Chapter 12
“Mother, Father, it is good to see you both,” Michael said warmly when his parents arrived. He ushered them into his London townhouse and instructed the butler to bring them something to eat and drink.
“When we received your letter informing us of what happened with Rebecca Frampton, we immediately set out for London. How is the family? Has there been any news?” his mother explained as she allowed a maid to take her hat and reticule.
Michael shook his head, motioning for his parents to take a seat on the settee near the library’s large fireplace.
“No, there has not been any news on the matter since I wrote you. The family are living each day that passes in fear and sorrow as one might imagine.”
“The poor girl,” his mother said, wringing her handkerchief in distress. “I cannot bear the thought of what she might be enduring this very moment. She was always such a bright-eyed, inquisitive youth.” Tears filled her eyes.
“She used to run around our country estate following after Michael and Emmeline, trying to do everything that they did, whether she was big enough for it or not. Such a sweet girl.”
“How is Colin taking it?” Michael’s father asked as he came to sit beside his wife, taking her into his arms to provide comfort.
“He blames himself,” Michael answered, taking the seat across from them. “He believes that he should have been able to protect her.”
“It is none of the boy’s doing,” Michael’s mother insisted, her heart going out to her nephew.
“When a man cannot protect the woman that he loves, whether it is his fault or not, it strikes the heart as a most painful failure,” Michael’s father explained to his wife, kissing her softly on the top of her head as she leaned into his embrace.
“The poor dear,” she murmured sorrowfully as more tears escaped her eyes. “Forgive me, my son. I appear to be more tired than I thought,” she admitted, brushing the tears away and attempting to gather herself into some sense of decorum.
“I understand. Shall we have an early supper so that you might rest?” Michael offered, taking mercy on his parents.
His mother nodded in agreement. “That would be lovely if it is no trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Smiling in reassurance, Michael rose from his chair and requested that Mr. Quincy arrange for an early supper instead of tea so that his parents could eat and retire early for much-needed rest.
The butler bowed and scurried away to speed things along.
Michael turned back toward the library door and paused in the threshold as he watched his parents interact with one another.
They were one of the most loving couples that he had ever had the privilege to observe. It brought him joy to see them just as much in love with each other as they had ever been. His heart clenched in pain at the thought of never getting to experience such happiness for himself.
Straitening his shoulders, he reentered the library. “I have had the maids prepare your bedchamber for you. Would you care to retire before we dine?”
“Yes, please,” Michael’s mother replied, rising from her seat. She came and stood before her son, placing a loving hand on his cheek. “We will speak further then.” She gave him a gentle pat, then sailed past him with her usual elegance.
Michael’s father joined him upon the threshold. He laid a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. “She has been worrying herself into quite a state over your remaining in London for the Season.”
Michael laughed in surprise. “She would be the only one. All I have heard this Season has been how I should not have been absent to begin with.”
“That is because most others do not know you as your mother does.” Giving Michael’s shoulder a squeeze, he moved past his son to follow his wife.
Michael busied himself with his correspondence until Mr. Quincy came and notified him that the evening meal was ready. Nodding, Michael rose from his chair and left the library. Upon entering the dining room, Michael found his parents already awaiting him.
“Everything looks lovely, Michael,” his mother said. “You have chosen your staff well.”
Michael nodded in acceptance of the compliment. “I will make certain that they receive your praise.”
His mother smiled sweetly, then took her seat beside her son. His father sat on the other side. Once they had each been served the first course, his mother wasted no time in asking what lay most heavily upon her heart.
“Have you seen Emmeline?”
Michael closed his eyes, sighing. He had been afraid that this conversation was unavoidable. Opening his eyes, he picked up his spoon, and it hovered over his bowl of soup. “Yes, I have seen the marchioness.”
His tone did not encourage further conversation. He brought the soup to his lips, but before he could eat anything, his mother had pushed on with her inquiry.
“Have the two of you spoken with one another?”
Michael laid his spoon back down into the bowl, leaning it against the rim. “I am serving as chaperone and confidant for Colin in his courtship of Rebecca. It is unavoidable, but to interact with the marchioness and her family.”
“There has been much talk of the mysterious circumstances around her husband’s death,” Michael’s father remarked.
“There has been some supposition that the fire may have been intentional, that the marquess was murdered. Apparently, the man owed a great deal of money to his creditors. It has even been said that the marquess left his widow with nothing but her title.”
“I know nothing of the marquess or his demise. I do not make it a habit to give credence to the gossip of the ton,” Michael retorted as civilly as he could.
“While I do not believe everything that is gossiped about among the ton, there is truth mixed in among the supposition and judgment,” his father reminded him.
“As a recent victim of said judgment myself, I do not intend to gain my truths from such an unreliable source.” Michael was having a hard time being patient with the topic of conversation.
“Widows, of all people, should be allowed to mourn in peace without their reputations being brought under scrutiny.”
“You defend her gallantly, my son,” his mother noted softly. “Is it your intention to rekindle your relationship with one another now that she is a widow?”
Michael’s patience was rapidly finding its limits. “I have no intentions of rekindling anything with the marchioness.”
“Are there any other prospects on the horizon?” his father asked, eyeing his son with concern. “Have any of the other ladies of the ton caught your eye?”
Michael shook his head, gritting his teeth. “I have no intention of making the same mistake twice.”
“Do you not desire love in your life?” his mother asked, her eyes holding his in earnest. “You have courted no one since Emmeline married the marquess. I worry for you.”
Her words cut too close to what he had felt in the library as he had watched his own parents’ relationship.
“I have no room for love left in me,” Michael declared, the pain in his chest increasing with every word. “You must resign yourselves to this. I have no intentions of marrying anyone.”
“What of an heir?” his father demanded, his tone stating that he believed his son to be in grave error. “Would you throw away your grandfather’s legacy?”
A stab of guilt nearly caused Michael to wince with the pain of it. “Colin will produce many heirs, I have no doubt.”
“As he should for his father’s legacy, but your grandfather entrusted you with the family estate and title. It is your responsibility to produce an heir and ensure continuity of the family line.”
“Emmeline Frampton will be the last woman that I ever trust my heart to. There will be no others. If a woman such as she can betray me with such brutal severity, when I thought her to be the most honorable among women, then I want nothing to do with the purportedly fairer sex.”
“You speak unfairly, my son. Would you believe your own mother capable of what you speak?” The hurt in his mother’s eyes was tempered only by her concern for him.
“You, Mother, are of course excluded from this,” Michael amended his statement in apology.
“As your mother, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I believe you are judging the marchioness too harshly.”
“Too harshly?” Michael was truly confounded by her declaration.
“Emmeline was under great pressure from her family to wed a man of great wealth, title, and reputation. Her parents made the choice for her. Would you have had her defy them? To disrespect and reject those who gave her life? She did what any respectable young lady would do and married the man that her parents chose for her.”
The next course arrived just as Michael opened his mouth to fire off a less-than-flattering reply.
Snapping his mouth shut, he waited in silence while the staff took their now cold soup away and placed platters of meat before them.
Rising to do his duty, he carved the meat, then motioned for the servants to distribute it between his parents.
Once they had done so, he dismissed them from the room.
Delaying his response had forced Michael to calm his internal turmoil and temper his words.
“I do not know what happened because she never informed me. I discovered that she was wed to another by the local minister on the day that I had intended to ask for her hand. I never heard a word from either her or her family again after that. The honorable thing to do would have been to inform me of her intentions. I did not receive so much as a letter of explanation.”
“You were not yet engaged. No promises had been spoken between you. You were not courting. Emmeline was not honor-bound to inform you of her decision any more than she would have been to inform any other friend.”
The blunt nature of his mother’s words struck him as if it had been a fist. “We were more than friends. She knew how I felt about her. She made me believe that she felt the same.”
“Emmeline’s only duty of honor was to her family, and she did that. She upheld her honor, her duty to them. It is time that you come to terms with that and move on with your life. You have a duty to your family to fulfill. Do you possess less honor than she?”
Michael stood up from the table, placing his cloth napkin beside his plate. “If you will excuse me, there is much that I must see to before I might find my bed this night.” Not waiting for a response, he left the room, his chest feeling as if someone had reached in and ripped his heart out.
As he sequestered himself away in his library, he tried to erase his parents’ words from his mind, but they refused to leave him alone. The more he sat stewing over them, the deeper they sank within his consciousness. Are they right? Did she truly not have any other choice to retain her honor?
As a man of great responsibility, he understood duty and honor more than most. The rumors flying around the ton were of a marriage that was cold and removed. The couple had hardly ever been seen together since the day of their marriage.
The marchioness had only returned briefly for her father’s funeral, then had disappeared back to Scotland soon thereafter. The Emmeline that he had once known would not have left her mother and sister so swiftly. She would only have done such a thing if she had no other choice.
The echo of his mother’s words resonated through his being. She had no other choice…
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Enter,” he commanded, believing it to be one of the servants. To his surprise, he found his father standing in the doorway without his mother.
“Son,” his father said as he entered. “Might I have a word?”
Michael nodded his head. “How is Mother?”
“She worries, as you know. You owe her an apology.” His father’s words were gentle but firm.
“I know,” Michael acknowledged. “I will,” he promised. “In future, Emmeline Frampton is a topic of discussion that I would prefer to leave unspoken.”
“Understood,” his father agreed, nodding in respect of his son’s wishes.
“Thank you.”
His father moved about the room inspecting the paintings on the walls. “I am glad to see that these have not fallen prey to the rash of thefts that have been sweeping the country. I trust that you have secured all of your pieces.”
“I have.” Michael nodded, rising to join his father in front of one of the more valuable pieces in his collection. “I have only recently learned of the thefts and made haste to provide proper security for the family collection.”
“I spoke with an old magistrate acquaintance of mine on the way into town, and he said that Bow Street has identified a possible suspect for the thefts. According to the magistrate, it was all orchestrated by quite the criminal mastermind who has taken over the slithering underbelly of London.”
Michael frowned. “Have they taken the scoundrel into custody?”
His father shook his head. “They cannot find him. All that they were able to discover of his whereabouts was that he came to hold power over the darker elements of London about six months ago or so. Somehow, he has the entire criminal element within his grasp.”
“Power indeed,” Michael mused. “I would like to speak with the man when they find him. Could you arrange that for me with your magistrate friend?”
“I could.” His father nodded. “Why would you wish to speak with someone of his ilk?”
“Because someone like that might know the whereabouts of a certain Miss Rebecca Frampton and the man who took her.”