Chapter Five
“A house guest? A house guest? Possibly coming to stay—possibly? And you don’t know when, but it will be for an indefinite visit?
” Marcus’s aunt, Lady Gosforth, snorted.
“What sort of house guest arrives with virtually no warning and at an indeterminate time and for an indeterminate period?” She raised her lorgnette and glared at him.
“It is not convenient. You realize I’ve only just arrived in London. ”
“Yes, it was quite fortuitous,” Marcus agreed.
“Well, I wasn’t going to stay in the wilderness at Alverleigh when you so rudely abandoned me there.”
“As I said, your arrival is fortuitous. I forgot to ask earlier—did you have a pleasant journey?”
She snorted. “Don’t try that fiddle-faddle on me, boy—who is this possible and indefinite house guest?”
“A young lady.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do I know her?”
He strolled to the mantlepiece, picked up a small Tang horse and examined it. “I have no idea who you may or may not know, Aunt. Rather good, this horse, don’t you agree? Marvelous workmanship.”
“Marcus!”
He turned. “Yes, Aunt Maude?”
“What is the name of this possible house guest?”
“Lady Hewitt.”
“Lady Hewitt? Lady Hewitt?” She pondered the name for a minute. “I don’t know any Lady Hew—oh good God! You cannot mean the Ice Widow?”
“I believe that’s what some people—in their ignorance—call her,” Marcus said coldly.
“In their ignorance? Ignorance!” his aunt snapped.
“You are the ignorant one! Don’t you realize that, that”—she struggled a moment, searching for an acceptable word—“that creature has made a career out of entrapping foolish old men in marriage, men who, if my sources are correct, were wealthy at the time of the marriage but who died virtually penniless! I won’t have her in my house!
I won’t, Marcus, and you can’t make me.”
“No, of course I won’t,” he said mildly. “Just let me know where you will be staying.”
She stared at him, then said ominously, “What do you mean, ‘where I will be staying’?”
He shrugged. “This is, after all, my house, and since you refuse to share it with Lady Hewitt, I presume you will wish to find alternative accommodation.”
She huffed and puffed. “Alternative accommodation? How dare you! I am your aunt!”
“Yes, Aunt Maude. And while I would be very grateful if you would reconsider, and agree to play hostess to Lady Hewitt, if you truly feel you cannot, I wouldn’t dream of forcing you.”
“No, you’ll just push me into the gutter!” his aunt said bitterly.
Marcus hid a smile. His aunt had several excellent options, including an elegant house in Bath and a small but equally elegant London house in Mount Street, but after his father died, she’d let the house in Mount Street, preferring to stay, when visiting London, in Alverleigh House, his much grander and more convenient house in Grosvenor Square.
And declared he needed a hostess. “Hardly the gutter, Aunt Maude. But it’s your choice. ”
She hurrumphed and glared at him for a while. He rang for tea and waited for her to simmer down. She was short-tempered but her tempests never lasted long.
The butler brought tea, a plate of small, iced cakes and a variety of biscuits. After she’d drunk some tea and eaten several cakes, his aunt set her tea cup aside. “Explain to me why you wish me to play hostess to this notorious widow. How did you meet her?”
“I’ve known her since we were children. She grew up at Ferndale, the estate next to Alverleigh.” He didn’t want to reveal that as an adult, he’d met her on only three short occasions.
“So you don’t know about her outrageous marital career.”
“On the contrary. She told me herself about both her marriages.”
His aunt snorted. “I’ll wager she did. Poured some affecting tale into your receptive countrified ears, you foolish boy. And of course, you’ve always been a soft touch for a tragic tale. You realize, of course, that she’s set her sights on marrying you.”
Marcus shook his head. “She hasn’t, as a matter of fact.”
“Of course she has and—”
“I already asked her. She refused.” And dealt his ego a severe blow at the same time.
His aunt’s lorgnette dropped from her eye. “You asked her? To marry you? I thought you had no intention—” She broke off and said carefully, “You asked this woman to marry you?”
“Yes, and she refused.”
She picked up her lorgnette.“What nonsense! There isn’t a woman in London who’d refuse you.”
“Apparently there is.”
“What’s her game?” She pursed her lips, eyeing him thoughtfully as she swung her lorgnette gently back and forth on its gold chain. “Are you sure you made your offer clear to her?”
He inclined his head. “Quite clear.”
She sniffed. “She probably didn’t hear you. You do mumble at times.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. He hadn’t mumbled since he was fourteen and one of his schoolmasters had drilled the habit out of him. “She heard me.”
“And you’re positive she refused?”
“She made it crystal clear.” There was nothing ambiguous or hesitant about I don’t ever intend to marry again.
His aunt shook her head. “I’ve no doubt it’s some cunning ploy—all the better to lure you in, dear boy. Women like that run rings around men, no matter what their age.”
“There was no need to lure me,” he pointed out. “All she needed to do was to say yes. But she didn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. And then she added that she had no intention of marrying again.”
His aunt gave a cynical snort. “Until she needs a new hat or another diamond necklace.” She poured herself another cup of tea and ate a biscuit.
Marcus thought for a moment. He had to get his aunt to cooperate. She could be intensely difficult and was ruthless in cutting people she disapproved of, but once she approved of someone, she made a good and loyal friend, regardless of society’s views.
She’d taken in his rejected brother and ill-gotten half-brother, after all, when their own father refused to acknowledge or support them. And raised them to manhood. And done her best to find them wives.
“Do you know how old she was when she married Lord Holgrave?” He bit into a biscuit and chewed.
“Her first husband? No. What does her age have to do with it? It’s the gross difference in their ages that makes it so distasteful—and she did it twice!”
“So you would approve of wedding a child of fifteen to a man more than five times her age?”
His aunt frowned. “Fifteen? Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Only a few weeks before the wedding, she’d been running wild like a little gypsy in the forest at Blaxland, growing up with virtually no supervision except for her old nanny. But before she’d turned sixteen she was married.”
“Good God!”
“The marriage—at least that’s what she was told—was to save her father from creditors—violent ones. And it was her father and brother who then stripped Holgrave of his fortune.”
She considered it a moment, then shrugged. “But she married a wealthy old man a second time, and she was no child then to be coerced into marriage. And old Hewitt went the same way as Holgrave—virtually penniless at the end, I heard.”
“I know, but . . .“ He hesitated. “This is pure speculation on my part, so I must ask you to keep it confidential. If I’m right, I’m sure Lady Hewitt wouldn’t want her very private business to be widely known.”
His aunt made a cynical noise. “I’ll wager she wouldn’t,” she muttered under her breath, then caught his eye. “Oh, go on then, I promise I won’t tell a soul. What was her excuse this time?”
“She didn’t make an excuse. But it’s damnably vague. All she remembers is that she’d refused Hewitt a number of times, but somehow she ended up married anyway. I believe it was some sort of trickery by her brother.”
“Trickery? What sort of trickery?”
“I’m not sure, and I don’t wish to speculate further until I discover the truth.
” He vowed that Edgar would never be in a position to abuse her ever again.
“I believe he’s planning to force her to marry a third time—to another wealthy old man? but I’ll be damned if I let him.
I’m going to put a stop to Edgar Blaxland. ”
Aunt Maude sat up straight and stabbed her lorgnette in his direction. “You are not to call him out, Marcus. I forbid it!”
“Call him out? Don’t be ridiculous, Aunt Maude. Dueling is illegal, and besides, I’m a magistrate.” And he wouldn’t sully a blade or even a bullet on a dishonorable swine like Blaxland.
She subsided slightly. “Then what do you plan to do?”
“I have some thoughts,” Marcus admitted. “But though I offered—for her own safety—to bring her here this evening, she refused. She is determined to resist her brother’s pressures. But I have my doubts of her ability to do so.”
“I see.” She poured more tea into her cup, took a sip, grimaced and set it aside.
She looked at Marcus. “I can see that she’s told you a very affecting tale and has awakened all your dratted protective instincts—you always were drawn to wounded creatures.
I suppose she learned that about you when she was a child—no, don’t interrupt me.
Since you seem to have already become entangled in her toils, I’ll accept this young woman as a house guest and judge her for myself.
I’m not a gullible young man to be deceived by a pretty face and a sad story. ”
“Young? I’m one-and-thirty, remember?”
She snorted. “But an innocent in the ways of cunning and conniving females.”
He rose, saying, “How could I be, when I’ve known you and Great-aunt Gert all my life?”
She snorted again, with laughter this time. “Get away with your nonsense—and show some respect for your elders.”
Marcus bowed over her hand. “Always,” he said softly. “Thank you, Aunt Maude. I’m sure it will be just a matter of time until I can prevail on Lady Hewitt to accept my invitation. You’ll like her, I’m sure.”
She sniffed. “We’ll see about that.”
#