Chapter 3
Mark was determined to apologize to Miss Barrington. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he had crossed a line. They weren’t children anymore, and he needed to remind himself of that. Most of all, he felt a strange desire to remind her also. He’d hurt her feelings in the past, he was sure, but this time, it felt different.
Unfortunately, he made it all of five feet in his search for her. No sooner did he start looking than an arm threw itself around his shoulder and pulled him into a conversation.
“Ah, there he is!” Lord Michael Egerton, his uncle, cried. “I was looking for you.”
“Hello, Uncle,” Mark greeted as he slid out from his uncle’s large arm and took a step back. “I didn’t see you at the ceremony.”
“No, we were there,” Lord Michael assured. “Sitting in the back, though. I never was big on ceremony, you know? Personally, I always found the theatrics around marriage a little gaudy for my taste.”
Mark frowned. “I had no idea you were such a proponent.”
“Don’t get me wrong, lad.” Lord Michael threw his arm around him again. “Marriage serves its place in society like anything else. But in my mind, it’s always been more of a business transaction. An arrangement designed to harbor and propagate beneficial outcomes for both parties involved.”
Mark eyed his uncle a moment. Then, he surveyed the small crowd, which was dedicated to the love of two people brought together in holy matrimony. Everyone around them was buzzing with optimistic joy, and he could see more than a few women with tear stains on their cheeks.
“What a romantic sentiment,” he said dryly to his uncle. “You should really give a speech.”
Lord Michael was more like a father than an uncle, as he had raised both Mark and Emily since they had been children. Emily had been barely one at the time. Their parents had died in a carriage accident, and Lord Michael hadn’t hesitated in taking them in and treating them as his own. For that, he would forever have both of their gratitude.
He was a kind man in that way, never harboring any resentment toward Mark when he had come of age and reclaimed his title of Duke. A big man also, he was a gentle giant known as much for his generosity as he was for his booming voice, colorful character, and surprisingly astute business acumen.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Lord Michael continued loudly. His large cheeks were flushed red, which suggested he’d had a brandy or two. “I am happy for little Em, I clearly am. And I wish her and old Hollowton all the best. But let’s be real here, shall we? One partner to another. The benefits of marriage are all social and economic. Anything outside of that, even love, is merely a bonus. Yes?”
Mark chuckled. “Whatever you say.”
“Not say,” Lord Michael corrected, holding him even tighter. “Is. Lord Hollowton is a good match for your sister. And I should know, I arranged it. She will be taken care of, as will be her children, and theirs. Your blood, Mark. Don’t you forget it.”
Mark and his uncle were business partners and had been for some eight years now. Their main trade was wool, a business that had belonged to Lord Michael for over twenty years, in which he was only too happy to accept Mark as his partner when he had come of age. Part of it was family loyalty, as Lord Michael was fiercely defensive when it came to lineage. The other part was smart business sense, which was a hallmark of Lord Michael's brand.
In that way, this little speech wasn’t at all surprising. Everything in Lord Michael's world came down to business—that being whether a decision made was good for it or not. And when it came to him, he was almost always right.
“I suppose you’re right,” Mark agreed as he tried to pull out of his uncle’s embrace. His eyes began to search through the crowd for an escape. “Lucky my sister had you to—”
“I’m glad you agree,” his uncle continued, keeping ahold of him. “Which was what always surprised me about you, truth be told.”
Mark hesitated. “In what way?”
“That you’re still unwed, is what.” Lord Michael chortled. “A duke, as young as you are, and with a booming industry behind you.” He elbowed Mark’s ribs. “A marriage to the right woman could only benefit you. You and us, Mark. You and us.”
Mark resisted the urge to groan. What was it about weddings that had every man and sundry suddenly turned into a matchmaker? His sister had been at him all week, her new husband wasn’t without the odd joke here and there, and now his uncle? It was starting to move from ‘amusing’ toward downright annoying.
Worse still, each time Mark had turned down the suggestion or slapped the comment away, he had been branded as a rake. And on the rumor mill would turn.
“I’m just waiting for the right person, you know?” he said as he again attempted to slide out of his uncle’s embrace.
“Nonsense,” Lord Michael insisted. “You’re like me, boy. Why, I only got married the first time because the money from her dowry helped bankroll my northern expansion, of which you are now in control, mind you.”
“And I am so grateful for that—”
“But you’re lucky, you are. You don’t need a dowry with the money you have. What you need is insurance.”
Mark frowned. “What… what do you mean, insurance?”
“Like any business venture, there’s always going to be risk inherent. With marriage especially, sometimes you don’t know what you’re getting into until the deal is done! Then, six months down the track, you’re married to a leech who’s just trying to steal your fortune from under you. Or worse, she poisons you in the night and takes it all.”
Mark glanced nervously about them, making sure nobody was listening. But his uncle’s voice was raised, and they were certainly getting glances. “Uncle, I don’t know if this is the best time to be having this—”
“It came to me in a dream,” Lord Michael spoke over him. “I know you don’t much like the idea of marriage. You…” He squeezed him tight. “You like the single life, love is just a word,” he chided. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still find yourself a wife. Again, any way you look at it, it’s smart business. Security. A chance to produce some offspring.”
Oh, no .
Mark’s stomach twisted into knots as he sensed where this conversation was going. Where it could only go. He knew his uncle well. He’d heard his sales pitch a million times. This wasn’t a suggestion, but a proposition.
“Uncle…” He wrenched himself free and took a step back. “I appreciate the sentiment, but—”
“Jennie! Jessie!” Lord Michael barked.
From nowhere, Mark’s eighteen-year-old cousins suddenly appeared. Identical twins, they were tall like their father but had blessedly gotten their late mother’s fair looks. Mark had known them their entire lives, of course, having grown up with them from the time of their birth. Sisters was how he thought of them… and how he hoped his uncle thought of them also.
“Oh, good day, Jennie, Jessie.” He nodded and smiled.
“Mark,” Jennie and Jessie said in unison.
“His Grace!” Lord Michael corrected.
“Sorry,” Jennie said.
“Sorry,” Jessie echoed.
“Your Grace,” they both then said together.
“They best get used to it,” Lord Michael said sternly. “The formality, I mean. Now that they’re of age, I can’t have them running about the ton making fools of themselves.”
The two girls looked at Lord Michael but said nothing. Which was strange for them, as they both had sharp tongues and were known to often argue with their father. But the way they eyed him… Something was wrong.
“As I was saying.” Lord Michael cleared his throat and straightened up. “Marriage. It’s time that you started thinking about it for yourself, Mark.”
“Oh, no.” Mark shook his head and held out his hand as if to stop a physical approach. “I really don’t—”
“I know you don’t like the idea of it,” his uncle cut him off. “And I know that the last thing you need is to go through the process of courting someone whom you have no fancy for, all so you can appear to be doing the right thing. Trust me, I know that nobody, least of all you, has time for that.”
Mark’s stomach continued to twist itself as his mind worked ahead, already knowing where this was going while hoping he was dead wrong.
“That’s really not it—”
“So, it’s my thought,” his uncle spoke over him. “That I’d do you a favor and save you the hassle. Here.” He stepped next to his daughters and presented them as if they were horses on the track. “What do you think?”
“Ah…” Mark looked at Jennie and Jessie, both of whom were staring pointedly at their feet. “I don’t… that’s not… I really don’t think—”
“It makes perfect sense,” Lord Michael insisted rightly. “With the two of us working together the way we are, our names both tied to the business, marrying one of my daughters adds that extra level of security you don’t get from marrying someone else. It’s the perfect fit!”
“Father,” Jennie said quietly, still not looking up, “it doesn’t sound as if Cousin Mark is—”
“Of course, he is!” Lord Michael snapped. He then beamed at Mark. “Don’t listen to her. I’ve explained this all to them, and both are on board.”
Mark swallowed. “Both?”
“Of course. Well, just the one.” Lord Michael chortled and wagged a finger. “But you can pick.”
“Father…” Jessie then tried. She looked at him pleadingly, but he ignored her. He ignored the bewildered look on Mark’s face too.
Obviously, Mark wasn’t going to marry one of his cousins. Again, they were more like sisters to him, and just the idea of it had him feeling more than a little uncomfortable. And thank the heavens that from the looks of both Jennie and Jessie—each wearing an expression that suggested they’d eaten some spoiled cake recently—they were of the same mind.
Unfortunately, Lord Michael was famously stubborn, and a lifetime of making smart business decisions had saddled him with a huge ego and an inability to admit when he was wrong. Not wanting to do something that he was insistent upon wasn’t so easy as just saying no.
Mark needed to be clear. And careful. And most of all, firm.
“Uncle Mich—”
“Oh! Hold that thought!” Lord Michael held up a finger. “I’ve just spied old Cocksworth! The scoundrel!” He threw his head back and laughed. “Wait until he hears—” He didn’t even finish his sentence, darting around Mark and disappearing into the throng before Mark had time to so much as blink.
“Ah…” Mark stammered out.
“Please, don’t let him.” Jennie grabbed his right hand desperately. “You can’t let him.”
“Please, Mark.” Jessie took his left hand, her eyes pleading. “You have to talk him out of it. You must!”
“Don’t worry.” Mark pulled his hands free and looked over his shoulder in search of his uncle. “I’ll speak to him.” He looked at each of them and smiled. “Believe me, I wouldn’t want either of you saddled with me. You deserve far better.”
“I’ll say.” Jennie sighed.
Mark frowned. “I mean… there’s no need to…” he trailed off when she cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “You’re right. That’s not really important.”
“Can you speak to him, Mark?” Jessie pushed. “Today.”
“Now,” Jennie urged. “He told us of it last night. If you agree, he intends to announce it today.” She looked as if she was about to be sick all over his freshly polished boots.
Not a problem, as Mark felt just as ill and might do the same.
For ten years now, Mark had remained content in his decision to wait until he met someone whom he actually cared for, even loved, before considering marriage. People said what they wanted of him, but at the end of the day, it was his choice, and he lived with that. For better or for worse.
But to have that choice taken away? For it all to have been for nothing? There was no way that Mark would allow it. And if that meant having to turn down the most stubborn man in all of England, then so be it.
Today wasn’t going to end with the announcement of his sudden engagement. Of that, he was certain.
Mark found his uncle moments later. Ever the socialite, ever the life of the party, Lord Michael was moving from guest to guest and group to group as he said his greetings and gave his salutations, accepted their congratulations and well-wishes, and then moved on to the next.
“Uncle!” Mark swept in beside his uncle, who was speaking with Lord Chamberlin and Lord Montgomery. “Can we talk a—”
“Ah! Your Grace!” Lord Michael threw an arm around Mark’s shoulder and pulled him into the conversation. “The man himself. Chamberlin, weren’t you just telling me that you could not believe the gorgeous young lady that my niece has grown into? The most radiant in all of London, you said.”
“I was.” Lord Chamberlin nodded. “A true beauty if I’ve ever seen one.”
“And as much as I would just love to accept all manner of praise and acclaim for such a feat, this man right here was instrumental in her raising. Weren’t you, Your Grace?” Lord Michael gave Mark’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Ah, yes, I suppose so.” Mark forced a grateful smile for Lord Chamberlin. “Thank you for saying.”
“Not at all.” Lord Chamberlin waved his hand dismissively. “Lord Hollowton is a lucky man. As lucky as I know, truthfully.”
“Yes, I’ll let my sister know.” Another smile, then Mark looked at his uncle. “Ah, Uncle, if we can just—”
“But, what of yourself?” Lord Montgomery interrupted as he slapped him on the back. “Now that your sister has wed, what of you, Your Grace? Surely, you’re the next one down the aisle?”
Mark turned to look at Lord Montgomery, fixing him with a friendly enough smile that spoke to his slight agitation. “Today is my sister’s day, Lord Montgomery. No need to tarnish it with talk of—”
“He’s just being modest,” Lord Michael interrupted. “Aren’t you?” He elbowed Mark in the ribs and winked at him. “Although, I suppose I shouldn’t say anything.”
“What’s this?” Lord Chamberlin interceded. “Your Grace, don’t tell me…”
“I assure you, there isn’t—”
“Come now, who is she?” Lord Montgomery cut him off. “We’re all friends here, yes? And although I can’t speak for Chamberlin here, I certainly know how to keep a secret.”
“I can assure both of you, fine gentlemen—” Mark paused and looked at each. “That my uncle is purely being hyperbolic. Right, Uncle?” He swung about to pull Lord Michael back into the conversation, only to find that he had vanished. “Uncle?”
Mark widened his gaze, spotting his uncle across the other side of the hall by now. The old man somehow managed to dart away and disappear as if by magic. What was more, he’d managed to insert himself in the middle of a group of five guests, only two of whom Mark recognized. Three ladies, two gentlemen, more ears for his tongue to wag at.
“So, come now.” Lord Chamberlin nudged Mark.
“Yes, yes, out with it, Your Grace.” Lord Montgomery winked.
“Ah…” Mark grimaced as he pulled back from the two lords. He offered them a short bow and opened his mouth as if he meant to speak, only to turn about and dart away from that conversation before it gathered any momentum.
He needed to be careful. Alcohol was flowing, gossip was flying, cheer was at an all-time high. This was the perfect breeding ground for rumors to start, and if he wasn’t careful, he might find himself right in the middle of it.
Again, Mark set his sights on his uncle and hurried toward him, darting through the crowd and ignoring the familiar faces who tried to wave him over. As was expected, his uncle led the conversation, rather loudly too, so much so that Mark could hear what was being said long before he reached him.
“… they are young, yes, but not so young that it’s too early to think about their future. And with two of them to worry about, I’ve found it best to get an early start. If you catch my meaning.”
“Engagement?” a stately woman whom Mark didn’t recognize asked. She had a long nose, a flat chin, and a large wart on her right cheek.
“Maybe.” Lord Michael winked.
“To whom?” the woman pressed.
“Yes. To whom, exactly?” Lord Cumberbatch demanded. He was a skinny man with a large belly, long ears, and a snub nose. A very strange-looking individual, with a level of arrogance that didn’t at all suit him. “I wasn’t aware that either of your daughters were being courted.”
“Who said they were?” Another wink from Lord Michael.
“You just—”
“Ah, Uncle.” Mark swept in and put himself beside his uncle. “A word?”
“The man of the hour!” Lord Michael slapped him on the back and brought him into the center of the group. “We were just talking about you.”
“We were?” Lord Cumberbatch frowned and rubbed his chin.
“Maybe.” Lord Michael smirked.
Lord Cumberbatch’s eyes widened. “No?” He looked at Mark. “Your Grace, is it true?”
“Is what true?” the woman with the wart asked. She looked from Mark to his uncle, only for the realization to suddenly dawn on her. “No?” she gasped.
“What is it?” another one of the ladies interjected.
“Miss Harrow, isn’t it obvious?” Lord Cumberbatch sighed.
“I didn’t say a thing!” Lord Michael cried gaily.
“Uncle,” Mark hissed in his uncle’s ear, “we really need to talk.” He linked his arm through his uncle’s this time, refusing to let go lest he vanish once more.
“You best go.” Lord Cumberbatch chortled. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from three daughters and three marriages, it’s that you don’t want the son-in-law on your bad side.”
Mark grimaced. “I assure you, that’s not what’s happening.”
“Yes, yes.” Lord Cumberbatch winked. “We won’t tell, don’t you worry.”
Mark thought to point out again that he and his cousins weren’t engaged, just to make it clear that his uncle was speaking out of turn. But he knew there to be no point. The word was out now, and the only way to stop it was for the source, that is Lord Michael, to start doing some damage control.
Of course, for that to happen, Mark needed his uncle to agree to such a thing. And for that to happen, Lord Michael must admit that his plan, the engagement, was a foolish idea that had no merit whatsoever.
Mark kept a hold of Lord Michael and led him toward a corner of the hall, as far from prying ears as possible. That was easier said than done, as the cacophony of guests was such that privacy wasn’t really an option. At most, Mark was able to separate his uncle by a few feet and drop his voice to a whisper, hoping that nobody heard… and that his uncle kept his voice down also.
“We need to talk.”
“About?” Lord Michael wasn’t paying him any attention, already searching the room for his next port of call.
“I think you know.”
Lord Michael frowned and looked at him. “You seem stressed, Mark. Is everything all right? If it’s about your sister, I assure you that she is in good hands. Lord Hollowton is a fine man.”
“What? No. I’m not worried about—”
“Good, good.” He gave Mark a slap on the shoulder. “You really need to loosen up. It’s a wedding!” he boomed. “Now, come, let us get you a drink—”
“Uncle!” Mark grabbed his uncle by the arm so he couldn’t slip away. “It’s this engagement—your proposal that I and…” Mark suddenly was at a loss for words. “… and, ah, one of your daughters… that… that we—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that right now.” Lord Michael shook his head. “That’s talk for later. Decisions can be made tomorrow. As I said, I don’t mind which one you choose, so there’s no need worrying about the finer details until—”
“But that’s just it.” Mark tightened his grip on his uncle’s arm. “I was hoping that… if you might not mention any of this to anybody.” He quickly indicated those around them. “The last thing we need is people talking.”
Lord Michael waved him off. “Nonsense. It’s a wedding. A wedding with a lot of alcohol flowing. My tongue may have slipped a few times, but I assure you that most of what I said will be forgotten by nightfall. I was making a rather good job of being subtle. Nobody caught a thing, trust me.”
“I really don’t think that’s true—”
“What’s the matter?” Lord Michael laughed and slapped Mark on the arm again. “Worried you might be stealing your sister’s spotlight? I assure you, she won’t mind. If anything, she’ll be happy for you—”
“It’s not that,” Mark hurriedly said as his mind worked to come up with a new argument. “It’s more that… this proposal is… I haven’t exactly had time to consider—”
“What’s to consider? It’s a perfect arrangement. Both for the business and the family. I thought you’d be thrilled?”
“I am—I mean, it’s not that I’m not…” Mark grimaced. “I appreciate the offer, Uncle. Of course, I do. I just don’t think that—I’m not so sure that Jennie and Jessie are on board.”
Lord Michael shook his head, sighed, and gave Mark’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “They will be. I promise they will come around.”
“They didn’t sound as if—”
“Mark.” Lord Michael took Mark by both arms and looked at him. “You’re a good man. And the fact you care so much for your cousins’ well-being is proof of that. All the proof I need to know this here is the right decision.”
“But it’s not!” Mark cried before he could stop himself. A few people nearby turned around and eyed him, and he was forced to drop his voice once more and lean in. “It’s not,” he said again through clenched teeth. “I appreciate the offer, but—”
“But what?” Lord Michael let go of his arms and took a step back, his eyes narrowed as he studied him. “Is there something wrong with my daughters?”
“What? No!”
“So, it’s me, then? You think I’m an idiot.”
“What?!” Mark cried, and again more people started to eye them. “No, of course—”
“You must. I’ve told you this is a good idea. A smart one. I’ve explained the reasons why. Now, unless you can tell me some reason why I’m wrong, a damn counterpoint, then I can only assume your opinion is that low of me.”
“That has nothing to do with…” Mark stammered. “This is not a personal slight, Uncle.”
“It sure feels that way.” Lord Michael frowned. “Willton!” he then called out, pitching his voice high enough so that half the guests heard. “Come here a moment, won’t you?!”
“What are you doing?” Mark spun about just in time to see Lord Willton scurrying toward them. He was short with stumpy legs, but he moved at a clip.
“Just last week, Willton was telling me how beautiful both Jennie and Jessie are. Several times! As if I didn’t know what he was really saying. He’ll tell you.”
“There’s really no need—”
“No, no.” Lord Michael held up a hand to silence his nephew. “You had your chance.” He looked at Willton, who had since been pulled into another conversation. “Willton!” he snapped loudly. “What are you—”
“Please, Uncle!” Mark cried so loud that even those on the other side of the hall heard him. A few looked back to see what the cause of the noise was. “I am not going to marry your daughters! Either of them!”
He hadn’t meant to yell. He hadn’t meant to cause a scene. But his uncle was obstinate. And stubborn. And Mark knew that if he didn’t put his foot down soon, he or his uncle were likely going to say something they’d regret.
“Excuse me?” Lord Michael looked dazed, as if he’d been struck on the head by a mallet. Then, he shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
“I can’t marry your daughters,” Mark said, his voice lower now. Not that it mattered, as a few small groups of people had stopped what they were doing so they could listen in. “I just can’t.”.
“And why can’t you exactly?” Lord Michael growled.
“Because…” Mark needed an answer. An excuse. Anything to diffuse the tension that was building! “Because I’m already engaged.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say, even before the final syllable left his lips.
“What?! You are?!” his uncle barked.
“I am.” Mark winced, only too aware that half the guests were watching him. Even his sister—he could see her outside—had stopped what she was doing and was eyeing him through the guests.
“To whom?”
“Oh…” Mark tried to backtrack. “I don’t think that’s—”
“To who?!” Lord Michael demanded again, loudly.
“There’s really no need to—”
“No, boy.” Lord Michael's expression darkened, as did his tone. “You’re the one who brought it up. And if you think I’m letting you off the hook that easily, after the promise you already made me—”
“I didn’t promise anything!”
“Who, then?” Lord Michael poked a finger into Mark’s chest. “Come on! Out with it!” He waved his arm about, gesturing toward the crowd of onlookers as if the mystery woman might be among them.
Mark felt his face flush red. He felt his heart pound inside his chest. He felt his entire body on the verge of betraying him as the floor began to rise while the ceiling began to sink. Desperate, he searched the crowd, his eyes darting from lord to lady, all of whom watched him curiously, no doubt waiting for an answer.
He knew he should have backtracked.
He knew that he should have dismissed it. Or even ran.
But as he searched, and as the world turned, his eyes landed on Miss Barrington. She stood at the back of the hall, alone, watching him with a coy smirk that suggested she was enjoying seeing him put on the spot like that. Memories of their conversation from earlier flooded back to him. The jokes made about marriage, their small fight, his realization that she had grown into a woman since the last time they’d spoken.
Mark couldn’t explain why he said it. He wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. But with all eyes fixed firmly upon him, each to the last eagerly awaiting an answer, he said the only name he could think.
“Miss Barrington,” he said a little too loudly, as if he was addressing the entire room and not just his uncle. “We’re engaged.”