Rhonda Woodward Read online

  Marina rose and went around the desk to kiss her father’s forehead. “Thank you, Papa. This is all most unexpected and I think your plan is very wise.”

  “You’ve always been the best of girls, never giving us the least bit of trouble, and I’m not the least surprised that these young men see your sterling qualities. Now go and boast of your triumphs to your sister. You deserve to.”

  She laughed and moved to the door.

  “In the meantime,” he called after her, “I shall enjoy the attentions of your young men as much as you. I have invited them to join the hunt, day after tomorrow. I suspect it will be vastly amusing to watch them as they curry my favor in the hope that I will influence your choice.”

  Marina managed to keep her breezy smile until she escaped the library.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marina sat in her bedchamber, staring out the casement window, feeling quite stunned when she heard a gentle knock at the door.

  Turning, she watched Mama slip into the room and shut the door.

  “Oh my love,” she crossed the room and sat next to Marina on the wide sill and took both her hands in hers. “You must be overset!”

  “I think I am a bit.” She smiled shakily, not knowing how to go on.

  She needn’t have worried, Mama wasn’t lacking words.

  “I need not tell you how shocked I was when Papa told me what transpired yesterday. We said nothing to you last night, because frankly, we wished to have a little time to discuss it first. Oh, Marina, three fine gentlemen! One hardly knows what to think!”

  “Well, I certainly don’t,” she said with a little laugh.

  “It is not a surprise that Henry Willingham has declared himself, your papa and I have certainly been expecting it for a while. My goodness, he cannot keep his eyes off you. But even though we all spent time with the Halburys while you girls were younger, I confess I almost swooned when Papa told me George wishes to pay his addresses, too. He must have fallen instantly in love with you the moment he saw you again!”

  Marina felt herself blushing. “It’s most unexpected,” she murmured.

  “And Sefton!” Mama continued with a good deal of glee. “I knew he admired you. That was quite obvious, but to declare his intentions after so short an acquaintance, why, I could hardly account for it.”

  Leaning forward, she kissed her daughter’s cheek and happiness danced in her eyes. “One always believes their children are exceptional, but to know how admired you are, my love, brings tears to my eyes.”

  Marina had to look away. There was so much she wanted to tell her Mama but couldn’t.

  Her mother could not imagine how completely different Marina felt. Now, the idea of marrying Henry Willingham, a reasonable notion mere weeks ago, was insupportable.

  And George Halbury? What little she knew of him she liked. In fact, she liked him more than she liked Henry right now. George was solid and kind and didn’t rattle on the way Henry did. But marriage? Goodness, no.

  And Sefton! How shocked Mama would be to learn of Sefton’s wretched behavior toward Miss Brandon. It would likely give her the vapors.

  No, what would truly give Mama the vapors would be to learn that her daughter had been passionately kissing the Marquis of Cortland in the woods yesterday. Marina pushed this thought away, refusing to allow herself to think of him and the confusing emotions their kiss had wrought.

  But she must say something, and attempted a smile.

  “Oh, Mama, I am glad you are pleased. But . . . but nothing has changed since the last time we spoke of my possible marriage.” She almost cringed at the blatant lie, because everything had changed since that conversation a few short weeks ago.

  Mama patted her cheek. “Now do not fret. You are right, nothing has changed. Unless you suddenly find yourself partial to any of these young men, your papa and I think perhaps it is best if you wait until after your come-out this spring to think seriously on marriage. These things must be handled with some delicacy, for I don’t think any of your young men should be completely discouraged until you have had time to consider the matter carefully. In the meantime, Papa can suggest to them that there is no hurry.”

  Marina felt a surge of relief that she would not have to explain her feelings. “I think that is the best plan, Mama. You are very wise.”

  “Of course, my love. Now, you do look pale, and it is no wonder,” she said with a little laugh. “You just stay here and rest and dream. You see, I remember what it was like to be young and have handsome suitors—but never three at once! I have shared with Deirdre what has occurred and I shall endeavor to keep her from plaguing you.”

  “Oh, thank you. I confess I am not up to dealing with her just yet.”

  With another smile and kiss, Mama rose and returned to the door.

  “Mama,” Marina called before she turned the handle. “It just occurred to me that they will all be here for the hunt on Wednesday.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I . . .” She didn’t know how to put her distress into words, especially since there was so much her mother didn’t know about. “I fear it might be awkward and I will not know what to say.”

  “Not at all, my dear. Just be your usual gracious and poised self. And enjoy yourself, this is a wonderful time in your life and you should relish every moment.”

  Her mother’s tone held such a note of happy poignancy Marina suddenly wished she could, but so much had happened in the last twenty-four hours she hardly knew what she felt anymore.

  “Have you heard if any of the other gentlemen from Ridgeton Abbey will be joining Papa on Wednesday?”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Penhurst, Mr. Fairdale and Lord Cortland shall ride to hounds with your papa. I don’t think Mr. Langford enjoys the sport, he has a bit of a wheeze.”

  ***

  The gilded clock on her bedside table told her it was less than an hour before everyone would descend upon Buck Hill before the foxhunt.

  Sitting at the vanity table in her room, she watched Dora putting the finishing touches on her dark hair and tried to ignore the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

  It was a long-honored tradition that before the hunt a long table would be set up on the south lawn, with the huge silver punch bowl and silver cups. Everyone would gather around—the gentlemen participating in the sport, along with the ladies who would spend the day at Buck Hill—and raise a cup of the warm punch before the men rode off. Then the ladies would go indoors to gossip, take tea and play cards until the gentlemen returned for supper.

  It had always been so very fun, and one of the few social events Papa would tolerate.

  And because of the long-standing tradition, all the ladies took extra care in choosing their clothes, always bringing out the extra bit of finery.

  Months ago, Mrs. Birtwistle had created a beautiful Turkey red ensemble for Marina. It had a matching spencer with heavily ruched cuffs that echoed on the hem. She hoped the elegant attire would give her a boost of confidence because she had been quite trepidatious about the day.

  In the distance, she heard the hounds baying in anticipation.

  “The calm before the storm,” Marina said aloud.

  “Beg pardon, miss?” Dora murmured past the hairpins clenched between her lips.

  “Nothing Dora. I’m just excited.”

  Dora continued to concentrate on her hair and Marina continued to concentrate on the confusion and anger that had settled on her over the last few days.

  What a mess. What an unmitigated, humiliating mess.

  It was horrible enough that she would have to face Sefton, Henry, George and Eugenia Brandon, but she would have to to be polite to Lord Cortland as well. How she was going to keep her composure, she did not know.

  Refusing to acknowledge the hard ache that throbbed in her heart every time she thought of Cortland and the way he kissed her, she concentrated on her anger instead. The anger would help to carry her through, and she spent another few moments nurturing it.

  And po
or Miss Brandon! Marina felt a deep empathy for her since she had heard that Sefton was still in residence at Ridgeton Abbey.

  Marina could hardly believe that even one with Sefton’s conniving nature could still take advantage of Mr. Penhurst’s hospitality.

  Life could be dreadfully unfair. A man could behave in the most shockingly dishonorable manner and still be accepted by society. But a young woman whose only mistake was to believe the scoundrel loved her was in danger of having her good name ruined forever.

  And the blackguard could not be exposed without bringing Miss Brandon and possibly herself to public censure. If he told anyone at the Abbey about his meeting with Papa, it could only make things worse. She prayed he had not been so stupid.

  Marina wished she could know if Sefton was aware of Miss Brandon’s confession to her. If he did not know, then it was conceivable that he believed he still had a chance of winning Marina’s hand.

  Learning of his treachery had certainly destroyed any illusions she had about her own judgment. Her only comfort was that she would never make that same mistake again. This probably accounted for why she was not the least flattered by Henry’s or George’s offers.

  She did send up a prayer that Sefton would have enough sense to take himself back to Kent.

  Just then, the door opened and Deirdre rushed in, wrapped in a ruffled pink dressing gown. “I don’t know, Marina, I just don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you should knock first or not? You definitely should.”

  “Oh, who cares about that? It’s my gown! I know I tried it on the other day, but I’m just not sure. It does not have even a bit of lace and those sleeves are so unusual, I have seen nothing like them in The Lady’s Magazine or the Assemblée. And the color! It is bronze and the pelisse is clementine.”

  “I think all those things make the ensemble lovely. The design shows all your best features to advantage and the unusual color is very flattering.”

  Deirdre looked doubtful. “I do wish to look my best. And I’m hoping Lord Cortland will finally notice me.”

  Marina picked up a comb and fiddled with it. “Lord Cortland! Why you seek his admiration is beyond me.”

  “Why he is handsome and dashing. Who wouldn’t find him wonderful?”

  “I certainly don’t.”

  “That’s because you like Mr. Sefton better.”

  Marina set the comb back down with a clack. “I do not care for him, either. To be perfectly honest, I can’t stand the lot of them and will be pleased beyond measure when they leave Parsley Hay to seek their pleasure elsewhere.”

  Deirdre stared wide-eyed at Marina’s sharp tone, and then took several steps closer. “Marina, tell me what is wrong.”

  Dora, always discreet, finished fussing over Marina’s hair and, after performing a swift curtsy, left the room.

  Marina rose with a dismissive shrug. “Nothing is wrong. I am just not as enchanted with Lord Cortland as you are.”

  “It’s more than that. You can’t fool me. Tell me.”

  The alarmed concern on her sister’s face jarred Marina out of her dark mood. This was the very thing she wanted to avoid. If she didn’t compose herself, Deirdre would never leave her alone.

  Putting her arm around Deirdre’s shoulder, she gave her a quick hug. “Goodness, such drama! I am perfectly fine, just a little too excited about all the company coming. Now go, you must get dressed, we cannot be late.”

  Deirdre did not move, and continued looking at Marina with wide-eyed concern. “You cannot fool me, Marina, I can plainly see you are unhappy. You have been truly out of sorts for days. You can tell me what is wrong. I would never tattle, you know.”

  Marina stared at her sister, taking in the love and care on her pretty face.

  In a flood of emotion, she pulled her sister to the bed, the need to unburden herself pushing caution away.

  Deirdre sat on Marina’s high bed, her feet tucked under her, her eyes as wide as platters while Marina spoke.

  Marina described what happened when Miss Brandon requested she walk with her the other day.

  “You can imagine my disbelief and dismay when she said that she and Mr. Sefton were engaged.”

  “But how could you believe it, he never so much as looked at her in our presence,” Deirdre said, when she was done gaping.

  “I know. I did not at first, but oh, Deirdre, there was such anguish in her every word and gesture. Soon, I began to believe it must be true.”

  “I cannot imagine that he would be so duplicitous. And how could he have the gall to ask Papa if he could court you? Oh, no, Marina, can you really be sure?”

  “Once Miss Brandon finished her tale—and she barely could over her tears—I no longer doubted that Sefton is the worst kind of scoundrel. But if I still had a doubt, Lord Cortland’s words would have convinced me.”

  “Lord Cortland?” Deirdre gasped. “What did he say?”

  Marina described how Lord Cortland came upon them, and the straightforward fashion in which he’d stated his reason for coming to Ridgeton Abbey.

  “His sole purpose in coming here was to thwart their elopement. He did not mince his words.” Biting her lip, Marina looked away from her sister, fearful she would read too much in her face.

  Relieved to unburden herself, Marina still did not tell Deirdre about her private waltz with Sefton, and certainly not about the searing kiss she shared with Cortland. She knew she would never speak of it.

  “So you see how terribly awkward this could be. Good Lord, Deirdre, I do not know where I will look. I cannot face Henry Willingham or George Halbury, for I do not wish to hurt their feelings. If I look at Sefton, I am afraid I could do him a violence.”

  Anger flashed in Deirdre’s hazel eyes. “I would not blame you if you did. I have a mind to kick him.”

  Smiling wanly, Marina said, “And I cannot think of Miss Brandon without my heart going out to her. And I cannot look at Lord Cortland without—” she stopped abruptly, realizing she had almost given herself away.

  Deirdre looked at her with keen curiosity. “But why can’t you look at Lord Cortland, Marina?”

  “Well, just because of his manner. I cannot help but feel that we will all end up as one of his favorite anecdotes, to be laughed over while he’s with his friends in some London drawing room.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so badly of him, but I do understand your discomfiture. Would you like me to stay by your side while everyone gathers around the punch bowl?”

  Laughing at her sister’s sweetness, Marina reached over and gave her another fierce hug. “No, I think we should attempt to behave as normally as possible. But remember, Deirdre, you must not say a word to anyone about what I have told you.”

  “Of course not! Do you take me for a ninny?”

  “No, but I know how indiscreet you can be. Can you imagine Papa’s reaction if he knew what Sefton has done?”

  “He would thrash him for such an insult,” Deirdre said solemnly. “You can trust me. I would never put you in such a terrible position.”

  A sharp rap at the door interrupted the warm moment and they heard their mother calling, “Girls! Girls! There are carriages in the distance!”

  ***

  People were gathering on the south lawn, around the table holding the ornate silver punch bowl that had been in the Buckleigh family for more than a hundred years, when Marina stepped out wearing an exquisitely embroidered paisley shawl over her Turkey red gown.

  Though crisp, the coldness that had made the days so bitter of late had left. The morning sky was nearly cloudless and scarcely a breeze moved the leafless branches. The mood was decidedly festive as Marina went to join the others as footmen circulated with trays full of silver punch cups.

  Mama, looking stunning in an ensemble of cherry wool and ermine, stood next to Papa by the punch bowl. Mama sent her a wide, conspiratorial smile, showing her delight that all of Marina’s suitors were in attendance.

  Gazing around the laughing, chattin
g group, Marina easily found any number of people she would prefer to avoid. Henry Willingham stood on the other side of the table, the smile he sent her full of hope and a hint of eagerness. George Halbury stood with his mother and Major Fielding, his cousin, with nearly the same expression as Henry.

  To her great dismay, she saw the odious Mr. Sefton with Vicar Ralston and Mr. and Mrs. Tundale. He looked as he always did, handsome, his expression the picture of genial affability. It quite astounded Marina that he had the gall to brazen the whole thing out. She wished she could walk right up to him and order him off her father’s estate.

  If his presence caused Marina anxiety, she could only imagine that the atmosphere at Ridgeton Abbey must be thick with tension and she wondered how Miss Brandon fared.

  Instantly, she looked around for Miss Brandon and saw her approaching from a short distance away. Considering how pale and red-eyed she had looked the other day after baring her secrets to Marina, she seemed much recovered and very pretty in a cerulean blue pelisse over a pale green gown and large chipstraw bonnet with a wide pink band.

  “Good day, Miss Buckleigh,” she said when she drew near enough, “what a perfect morning for the hunt.”

  Marina’s heart went out to the other girl for her gallant attempt at normalcy, but Marina could still see the distress in her wide blue eyes.

  “It is a lovely morning, Miss Brandon.” She wished she could say something else but, under the awkward circumstances, she knew not what.

  The shorter girl gazed up at her for a long moment, then said, “Thank you, Miss Buckleigh. That is, I mean to say, well, just thank you.” With a brief curtsy, she moved off toward the denser part of the crowd.

  Marina watched her walk away, nonplussed that she sensed an apology mixed with the gratitude.

  If this meant that Miss Brandon had let go of her attachment to Sefton, then Marina was happy for her.

  The hounds, held by the whippers-in, yipping and baying, drew her attention. Gentlemen, looking dashing in black coats and buff breeches rode in on their hunters, adding to the overall feeling of chaotic revelry.