Chapter Three #2
It was preposterous. Rory thought about laughing, but when he looked at Grace, he could see the embarrassment and humiliation in her slumped shoulders and decided he would not add to her suffering.
Her face was very pale and her lips were trembling despite her efforts to press them still.
What must it be like for her, to be treated as if she had no feelings?
Bartered by her father to a stranger . .
. No, not even bartered. She was being given away to whoever would take her.
As if she had felt his perusal, her dark lashes lifted and her eyes met his.
There was a starkness in her expression, as if she had come so far and could go no further.
As if she had reached the end of her tether.
He felt an urge to say something comforting, but what could he say?
As if coming to the same conclusion, she turned her head, hiding once more beneath the fall of her untidy hair.
He watched her hands twisting together in her lap—an outward sign of the tumult inside her.
“As generous as your offer is,” he told the earl quietly, “I’m afraid I must decline. I have no plans to marry your daughter or anyone else. I am a confirmed bachelor and intend to remain that way.”
He heard Grace catch her breath. Perhaps she could not believe anyone would be brave enough or foolish enough to deny her father his demands?
Once again, Rory uncharacteristically found himself wanting to reassure her.
It was because she was a woman in distress, and when it came to the fairer sex, that had always been his weakness.
The earl commanded his attention once more. “You will marry her,” he said in the voice of a man used to getting his own way. “Understand me, MacKenzie, the ceremony will take place, even if I have to deliver you to the altar in chains. Set your mind to it.”
Rory eyed him curiously. “Why must I marry her? Are there no willing men lining up for her? If she took some bother with her appearance then she would be a pretty enough lassie, and that’s all some men require in their beds.”
Grace lifted her head and gave him a furious stare, and for the first time Rory thought he saw some fire beneath her frightened facade.
She looked as if, given the right circumstances, she would have plenty to say about her situation, but a sideways glance at her sire had her biting her lip.
Whatever words might have spilled from her mouth were forced back.
Ormsby scoffed. “No man in his right mind would want her. She is ruined. She could be breeding. Her actions have put in jeopardy the marital chances of my other two daughters and I want her gone. Out of my sight. I don’t care what you do to her once you marry her.
Send her into the wild country of Scotland.
Lock her up in a cage. She knows well enough not to call upon me for help.
I will be happy to pretend she never existed. ”
It was an appalling statement by a father to his daughter. He had given Rory his permission to mistreat the woman in any way he wished, or to abandon her entirely once the ring was on her finger.
Once more he found himself looking to Grace to see her reaction.
She was not speaking up in defense of herself, and even if what the earl had said about her ruination was true, surely she did not deserve this fate?
Rory found it difficult to believe any father would behave in such a cruel way to his daughter, but then Rory’s father would never do such a thing.
Yes, he would be angry, but that anger would be directed at the scoundrel who had ruined and then abandoned her.
Certainly not the victim. In fact, Rory could not imagine the duke forcing his daughter Cat to do anything she did not want to do.
And as for marrying her off to a stranger and telling him to treat her with such contempt?
No, no, a thousand times no.
“My father,” he began, thinking to reassure Grace that not all men were like the earl, only to be interrupted by Ormsby.
“Your father is a duke, yes, but he is far away from London. You should not expect any help from that quarter. Do as I say, MacKenzie, and I won’t have you arrested for dueling with Ramsgate and causing him injury.”
Rory stared in amazement. Would he really .
. .? But yes, meeting those icy grey eyes, he knew Ormsby would have him arrested.
He probably had a tame magistrate he could call upon to sign the papers.
Did this mean . . .? But no, Rory refused to be browbeaten into marrying a woman he did not know even if he weren’t a confirmed bachelor.
Over the years, he had gotten himself into many awkward situations, but he had always managed to wriggle out of them through luck or cunning.
Grace was still twisting her hands together, her face turned to the window so that he could only see her cheek and her trembling lips.
With consternation, he realized there was a fat tear rolling down her cheek.
Quickly followed by another one. They plopped onto the bodice of her dress, and now he looked, he saw there was a damp patch forming.
Rory might be a pragmatic kind of man but his sister only had to sniffle and he was begging her to tell him what the matter was so that he could fix it.
Beneath his brash exterior, Rory’s soft heart gave a twang.
“I would like to speak to your daughter alone,” he said, remembering to add a polite, “my lord.”
Ormsby hesitated, taking a pinch from his snuff box as he considered the request. Then he turned to the door and shouted, “Fitt!”
A bulky looking footman appeared, his shoulders so wide they could barely fit through the doorway. His face was an odd mixture of jutting jaw and pudgy nose. “My lord,” he growled.
“Stay here. If MacKenzie tries to leave, then stop him.”
Rory laughed in disbelief, but Fitt shot him a look that suggested he took his job seriously. Ormsby strolled to the door and exited. There was a pause as Fitt closed the door behind his master and took up his position in front of it, small eyes fixed on Rory.
Rory decided to ignore him as he moved toward Grace.
She immediately stood up and began to back away, obviously afraid of him, so he stopped.
The idea that anyone should fear him made his stomach clench in a tight knot.
Yes, Rory might be a bit rough and ready, but he was never a brute.
Obviously Grace had already encountered brutish men, and he could not blame her for not trusting him.
He softened his voice. “I wish to know, my lady, if you want to marry me?”
She stared back at him suspiciously. “You ask that as if I have a choice.”
“Let’s pretend you do have a choice.”
The look she gave him was bleak indeed. “Since Ramsgate is hurt, my father has fixed on you. If you do not marry me despite his efforts, then he says he will give me to Fitt and be done with me.” She gave an anxious glance toward the meaty footman.
“At least you are a gentleman.” But there was a question in that statement, as if she wasn’t sure.
Dear God, things were even worse than he had imagined. “I see your dilemma,” he murmured, also glancing at Fitt.
Such things were not unknown, he supposed, but never in his experience had a father been so callous as to force his daughter to marry one of the lower orders.
Grace was continuing in a low, shaky voice.
“My father has always wanted to be rid of me, but until now he has allowed himself to be swayed by the pretense of good manners and what others might think. Not now. He will marry me off to whoever he can bully or blackmail into accepting me. Lord Ramsgate owed him a great deal of money but he is evidently now at death’s door.
Although,” she shook her head, “I think perhaps he is not as ill as he pretends, and who can blame him? He had plans for his future that did not include me,” she added hopelessly.
Rory remembered Ramsgate challenging him to the duel at the hell, and his own confusion as to what exactly he had done to cause it to happen.
Perhaps after all it had been nothing. Then there had been the careless manner in which Ramsgate had fought, as if he didn’t care if he won or lost. Had it all been a hoax so that the man could escape an unwilling marriage with this lady?
It seemed an extreme measure, but then desperate men would do almost anything to evade their fate.
“Are you ruined?” he asked her bluntly, because that seemed to be at the crux of her father’s hatred for her.
Color flooded her pale cheeks, but to her credit she did not look away.
“Yes, I am. A man I trusted and hoped would rescue me from this situation took advantage of me. I believed him, foolishly I see now, but my position was so untenable that I hoped . . .” She bit her lip to stop herself, her eyes full of tears.
Oh God, Rory thought, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides. No more tears, please no more tears.
Grace took a breath and continued. “Unfortunately he and I were discovered in a compromising situation, and before long, everyone knew. He ran off, and I was left to face the scandal on my own. My father already disliked me, but he tolerated me while he thought I might be useful to him. Now he has a reason to rid himself of me and concentrate on my sisters. Their prospects are better than mine when it comes to marriage, and I think he will be kinder to them too. At least as long as it does not interfere with his ambitions. I do not think—I hope he will not force them to marry someone they dislike.”
Unlike me. The words lay unsaid between them.
“Your father is in need of funds,” he said, and tried not to sigh. It was a familiar tale.
“Yes,” she said warily. Then, watching him cautiously, “There is more. Do you want to hear it?”
Rory’s head still ached from his excesses last night, and he sat down abruptly into an armchair.
After hesitating a moment, she sat opposite him.
Her hair fell forward, and she pushed it back impatiently.
He noted again that the dress she was wearing looked as old and as shabby as the room itself, and he wondered if that was all she had.
Or was she trying to make herself as unattractive as possible in the hope he would refuse to marry her?
“Tell me then,” he said. “Before your father returns and threatens me again.”
He smiled as he said it, and Grace looked warily surprised.
For the first time, a glint of hope lit her eyes.
His seeming lack of fear when it came to the earl must be an unusual occurrence, and he wondered how many gentlemen, and ladies, had shivered and groveled before him in this room.
Well, not him. Rory was not the groveling type.
“He is not my father.” She spoke bluntly, as if the news should be no surprise to him. “My mother was already enceinte when she married him, and although he knew the child was not his, he wanted her dowry and the influence her family could bring him.”
“The bawbag!” he said, then waved a hand as she startled. “Go on.”
“He has never liked me. My sisters are his children, he made sure of it, and that is why he is kinder to them. While my mother was alive, he did not show his dislike of me quite so obviously, but she died two years ago, and he does not feel he has to pretend anymore. Especially now I have disgraced him.”
“Scandal upon scandal,” Rory said lightly.
She bit her lip, and there went her hands, twisting again. Her gaze was focused on him now, as if what she had to say next was very important to her, and he leaned forward to hear her better.
“What? You can say anything to me, I assure you. There is nothing I have not heard before.”
It was true. Women tended to hand their secrets into his safe-keeping. They trusted him, and despite the awkward position it sometimes put him into, he was rather proud of it.
“If you marry me, sir, I promise I will be no bother. I will do everything a wife should do, and I would never shame you with my actions. You can be as free as a bird and I will never scold you or ask for more than you are willing to give.”
For a moment Rory could not think of anything to say. The poor lass was so desperate she was willing to offer to subjugate her own wishes to his.
Then she leaned forward and he could see the swell of her bosom above her neckline, the flesh plump and enticing. Did she do it on purpose? Perhaps she was not so helpless as he had thought.
“I need a safe haven,” she said. “Somewhere I will not be under the power of my father. Once we marry, you can send me away, if you like. A cottage will do; I am not fussy. I will be no bother to you, I promise.”
“You do not even know me!” he said, standing up suddenly. He had startled her because she jerked back, staring up at him with wide dark eyes in her pale, tear-streaked face. “You do not even know me,” he said more quietly.
“I think I do,” she whispered. “You are not afraid of my father and that alone makes me think you are perfect for me. I cannot marry a man who takes his orders from Ormsby.”
Her gaze slid sideways to Fitt and she shuddered.
Rory found himself at a crossroads. This woman needed his help, and the thought of what might happen if he didn’t offer it .
. . But if he helped her, if he married her, then what?
Take her home to Bonnyrigg and his father’s ire?
Leg shackle himself to a woman he did not know and who was obviously carrying a great many personal demons.
You can be as free as a bird and I will never scold you or ask for more.
And yet it sounded like the perfect marriage for the confirmed ladies’ man and bachelor Rory considered himself to be. If he wanted a marriage at all then this would surely be the one.
He looked down and found her watching him, as if she could barely allow herself to hope.
“I must be insane,” he said.
Then, for the first time, he saw her face light up in a truly beautiful smile.