Chapter Three #3
Alec’s mother quit the chamber to seek escorts for her young guests.
The two sisters gazed at each other with great hesitation, primped and dressed and glittering with accessories.
One moment, they were preparing for a quiet evening in their chamber; in the very next, a beautiful bully of a woman practically shoved them into their finest garments.
Peyton was willing to attend the party for fear of Lady Summerlin’s wrath.
Certainly, she did not want to pique the woman’s anger as she had done so well with the husband.
She knew that Lady Summerlin’s fury would be far worse than Lord Brian’s.
But the inherent stubbornness still lingered. Once Lady Summerlin was gone, Peyton stared at her sister a long while before speaking.
“Are you a brave girl, Ivy?”
Ivy met her sister’s sapphire blue eyes, the familiar words ringing in her ears. “I knew you would not disappoint, Peyton. What do you have in mind this time?”
A defiant smile creased the peach-ripe lips.
*
Alec was enjoying his fourth glass of wine when his mother brushed alongside him, her blue eyes drifting appreciatively over her gay party.
“Go upstairs and escort Lady Peyton to the party,” she ordered quietly. “And find Ali. Her sister will need an escort as well.”
Alec swirled the wine in his chalice. “I am sure Lady Peyton would rather be escorted by someone else, and there is no love between Lady Ivy and Ali. They were fighting like rabid dogs earlier today.”
“That is not my concern,” Lady Celine replied steadily. “You will do as you are told. Go and retrieve them.”
Alec looked at his mother, careful to remain expressionless. His mother was not beyond pinching him or taking him by the ear in public. “I would rather not, Mother. Besides, I promised Lady Caroline I would dance with her.”
Celine passed a glance at Lady Caroline Morford. “Lady Caroline has no shortage of suitors. And no shortage of bed partners either, I am told. I am sure she shall find another to keep her company while you are occupied.”
Alec’s mouth twisted wryly for a split-second as he prepared another refusal, but his father’s rapid approach saved him from his mother’s wrath.
“Did you see to Lady Peyton?” he asked his wife. “How does she fare?”
“Well enough,” Celine replied, eyeing her stubborn son. “A beautiful girl, truly. I had the privilege of helping her dress for the party and found her to be delightful. A most attractive figure. I do not believe I have ever seen a woman more perfectly formed than she.”
“I am glad to hear she is not seriously injured,” Brian answered, seeing that Celine was attempting to interest Alec.
His son remained as impassive as always, his blue eyes focused on the activities of the room.
Stubborn man that he was, he would need more than simple words to interest him.
He needed a kick in the arse. “Well, Alec? Are you going to retrieve your betrothed and introduce her to our guests?”
Alec did not react for a moment. Then, slowly, he turned to his parents. “My betrothed?”
Brian met his gaze firmly. “I suggest you do it soon before everyone drinks themselves into oblivion. We want them to remember the proclamation.”
Alec’s eyes were like ice. “We have had this discussion, Da. The purpose of this celebration was for me to inspect Lady Peyton. I have yet to approve the betrothal.”
“There is nothing to approve or disapprove, Alec. I have made up my mind and you will marry Lady Peyton.”
Alec’s jaw tightened; both of his parents saw the muscles contract and they were mildly surprised. Alec was always controlled and emotionless, and the faint gesture was disturbing. Celine could see a grand argument coming on and she put herself between her husband and son.
“Alec, is there some reason why you do not wish to marry Lady Peyton? Is she somehow unacceptable?”
Alec looked at his mother. “I am not interested in marriage, mother. I have nothing against Lady Peyton personally.”
“But you must marry! You must carry on the Summerlin legacy and perpetuate the family. Lady Peyton is certainly lovely and charming enough for the duty as your wife.”
Alec could see that his mother was very eager for him to accept Lady Peyton and he felt himself losing the battle already. With his mother and father against him, there was naught he could do but concede defeat. Yet Alec did not give in to defeat so easily.
“No,” he turned back to the party. “I do not wish to marry and I will not be forced.”
Celine began to bristle, but Brian quieted her. “Would you be so kind as to bring me a goblet of wine, love? I would speak to Alec alone.”
Celine, glaring at her son, then did as she was asked.
When she moved out of earshot, Brian took a step closer to Alec and lowered his voice.
His tone was quiet and pleasant, but there was no mistaking the seriousness.
“Alec, you will listen to me and listen well. You will indeed marry Lady Peyton and administrate St. Cloven, or I shall disown you. No more money, no more advantages. Nothing. You will be on your own without a mark to your name. This I vow.”
Alec remained stoic. “I am your only son left. You would do this over a mere betrothal?”
“I still have Paul. He is my heir and I do not need you. You will do as I say for once, without questions. Your stolid stubbornness grows tiresome and I have had enough. I am your father, Alec. I brought you into this world and you will obey my wishes.”
The conversation was no longer pleasant.
It had grown deadly serious and Alec was surprised; his father was an amiable man and he had never known him to use threats.
But there was also another Summerlin characteristic that Brian possessed; he was true to his word.
Alec knew without a doubt that his father meant what he said.
Slowly, he turned to his father. “She has no desire to marry, either. Do you realize you are condemning both of us to a hellish existence? We will only grow to hate and resent one another and that is no way live.”
“It will be what you make of it,” Brian responded quietly. “She is a beautiful woman, Alec. Surely on that basis you can make an attempt at a workable marriage.”
“It’s not that easy, as you well know,” Alec hissed. “Would that have been enough to sustain your marriage to mother? There must be more than physical appearance and I for one refuse to spend the rest of my life with a woman who wants nothing to do with me.”
Brian did not waver. “The decision has been made. Go and retrieve your betrothed and be quick about it.”
Alec clenched his teeth but possessed enough sense not to respond.
Anger flooded him, bitterness that his father was so unbending.
Why was it so damn important that he marry Lady Peyton?
Alec simply wasn’t ready for a wife; at thirty-two years of age, he was too young.
He wasn’t prepared for the restrictive life of a husband.
A deep resentment settled as he thought on his father’s words.
He would not be penniless should Brian choose to disown him; he had a small fortune of his own, certainly enough to establish himself far from Blackstone.
With his knowledge of horses and sheep rearing, he could easily amass enough wealth to sustain him comfortably.
He did not need the damn Summerlin fortune.
Alec gazed at his father, angrier than he had been in a long while.
Mayhap he should simply leave to establish to his father that he could not be manipulated, and prove moreover that he was completely independent of the Summerlin wealth.
He did not need it, he did not want it, and he certainly did not welcome a wife.
If his father wanted to be difficult and disown him, that was his choice. But Alec could not be threatened or coerced into doing something against his will.
Without another word, he spun on his heel and marched from the hall.
*
Dawn was an hour off as Peyton and Ivy trudged down the road toward St. Cloven.
They had been walking most of the night, ducking into trees at any fleeting snap or rustle, giggling at their own nervousness but continuing on.
Peyton’s head had started to ache again and she was a bit unsteady on her feet, but she strove onward to reach the welcoming halls of St. Cloven.
On foot, they were perhaps another hour or two from home as the horizon pinkened, and Peyton was ready to rest. She deposited herself on a rotten stump as Ivy planted herself on the edge of the road, ears and eyes alert for any threats.
“Another hour or so,” Peyton remarked wearily.
“Aye,” Ivy gazed up at two chattering bluebirds greeting the day. “Honestly, I shall be glad to get back. I feel as if we are criminals, sneaking away as we did. Do you suppose Lord Summerlin has discovered we are gone?”
“Undoubtedly. We were supposed to attend the festivities, remember?”
Ivy nodded in recollection, scanning the countryside nervously. “They’ll come looking for us. They’re probably already on their way.”
That thought prompted Peyton to stand up and glance down the road. After a moment, she turned for the heavy brush that flanked the thoroughfare. “Then we had better continue. We will stay to the trees.”
Ivy followed her sister into the bramble. “You realize that this was foolhardy. It’s not as if we can truly escape Lord Summerlin.”
“We can try,” Peyton said stubbornly. “Mayhap if he realizes how firm our resistance is, he shall not be so demanding that we marry immediately. Mayhap he shall give us more time.”
“More time for what?”