Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
P ercy felt sick. He couldn't stop seeing the look on Marina's face as he'd sent her away. The shock. The hurt. He felt gutted by it.
He stood dutifully by his mother in the entryway as the guests and their servants attended to pre-departure necessities. Percy willed the time to go faster. Soon everyone would depart, and the house would be blissfully quiet, and he could retire to his study. Or return to bed—he'd scarcely slept. Or drink.
Anything to banish from his mind that horrible instant when Marina's expression had gone from confusion to comprehending, when her mouth—the mouth he would never see smile again, that he would never kiss again—dropped open in dismay.
Percy's eyes burned. Lack of sleep, he told himself.
Despite the late night, his mother looked fresh as a daisy, though she kept casting him suspicious sidelong glances. Lucy, too, seemed perfectly in her element. The one bit of good news was that the party had performed its duty in regard to Percy's sister's comfort with socialization; as various carriages pulled around, he saw Lucy clasp several women's hands warmly and exchange promises to rendezvous in London.
Lucy did not seem half so close with any of the women as she did with Marina, however.
Percy kept his eyes on middle distance as Lucy stepped forward to embrace Marina, kissing her once on each cheek.
"You're an utter savior, Marina," Lucy gushed. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
Percy didn't know what he would do without her. Unlike Lucy, though, he had no choice. He could not have her.
"You're too kind," Marina replied. Her voice was husky, a little strained. Was something wrong? Was she falling ill? Percy did not allow himself to look. "We'll have a grand time in London, I promise."
"I'm going to hold you to that," Lucy said, laughing and employing a mockingly threatening tone. "You'll scarcely be home before you'll be receiving letters from me, arranging outings. Just you wait."
Marina's chuckle wasn't disingenuous, but it wasn't the full-throated laugh Percy had heard from her before. He carefully studied a crack in the plaster near the ceiling. He hadn't noticed that before. It would have to go on his list of things to have fixed before it got worse.
"I look forward to it," Marina replied. She turned to him and his mother and now Percy could not avoid looking at her, just for a brief moment. She looked tired. He wanted to smooth away the bags under her eyes with his thumbs, wrap her up in a blanket, usher her back to bed and not let her leave until she was rested and shiny and happy again.
He gave her a formal bow instead.
"Thank you so much for your hospitality, Your Graces," she said, nodding to him and his mother. "It was a lovely party."
"It was very nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Marina," Percy forced out, keeping his voice polite and distant. "Have safe travels home."
Percy could feel his sister's glare on the side of his face. It was many degrees less hot than the one that Packley was giving to Marina. Percy did feel bad about that, but at least he was ending things now, before they got any worse for her—and for him.
She curtseyed and headed for her carriage. Andrew broke off from his conversation to offer her a hand up into the vehicle, waving away the footman who waited nearby for such purpose. Percy ignored the jealousy that churned in his gut. Andrew could offer what Percy could not.
Packley stuck out his hand, drawing Percy's attention. Lord, things were bad if Percy was grateful for the distraction of Packley .
"Thank you for agreeing to do business with me, Your Grace," Packley said. "I'll have my man of business contact yours this week; the paperwork will be ready by the time you arrive in London."
Percy nodded, shaking Packley's proffered hand. "I'll arrange a meeting between us and Culton once we're all in town," he said. Packley still did not seem pleased at Joseph's inclusion, but nodded, bowed, and followed his cousin into their carriage.
Percy felt a distinct mix of relief and dread as it rumbled out of sight.
He stood with his family for a little while longer, performing host duties, as the last of the guests departed. Once everyone had gone, his mother drifted off to sit down for a while. The instant it was the siblings alone, Lucy stomped on Percy's foot— hard .
"Ow!" he exclaimed. She was wearing half boots, too, not slippers. "What was that for?"
"What did you do ?" Lucy cried.
"You stepped on me!" he shot back.
"Not to me ," Lucy said, rolling her eyes. "To Marina."
Percy couldn't help it; he flinched. Lucy obviously noticed and narrowed her eyes at him but still, Percy, a man combatting little sleep and churning nausea, did his best attempt at a denial. "I didn't do anything to her," he said. It was true—he was doing this for her. He had to believe that.
Lucy evidently did not believe that. "I thought you liked her," she said. She planted her hands on her hips. "You seemed happy. Now you seem unhappy."
"I'm not unhappy," Percy protested. Why did all the women in his family insist on telling him he was miserable? "And Lady Marina is perfectly nice. I liked her well enough."
"I liked her well enough," Lucy mimicked. Percy did not sound like that. "Ugh, you are insufferable."
Percy was already having a very bad day. He did not need his little sister scolding him on top of it.
"You know," he complained. "It's considered bad manners to mock someone. And to step on them. And to roll your eyes." He ticked the actions off on his fingers. "I thought you might want to know that, before you went to London."
Lucy gave him a pitying look. "And I should take advice from a man who looks as though he's been stepped on by a horse?"
"I don't," said Percy.
"You do," countered Lucy. "But fine. If you want to be stubborn and stupid, I gather that I can't stop you. But I like Marina and if you do something that ruins my friendship with her, I'll pour ink into your best brandy."
Before Percy could think of a retort better than please don't do that , Lucy flounced off, air distinctively haughty.
Percy let out a long, strangled groan that alarmed a maid who had just come through to sweep the foyer. He offered her a brief nod of apology, but she skittered shyly out of the room anyway. Just perfect, he thought. How many women would he manage to scare, scold, or otherwise irritate out of his presence today?
With a beleaguered, self-loathing sigh, Percy dragged himself up to his study. Best enjoy some of his brandy before his sister rendered it unpalatable.
"What did you do?"
Marina closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the seat of the carriage. They weren't even out of eyeshot of Haddington Estate and Martin had already begun.
"I didn't do anything, Martin."
Normally, Marina might have feigned ignorance. Normally it was a good tactic, with Martin, to force him to explain what he was angry about before allowing him to turn to why he was angry about it—it used up a bit more of his head of steam. But Marina was just so, so tired. It was a tiredness that felt deeper than her body. It was an emptiness, an ache. It was soul-deep tiredness.
And it left her entirely without the energy to do battle with her cousin. What was the point? Martin was going to do what he wanted, was going to say what he wanted, no matter if Marina fought him or just gave in. So why not spare herself the fight?
"The duke, Marina. He was distant this morning. I thought I told you to get closer to him, not make him angry. Did he attempt something and you refused him? Christ, girl, have a thought in your head! Ten unpleasant minutes and then you get to be a duchess for life! You're too old to cling to foolish ideals about chastity and whatnot, not to mention not rich or pretty enough to be choosy—"
Something in Marina snapped. This was quite too far. Her situation, that was one thing. Her heartbreak was another. But suffering insults on top of that? No. No, she would not.
" Martin ," Marina snapped with enough vehemence that she managed to disrupt her cousin's tirade. Apparently, she had enough energy in her for that, at least. "Not that it is any of your concern, but I did not do anything to raise the duke's ire." As she'd laid in bed the night before, her weeping giving way to ire, she'd realized it was true. She'd almost lost track of that in her sadness over the end of their affair and her shock at Percy's rude behavior. There was no reason for his sharp transition from their pleasant conversation—and kisses—in the garden to the icy facade she'd faced at his bedchamber door.
Perhaps things were destined to be over between us , Marina thought, anger spiking anew, but it wouldn't have hurt him to say, "Thank you for the lovely time, it was very nice, and I think we should part as friends. I appreciate you telling me about my scoundrel of a cousin." No, it would not have.
Marina turned all the anger she couldn't release on Percy onto Martin. "In fact, the only person who behaved badly with the duke was you , Martin." This was rather dependent on whose version of bad behavior one followed, but Marina was choosing her own side for this conversation. "Perhaps it was your obvious scheming and constant insinuations that caused his distance this morning, did you consider that? Perhaps he didn't like the way you kept framing me as a conniving temptress trying to trap him? Have you thought about your behavior in all of this?"
"I can hardly—" Martin interjected, but Marina cut him off.
"Shut up," she said. Lord above, this felt good. She'd no doubt pay for it later, but it felt good now. "Just shut up. You got your business deal—that's what you wanted. Don't pretend you cared about anything else. And before you say a single word about my needing a husband, Viscount Gloustoshire intends to court me. If you're concerned that a viscount is not as good as a duke, well—again, I ask you to consider your own fault in this." She was breathing heavily now and Martin looked almost alarmed to hear her speaking back to him thusly. "As far as I am concerned, I have done what you asked—I've found a potential husband. Which means that you and I have nothing left to say to each other for the duration of this journey." Marina lifted her bonnet from the seat next to her and tugged it over her head, as if the thin fabric could block out Martin's voice.
To her immense surprise, he didn't say anything. He merely blinked at her, mouth agape, for a few moments, then turned to face the window. Marina was almost positive that this reprieve would prove short-lived, but she intended to make the most of it while it lasted. She turned her face towards the window of the carriage, pressing her cheek against the cool glass and tried not to cry.
Maybe she had achieved a brief victory against Martin. Maybe she'd had a brief affair with someone who made her heart race. But it was all temporary and what remained, after those all too short moments of triumph were gone, was a long life of duty, of scraping by and sacrificing her happiness to keep her family safe, housed, and fed.
As Marina's eyes prickled and she stared out at the muddy country lanes for the long trip back to London, she thought that the reality of her circumstance was nearly too heartbreaking to bear.