Chapter 7
Meredith and Darius took their lunch in the gardens the following morning, at a table Mr. Chelsea had arranged for them. When the household had heard how Meredith had dined with Darius’s uncle in the gardens, they seemed charmed by the idea and took the opportunity to offer it to her.
Meredith had tried to stop the footmen from carrying out a table to the back terrace, something she had always done, but Mr. Chelsea had politely instructed the servants to ignore Meredith’s orders and proceed as instructed.
“You are a valued member of this household, Miss Montague and we are pleased to serve you on such occasions,” The butler had said with such sincerity that her heart had clenched with a rush of emotions.
Meredith could do nothing but stand there, blushing as she witnessed such a thoughtfulness from people who barely knew her.
But it shouldn’t have surprised her. They were Darius’s staff, and just like him, they were wonderfully kind.
She knew of course they were paid to serve Darius and his guests, but they didn’t have to be kind or caring, yet they were.
She credited that partially to the people themselves, but also because Darius was such a generous employer that he inspired such love and loyalty among his staff.
Darius came up beside her and gave her waist a gentle squeeze that sent butterflies through her belly. He led her out to the table and helped her into her seat, leaning in in to whisper in her ear.
“Never argue with our dear Mr. Chelsea, Meredith. The butler is always right.” Darius gave a wink to Mr. Chelsea, who nodded in agreement, but Meredith was convinced she saw Mr. Chelsea’s lips twitch with a smile beneath his stoic exterior.
Darius took a seat opposite her at the cozy little table, and they both accepted plates of food from the footmen. “You and Uncle Ben did this often?”
“Yes. It was our tradition when the weather suited.” Meredith’s face pinkened yet again as she tried to avoid Darius’s gaze.
She hadn’t yet faced him after the endless kisses in his bedchamber last night, and she felt shier than ever.
Somehow, being with Darius in the dark, she had been a different woman, a braver woman.
He watched her steadily now, his eyes holding a gleam of mischief.
Is he truly not going to mention last night? Very well, she would not mention it either.
“Oh, that reminds me, Chelsea ran into Mr. Dobbs, the Crell’s butler. It seems that the Crells will be relocating to the countryside, somewhere just north of Surrey.”
“Was Mrs. Crell well? Was he able to ascertain why the bedroom had been stripped of its sheets? I noticed the room was still empty this morning.”
“Yes, as to that, Chelsea was able to learn that Mrs. Crell will be departing soon for the country, in advance of her husband. They’ve been packing up her things and she is eager to leave and settle in with the new staff.”
“Eager? Are you quite sure? She sounded a little reluctant when I spoke to her. She didn’t want to be alone in the countryside.”
Darius frowned slightly. “That may be true, and it is possible that Dobbs wouldn’t want to make his mistress appear unhappy about the move, but she is leaving.
He said he was just seen to her breakfast when Mr. Chelsea had passed him on the street.
As to the empty bedchamber, it seems that given the marital discord between Louis and Minerva, they have not been sharing a bedchamber in years.
Louis sleeps on the opposite side of the house. ”
Darius did not have to point out to her how rational that explanation was for everything she’d seen, but she couldn’t shake the sense that something was still…
not right. Perhaps it was just that she knew Mrs. Crell was unhappy and was likely to be more unhappy in the country.
There was little Meredith could do for the woman once she left London.
Turning to the butler, she met the man’s gaze. “Thank you so much for inquiring about Mrs. Crell and her health, Mr. Chelsea, I deeply appreciate it.”
The butler’s eyes softened on her. “Of course, Miss Montague.”
She and Darius talked about their plans for the day and how he wanted to take her to Gunter’s for a flavored ice soon.
Delighted at the thought of spending time with Darius, she eagerly agreed to the plans.
They were in the middle of a rather exciting discussion of gothic novels when a footman left the house and stepped out onto the terrace.
Mr. Chelsea received a silver tray from the approaching footman. “A letter has come for you, Miss Montague.” He offered the tray to Meredith. She picked up the letter and gasped. It bore the Prince Regent’s royal seal.
Darius leaned forward. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I believe it is.” Her hands trembled as she broke the seal and read the letter.
Dear Miss Montague,
I hope last night’s festivities have left you excited to see more of London. I have made some inquiries regarding the matter we discussed at Lady Hazlitt’s ball. Once I have news, you will hear from me at once.
The prince had scrawled his name beneath his message.
“Heavens,” said Meredith.
“Good heavens or bad heavens?” Darius asked with a teasing glint in his blue eyes which were as clear as a summer sky today. She was coming to learn his moods through how the color changed.
“I… I believe good heavens.” She paused, considering her next words carefully.
“Oh?” Darius sipped his tea, then picked up his newspaper where Mr. Chelsea had thoughtfully set it out for him.
“It seems the Prince of Wales wishes to aid me in my efforts to find a husband.”
“What?” Darius, who had been about to peruse his paper, now cast it aside. “Truly?”
“Yes…” Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to mention the prince’s intentions.
Darius’s eyes darkened a little. “While his aid is appreciated, I shall have the final say in who you marry.”
The finality in his tone sparked a flare of anger in her. “Shouldn’t I have the final say?” Meredith straightened her back, eyeing him stiffly. “Seeing as how I shall be trapped with the man, not you?”
Darius’ eyes darkened, but he didn’t appear upset. Rather, she thought she detected a faint appreciation of her defiance. His gaze turned thoughtful. “Do you see marriage as a trap?”
“No, I don’t, not exactly, but…” But marriage to anyone but you would feel like a trap, she silently added. Out loud, she edited her thoughts. “Any marriage to the wrong person would feel like a trap.”
She considered how she’d been sitting up on his lap last night, kissing him.
Now here they were, calmly discussing her marriage to another man.
Did he not care at all? Then again, how could he?
Men were driven by their desires, and their fates were not tied to marriage the way a woman’s was.
How could he understand that those kisses meant everything to her if they meant nothing to him?
“On that, we agree.” He took another sip of his tea. “What do you seek in a man then?”
“Someone kind… Someone who enjoys learning, a man who would not mind sharing himself with me and letting me share myself with him. I would like to be on an equal footing in my marriage, but…” Her fingertips slid over the note from the prince as she suddenly frowned.
“Given the circumstances of my birth, such a thing might not be possible.” That simple truth was the source of her deepest misery.
“If it is not, then you shall not marry,” Darius declared as if that settled the matter.
Meredith paused in her eating to stare at him. “But…I must marry.”
“Why? You could accept my support for the remainder of your life.”
It took her a moment to realize that he’d just offered her what his cousin Harry had, with possibly the same intentions since she’d been on his lap last night, kissing him.
Yet, her heart told her that Darius would never be cruel, never hurt her or force her to do anything, not like Harry would have.
Still, her heart sank even lower at realizing this.
Even if he did treat her with the utmost respect, that would be all she could hope for.
It wasn’t as though she and Darius could ever marry, she was too far beneath him in status.
It would be a disastrous match, and it could do immeasurable damage to his life.
“Your cousin already offered that to me, how could you even suggest that?” She knew she failed to hide the pain in her tone because he reached for her hand, catching it when she tried to pull away.
“No, sweetheart, not like that. You’d stay as my ward, my responsibility for the remainder of my life. I’d see that you had a trust put in place so that you’d be safe from people like Harry, just as my uncle did.”
Even if she did agree to stay with Darius like that, it couldn’t be forever. She had a terrible thought. He could not marry someone like her, but he would have to marry someone or else Harry would take his title and his estate. It was a future no one except harry wanted to come to pass.
“And when you marry? You cannot put off the expectations of your position forever. I would no doubt be considered some pitiful creature the future Duchess of Tiverton would despise.” She pulled her hand free of his as a pit dropped out in her stomach.
The thought of being a charity case to Darius had become so upsetting that she got up from the table and rushed toward the back gardens, needing a moment to calm herself.
Marriage wasn’t important to her. Belonging to someone who loved her was what mattered, but unfortunately that would not be an easy thing to secure, especially when her heart tugged her in the direction of Darius.
She did not have the luxury of being a woman of independent means who could afford the consequences of being an unmarried woman who took a lover.
She sat on a stone bench against the tall back wall of the gardens and caught her breath.
She fisted her hands in her skirts, wrinkling the lovely green gown she wore.