Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
M arina was enjoying a perfectly lovely breakfast—didn't everything taste especially delicious this morning? —and having a genial conversation about the fashion of decades past with Lady Manford, a contemporary of the dowager duchess, when she caught sight of Martin.
He was standing—hovering, really—in the doorway of the breakfast room, out of sight of everyone but Marina, making furtive summoning motions. Marina assumed he thought he was being subtle. For a moment, she considered pretending she hadn't seen him, but, as if he could read her intentions, his gestures became even more dramatic.
And she'd been having such a nice morning, too. As it turned out, physical pleasure did wonderful things for one's sleep, and Marina had woken feeling more well rested than she could remember feeling in years.
Stifling an inward sigh, Marina offered an apologetic smile to Lady Manford. "If you would excuse me for a moment, my lady." Lady Manford nodded kindly, turning happily to her kippers, and Marina slipped from the room.
"Finally!" Martin rolled his eyes in exasperation when Marina approached him, then seized her by the arm, all but dragging her a few paces further away from the potential prying ears in the breakfast room.
"Yes, Martin?" Marina asked with exaggerated sweetness when they finally came to a halt, yanking her arm pointedly from his grasp. "Can I help you?"
Martin scowled at her. One of these days, Marina was going to punch him. "I thought you might wish to know," he said in a beleaguered tone, as if he were doing her the favor, "that you've almost done it."
"Done what?" Marina asked tiredly.
"Bagged the duke!" said Martin in an excited shout-whisper. "I have to say, Marina, I didn't have much faith in you, but apparently you've managed it. Lord only knows how. But I was just speaking to him about our business endeavor, and I commented how you really ought to have been married by now, and how I ought to have been firmer with you about it. And he leapt right to your defense! Isn't that marvelous?"
Marina blinked a few times, struggling to keep up with this frankly insulting little speech. "Wait," she said. "Just wait a moment, Martin—you insulted me to the duke?"
Martin gave her a pitying look. "It's hardly a secret that you remain unwed at your advanced age, Marina," he said.
"I am two and twenty ," she protested.
He winced, as if in commiseration. "I know. But perhaps all the faffing about you've done instead of finding yourself a proper suitor will turn out to be worth something after all! You clearly have the duke on the hook; why else would he have bothered to defend you?"
There were so many ridiculous layers to this offensive nonsense of Martin's that Marina hardly knew where to begin. Marina decided to go with the most essential bit which was, alas, a lie.
"Martin," she said, striving to sound as firm and calm as possible. "As I told you last night—there is nothing going on between me and the duke. You must listen to me."
"If that's your strategy, it's certainly working," Martin said.
"No," Marina started to argue. "It's not a strategy—"
But Martin continued because, alas, why would he bother listening to Marina? "I'm surprised, personally. I thought you'd have to raise your skirts to lure him in—"
"Martin!" Marina exclaimed, utterly shocked.
But Martin rolled his eyes, continuing as Marina gaped at him in offense. "Oh, please, Marina. Don't be missish. Perhaps some of you young ladies manage to remain pure as snow, but I know that there's more than a handful of seductresses in the lot. One can hardly fault you for being canny about securing yourself a husband—"
Marina stopped listening. If she kept listening, she was going to scream, or else smash Martin upside the head with something very heavy. It wasn't as though Marina was entirely ignorant about what happened between men and women—last night had been proof enough of that—but the way Martin spoke about it felt…sordid.
He made the whole thing seem nefarious and shameful when the night prior had felt anything but. It had felt lovely and intimate and special. And if Marina kept listening, he was going to make her feel like she had done something shameful, somehow, and she refused to feel that way, refused to let her cousin's appalling commentary take away the wonderful shine from her memory.
She let her focus drift as Martin prattled on about how Marina was finally pulling her weight and how this alliance would prove profitable for his business. Just then, at what was either the worst timing in the world or the best, Percy came down the stairs behind Martin and caught Marina's eye. He smiled a crooked little smile, a knowing little smile, and Marina just knew he was thinking of the night before.
Marina tensed every muscle in her body in an effort not to react. If she blushed, Martin would turn around. And if Martin turned around, he'd see that the duke was the reason for Marina's blush, and that would make this whole situation that much more challenging. She took a measured, steadying breath.
Percy, who was evidently a bit of a rapscallion in addition to being dashed seductive and frequently quite annoying, did not make things easy on her. Instead, he tipped his head towards Martin and pulled a ridiculous face, moving his mouth in an exaggerated talking motion that said he assumed—rightfully—that Martin was talking nonsense.
Marina had to bite her lips to keep from laughing. She transformed this motion, as well as she could, into a serious nod. "Mmm," she said sympathetically to Martin. She had absolutely no idea what she'd just sympathized with, but her cousin seemed appeased, and launched more energetically into his diatribe.
Over Martin's shoulder, Percy lifted his hands, curling them into a brief but impassioned gesture of grabbing someone by the neck and giving them a robust shake.
Marina coughed.
The problem was that she liked Percy. Oh, yes, he was an utter termagant, constantly driving her mad, and Lord only knew he was far too charming and attractive for his own good. But, atop all that, Marina liked him . She liked his jokes and she liked the way he smiled at his friends and family and she liked the way he made her feel seen. That was why, no matter Martin's agenda, she refused to allow Percy to get caught up in her cousin's scheming: he was a good person and he didn't deserve to be manipulated because of a greedy earl's desire for fortune.
"Are you listening to me, Marina?" Martin demanded tersely.
Marina focused her attention back on her cousin and firmly kept it there. "Of course, Martin," she soothed.
"It is simply that this is very important for me. I cannot have you mucking it up. I know your father let you run around wild, but I am head of the family now. You clearly require a firm hand."
Marina felt this was unfair in a number of ways but lacked the energy to quarrel with her cousin at the moment.
"I understand, Martin," she said tiredly. Anything to end the conversation—today was her last day at this beautiful house, with these nice people, and Marina was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. Martin and his pressures and his threats would still be here tomorrow. "I'll do my best."
Her shift towards agreement took some of the wind out of Martin's sails. "Well, er, good," he said firmly.
"Perhaps I'll go speak with Lady Lucy?" Marina suggested. "As she is the duke's sister?" she added, not trusting Martin's capacity for logical conclusions.
"Hm, yes, good idea, Marina," said Martin, sounding victorious. "Glad to see you've finally seen the right of things."
Marina just gave a tight smile; it was the best she could manage but seemed enough for Martin.
When she looked down the hallway again, Percy was gone.
He found her in the garden; he should have known.
Percy had given up on pretending he wasn't looking for Marina. After leaving her in the hallway with her odious cousin, he'd spent a quarter of an hour in discussion with Mr. Belford, a gentleman farmer who lived nearby, assessing the robust crop yields this year. Normally, this would have been a conversation Percy enjoyed—he always appreciated tips on how to improve the fortunes of his estates and its tenants, and the elderly man had been working this land for decades—but today found himself exceedingly impatient to end their parlay.
Once he managed to extricate himself, leaving Mr. Belford to a comfortable chair in which to enjoy a midmorning nap, Percy poked his head into the expected rooms—parlor, drawing room, library—in search of Marina but did not find her.
"What are you doing?"
The voice from behind him made him jump. He'd been so focused on his task that he'd failed to keep track of his surroundings—namely, nosy little sisters who might sneak up on him.
Percy rounded to face Lucy. "Nothing," he said, sounding guilty and defensive even to his own ears.
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Yes," she drawled. "You certainly look like you're doing nothing."
Was it just Percy, or had everyone in this household gotten very sarcastic all of a sudden? First Joseph, now Lucy. Even his mother was shooting him knowing little glances. Why was everyone insisting on acting as though they knew some salacious secret?
Because you very obviously like Marina and keep lying about it , said an irritating little voice in the back of his mind.
Splendid. Now even his own thoughts were being sarcastic with him.
"Very well," conceded Percy. "I'm looking for someone." He stepped past his sister and headed down the hallway. Where else could he look? Hopefully Marina hadn't returned to her room; he'd never manage to sneak up there this time of day, not without getting caught by half the servants and three quarters of the guests.
Lucy, of course, followed him. "Who?" she asked.
Percy scowled down at her. What was she doing badgering him when the whole purpose of this party was so that she could practice socializing before their journey to town? "Don't you have anything better to do?" he asked peevishly.
"No," answered Lucy pertly. "And you're dodging the question."
"And you're being nosy," he countered. "Leave me alone. I'm very busy."
Lucy laughed at him, the impertinent little beast. This was what came of a lifetime of loving and being playful with one's sister. Being an elder brother was clearly an entirely thankless position.
"Very well," she said. "I'll leave you to your important business." He began walking away and then, after a pause just long enough that he'd begun to feel that he'd won that exchange, she called out after him, "Lady Marina is in the garden, just so you know!"
Percy made a faint growling sound without turning around and walked away to the sound of Lucy's laughter.
Sure enough, though, he found Marina, sitting on a stone bench near the folly, looking pretty as a picture. Percy slowed his steps, taking a moment to drink her in. She was wearing a soft muslin morning dress in a cornflower blue that made the flush of her sun-warmed complexion look even rosier. She had her eyes closed and was leaning back slightly, seeming to enjoy the freshness of spring. He even found her bonnet charming, Lord help him. Her bonnet .
His foot crunched on the gravel as he approached and she opened her eyes, face splitting into a smile when she saw him. Something in Percy's chest twisted and he wondered if, just maybe, he'd allowed this thing with her to go too far.
"Oh, good," she said. "You found me."
She just meant that he'd found her here, in the garden—Percy knew that. At the same time, however, he could not stop himself from thinking of the broader implications, that he had found her, that when this woman had stumbled into his life, he had located a treasure he hadn't even known he was looking for.
With some effort, Percy pushed those thoughts away. He wasn't seeking a bride and Marina needed a husband, no matter how much thinking of her wedded to someone else felt like a slap, sudden and vicious.
These thoughts had no place in the perfect sunny moment here, now, with her in the garden. He smiled in return. "So I have."
Marina rose to meet him. "I thought perhaps you'd left me to languish in retribution for my cruelly abandoning you last night," she teased.
Percy pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. "My lady, you wound me, that you would think me so low, so beholden to petty grudges."
Her peal of laughter was brighter and warmer than the spring sunshine. "Alas," she said, taking his proffered arm. "Now I must apologize twice."
They began walking, their pace leisurely. "Never fear, fair maid," Percy said, now adopting a gallant tone. "I forgive you all your ills."
"My hero," simpered Marina, pressing a hand to her brow.
She was teasing, but the praise pleased him anyway.
They walked a few more paces, Marina trailing her fingers across sprigs of lavender. Lavender , Percy realized now. That was what she smelled like . And now she'd smell like it even more—because of the flowers in his garden.
"I need to tell you," she said, growing suddenly serious. This wasn't the first time Percy had seen her mood shift thus, from playful to solemn in an instant—he hated it. It made him feel as though her worries were constantly hanging over her, like a cloud threatening rain, and it made him feel irritable and helpless to know he couldn't banish them.
"Martin is on a tear about you again. I put him off, but I don't think he believed me."
This irritated Percy as well—not just the reminder of Packley, though certainly that, too, but the idea of Marina denying their relationship. That was foolish, of course, he reminded himself. Secrecy was paramount.
"Don't worry," Percy reassured her. "As I told you yesterday—you needn't defend me."
Marina smiled, but a tightness remained around her eyes. "Funny you should mention that, actually," she said. "As the thing that set Martin off was you reportedly defending me ."
Percy couldn't stifle the slight wince.
Marina echoed the expression. "I'm sorry," she said, and it was so hideous that Marina was apologizing for her dreadful cousin that Percy wanted to hit something. "He can be most trying, I know. But you mustn't let him get under your skin—it'll only make him suspicious and then he'll become even more persistently irritating. You didn't have to do anything on my account, really."
Now Percy frowned. It was unconscionable that not only did Marina's cousin not protect her as he ought, but that apparently nobody protected her. The lack of care she received was evidently so pronounced that she no longer expected it from anyone.
"Yes," he said insistently. "I did."
This only made Marina look more concerned, however. "Was it so very dreadful, then?" she asked. "What he said?"
Over his bleeding dead corpse would Percy be repeating what her arse of a cousin had said about her. "No," he said. "I was just looking for a fight."
"Liar," she accused, but she squeezed his arm in a gesture of gratitude as she said it. "Still," she said, now walking a little bit closer to him than was respectable. An absurd, territorial part of Percy wished there were someone out here to see. "Martin can be pushy, so be careful. I worry."
Percy halted then, stepping in front of her and taking a hold of her upper arms. He'd foregone gloves this morning, and he felt her cool skin warm beneath his palms. "Marina," he said. "I will say it again—don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. God knows I've had to learn." This last part slipped out without Percy's entirely meaning it to. She was just so dashed easy to talk to.
Marina's head tilted slightly to the side in curiosity and, blast it, her brow furrowed in that concern he so wished to banish. He took her arm again and resumed their stroll. Some things were easier to discuss while in motion.
"My father," he began with a bit of a sigh, "was not the most responsible of men. No," he amended when she remained quiet, "he was a wastrel, utterly profligate. He was known in Society for being generous, but when he gave, it wasn't to benefit the person he gave to; it was for the accolades he received for the donation." Percy shook his head in disgust. Even after all these years, the behavior sickened him.
"It was like an addiction—he needed to be well regarded by his peers. And so he gave, and entertained, and generally drove the estate into the ground purchasing crates of champagne when what was needed was seed, and farm equipment, and roof tiles." He gave a short, humorless laugh.
"The whole year that Lucy was twelve, her dresses were inches too short because my mother didn't have enough pin money to replace her wardrobe and pay off the butcher, who was threatening to cease providing meat if the estate's debt wasn't paid down. We had to eat, so Lucy didn't get new dresses until my father had a rare windfall at one of his gambling tables."
Marina made a soft noise of sympathy but unlike the other cases in which Percy had been forced to disclose his father's profligacy only to receive looks of pity and horror, this response didn't make him feel belittled.
"As a child, I had looked up to and admired him," Percy confessed. Somehow this part of it always stung the worst. "I think all young boys admire their fathers. So it was bitter to realize, more and more as I grew, what a profound failure he was. And eventually, I hated him." Percy waited for her censure—it was a sin, wasn't it, to hate one's father, even if that father was terrible?—but none came. Marina merely watched him with soft eyes entirely devoid of judgment. "I decided—I swore to myself that I would never be like him."
Marina did speak, then.
"You aren't," she said, fiercely.
There was his girl, still protecting him, no matter how often he told her he didn't need it. They'd stopped walking at some point. Percy hadn't realized. But now Marina clasped his arms firmly like he'd held hers only moments ago and her support made Percy feel as if he grew stronger himself, as well.
"I don't have to have known you long to know that." She smiled at him softly and laid a hand on his cheek. "For one," she said, a much-needed note of levity in her voice, small and gentle but still there. "Nobody talks about your generosity—they're much too busy warning others about your sourness." Despite himself, Percy let out a small chuckle.
Marina smoothed a thumb across Percy's cheekbone and maybe it ought to have felt condescending or matronly but instead it just felt comforting.
"Would you believe me if I said I understood? My father wasn't quite the same—he didn't give away money to others—but he was absent for much of my childhood. And I know many fathers of our class are, that part isn't unusual—" She frowned thoughtfully, trying to gather her words. "—but he would forget about us, essentially. He'd forget to pay the servants or the merchants and he refused to certify his man of business to do so, nor my mother. It was torment of a different kind, knowing there was plenty of money in the coffers, but that we couldn't access it. Or scrimping all the time, even when he had renewed the household budgets, because we didn't know when he'd remember to do so again."
Even though this description of her childhood was not entirely dissimilar to Percy's own, he found the conditions a thousand times more appalling when applied to her. "He shouldn't have done that," he said with feeling. "If he were alive, I'd have to kill him for the crime of it. You should have had everything."
The side of her mouth hitched up in an ironic little smile.
"So should you," she said. "Every child should be able to trust their father; no child should grow up knowing that kind of worry and disappointment."
Percy's emotions were all in a tangle. He was outraged over Marina's suffering, smarting from the wound of his own remembered struggles. Yet there was a sort of peace in knowing that she saw him, truly. Knowing that she understood him.
"It's exhausting," he admitted, finally speaking aloud that part he had always kept to himself. "It's just so tiring to constantly be looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next betrayal. I'm so sick of it." And then the confession that really mattered: "I don't feel that way with you. You make me feel safe."
As soon as the words were out of Percy's mouth, he wanted to snatch them back. It was too far, too much. Whatever spell Marina had cast over him was too strong. But still, he found he did not want to free himself.
Marina did not seem alarmed by his confession. Instead, she pressed herself to her tiptoes and kissed him, then brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead.
"You make me feel safe, too," she said softly, and Percy could hardly breathe at hearing it.
He was helpless to do anything but kiss her again, losing himself, losing his worries, just for a little while, in the warmth of her mouth and her embrace.
All too soon, he forced himself to pull away. He could not afford to forget that they were in public, that anyone could come across them at any time. He would not risk Marina's reputation, and especially not when she'd just given him so much. He untangled himself from her reluctantly and she seemed to feel the same; for a moment after he drew back, she kept her eyes closed, as if clinging to the sensation of their kisses.
When he looked at her, it felt like…
She opened her eyes and smiled.
"I suppose we had better go in," she said, sounding less than convinced about this course of action. It was coming on lunchtime, though, and the group would come together as a whole for the first time in the day. Their absence would be noticed.
"We'd best," Percy agreed. Rather than taking her arm in the proper fashion, however, he kept her hand clasped in his until they were within sight of the house.
There were several guests milling on the portico, including some ladies playing checkers, and Andrew, a quizzical look upon his face. "Good morning, cousin," he said. "Lady Marina. Taking the air again?"
Something in his tone gave Percy pause, but either Marina didn't notice it or pretended not to. "Good morning, Lord Gloustoshire," she said pleasantly. "Or—certainly it's good afternoon by now?"
This set the ladies off in a flurry of conversation about luncheon and time flying and the progress of their game, which had apparently developed into a full tournament. Marina was quickly enveloped into their chatter which continued as the group made its way into the house. The ambiance was genial and lighthearted but even so, Percy could not resist one curious glance back at his cousin as they went.