Chapter Nine #2
Duncan bowed, anxious to escape the balcony and leave the ladies to their chattering that he had no doubt would ensue.
After curtsying to the smiling matrons, Merry took his arm, seeming as eager to take their leave as he was.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he held.
“I agree,” Merry said. “Your mother seems very nice, but Lady Atterley was even more overwhelming than usual this evening.”
“It appears we pleased her a great deal with our news that has yet to be announced.”
They moved onto the dance floor, joining another couple in a quadrille.
Duncan preferred the waltzes where he kept Merry all to himself.
He noted Lord Brixham had paired with a handsome young miss on the far side of the floor and hoped that meant the man had at last seen sense.
But a cutting glare from the sullen viscount dashed that hope.
Damn the man. Duncan returned his attention to his lady love, assured that word of their engagement would travel fast, thanks to Lady Atterley. Viscount Brixham would have to seek his viscountess elsewhere.
After a lively reel, he escorted Merry off the dance floor. “Shall I fetch ye a lemonade, lass?”
Wetting her lips, Merry waved for Serendipity to join them. “That would be most lovely. I am truly parched.”
“Lady Serendipity, shall I fetch ye a lemonade as well?”
“That would be most lovely, Lord Kirkston.”
Winding his way through the crowd of guests, Duncan headed for the refreshment table on the far side of the room.
The evening could not possibly go any better.
Mother had behaved herself, at least for the time being.
More intimate conversations, or more like interrogations, between her and Merry were inevitable, but he hoped this first gentle breaking of the ice had been the initial seed that would sprout into an amiable relationship between the two.
Malcolm appeared at his side as though bidden. “I noticed ye took Lady Merry up to see Mother. Verra canny, ye are. Introducing her here at the ball.”
“Mother seemed genuinely happy to meet her,” Duncan said, his heart warming at the memory.
“It would be good if the two of them got along, but Merry is my life now.” He wouldn’t say that his mother didn’t matter, but he hoped she understood she needed to move into the dower house now, so he and his wife could start their new life together with some privacy.
“Mother understands that, brother.” Malcolm clapped him on the shoulder. “All she talks about is how yer happiness pleases her.”
“And have ye found yerself some happiness here?” Duncan held up two fingers to the servant ladling the lemonade into glasses.
Malcolm responded with a wicked grin. “Happy for now, but not happy forever.” He tipped a nod at the glasses. “Since when do ye drink lemonade—willingly?”
“’Tis not for me. Lady Serendipity is keeping Merry company while I fetch this, so I offered to bring her a glass as well.”
Malcolm went uncharacteristically serious as they turned to rejoin the ladies. “I saw Brixham was here. He looks just as vile as ye described him. There’s a coldness about that man, and the whispers about him are not flattering.”
“If he wishes to live and do well, he’d best stay away from my Merry.” Noticing that Serendipity now stood alone, Duncan did his best to move through the crowded room faster.
“Where is yer Merry?” Malcolm asked.
“I dinna ken.” Duncan reached Serendipity and handed her the lemonade, all pretense of Polite Society behavior and etiquette forgotten. “Where is Merry?”
“Your mother sent a footman to fetch her. She said she wished to speak with her privately.” Serendipity took a sip of the lemonade, then cast a worried look around the crowded ballroom.
“I thought to go with her, but she asked that I remain here to let you know upon your return so you wouldn’t worry. ”
“Mother is back on the balcony.” Malcolm nodded at the hostess’s area, which provided an unobstructed view of the soiree.
Duncan turned and looked. “Merry is not with her.” A sense of doom settled deep in his gut. “Which direction did the footman take her?”
Serendipity pointed to the archway at the right of the room.
He set aside Merry’s lemonade and took off, shoving through the crowd with an urgency fueled by the realization that Lord Brixham was nowhere in sight either.
“I am coming too, brother,” Malcolm said. “Make way, good sirs and ladies. Make way and let us through.”
*
Even though she felt it a most strange request, Merry couldn’t very well refuse to meet with Duncan’s mother.
The lady probably wished to have a more personal conversation without Lady Atterley listening in on every word.
She followed the footman down the long hallway, suddenly wishing she’d allowed Serendipity to come along.
But no, that would not have been fair to Duncan.
He would’ve returned to where they’d been standing to find no one waiting and would have worried, especially since Lord Brixham was present.
Familiar with Lady Atterley’s home after being invited for tea several times, and also to every party, Merry realized the footman was leading her to the small, intimate parlor near the exit to the orangery.
She clasped her hands together, thankful for her gloves that soaked up the nervousness dampening her palms.
The footman halted just where she had thought he would and opened the door. “In here, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Merry eased inside, wondering at the dimness of the room. Was it lit only by the fire in the hearth? Surely not. “Lady Evelyn?”
No answer came. Perhaps Duncan’s mother hadn’t heard her.
“Lady Evelyn? Are you here?”
“She is not.” Lord Brixham stepped out of the shadows, his smirk striking a sour chord in Merry’s heart. “But I am here, my lovely lady. Everything you need.”
“Not bloody well likely.” She whirled about, grabbed the door’s latch, and tried to yank it open.
“You will find it locked, my darling. I paid the man well.”
Clenching her teeth to keep from giving him the satisfaction of screaming her rage, Merry slowly turned and faced him. “This is most unseemly, my lord. Even for you.”
He sauntered toward her. “I always get what I want, Merry. Always.”
“Not this time.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noted a tall bronze candelabrum with a base of marble within reach. Perfect. Time to remember all the times she had battled Chance and his wooden sword.
“I doubt very much whether your Scot will want you once you are sullied.”
She fought to remain calm and ensure the candelabrum, her current weapon of choice, remained within reach. “Leave me alone, Brixham. My brother will kill you if Duncan fails to kill you first.”
He shook his head. “No one will kill me, and I already obtained a special license, so we might wed immediately to ensure any offspring that might result from tonight’s debauching is not born a bastard.”
Be patient. Let him get a little closer. The candelabrum would be heavy. She would have to swing it with all her might, and swing it she would. She intended to take his bloody head off with it.
He removed his jacket and tossed it aside. “This can either be pleasant for us both, or simply pleasant for me. The choice is yours, my darling.”
One more step. As he took it, she closed her hand around the stem of the candelabrum and swung hard, aiming for his head and ready to swing again if need be.
The thing wasn’t as heavy as she’d expected, enabling her to wield it with even more effectiveness.
She caught the side of his head with the base, making him stagger backward.
Ready to swing again, she screamed with every ounce of her rage, praying someone would hear her. Even if she killed the fool or knocked him senseless, she would still be trapped in this room.
One eye closed and holding his head, he went down on one knee. Blood streamed from between his fingers. “You insignificant little bitch.” He struggled to stand.
Still screaming, she swung to hit him again, but this time he caught hold of the candelabrum and ripped it from her hands.
“You had best learn some manners, little one, or you will find our marriage most unpleasant.”
“I will never marry you,” she said, bellowing the words as she looked around the room for another weapon.
Brixham laughed, then stumbled to one side, still holding his head. “I already have well-paid witnesses willing to help me ruin your reputation if you refuse to wed me. They saw you lead me into this room so we might be alone.”
“You are foiled, Brixham. Lady Atterley already knows of my engagement to Duncan.”
He laughed again. “You think you are the first woman to be engaged to one man while carrying on with another? Are you truly that na?ve? My, my, I shall enjoy teaching you all about the naughtier side of life.”
She snatched up a vase and threw it at him.
Unfortunately, she missed. She hammered on the door until he stumbled his way to her, then she barely dodged him, running to the bookcase for more things to throw.
“Help me! Help! Help!” Her throat went raw from screaming, but she refused to stop.
She picked up a dainty side table and succeeded in clubbing him hard enough to knock him back to the floor.
Scrambling back to the door, she pounded on it again and rattled the latch. “Help me! Someone help!”
“Merry!”
“Duncan! Help me! The door is locked, and Brixham is a madman!”
“Stand aside.”
She moved just as the door splintered open, showering the room with broken wood. Duncan and Malcolm exploded into the room with Chance on their heels.
“I will feckin’ kill ye!” Duncan roared at Brixham as he landed a solid punch to the man’s jaw and sent him rolling back across the room.
Chance caught hold of her by the shoulders. “Did that bastard touch you? Are you all right?”
“He did not touch me,” she said, her voice hoarse and cracking. “Thank heavens you came.”
“Dinna kill him,” Malcolm shouted at Duncan as he dragged him off Brixham’s limp form. “He is not worth it.”
Eyes wild and his chest heaving, Duncan tried to shove his brother away, but Chance joined Malcolm in stopping him.
“Your brother is right,” Chance said. “He is not worth it. I shall speak to the Lord High Steward. He shall be tried in the House of Lords for this abomination.”
Merry sagged against the wall, realizing how tenuous this situation was, since Brixham had not been able to touch her.
He hadn’t even succeeded in mussing her gown.
It would be her word, a mere woman’s word, against his, and she knew exactly what that outcome would be.
“He said he paid witnesses to say I led him here, Chance. He intends to ruin me. Ruin us.”
Duncan pulled her into his arms, cradling her in the safe strength of his embrace. Her courage crumbling, she clung to him as though about to drown, wailing out her fears. “He means to ruin me. My family. He swore he would.”
“Hush now, lass.” Duncan stroked her hair and gently rocked from side to side. “He’ll not be ruining anything except his welcome with Lady Atterley and any of the other hostesses of the ton. They know well enough ye are a fine woman. They will never believe his lies.”
“But they will,” she sobbed. “He will make sure they will, and there are many who are jealous of the Broadmeres. They will gladly seize on this.”
“Get her home,” Chance said to Duncan. “I shall stay here and have a word with Lord and Lady Atterley. Take Seri along with you for appearances’ sake.”
“Come along, my own.” Duncan gently led her into the hallway, where she noticed the footman who had led her there was now unconscious on the floor. “The bastard tried to lie and say ye weren’t there, even though we heard yer screams. Yer brother will see to that man’s fate, I grant ye that.”
She halted and planted her feet as he turned down the hallway toward the ballroom. “I cannot possibly go in there.”
“Of course ye canna go in there. What the devil was I thinking?” He scowled in that direction as though they faced a wall of fire, and in essence, they did.
Everyone would take one look at her disheveled appearance and wonder what had happened, and if they failed to discover the truth, they would make something up.
Hugging her closer, Duncan shielded her in the shadows as a footman hurried past them. “Are ye strong enough to wait here whilst I fetch yer sister and yer cloak?”
“If that will keep me from going in front of all those people, I will find the strength.” She leaned against the wall, keeping to the shadows with her fists clutched to her chest. How had such a lovely evening turned so unbearably horrid?
Duncan brushed a tender kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Ye are the bravest woman I have ever known. Hold fast, my own. Hold fast.” And then he charged off in search of Seri.
Noise from the other end of the hallway startled her, making her turn just in time to see Lord Brixham tumble out the door of the parlor and slump to the floor beside the footman. Chance and Malcolm followed, standing over him to ensure he didn’t move.
Merry wished the man would never move again, and it shocked her that she had such a thought.
She should not wish Brixham dead. No matter what he had threatened to do.
But deep inside, no matter that she knew she shouldn’t wish such a thing, she did wish it.
If she had managed to kill him with the candelabrum, she would have been glad.
He was a powerful peer. A rich viscount.
There was no such thing as justice when it came to punishing a man like him.
Not when he could pay his way out of it.
Even the Broadmere name and coffers could only fight him so much.
If Papa were still alive, it might be different.
Papa was well respected and powerful. But poor Chance was still finding his way as a young duke and a new member of the House of Lords.
And as a Scot newly voted into one of Scotland’s sixteen seats, Duncan had less power still.
Holding her aching throat, she swallowed hard. Brixham had planned this well, damn him.