The Marrying Season (7 page)

“Well?” Alec looked from Myles to his sister. “Is anyone going to bother to explain?”

“Foster Langdon made improper advances to your sister, so she planted a facer on him,” Myles summarized.

“The devil you say!” Alec scowled. “That sneaking little scoundrel. I always knew he was a loose fish.”

“He was in his cups,” Genevieve said, “or I don’t think he would have dared try to kiss me. He never has been anything but annoying before.”

Damaris went over to Genevieve and knelt beside her chair, laying her hand on Genevieve’s arm. “Are you all right, dear? Did he hurt you?”

“Only my pride. He was drunk as a wheelbarrow, and he assumed when I went into the library that I had come to see him. He was stretched out on the couch, and I didn’t see him until he sat up or I would never have gone in. He was most importunate when I started to leave, though in fairness, I do think it was an accident that he tore my gown.”

“Tore your gown!” Alec thundered.

Genevieve cast an appealing look at Myles, and he rose, going over to his friend.

“Don’t erupt, Rawdon. Genevieve stopped him. She must have landed a damn fine punch, too. His blood was flowing like wine.”

“Yes, I did, and no one would have known about it if the stupid man had not shrieked like a girl when I tromped on his foot.”

“Ah, so you crippled him as well.” Pride mingled with laughter in Myles’s voice, and even Alec smiled faintly.

“Where the devil does Langdon live?” Alec turned toward Myles.

“Alec, no,” all three women chorused at once, and Damaris rose, laying both her hands on his arm.

“Don’t be a fool,” his grandmother added sharply. “If you challenge him to a duel, it will only make the scandal worse.”

“Duel? I wouldn’t challenge that worm to a duel; he isn’t enough of a gentleman for a challenge. I’ll use my fists.”

“It won’t help to beat him to death, either,” Damaris pointed out, fixing her lovely, large eyes on Alec’s face, and she laid her palm on her abdomen, adding, “I don’t want our baby’s father in prison or having to flee to the Continent.”

“That isn’t the worst of it,” Genevieve added.

“There’s more?”

“Yes.” Genevieve stood up, as if she must face them on her feet. “Dursbury and several others came running when Langdon screamed. And when he saw us, he—Dursbury repudiated me.”

Alec and Damaris stared at Genevieve. Genevieve’s grandmother made an odd noise, like air escaping from a balloon, and sat down on the nearest chair.

“I know where to find Dursbury.” Alec swung around and started toward the door.

Damaris wrapped her arms around his arm and hung on. “Alec, stop. Think. You will make the scandal far worse if you go charging about beating everyone to a pulp.”

“She’s right,” Myles agreed, positioning himself between Alec and the doorway. “It would only be harder for Genevieve.”

Alec cursed, balling his fists at his sides in frustration.

“Besides, Myles already hit Dursbury,” Genevieve told them.

“Good.” Alec nodded at Myles.

“The important thing now is Genevieve,” Damaris said, and turned toward her. “I am so sorry. I know this must be a terrible blow, but, truly, it is better you found
out what sort of man Lord Dursbury is before you married him.”

“Oh, Dursbury!” Genevieve said contemptuously, shrugging a shoulder. “I care not about losing him. Any more than he obviously cared about me. But my—” Her voice hitched. “My reputation is ruined now.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Alec told her.

“Don’t be a fool, Alec,” his grandmother told him tartly. “We must worry. Genevieve’s future is at stake.”

“It will blow over,” Alec said. “These things always do. The
ton
will move on to some other gossip.”

“It is all very well for you to be careless about scandal,” Lady Rawdon said. “For a young, unmarried girl, this is disastrous. Surely you remember what happened to Caro Godfrey after she and Mowbry were found alone in the Willhavens’ garden last year.”

“No.” Alec looked at her blankly.

“Well, I will tell you: he would not marry her, and everyone dropped her. She’ll never make a decent marriage now. And they were not even found
en flagrante
. That Nettleton girl, the one who came out when your mother did—her fiancé jilted her, and she could never show her face in the
ton
again.”

“She’s right,” Genevieve agreed heavily. “Langdon had his arms around me; my dress was torn. You know everyone will believe that we—we were—” She stopped, her voice choked.

“No one who knows you would believe that,” Damaris assured Genevieve, going over to put an arm around her comfortingly.

“Of course not,” Myles agreed.

“You know better than that, Myles,” Genevieve said scornfully. “Alec may not follow the rules, but you understand them.”

Myles shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and said, “It could have all been smoothed over if Dursbury had not been such an imbecile.”

“Yes, of course,” the countess agreed. “If only Dursbury had stood by her, it would not be irreparable. There would have been a scandal, but the wedding could have been moved up, and soon the tongues would have stopped wagging.”

“But he did not,” Genevieve said bitterly. “No one will believe that I was innocent now. Dursbury as good as confirmed to the world that I am a trollop. Not only that, they’ll say that the horrid scandal sheet was right, that he seized the first opportunity to throw me over.”

“I know how to deal with anyone who spreads such rumors,” Alec said grimly, his fists knotting.

“You may shut people up, my boy, but you cannot make them accept Genevieve,” Lady Rawdon said flatly. “You cannot keep them from cutting her in public. You cannot make them send her invitations or come to call on us.”

“Surely they would not dare offend
you
so, ma’am,” Damaris protested.

“Society is unforgiving. Few would snub me, of course, but am I to go where my granddaughter is not invited? I think not.” The old lady stood fiercely straight.

“I have brought scandal on the whole family.” Genevieve’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away. “I am so sorry, Grandmama.”

“I know, dear.” The countess sighed. “But I fear nothing could save your reputation now but marriage.”

“She has to marry that maggot Langdon?” Alec thundered.

“No!” Myles exclaimed, shocked.

“I will not,” Genevieve declared. “I’d rather be a pariah the rest of my life than marry that swine. And don’t say you will force Dursbury to give me his ring again, Alec. I refuse to marry him, either.”

“Then the only thing for you to do is retire to Castle Cleyre,” their grandmother said.

“Surely not,” Damaris said in dismay.

“Lord Turnbury married a bird of paradise,” Myles argued. “They didn’t flee to his estate.”

“Oh, him,” the countess said witheringly. “It’s not as if the woman was
received
. Anyway, no matter how outrageous it was, it remains that they were wed. Marriage cures a multitude of sins. It covers a woman with the cloak of a gentleman’s good name. It gives one respectability, just as marrying a scoundrel colors one with his misdeeds.”

“She’s right,” Genevieve said colorlessly as she sank back down into her chair. Silent tears spilled from her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks, but she kept her lips clamped together, refusing to break down into sobs.

“Genny, no . . .” Myles turned to Genevieve’s grandmother.
“It doesn’t have to be Langdon or Dursbury, surely. If Genevieve marries another man, it would save her reputation, would it not?”

“Of course.” Lady Rawdon nodded.

“But that is just the
point,
” Genevieve burst out, dashing the tears from her cheeks and glaring at Myles. “No man will marry me now.”

Myles crossed to Genevieve and went down on a knee beside her. “You’re wrong, Genny. I will.”

W
hat?” Genevieve jumped to her
feet, staring at him.

“I am asking you to marry me,” Myles told her, annoyance tingeing his voice.

“Don’t be a fool, Myles!” Scarlet flamed in Genevieve’s cheeks. She was suddenly, acutely aware of how she must look—Myles’s jacket thrown over her torn dress, her hair straggling down about her face like a slattern’s. She was receiving her second proposal of marriage; the first one had been rather colorless, but this one was even worse. “I’m not marrying you.”

Myles gaped at her. “Well, if that isn’t just like you! I am trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want it.”

“You were willing enough to take it before,” he shot back, his own color rising.

“Of course you are going to throw that weakness up at me.”

“Good gad, Genevieve—you are the most contrary creature I have ever had the misfortune to know. Are you actually lumping me in with Dursbury and Langdon?
Am I so bad that you would rather spend the rest of your days stuck away in Northumberland than be my wife?”

“Genevieve,” the dowager countess said sharply, rising to her feet. “Hold your tongue. For heaven’s sake, think before you speak.” She went to her granddaughter and took her arm, but Genevieve twisted away.

“No! I can’t. I won’t.” Tears started in Genevieve’s eyes, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, smothering the wail that threatened to rise from her throat. Turning, she fled the room.

Behind her, she heard her grandmother say, “She is distraught, Sir Myles. Please do not take her words to heart. I will talk to her; Genevieve will come around.”

Genevieve could not hold back her sobs as she ran up the stairs to her room.

His anger carried Myles all
the way back to the Morecombes’ house before he even realized where he was walking. The lights no longer burned on the outside of the graceful white building, so the party must have ended after the drama in the library. There remained, however, a warm glow through the windows of the front room. Myles hesitated for a moment, then trotted up the steps to the front door and tapped on it lightly.

A surprised footman opened the door. “Sir!” He recovered quickly and added, “Lord and Lady Morecombe are in the anteroom, sir.”

Gabriel lounged in the comfortable chair by the window, his wife sitting on his lap, her legs draped over the
arm of the chair. They were deep in conversation and looked up in surprise when Myles walked in the room.

“Myles!” The couple smiled with no apparent embarrassment at being caught in such a pose, and Thea jumped up, coming toward him with outstretched hands. “What a dreadful thing! We heard what happened. Is Lady Genevieve all right?”

“It has not weakened her spine,” Myles replied, taking Thea’s hand and making his bow. “Nor sweetened her tongue.”

“I am so sorry that it happened here. I had meant it to be a party to honor them.” She sighed. “And then to have that odious man—”

“Which odious man, love?” her husband asked Thea as she took a seat on the stool beside his chair. “Langdon or her fiancé?”

“Either. Both. They deserve whatever Alec does to them . . . though it will create a worse scandal, of course.”

“My wife is a bloodthirsty wench.” Gabriel grinned. “No one touches her or hers, and apparently Lady Genevieve has somehow become one of her flock.”

“She is Damaris’s sister-in-law,” Thea said simply. “Anyway, I liked Lady Genevieve when we talked at the wedding. It just takes her a bit to warm up to one. I think she is rather shy.”

“Shy?” Gabriel repeated sardonically.

“Yes. Oh, don’t look at me that way. You don’t know what it’s like—either one of you.” Thea turned to include Myles in her accusation. “You’re handsome and charming
and everyone wants to be with you. You don’t understand how lonely one can feel.”

Gabriel picked up Thea’s hand and kissed it, and they smiled at each other in a way that dismissed the rest of the world. Gabriel pulled his gaze away from Thea and turned back to Myles. “Sit down, Myles, sit down.” Gabriel gestured toward the chair across from him. “Care for a brandy?”

“No. I’m fine. That’s not why I came.”

Myles’s friends looked at him, waiting, he knew, for an explanation of exactly why he had come. Myles could not help but wonder the same thing himself.

“I asked Genevieve to marry me,” he blurted out.

For a long moment the two continued to stare at him in silence. Then Gabriel stood up, saying, “Well,
I’m
going to have a drink.” He crossed to the cabinet and filled two glasses, carrying them back and handing one to Myles without asking.

“You and Genevieve are going to be married?” Thea asked. “That’s—”

“Mad,” her husband stuck in.

“Unexpected,” Thea corrected, shooting her husband a stern look. “But we are very happy for you.”

“She turned me down,” Myles continued.

“The devil!” Gabriel and Thea gaped at him. Gabriel’s face turned wary. “Is this one of your jests?”

“No, I assure you. I asked her to marry me, and she jumped to her feet, looking as though I’d tossed a dead squirrel in her lap, and declared that I was a fool and she
wouldn’t marry me. Then she ran out of the room.” Myles paused and stared down at his drink, bemused. “She’d rather be ruined, apparently.”

“Myles, I’m sure that’s not true,” Thea protested. “She had a difficult evening, you must remember.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You clearly don’t know Genevieve. She is always that way. Well, the sharp words are just like her. I can’t say I’ve ever seen her be that . . . dramatic.”

“It is an effect I seem to have on her,” Myles explained.

“She will feel differently when she has had time to calm down,” Thea told Myles.

“That is what her grandmother said. The countess told me to return tomorrow afternoon and talk to Genevieve again. She assured me Genevieve would change her mind once she thought it over. What she meant was that she would bully and badger the poor woman until she accepts me. I have never known the countess not to have her way, so I have little doubt but that Genevieve will give in.”

“Do you mean you still intend to marry her?” Gabriel asked, his eyebrows rising.

“I offered for her, Gabe. I can hardly take that back.”