Part 6 (1/2)
Richard stood and clapped him on the shoulder. ”Just another victim of true love, my friend. No point fighting the inevitable.”
Marianne discovered at dinner that Elias had joined the overcrowded house party. When she came downstairs, she caught the rumble of his distinctive baritone from the drawing room. Her breath stuck in her lungs, along with a curse. Could this awful day get any worse?
Struggling to present an impervious face, she braved the crush inside the room. This influx of unexpected guests tested even Ferney's resources. The usually efficient chambermaid had been noticeably fl.u.s.tered when she'd brought Marianne's hot water.
To Marianne's dismay, the first person to approach her was Tranter. She wasn't sure why she developed such a distaste for his company, but the prospect of his conversation made her want to run outside into the rain and never come back.
”Lady Marianne, you brighten this gloomy evening like the sun coming out from a cloud.”
Given that the room contained two of society's greatest beauties in Sidonie and Genevieve, that was hardly tactful. Marianne dug up a smile. ”My lord, any word on the flooding?”
”The flooding?” he asked, clearly disconcerted by her practical response to his overblown compliment.
Luckily Sidonie came up to save her. Less luckily, she brought Elias. ”Marianne, the village isn't in danger, but the low-lying fields are underwater. Jonas and his steward went out this afternoon to check.”
”I'm guessing this is the end of the hunting season,” Marianne said and turned to Elias. It was a battle to sound polite, but she almost managed it. ”Lord Wilmott, I hadn't expected to see you here.”
He tilted his eyebrows at the edge in her tone, then bowed. ”Lady Marianne, how could I stay away? I trust you're enjoying your visit.”
Sidonie, unlike the rest of the world, clearly didn't trust her to be civil when she answered and rushed to speak. ”Elias has been staying in Barstowe Hall with a view to renting it once we've finished renovations. I asked him to join us when the deluge started. The roof there leaks, you see.”
Marianne shot her friend a disbelieving glance. ”How...inconvenient.” Meaning exactly the opposite. However rundown Barstowe might be, Lord Hillbrook would make sure that any property he owned was watertight.
Color marked Sidonie's cheeks, but she soldiered on with the pretense that she sensed no undercurrents. ”Lord Tranter, I'm sure you know Lord Wilmott.”
The bows the two men exchanged chilled the air several degrees.
”Wilmott,” Tranter bit out.
”Tranter.” Elias's smile was insincere. ”Didn't know you were in the district.”
”London was a wilderness without its s.h.i.+ning star.” He looked meaningfully at Marianne.
This time, Sidonie heard herself dismissed as a lesser light. Laughter flickered in her large brown eyes. ”Oh, ungallant, Lord Tranter. As punishment, you must escort me into dinner.”
”But the marquess-” he said with barely hidden reluctance that made Marianne want to box his ears. His hostess had taken him in with a graciousness he didn't deserve. The least he could do in return was treat her with respect.
Sidonie made a breezy gesture. ”Oh, we're basically camping with so many uninvited guests. We won't stand on ceremony.”
The jab at uninvited guests repaid Tranter's rudeness. Marianne met Elias's black eyes and found an answering glimmer of humor. Fleetingly, she basked in the precious feeling of having a friend, before she reminded herself what an adept actor he was. She looked away and told her heart it had no right to ache.
Clearly expecting Tranter's cooperation, Sidonie extended her arm. With a tightening of his heroic jaw, he complied, but not before shooting Elias a poisonous glance.
Sidonie turned to Elias and Marianne, her lovely face alight with triumph. ”If you'd accompany Lady Marianne, Elias?”
The smile Elias gave Sidonie set Marianne's secret, wayward heart cartwheeling again. He really was a gorgeous man. His physical appeal made it difficult to remember his self-serving agenda.
”Stop scowling, my love,” he muttered, turning to her and presenting his arm.
”Better to call me your bank deposit than your love,” she hissed, although the training of years revived and she kept her expression neutral as she placed her hand on his sleeve.
”I'm sure you're much nicer to cuddle up with at night than cold old pound notes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as they followed Hillbrook and Genevieve into the dining room. ”You'll never know.”
To her surprise, he laughed. ”At least you're going down fighting, my darling.”
She didn't bother complaining about the empty endearment. What were a few darlings when he could lie about loving her? It would take more than soft words to convince her that he didn't play her for a fool.
She could feel her father's eyes boring into her back with enough disapproval to leave two smoking holes. What could she do when her hostess had so successfully cornered her? She and Sidonie needed to have a talk. It was pointless and needlessly cruel promoting Elias's suit. And she must speak to Elias alone and make him understand that when her father threatened disinheritance if she married against his wishes, he was deadly serious. Marianne was well aware that losing her fortune meant losing Elias's interest.
She told herself she'd much rather live in the real world than in a romantic fantasy. But the real world meant Desborough and romantic fantasy meant Elias Thorne with his wry smile and ability to make her laugh. Right now that seemed a dire choice indeed, even if she wanted to strangle Elias for following her to Wilts.h.i.+re.
Sidonie had placed Marianne between Elias and the least voluble of Lord Hillbrook's colleagues. Mr. Bullstrode addressed himself to the food and wine with an attention that discouraged Marianne's most determined efforts at conversation.
In the end, she gave up and turned to the man on her other side. She'd learned early how to scotch unwelcome advances. Surely this was no different from those other occasions when she'd squashed a brash gentleman's presumptions.
Fastening on a dismissive smile, she made her tone as frigid as the rain tumbling down outside. ”So you're thinking of moving to Wilts.h.i.+re, my lord? I'm sure the Hillbrooks will be glad to have you as a neighbor.”
His eyes glittered with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Sidonie's story was complete balderdash and you know it.”
She choked on her wine and unsteadily put the gla.s.s down. ”Lord Wilmott-”
He snickered. ”You should know by now the grande dame act doesn't work with me.”
”It's not an act,” she a.s.serted in an undertone.
”It will turn into stifling fact if you marry Desborough.”
”Stop it.” She scrunched her napkin into a ball in her lap. The horrible truth was that she worried he was right. ”We're in public.”
”Does that mean you'll meet me in private to discuss this?”
”No, it does not.” She stared down at her congealing lamb. She hadn't had much appet.i.te to begin with. Now even one bite would choke her. ”I know you treat this futile pursuit as a great joke, but it's mean.”
She chanced a glance at him. The dark eyes were watchful. She hoped to heaven he didn't see past her disapproving facade to the troubled emotions churning inside her. She was so cursed weary of this continual push and pull when she was with Elias. She wanted him. She mistrusted him. She should run. His nearness made her itch to touch him.
”My pursuit of you is anything but a joke,” he said gently.
”Whatever it is, it's unwelcome.” She caught her father's hostile glower from further down the table. What joy. Another lecture was in store.
”I won't back down,” Elias said stubbornly. ”The marriage of a lovely, vital woman to a desiccated prune like Desborough is a travesty.”