Chapter Twelve
London
Late September
“I f I didn’t know better, Marcus, I’d say you were trying to woo me .” The chuckle in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice held more than a touch of reproach. “I’ve seen you more in the past month than in the last two years.”
It was true. Marcus had sat slumped in the horsehair-covered chair in Mrs. D-L’s office, drink in hand at least once a week since he’d returned to London more than six weeks ago. The black-garbed lady had been the only person to whom he could bare his wounded heart, so he’d made a habit of visiting her every Sunday afternoon, her wry wit and no-nonsense attitude somehow fortifying him for the interminable week ahead of him. “If I were an intelligent man, I would be courting you, Bessie.” He’d started using her first name when he returned, and she hadn’t objected. “You are the best company any gentleman could wish for.”
“With one exception, in your case.”
Marcus’s jaw clenched. She only spoke the truth, of course. Thoughts of Joanna were never very far from his mind, much good they did him. “But in lieu of absent friends, you give me a great deal of comfort, my dear.”
“I am happy to have been a help, Marcus, especially in the first days of your disappointment.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon poured herself another brandy from the bottle they’d been sharing. “However, I think it is time you moved on.” The bottle hovered over his almost empty glass. “Or decided it’s time to try another approach with Lady Joanna.”
“Hah.” Marcus raised his glass and she poured until it was almost full. “That will be a cold day in hell. It’s over, Bessie.” He raised the glass and drained it in a gulp. “There is nothing I can say to his lordship that would induce him to allow me to marry her.”
“Then don’t ask him.”
Blearily, Marcus peered at the veiled figure. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said Lady Joanna was willing to marry you.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to ask her, but—” Memory of that searing kiss out among the heather transported Marcus for a moment to a world full of light and warmth. With an effort, he shook it off and fixed his focus on his current companion. “I believe had I asked her she would have said yes.”
“Then go to Middlesex, find a way to meet her, and elope to Gretna Green.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s exasperated tone said he’d outstayed his welcome at The Lyon’s Den. “You know you will not be happy until you do. And I, for one, am tired of seeing you moping about here every week, Marcus. You need to get on with your life and that means marrying Lady Joanna by any means necessary.”
“I cannot…I will not ask her to abandon her family, Bessie.” Marcus sat up in his chair, suddenly sober. “She might be willing to do so now, but eventually she would come to hate me for taking her away from them. Family is everything.” God knew he could never forsake his mother or his brothers and sisters, no matter how irksome them might be at times.
“You may feel that way, Marcus, but not everyone does. At least, give Lady Joanna the choice.”
“That might be easier said than done.” If he were to go to Middlesex, how on earth would he contact her?
“I have faith in you, Marcus.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose, bringing him somewhat unsteadily to his feet. “Now I must go about running my establishment and I suggest you do the same with yours.” She headed to the door. “You can see yourself out, I assume?”
Nodding, he collected his stick and hat and with a sigh, made his way out to his waiting carriage. Once seated, the coachman started the team and Marcus turned his thoughts to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s suggestion. Well, he’d used every other nefarious means to marry Joanna, so why not entertain the most direct—and most drastic—one?
An elopement with him would certainly put her beyond the pale as far as her brother was concerned. Could Marcus, in good conscience, take her family away from Joanna even if it meant they would be together for the rest of their lives? Would she be willing to do that? And if she did, would he be enough family for her throughout the years? They might expect children, might want them desperately, but that was no guarantee they would have them. With or without children, the ton society in which Joanna had been raised would be closed to her after their marriage. And he’d never allow her to become part of the underworld he’d grown up in. No children, no society, no friends. What if, after twenty years, all Joanna had to show for her life was him? Would he still be enough?
Thoughts spinning like a whirlwind, Marcus was surprised when the carriage pulled up in front of The Dandy. Time to get back in the saddle, so to speak. He was in the process of buying another property in London, thinking to open yet another gentleman’s gaming establishment, similar to The Dandy but aimed at a different clientele—the gentry and men like himself who had made a bit of blunt but weren’t quite comfortable gambling with the nobility. The new club would be exclusive—no lords allowed. At least, he hoped he could keep them out. The nobility had a knack of getting their way if they wanted something badly enough. He’d yet to think of a name for the new club. Perhaps he’d give that some thought over dinner tonight. Eating alone had the advantage of giving one plenty of time to think about things. Usually that was the time during his day when he thought the most about Joanna, so another subject would be welcome this evening.
Marcus exited the carriage, ran up the three marble steps to the door and knocked rapidly with his stick. The door opened to the sight of Snipe, the butler, his weathered face furrowed even more than usual. “What’s the matter, Snipe?” Marcus asked as the man helped him off with his cloak. “You look as though your favorite dog bit you.”
“There’s a lady here to see you, Mr. Dandridge.” The butler jerked his head toward the door of Marcus’s office.
Marcus sighed. “Ladies” often appeared asking for him at the Dandy, and before he’d met Joanna, he’d sometimes allow them to entertain him in his quarters, if they were comely enough. Since he’d fallen in love, however, he’d refused all such offers, as Snipe well knew. “Get rid of her, Snipe. You know my orders well enough.”
“But sir,” the butler said, lowering his voice, “she’s a real lady .” He shook his head. “Not like the others at all. That’s why I put her in your office. If anyone saw her in the club, it would ruin her reputation.”
“Did she give her name?” Now Marcus’s brow was furrowed as well.
“I didn’t like to ask, sir.”
Snipe was right about one thing. Ladies did not, as a rule, intrude into gentlemen’s clubs for fear of losing their reputations. So what female of good repute would be desperate enough to seek him out here? And who would Snipe deem a “real” lady? One of his sisters, perhaps? Shaking his head, Marcus strode to the door. There was one way to find out. He pushed down the latch and opened it.
The room had grown dim in the late afternoon sun, however he had no problem whatsoever recognizing the vision that rose from the chair in front of his desk.
“Marcus!” Joanna ran toward him, stopping his breath and making his heart ache with joy. Then she was in his arms and he truly thought he might go down on his knees, the dream of so many nights, now soft and warm and real. She laid her head on his chest and he managed to close the door before scooping her up and making straight for the chair she’d risen from.
Knees weak, he sat them down, wishing he could enfold her, keep her there with him forever. Unaware, he sat rocking back and forth, reveling in the feeling of her once again in his arms. “Joanna.” Her name came out a whisper, as if speaking loudly might break the spell that had conjured her. “I thought never to see you again.”
“I thought so too.” Her arms tightened around him. “It has been the most abysmal six weeks and two days of my life.”
“You counted the days?” He had as well.
“Of course I did. I’ve had very little else to do since we left Scotland.” She nuzzled her face against his chest. “So I counted the days and thought of you.”
“I see we have been similarly occupied.” He kissed the top of her head. “I cannot believe you are here.” His words brought Marcus up short and he stilled, released Joanna a little until he could look into her face. “How are you here?” A thrill of hope shot through him. “Has Lord Longford—” But the thought died immediately. “Your brother doesn’t know you are here, does he?”
“No, he does not.” She sat up, a petulant look on her beautiful face. “And it has taken me a full week to sneak out of the house and come here.”
“Why are you in London? I would have thought you’d be imprisoned at Longford Manor in Middlesex.” Not that he cared why she was here. It was miracle enough that she was.
“Oh, I am in Town for the Little Season. So I can catch a husband.” Joanna grinned up at him and his heart stuttered almost to a halt. However, his horror must have shown despite his efforts to keep his face impassive, for she stroked his cheek and pressed a fleeting kiss on his stunned lips. “Not catch a real husband, Marcus. Only you.”
Utterly undone, Marcus ran a hand over his face. “Joanna, please tell me what is going on.”
“I see I am explaining it badly.” She had the good grace to look contrite.
“I fear you are, my dear. Here.” He rose, then settled her in the chair and stalked over to the sideboard. If he remained in such close proximity to her, he feared he’d do something unforgiveable—though not regrettable. “If you will forgive me, I believe I need a drink.” He tipped the decanter of brandy and poured a stiff portion into a tumbler of Waterford crystal. “I’m sorry but I have no Maderia to offer you.”
“I can have what you’re drinking.” Her brows rose hopefully.
“That you cannot.” He frowned at her. “Ladies do not take strong spirits.”
“Ladies do not often shoot pistols either, but you taught me to do that.” She leaned toward him, enticingly. “I think you should teach me how to drink brandy as well.”
He hurried back toward her and sat in the chair beside her. Even though he longed to have her soft body pressed against him once more, he must keep a clear head as much as possible until she told him what she was doing at The Dandy. “You need to keep your wits about you, my dear, and brandy is certainly not conducive to that. I believe you were going to explain exactly what kind of husband you are here to catch.”
“Well of course, I am here to catch you, Marcus.” She smiled so brightly at him, his heart pounded in his chest. “Only I could not tell that to Geoffrey.” Her bright smile turned to an angry frown. “I have not spoken to my brother since we left Scotland.”
“You haven’t?” A trickle of alarm sounded in the back of Marcus’s head.
“No.” She shook her head and the petulant purse of her lips he’d always found charming appeared. “I haven’t said a word to him since he forbade me to have any hope of marrying you.”
“He’s done that for almost a year, my dear.” Marcus bit back his smile. Lord Longford had prohibited the match from the moment he’d learned of Marcus’s intention. “You brother has been quite vocal about it at every turn.” He cocked his head, curious. “What did he say in Scotland that made you so angry?”
Tears glistened in Joanna’s eyes. “After you left the room, Geoffrey said he would never give permission for us to marry.” She glanced at him, then down at her hands, suddenly stilled in her lap. “Even when I told him that I loved you and wouldn’t marry anyone but you.”
Stunned, Marcus clutched the chair’s arm with one hand and desperately sought somewhere to set his brandy down before the glass exploded in his frenzied grip. Had he actually heard her correctly? He opened his mouth to ask her to repeat it, but no sound came out. Clearing his throat, he managed to set the tumbler on the floor before grasping both her hands. “Did you truly say that, my dear?”
She glanced at him furtively, and nodded. “I did, because it’s true.” At last she met his eyes, as if unsure how her words would be received. As if there could be reason to doubt. “Geoffrey tried to say it was rebellion or infatuation, but I know what is in my heart.” She gripped his hands. “I love you, Marcus. Not only are you a good and kind person, but you are the most honorable man I know.” She gazed deeply into his eyes and his breath stopped, engulfed in the twin pools of blue. “No other gentleman has honored my wishes, never treated me as you have. Not as a silly woman who doesn’t know her own mind, but as a woman who is capable of anything she puts her mind to. And…” she dropped her gaze once more to her lap, “I don’t believe I shall ever find another gentleman who makes me feel the way you do…inside.”
This conversation must stop now. It was all Marcus could do to keep hold of Joanna’s hands instead of seizing her in his arms and kissing her senseless. To think that she believed him admirable and honorable was more than he’d ever dared dream to have from her. He could scarcely admit to having heard her confess that she loved him. And now to find he had stirred her passions simply overwhelmed him. Marcus sat staring at her lovely face, content to stay this way with her forever.
“So I told Geoffrey if he wouldn’t agree to our marriage, I wouldn’t marry anyone until I reached my majority and then I wouldn’t need his permission to marry you.” Her mouth puckered, another tear creeping from the corner of her eye. “That’s when he said that by that time, you’d have found some other society lady to marry. That all you really wanted was to raise your social status by marrying a title.”
He cupped her chin and peered into her face, finding his footing at last. “You know that is not true, don’t you, my love?” That might be true of other men in his position, but not him. “I wish to marry you because I love you too. From the moment I first saw you, that has been the truth of it.”
“I know, but Geoffrey was so hateful, and Thomas ultimately sided with him.” She sniffed and raised her chin. “You know they had such a row that day? That’s what we interrupted. Geoffrey was devilishly angry that Thomas had allowed you to stay and consort with me.” She managed a feeble grin. “When Thomas told him we’d been riding out alone, I thought my brother would have an apoplexy. Or plant Thomas a facer. So when it came to siding with me or Geoffrey about you, I suppose Thomas was trying to make amends.” Joanna sighed. “And that’s when I told Geoffrey I’d never speak to him again. And I haven’t.”
“For almost two months?” Marcus’s alarm at her determination reared its head again.
Joanna’s nodded. “I spoke to Mama and Diana after we reached Longford, but I said not one word to Geoffrey the entire week we were journeying home. I tried to read, but Geoffrey didn’t believe me at first and insisted on trying to make the most inane conversation. Finally, after two whole days of ignoring him, he became even more grumpy and took to riding beside the carriage, which was perfectly fine with me.” She sniffed again. “The silence was very conducive to my reading.”
Such a breach between brother and sister was the last thing Marcus had wanted. “But surely you reconciled with Lord Longford after you returned home?”
Vehemently she shook her head. “No, Marcus, I will not relent and forgive him unless he allows us to marry.”
“But he is your family, my dear.” He couldn’t imagine forsaking one of his own brothers.
“But I want you to be my family too, Marcus.” The plaintive sound in her voice almost broke his heart. “Whenever I sit and hold little Geoffrey, all I can think is he might be a little Marcus or Marcella. I want it so badly I feel wicked.”
“Little Geoffrey?”
“The baby.” Joanna’s face lit up with a glow of pride. “He’s just the sweetest child, Marcus. He hardly ever fusses. Or at least not when I hold him.”
“He was born after you returned to Longford?” Marcus could scarcely believe her brother would have left his wife so close to her lying in.
“Oh, no. He came early in August. On the Glorious Twelfth to be exact.” She laughed and squeezed his hand. “That is why Geoffrey arrived at the lodge so quickly. He never received Thomas’s letter informing him you were there. Two days after the baby was born, he set out on his horse, which was faster than the carriage, to fetch me home.”
Marcus nodded, sobered. “I’d wondered how he arrived in Scotland so quickly. But I am happy the child is well. And an heir. Lord Longford must be well pleased.”
“I suppose so.” Joanna shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
“But if you haven’t spoken to your brother, how did you persuade him to allow you to come to London?”
A sly smile crossed her lips. “I persuaded Mama. I told her I was so angry with Geoffrey that I no longer wished to reside at Longford. Which was true enough. But I told her I wished to come to Town for the Little Season to find a husband who would take me away from Longford and Geoffrey.” She settled back in her chair, stroking the backs of his hands. “So I have come to Town to find a husband—you.” Her smile reached from ear to ear. “How soon can we be married?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words rang in his ears. He and Joanna could leave for Scotland this evening and be in Gretna Green in less than a week if the weather held and he could pay for fast horses on the way up. The journey back could be taken at a more leisurely pace. Joanna was more than willing, and if they could evade pursuit for the first night and day, they likely would have no trouble.
Except there would be hell to pay when they returned and confessed all to Lord Longford. If he’d even give them an audience. More likely, neither he nor Joanna would ever see him again. Did Joanna realize that was what marriage to him meant? That the sacrifice would be greater than she ever expected?
“My dear.” He captured her hands and held them still. “There is nothing on this earth I would rather do than marry you and be your husband for the rest of our lives. But I cannot, as an honorable man, agree to take you away from your family in order to do so.”
“But Marcus, I don’t care—”
“One day, I suspect you will care.” He rubbed her hands, searching for words to make her understand. “Care very much if you cannot comfort your mother in her last hours. Sincerely regret that little Marcus will never be allowed to play with little Geoffrey.” He swallowed hard. “And in the end you will resent me for taking you away from the family you love.”
“I would never resent you.” She gripped his hands back. “I love you.”
“If you do, then let us try once more to change your brother’s mind.” God knew that sounded like the words of a mad man. “I love you enough that I do not wish to do anything as dishonorable as steal you away from your family. Give me time to devise a plan that will persuade him to have a change of heart.”
“A man cannot have a change of heart if he has no heart to change.” Joanna stood abruptly and Marcus bounded to his feet, fearing she would reject him as well. “But I give you leave to try. We are in Town for the next few weeks,” she gave him a no-nonsense look that chilled him, “but I hope you can come up with a plan sooner rather than later. Until you do, I will have to go about to entertainments and pretend to be looking for a husband when I already have my prospect secured.” Her determination would have been charming had her tone not been so frightening. “Do not force me to take matters into my own hands, Marcus.”
“I would never do that, my love.” He kissed her lips, the merest touch, then stepped away before his body and soul persuaded him otherwise. “Did you come in a carriage?”
“Yes, my maid is sitting in it around the corner. I told my mother we were going for a ride in the park. It was the fashionable hour, so no one should be the wiser.” Her eyes twinkled.
“And your maid and the coachman will be discreet?” Some servants could be trusted—or bribed with sufficient funds—to keep one’s whereabout a secret.
“Coates has been with me for years. And I’ve promised Jeter a small fortune to swear we’ve been at Hyde Park this afternoon.” Joanna gripped her reticule, the coins jingling merrily inside. “Will you see me out?”
Marcus glanced at her, then shook his head. “One precaution, if you will indulge me.” He stepped to the door and called for Snipe. “Fetch me the gray cloak I use in wet weather.” Turning back to Joanna, he grinned at her. “I wouldn’t wish for your reputation to be called into question if anyone saw you leaving a gentlemen’s club. I’ll live in fear someone saw you come in.”
“I waited until the street was deserted,” Joanna assured him. “And your butler seemed to understand no one inside should see me either. He all but pushed me inside this room and slammed the door.” She chuckled. “I almost expected to hear him turn the key in the lock.”
“Snipe is the soul of discretion. Ah, here he is now.” The butler handed the cloak to Marcus and shut the door with a snap. “This will disguise you completely.” He draped the large garment over her, pulling it this way and that until it covered every inch of her. It dragged the ground, and the voluminous sides swallowed Joanna until she scarcely had a shape, but that was the point. He pulled the hood up over her bonnet until she was merely a gray-shaped figure, less recognizable than Mrs. Dove-Lyon in her black veil. “I will walk you to your carriage and you will go straight home, do you understand?”
“Yes, Marcus.” She answered meekly enough, but before he could open the door she pulled him to her and kissed him long and thoroughly. Then she stepped back, adjusted the hood over her head, and nodded.
Without another word, Marcus took her arm and led her out of The Dandy, praying anyone who might see her would assume her simply another light skirt he’d had in for a bit of sport. He opened the carriage door and assisted her inside, then closed it and stepped back as the coachman started the team.
Marcus stood watching until the carriage was swallowed up in the late afternoon traffic and he turned his feet back toward The Dandy. Plans for his newest gaming venture would have to wait. He had perhaps a week before Joanna grew tired of waiting for his next scheme to win over her stubborn brother. And if Lady Joanna Longford grew impatient, she would likely take matters into her own hands.
And then God help them all.