Chapter Five
Marlow
She was in London. Miss Wood.
Her brother’s letter had stated it simply enough—they’d arrived; here was their address; please come at my earliest convenience.
As though I might come like a dog whenever they beckoned me.
“You look murderous, Marlow,” Maggie said, teacup clinking against its saucer as she set it down.
She and her husband had arrived in my absence for a short time away from home.
Gabriel too. My mother was beside herself with happiness to have a full, boisterous house, and Maggie was happy to have some time away without her daughters.
I loved them all. But I’d like them a lot more when my affairs were situated.
“More tea?” Maggie prodded.
Since she’d married and become a mother, achieved all her life’s goals so to speak, Maggie had turned to Gabriel and me with a renewed interest. Gabriel called it purpose, I called it boredom, but whichever it was, whenever we gathered, her meddling grated on our nerves.
Before having a family of her own, she’d played mother to both Gabriel and me, always despondent when one of us misbehaved.
Many times, we ran away and hid from her, but she’d find us. She always did.
“No, thank you, cousin. I should respond to this.” I waved the letter in the air and stood.
“Always responding to important letters nowadays,” she teased. “What is it this time? Parliament collapsing in your absence? Another damsel in distress?”
Gabriel lowered his paper, half amused, half as interested and meddlesome as his sister.
I rolled my eyes at them both. They would find out about Miss Wood soon enough. “My friend has arrived from Hampshire. I should write and invite her to Lord and Lady Waymont’s party.”
Maggie sat back in her seat. “A woman?”
“A friend,” I said pointedly.
“Gabriel, are you hearing this?” She turned around in her seat, a catlike grin on her face. “Lucas has a lady friend he’s inviting to the Waymonts’ party.”
“Do we know her?” Gabriel asked over his paper. “What’s the chit’s name?”
“She’s not a chit,” I corrected him, more so I would not have to hear his slang than because I cared what he called her. “And her name is none of your business.”
The two of them exchanged wide eyes and wider grins.
“On the contrary, it sounds like her name is very much our business,” Gabriel said. “Is she handsome?”
I groaned. This was my house, despite how often the two of them descended upon it, and I would not be barraged with questions over this ridiculous and very temporary arrangement.
“She is hardly worth noting,” I said, pacing toward the door.
“Hardly worth noting. I have never heard him speak in such raptures over a woman in my life,” Maggie said. “Gabriel, I think our cousin has found love at last.”
For the first time in his life, Gabriel looked halfway serious. “Did you get the ring? From . . . what was the fellow’s name? The man in Derbyshire.”
Hampshire. It was incredible that Gabriel and I had studied under the same tutors. For once, I was grateful for his drinking habits and poor memory. Otherwise I’d have to explain why I had Mr. Wood’s sister at my side.
“I have it sorted, but—”
“Perfect. I assume she is qualified for the role?”
Then, Maggie chimed in. “Lucas, who is she?”
At the moment, I wished I had a drinking habit. My shoulders had gone from relaxed to tense in the space of sixty seconds, and I was ready to bolt from the room. “Her name is Miss Georgiana Wood.”
Maggie frowned, turning thoughtful.
“I’ve heard that name.” Gabriel’s brows scrunched together. “Maggie, where have I heard that name?”
“I have heard it too. Hampshire, you say?”
“Thereabouts. Deep in the country. You likely have never met—”
Maggie snapped her fingers, pointing at Gabriel. “Lady Demsworth’s son. What is his name, the redheaded baron?”
“Sir Ronald.”
“Yes!” she breathed. “Penelope Longfellow was at that party—the one where Miss Wood threw herself on poor Sir Ronald and caused such horrible scandal for the family. It was in the papers, but Penelope said they didn’t report the half of it.
Rumor has it, Miss Wood and Sir Ronald were beholden to each other, and then he met some lowly girl from Brighton and changed course.
Miss Wood could not bear it and tried to force his hand. ”
Beholden to each other? Maggie read far too many gossip papers.
Gabriel harrumphed, somehow both surprised and impressed at the same time. “A woman scorned.”
“Rumors,” I clipped. “And I won’t entertain them. Miss Wood will accompany me—us—on a few outings while I am here in London. Keep your thoughts on the matter to yourselves.”
Maggie scoffed. “You cannot be serious. That girl is so far beneath us, it’s embarrassing.”
Interesting, because she seemed to be everything my cousin admired—clever, cunning, and resilient. “Margaret, I am not in any mood—”
“Forcing me into the company of a trollop!” Maggie huffed angrily. “You’re not—” She drew in a sharp breath of surprise and sudden understanding. “Lucas, tell me you’re not . . . cavorting with this woman.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. He dropped his paper and gripped the arms of his chair. “Whatever you’re doing, marry her first so the child at least can be legitimate.”
Gads, my family would be my death. How had Father managed all that he had in addition to the dramatics of the family?
I managed hundreds if not thousands of livelihoods beneath our name, and my cousins still expected me to worry about the opinions of others?
It was exhausting. I owed them no explanation, but I would have the final say.
“I am not—” I started, voice loud and firm. I immediately regretted falling prey to their theatrics. My jaw set. “I will remind you both who you are speaking to.”
Gabriel quickly bowed his head. But Maggie stared back, her nose in the air. “I know exactly who I am speaking to. And, yes, you are the Duke of Marlow. So you must think of the family—”
“I think of nothing else!”
She drew back at my tone, eyes downcast, cheeks reddening. Gabriel froze in his seat.
I hated it. Hated how I sounded. Hated how they reacted as though I might actually throw them out on their backs. My father had never once raised his voice at me. Would that I could be so patient and steady. That I could instill so much confidence that no one questioned me at all.
Maggie did not understand. And, frankly, I did all this so none of them would have to. I softened my voice. “My judgment stands. If you are in disagreement, you are welcome to leave.”
I ought to say I did not want them to leave.
That I’d like for them to understand how difficult these things were to manage, and that for once, I wanted something for myself—Grandmother’s ring.
The one she’d worn every day for as long as I could remember.
Whenever I was sad, she’d take me in her lap and let me trace the gems with my finger.
I missed it. I missed her. That ring personified comfort from disappointment, safety in the middle of a storm, and deep breaths when responsibility had come too soon.
Perhaps one day its wearer would feel what I felt when I’d looked at it.
Gabriel, at my request, had moved it from one of our country estates to London, then he’d gambled it away. Could I not reacquire it without having to explain myself to the few people I should be able to count on no matter what?
Maggie swallowed hard and straightened her back. Slowly, she stood with all the elegance of a queen and curtseyed. “As you wish, Your Grace.” The look she gave was nothing short of mocking. Then she turned on a heel and left the room in a sweep of skirts.
I waited a few beats to let the drumming in my chest settle. Following her would only upset her more. Gabriel settled back in his chair with his paper.
That had not gone well at all.
I folded Mr. Wood’s note and made my own departure.
In the foyer, voices sounded nearby. Maggie, I imagined, taking out her frustrations on some poor soul.
I took the stairs to the upper floor, past the library to my private chamber until every sound and every moving thing went still.
Sometimes I wished I’d had a real sibling. Gabriel and Maggie were as good as, having been forced into my company nearly every day of my childhood and then tutored and polished alongside me into adulthood. Little good it did us, for even as adults, we still fought like children.
At times like this, I found myself wondering what true companionship felt like.
What would it feel like to have someone in those quiet hours at home?
Someone to help share the weight I carried.
The burden of the dukedom. The loss of one perfect duke and father, the large missing piece at the center of it all.
I closed my bedroom door behind me and leaned back. No time for sentimental thoughts. I had a duty, and a plan, and one particularly irksome problem.
Miss Wood. And the Waymonts’ party.
I hated the theatrics of it all. The entire play that was the London Season, and most of all, the cast of actors known as the ton.
The fact that Miss Wood sought their approval, that she wanted their attention was enough to prove that I was lying about any supposed friendship.
She was exactly the type of woman I had no interest in spending time with.
Maggie and Gabriel would see that soon enough without my having to explain myself.
They might wonder why I kept her around, but they wouldn’t worry over it when she left.
I tossed Mr. Wood’s letter on my round table in the corner and found a note waiting.
In Mother’s elegant hand.
I read the title with a quick glance: Eligible Ladies of Note.
I spat out a curse as I fell into my leather chair and idly picked up the page. She meant well. She wanted to help. And of late, at this time of year, we both needed to be kept busy.
Most of her names I recognized. A few piqued my interest, namely one who Mother had highlighted as being mature and independent, both excellent qualities for a duchess—Lady Diana Thompson.
She’d made her debut last Season, when I was decidedly absent chasing down the last of our family’s lost holdings and engaged to Miss Newbury. I knew Lady Diana, but not well.
Lady Diana’s name had also appeared on the list I’d asked my steward to make of eligible women from financially stable families in the ton.
I wanted to align myself with a woman from a family with good sense, should, heaven forbid, she have to lead the future duke in my stead until my heir came of age.
Always look ahead, my father had so often said.
For it was my uncle who hadn’t, who’d cared only for the present, and who’d ultimately ruined us.
I would not be so daft, seeking pleasure in the moment without thought to the consequences.
Someone had to be even-keeled. Someone had to bear the weight of the whole.
My father had been that man for so long, but now it was my burden to bear.
I set Mother’s note aside and pulled out a sheet of paper, ink jar, and pen. The polite thing to do would be to return Mr. Wood’s letter. To call upon them and welcome them to London.
I was not feeling very polite.