He was not pleased to be dismissed. He forced a smile, looked to Clarissa and Mars, and said, “Married life, eh?” He moved out the door with as much dignity as a man could muster after being shamed by his wife. He favored his right leg.
Mars nodded to Dalton. “See him out. And be certain he receives the ale for the ride.” Another waiting footman took action and fell in behind Lord Fenton.
There was silence in the library until his lordship moved down the hall, and then Lady Fenton said, “I suppose, Clarissa, you find me cold.” Before Clarissa could respond, LadyFenton shrugged. “I didn’t handle that well. I just wanted him gone.”
“No one expects you to do things well, Mother,” Mars answered. “And do you truly believe he is fit to run such an important committee? He’s aged since I met him last.”
“He has been running it for years,” she replied.
“Has he or have you?” Mars asked.
She made an impatient noise. “The other members of the committee are older. With worse gout. Most of all Rockland.”
“Then this country is in trouble.”
“Not as long as the Tories have power.”
“And there aren’t younger, healthier Tories?” Mars asked.
“Dervil. Do you wish to vote for him?”
“You know I won’t.”
His mother smiled, the expression far from comforting. “Good.” She put down the book. “In truth, I prepare all of Fenton’s papers and his speeches. I control that committee and I make him sound like the statesman he wishes he was.”
“The truth is out,” Mars replied without surprise.
His mother shot him a look of annoyance. “You have no idea what it is like to, because of one’s sex, be forced to watch others make a hash of matters.”
“Except, your husband doesn’t seem well,” Clarissa dared to suggest, feeling empathy for the man.
“He is well enough for Parliament, especiallythe Lords,” Lady Fenton answered. “Trust me, he’ll eat a plate full of beefsteak tonight, down two brandies, and sleep well. As for the two of you”—she gave them a stern but haughty look—“I would be careful of what you say and how you say it . . . because I am no fool. You weren’t married that day at Belvoir.”
Clarissa immediately experienced guilt. She had feared Lady Fenton’s reaction if she learned the truth.
Mars didn’t even blink. “We are married now.”
“I know that as well. Your countess is that abandoned baby that everyone in that village was in a lather over. Odd that out of all the more suitable women in England you could have married, you chose her. But then, you always favored your father. Your decisions aren’t logical.”
“Thank you,” Mars answered coolly.
“I also know that the child is not yours, Clarissa. She is Mars’s by-blow.”
“Whom I recognize,” he stated, again, surprising Clarissa with his calmness. It was almost as if he had anticipated this reckoning. “As well as recognizing Clarissa as my wife and Dora’s mother. Lowton has prepared the proper paperwork to give Clarissa full authority.” The two of them sounded as if they were throwing down gauntlets at each other.
“I don’t care what you do,” Lady Fenton replied. “I just want you to keep my husband in power.”
“You mean, keep you in power. I will do that, Mother. But only because otherwise Dervil might win.”
She smiled, her expression almost warm. “And I, in turn, will deliver as promised. You shall be the decisive vote against Dervil.”
He gave a short bow.
Lady Fenton gathered her shawl around her. “Well, enough of this. I shall expect you tomorrow evening at Lord and Lady Harrison’s rout. You should have an invitation already. I’ve told her you are coming. Everyone will be there.” She smiled at Clarissa. “I pray you have something decent to wear, Countess?”
Clarissa stumbled over a reply. The woman was so bold. No wonder he didn’t like his mother. Clarissa wasn’t so naïve as to believe all mothers had loving natures. But this woman? She thought only of herself.
And the blue dress Mrs. Yarborough had made was perfectly lovely.
