Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
“ J ust look at it…the gardens are even more magnificent than I imagined!” Jane practically launched herself toward the window, her curls escaping their careful arrangement and bouncing gleefully in her enthusiasm. Her gloved hands pressed against the glass like an eager child at a confectioner’s window. “The roses surely must be in full bloom by now…oh, look! I can see them from here, all pink and white like a fairy kingdom!”
“Let me see!” Diana’s voice rang out like a bell chiming in a cathedral, her excitement barely contained as their carriage turned onto the sweeping driveway of the Fyre estate. Ancient oaks lined the path like silent guardians, their branches creating an elaborate canopy that filtered the mid-morning sun into delicate golden patterns across the carriage’s seats.
The ancestral seat of the Blacknight family rose before them like a vision from a romantic tale, its Palladian facade a masterwork of architectural refinement. Rising sunlight caught the honey-colored stones while tall windows glittered like jewels against the aged walls. Guarding the entrance were two enormous stone lions whose noble faces had been worn smooth by years of weather and appreciative touches.
Marian allowed herself to have a quiet moment, considering what it might have been like to grow up there. How many summers had her sister’s husband spent racing through these very gardens? She imagined childish laughter bouncing off the ancient stones and carefree adventures spent in the box hedges that seemed like towering mazes.
“Magnificent,” Lady Prudence murmured, her voice tinged with approval.
Spring transformed the estate rather drastically. Early roses nodded their heavy heads in the formal gardens while Wisteria fell over the western wall in tasteful purple tufts. Even the air felt different here — lighter somehow, packed with possibilities and the unique mystique that hovered around ancient structures with historic histories.
Marian, seated between her sisters, kept her bearings with trained accuracy, but under her well-organized facade, her stomach danced in a complex mix of anticipation and nervousness. Their trip had seemed endless, each mile bringing them closer to this moment of reunion with Lydia and Elias.
“Girls,” Lady Prudence’s voice had the soft but clear power that had shaped their childhoods, “compose yourselves. As visitors of the Fyre estate, I want you to behave appropriately.” Her fingers brushed an imperceptible wrinkle from her traveling dress, a gesture that said volumes about her own well-controlled enthusiasm.
“Of course, Mother,” Jane said, reclining with such overdone decorum Diana had to disguise her giggle as a cough. Her eyes still gleamed with hardly restrained glee, though, and they darted between her sisters as if to share the happiness.
Before the great entryway, the carriage came to a gentle stop where ornate stone steps swept upward like the tiers of a wedding cake. Lydia emerged, brilliant as a summer morning in her lavender dress, the huge oak doors swinging wide open with exact timing. Her face was ablaze with genuine delight.
“My dearest family!” she called out, her voice carrying the warmth of long-held affection. “How wonderful to finally lay my eyes on all of you!” The silks of her dress whispered against the stone steps, its pale hue perfectly matching the foliage around them.
Elias emerged behind her like a shadow of protection, his tall height and simple smile complementing her welcome perfectly. “Welcome to the Fyre estate,” he said, his soft approach unaffected by his rank. “I trust your trip was not overly demanding?”
“As pleasant as English roads allow,” Lord Silas Brandon said jokingly when he first dropped down to help Lady Prudence. She swept down with the dignity of a queen, though Marian noted a slight tremor in her mother’s hand that betrayed her fatigue from the journey.
Lydia moved through the greetings like a hummingbird, dispensing embraces and exclamations of joy with a natural grace. When she reached Marian, her hands clasped around her sister’s hands, warm and firm, her eyes sparkling with meaning. “Oh, Marian,” she breathed, “I have such stories to share with you. So much has happened since we last saw each other.”
“And I with you, dear sister.” Marian returned softly. “It is such a comfort having you in my arms again. I have missed you, and all of our talks, so very much.”
Every inch the renowned host, Elias intervened with his usual measured grace. “Your timing could not be more perfect,” he said, his voice echoing the refined tones of aristocratic upbringing. “Although no one quite as welcome as yourselves, the house is already alive with visitors.”
“Trust us to arrive fashionably late,” Jane observed, and Lydia laughed appreciatively as Elias grinned slightly.
“Speaking of arrivals…” Lydia’s voice had a specific lilt that caught Marian’s attention right away; her tone suggesting well placed happenstance. “…we have just welcomed another guest, who I am certain will interest you all greatly.”
A tall figure emerged from the shadow of the entryway. His immaculately tailored coat hung on his broad frame with the casual elegance of someone well accustomed to high society, and his dark eyes glinted with a sparkle of mischief. Lydia’s voice soared once more, now faintly exciting. “Presenting the Marquess of Stone, Lord Nicholas Grant.”
Marian’s breath seized in her throat as realization came over her. Lord Stone. The very name made her shudder as a torrent of uninvited memories returned — he was, without a doubt, the man from the inn!
“My closest friend!” Elias remarked, clapping Nicholas on the shoulder. “Might I present, Lord Silas Brandon, Lady Prudence Brandon, and their daughters, Jane, Diana, and Marian.”
“My Lord and Ladies.” Lord Stone bowed with an easy confidence. His dark blue eyes locked onto Marian’s with a flicker of amusement. “This is quite a fateful meeting.”
Marian forced herself to stand taller, her features schooled into an expression of neutrality, but the glint in Lord Stone’s eyes suggested he wasn’t fooled by her charade. Her mouth went dry, and she opened her lips to respond, but no sound came out, so she offered a curtsy instead. The memory of the moment they shared at the inn threatened to undo her composure entirely.
“Well,” the marquess said, his smile deepening, “I seem to have left you absolutely speechless, My Lady. I have to say I am very flattered.” She felt the blood flood her cheeks as his eyes lingered just a fraction too long on her. Horrified, she turned away but not before peering once more at the attractive young nobleman.
“You attribute far too much significance to a fleeting moment of distraction, My Lord,” she managed at last though her voice wasn’t quite as steady as she would have liked. “I was…merely contemplating the weather when you happened upon me.”
“The weather?” His eyebrow arched in perfect aristocratic incredulity. “How fascinating. And tell me, does the weather often cause you to lose gloves outside inns?”
Her heart stuttered. He wouldn’t dare — not here, not in front of everyone. “I am sure I don’t take your meaning, Lord Stone,” she said, perhaps a touch too quickly. Her fingers twisted in her skirts, betraying her agitation.
“No?” the single word was practically a purr. “Strange. I found our discussion of…poetry at the inn illuminating. Particularly that moment when —”
“The clouds!” Marian blurted, causing her mother to look over at her sharply. “They’re quite…threatening, wouldn’t you agree? We really should make haste before the rain catches us.”
She felt the blood flood her cheeks as his eyes lingered just a fraction too long on her, his expression holding all the satisfaction of a cat with a bowl of ice cream. Horrified, she turned away but not before peering once more at him and noticing he was now failing spectacularly at suppressing his grin.
“Do give my regards to your glove, Lady Marian,” he whispered as he passed her, low enough for only her to hear. “Should you displace any other…accessories, be assured, I remain at your service.”
Lydia led them to the drawing room where despite the mild spring day a fire blazed with friendly warmth. The room already held several occupants, their conversations creating a gentle murmur that rose to greet the newcomers like a welcoming tide. Marian’s mind whirled. She resolved right then and there to avoid Lord Stone at any cost though the way his gaze followed her suggested he had no intention of making it easy for her.
“Viscount Crowton,” Lydia called out, drawing the attention of a distinguished gentleman whose bearing suggested both authority and aristocratic bearing. “May I present my sisters? Ladies Diana, Jane, and Marian.”
The viscount’s keen eyes assessed them with practiced subtlety, lingering just long enough to be flattering without becoming improper. “Lady Marian,” he addressed her directly, “your reputation precedes you. We have heard much about your wit and charm.”
Jane suppressed a laugh, and Marian shot her a warning look. “You are too kind, My Lord.” Marian murmured though she noted the sharp intelligence behind his courteous smile. “However, you will discover that a reputation often surpasses reality.”
“On the other hand,” he replied smoothly, “I find that reality frequently contains depths that reputation hardly acknowledges. Do you not concur, Lord Stone?”
Lord Stone, who had remained positioned near the fireplace with casual determination, nodded slightly. “Certainly. Although, at times I have found those depths can be quite perilous for the unwary explorer.”
Marian’s back stiffened at his remarks, the subtle challenge in his tone igniting a spark of defiance within her. “Exploration is frequently essential to reveal the truth, regardless of how hazardous the route may be, My Lord.”
A slight smile creased Lord Stone’s lips, and his eyes sparkled with challenge. “Well said for a true adventurer, Lady Marian. One can only hope that the journey merits the risk.”
“I would dare to assert that the finest ones invariably do, My Lord,” Marian responded, her voice unwavering despite the flutter in her chest. His dark gaze and subtle smirk made her head spin and her mouth dry. He seemed utterly immune to her charm, instead flipping the script on her, making her feel utterly unnerved.
As the greetings flowed seamlessly, another nobleman appeared. Lydia’s voice, ever the attentive hostess, rose once more. “Ah, and here comes the Duke of Myste.”
The duke carried himself with a self-assured elegance that only years of privilege could confer. His deep-set eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on the Brandon sisters with a brief but deliberate nod. “Ladies, it is a pleasure. I hope your journey has been kind to you?”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Marian replied, dipping into a respectful curtsy. His gaze, while not unkind, bore the weight of someone accustomed to being both observed and obeyed.
Marian nodded, partaking in polite conversation while her thoughts — irritatingly — remained tethered to the figure lurking at the fringes of her awareness. Lord Stone’s gaze, though seemingly aimed elsewhere, felt as palpable as a physical touch, a reminder that their earlier conversation was far from concluded.
During dinner, Marian found herself seated directly opposite Lord Stone, a positioning that felt less like coincidence and more like fate’s own brand of sarcastic humor.
“Tell me, Lady Marian…” Lord Stone’s voice startled her slightly, pulling her from her thoughts. He spoke during a brief pause in the discussion, his voice modulated just right to reach her ears without attracting unwanted attention. “…what do you think about coincidence?”
Marian felt a rush of warmth rise to her cheeks, but she compelled herself to stay composed. “I think,” she answered, selecting her words as meticulously as a jeweler choosing fine gems, “that coincidence frequently acts as a handy disguise for intent, My Lord.”
His eyes sparkled with admiration for the counter. “And intentions? What disguises do they don?”
“That,” she replied, raising her glass with intentional elegance, “is entirely contingent upon who possesses them.”
His smile widened, reflecting an expression that suggested secrets waiting to be uncovered. “Well, I trust my intentions, once unveiled, will not let you down.”
“Only time will reveal that, My Lord,” she replied although her tone stayed impartial. She had no desire to reveal how his words had impacted her.
As the attendants began to clear the dishes, the buzz of conversation diminished, guests sinking into a cozy rhythm of shared anecdotes and joyous laughter. Yet, Marian remained acutely aware of Lord Stone’s presence, as if he generated his own gravity field that seemed to pull at her attention, despite her best efforts.
“If I did not know any better, I would say that you were glaring at me, Lady Marian.” Lord Stone’s voice came from behind her, just as she entered the ballroom.
Marian turned sharply, her hazel eyes narrowing as she met his piercingly blue eyes. “I assure you, you are mistaken, My Lord.” Marian felt a touch of irritation light up in her chest. Had she been looking at him? She had been distracted, staring into nothingness, but perhaps her absent gaze might have landed on him.
“Am I truly?” he inclined his head, his smirk widening. “Because, if appearances had lethal consequences, My Lady, I fear I might already be on my journey to the afterlife.”
Marian sensed a surge of warmth creeping to her face, but she bit her lip, compelling herself to stay composed. “Perhaps you ought to refrain from vying for my attention, My Lord, lest you provoke destiny with your tiresome antics.”
He laughed and placed a hand over his heart in feigned self-defense. “Lady Marian, I am simply making an effort to engage in courteous dialogue.”
Marian’s lips quivered although she would not grant him the pleasure of a smile. “Courteous dialogue generally does not entail irritating the other individual.”
“Irritating?” Lord Stone leaned in a bit, his voice lowering to a secretive whisper. “Surely not. I was merely commending your capacity to appear so tranquil while obviously disapproving of every attendee in this room.”
Marian’s jaw clenched, yet she chose not to take the bait he offered. “If I appear serene, My Lord, it is because I am simply so. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Before he could respond, a sharp tap of a cane against the floor drew everyone’s attention.
The Viscount Crowton entered, and his gaze swept across the room, sharp and calculating, before landing on Marian. His lips curled into a thin line, one that did not reach his eyes. With deliberate steps, he crossed the room, his predatory air impossible to ignore. He was tall and angular, his sharp cheekbones and thin smile giving him an air of practiced superiority. As he examined the area, his gaze sparkled as if evaluating the worth of those around him.
Lord Stone, who had not yet moved aside, stayed solidly positioned, his playful grin transforming into a more cautious expression.
“Lady Marian,” the viscount spoke effortlessly as he approached her, his voice dripping with allure, “I have been looking forward to seeing you this evening.”
Marian dipped into a polite curtsy. “Viscount Crowton,” she said, her voice courteous but cool.
“I trust you are enjoying the hospitality of our hosts?” he continued, his sharp eyes flicking briefly toward Lord Stone.
“The Fyre estate is completely enchanting,” Marian responded, maintaining a neutral tone, “and it has been wonderful to see my sister again.”
“Indeed,” the viscount remarked, his smile becoming strained. “However, I must confess, I find the company to be the most enjoyable part of this…spectacle.”
Marian had to stifle the impulse to roll her eyes, but before she could reply, Lord Stone interjected. “And what a serendipitous turn of events that the company includes you, Viscount,” he said lightly though there was a subtle sharpness in his voice.
The viscount’s smile wavered, yet he quickly regained his composure. “Indeed. It appears the evening will yield its share of surprises.”
Lord Stone nodded slightly, his gaze piercing. “No doubt.”
Marian, perceiving the tension between the two men, stepped back a bit. “If you’ll pardon me, gentlemen,” she stated, her voice steady, “I believe my mother is calling for me.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, her heart racing in her chest as she headed toward Lady Prudence.
“Marian,” her mother’s whisper was laden with ambition, “you must make an effort to engage. I did not overlook the fact that the marquess has demonstrated…interest in you. Such attention is not to be disregarded, no matter what reservations you may have.”
Marian nodded, the movement instinctive as her mind drifted back to their moonlit encounter. The man who had stepped from the shadows that night seemed at odds with the polished nobleman who now gravitated towards her, yet something in his eyes — a glimmer of that same dangerous intrigue — suggested they were one and the same.
Lady Prudence’s keen eyes scanned her daughter, noticing the slight blush on her cheeks and the delicate rigidity in her posture. “It is quite unusual for you to be silent.”
“Mother,” she said firmly, “I have been…observing.”
“I suggest you do more than observe,” Lady Prudence said, her tone lowering as she stepped closer to her daughter. “This is a good opportunity, Marian. You cannot afford to waste it.”
Marian stiffened as a persistent annoyance churned in her chest. “I thought we were here to visit Lydia and her new husband, mother.”
“We are, but this is as perfect a chance as any to secure your future,” Lady Prudence said pointedly. Her gaze flitted briefly to the gathering crowd around, nodding her head toward the Duke of Myste, Viscount Crowton, and Lord Stone, who had now been joined by Diana. “It would serve you well to encourage the marquess’ affections.”
Marian’s heart sank though she managed to keep her expression neutral. “He is hardly the sort of man I would consider.”
Lady Prudence arched a brow. “And why not? He is wealthy, well-connected, and undeniably handsome. What more could you possibly want?”
“You would have me consider a man who is spoken of being a rake?”
Her mother’s lips thinned. “Do not let your pride cloud your judgment, Marian. You are hardly in a position to be overly selective. Or would you rather your father secure a match with Viscount Crowton?”
Marian gasped. “You cannot be serious, Mother! He is old enough to be my grandsire!” she hissed under her breath.
“Well, consider that an indication of what your choices will be, should you fail,” her mother said coldly.
Marian nodded, trying her best to hide the trembling in her hands. “If you’ll excuse me Mother, I believe Lydia was looking for me.” She turned away before her mother could question the lie.
As the evening drew to a close, Marian excused herself under the guise of needing fresh air. She took a deep breath. A welcome relief from the oppressive heat of the dining room, the cold that enveloped her seemed like a balm. She leaned against a tree, the rough bark at her back grounding her. She withdrew a small, folded piece of parchment from her sleeve. Her eyes scanned the words, her heart fluttering slightly as she read the words again for what felt like the hundredth time.
Her heart ached from frustration and need as her fingers stroked over the ink. Tonight, the burden of their expectations felt more pressing than ever before, even though she had composed the list in rejection of the life that others desired for her.
Then she was distracted from her thoughts by voices coming from the patio. She peeked in the direction of the conversation, her heart quickening as she caught sight of Lord Nicholas and Diana, their heads close in conversation. She moved closer, being careful to stay concealed behind shadows and shrubbery.
“Please, My Lord,” Diana’s voice rang, soft and clear, “I need to ask you not to play games with Marian. She has plenty to contend with.”
Though Lord Stone’s response was subdued, there was a clear indication of charm. “I promise you, my intentions are far from frivolous. Your sister merely…piques my interest. That is the God’s honest truth.”
The sincerity in his voice sent a ripple of confusion through her. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved. And why did he have any intentions whatsoever toward her? Then anger surged and Marian’s blood boiled, both at Diana’s presumption and Lord Stone’s audacity. Folding the parchment tightly, she stuffed it back into her sleeve hastily. Without hesitation, she strolled toward them, making her presence known with a purposeful cough.
“Diana,” she called, her voice sharp, “might I borrow you for a moment?”
Both turned at her approach, surprise flickering across Lord Stone’s face before it was replaced by that insufferable smirk. Marian gave him a stern look that was intended to express her anger without using words.
Diana started blushing when she realized they had been overheard, “Marian. We were just…”
“Talking about my well-being, apparently,” Marian concluded for her, glaring at Lord Stone with her hazel eyes. “My Lord, do you think my private matters merit such…attention?”
Lord Stone’s blue eyes danced with a shadow of amusement as he cocked his head slightly. “Many people are very interested in your well-being, Lady Marian. However, it’s clear now that you would rather deal with these issues directly.”
“Yes,” Marian said in a calm voice. “And I would be grateful if certain individuals would not concern themselves with my personal matters.”
Sensing her sister’s stress, Diana’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. Marian’s tone softened somewhat as she turned to face her. “Should we go back inside? It grows late, and mother will surely be wondering where we have gone.”
Diana nodded, her relief evident as she took Marian’s arm. Together, they began to walk back toward the house, leaving Lord Stone standing alone in the shadows. Marian felt his eyes following them, the weight of it like a physical touch against her back.
Marian’s mind still whirled with unresolved questions and the rising irritation toward the Marquess when they arrived at the doors. Still, her will was stronger than it had ever been. She would face whatever lie ahead with the same will that had driven her thus far in life.
She felt irritated with her entire life. The pressure from her mother to secure a favorable match, though understandable, felt like a knife in her side. She had known this was coming since the day her mother had successfully married off Lydia — that the pressure and expectation would shift to her next. But Marian felt unhappy with her life, and she wished it could all be different. Her irritation had — at times — burst free from her in a way that made her feel like a different person entirely, but even though she tried her best, she could not keep it from bubbling to the surface.