if there was any legal means to force him, but she didn’t want to force him. She didn’t even wantthisMarcus Stratton. He had grown into a different person altogether.
He shook his head, his brow lowered in puzzlement. “Are you saying you still wish to marry me?”
“Oh, my, no. Of course not.” She ignored his affront as he pulled back his head as if slapped. What she wanted was the Marcus she’d fallen in love with, but he no longer existed. He truly had died on the battlefield. So what did she want?
Even as she searched her heart, a devious idea formed that had her taking notice. “This is what I propose, since you have so graciously issued an apology for your behavior yesterday, I would like your cooperation in saving me from public pity.”
For the first time since he’d entered the room, his shoulders loosened. “How can I do that?”
“By putting it about that we are once again betrothed and allowing me to break it.” Now that the idea was stated, she rather liked it. It would be a fitting punishment for him having hidden away from her for so long. Now, if she could just find such a simple solution to heal her heart.
Chapter Four
Marcus turned awayfrom Mariel to look at the view afforded him by the window. He did not wish her to see his confusion over her proposal. She still appeared as beautiful as ever, which made it difficult to guard his heart, even though her more mature personality had changed her. While his ego was affronted at the thought she would publicly end their relationship, he did understand why. But for such a ruse to work, they would need to be in each other’s company and he had little faith in his ability to keep his feelings hidden. On the other hand, it would solve his immediate problem with his mother and allow him to have time to design a succession plan before telling her that he would die a bachelor. It would also stop the myriad young women anxious to become his viscountess. In essence, it would benefit him far more than her.
He turned back to find she’d taken a seat on the pale blue arm chair near the fireplace. “If we were to put forth such a lie, we would need to be seen together at a few events to make it plausible. Though you say society will look upon you with pity, they will also look on the fulfilling of our old betrothal as unusual.”
She grasped the arm of the chair. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. A few appearances among those who would be in a position to further our ruse would be needed. Of course, we can tell our family the truth.”
“No.” Unconsciously, he took a step forward. “I mean, if our family members know, their actions could give us away.”
Her green gaze left his as she contemplated his words.
No doubt she didn’t like his suggestion. The Mabrys had always been a close family and keeping a secret would be difficult for her, but their relationship must appear authentic.
Finally, she looked at him and a sly smile lifted one side of her lips more than the other. “Since I am the keeper of secrets in my family, it would be no burden to hold this one. But what of you? You have only your mother. Can you resist taking her into your confidence?”
The relief he felt had him relaxing his shoulders. “Compared to keeping her in the dark for years about the falseness of my death, this will be a secret easily kept.”
“And you accept that I will end it when I see fit?”
He couldn’t have her ending it too soon. “So that I may react in a befitting manner, I suggest we have an agreed upon date.”
“That is a valid point. The season in Town is well underway and my father expects it to end mid-July. As it is March, I would think if we travel into London soon, we could end this farce by mid-April.”
He started to nod then thought better of his agreement. “I would insist on a couple outings here in Northampton. As you noticed, there are a few women here who had hoped to become my wife. If we are seen together, and it is made known we are planning marriage, then they will move to other possible bachelors. That would, of course, delay our travels to London.”
He hadn’t been unaware of her sudden intake of breath at the word marriage, but she recovered quickly. “Are you sure you wish to ruin your chances with your neighbors’ daughters?”
He shrugged. “There are plenty more prospective brides in Town, so I have no fear when I am ready to take a wife that I will find someone worthy.” He’d never uttered such a blatant lie in his life, but his instinct was telling him it would only be the first of many in the coming month or so.
“Then I can agree to that.” She studied him as if to find a chink in his armor. “I suppose I can throw you over at the end of April. Is that acceptable?”
By the way she spoke, it sounded as if they were planning an outing, not a carefully orchestrated courtship and ugly parting for the benefit of society. He gave her a curt nod. “That is acceptable. But I must insist on knowing what reason you will give to society for denying my claim.”
She cocked her head and raised her brows, the gesture so familiar that it threatened his hold on his countenance.
“There are so many to choose from. I will have to think upon it and inform you when I decide.”
A chill coursed through him, and he held himself rigid. “Be sure that you do.”
She stiffened, her back straightening and her shoulders lifting. “Then we are agreed.” Rising from the chair, she stepped closer to him, the scent of orange blossoms filling his nostrils, triggering memories of dancing with her. “I will await your invitations.”
He held his breath to avoid another whiff and gave her a nod in acknowledgment before she regally swept from the room.
Finally breathing in, his senses were once again assaulted by her scent. He closed his eyes and a long-buried memory of kissing her in the hidden Greek temple in the wood at Ravenridge filled him with longing. Opening his eyes, he fisted his hands. The next six weeks would be sweet torture. Though his mother’s dreams motivated him to agree to such an outlandish façade, it was Mariel herself that deserved his cooperation. He owed her this. If it would ease her, he would do it, and hopefully in the process show her it was for the best that she forget about him, even if he would go to his grave thinking of her, as he once thought he had.
Turning on his heel, he strode to the entryway and collected his hat from the butler, before jogging down the grand steps of Silver Meadows and into the phaeton led by Legend and Lore, his matched pair of thoroughbreds. Clicking them into action, he headed back to Ravenridge, anxious to tell his mother. She would, no doubt, tell everyone she knew once she arrived in London, which would pave the way for his and Mariel’s acted betrothal.
