Candice Hern (54 page)

"Yes, sir." The footman, looking anxious and excited, quickly departed.

Jack had not stirred from his place near the door. He could not seem to move, his body stiff with suppressed emotion, anguish battling with rage for control. Though he saw and heard all the flurry of activity that went on about him, he was unable to focus on anything beyond a single thought.

She had left him. She had actually left him. Mary had left him.

His hands slowly balled into fists.

"I do not understand," Emily said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Why would Mary have left Pemworth? You must have been the last to see her, Mrs. Bannister. Did she say anything to you? Was she—" she cast a quick glance at Jack—"unhappy?"

Mrs. Bannister, more composed now, looked at Emily and narrowed her eyes in thought. "She was certainly not herself when we spoke yesterday afternoon," she said. "She was sharp and ... well, uncommonly rude. It was not at all like Mary. I suppose she might have been upset about something. I thought she might have been upset with me, for she had never spoken to me so harshly before. But she claimed to be unwell, and I assumed that accounted for her odd behavior."

The butler, Grimes, entered the breakfast room and stood before Jack, clearing his throat nervously. When Jack ignored him, Grimes turned to the marchioness. "Lady Mary's carriage and horses are not in the stables, my lady," he said. "Her coachman and his things are also gone. One of the stable boys heard a noise in the middle of the night, but did not investigate. Her maid has also disappeared. Her case and extra clothing are gone from the room she had shared with Betsy. No one can recall seeing her at all last evening."

"Thank you, Grimes," the marchioness said. She then signaled for him and the remaining footman to leave. She looked sharply at Jack when the servants had departed. "So," she said. "Mary has left. We must say something, Jack, to the other guests. I assume you are planning to go after her?" She breathed a ragged sigh. "I suppose we must postpone the wedding ..."

"God damn it!" Jack exploded, no longer able to contain his fury. She had done it. She had really left him. It had happened again. "God damn it!" He tightened one fist, brought it up to his chest, then slammed it furiously against the wall. A small painting jumped from its hook to land with a loud crash upon the sideboard, knocking over the large coffee urn, which in turn sent serving dishes bobbling and smashing one after the other to the floor. "God damn it!" Jack shouted, oblivious to the damage as he pounded the wall again and again until it cracked, and bits of plaster began to crumble to the floor.

"Jack!"

Raising his fist for another blow, Jack was suddenly surrounded by Edward, Bradleigh, and Sedgewick, each trying to restrain him, immobilizing his arms, while the women scurried to the other side of the room, away from his uncontrolled rage. Jack stopped fighting his captors when he happened to catch his mother's eye, overwhelmed momentarily by the pain and fear he read there. Suddenly realizing he had made a spectacle of himself—and not much caring—Jack attempted to rein in his fury.

God damn her. She had taken him for a fool, just as Suzanne had. He had trusted her, and she had bolted. Probably discovered he was nearly bankrupt and no longer good enough for her. Probably even now seeking out a fatter goose to pluck. God damn her. God damn her!

He roughly shrugged off the restraining arms and hands of this friends and looked down with disgust at the mess of smashed porcelain, crumbled plaster, and food littering the floor. Coffee dribbled down the front of the sideboard from the overturned urn. "It's all right," he said. "It's all right. Let me go."

Sedgewick and Bradleigh backed away warily. His uncle stayed close at his side. Jack looked at the women, standing together at the other end of the room, and met the steely glare of Emily. Without unlocking her eyes from his, she strode forward slowly and somewhat awkwardly. Her eyes narrowed as she stood before him, her arms resting on her swollen belly.

"What did you
do
to Mary?" she said in an accusing tone. "What did you say to her? What did—"

"I?" Jack shouted. "What did
I
do? Dammit, Emily, I have done nothing but..."
But love her
, he had almost said. "Nothing but treat her with kindness and respect and, God help me, trust. I never—"

"But you must have done something! She was so happy. She wanted this marriage. She loved you—"

"Ha!" Jack exclaimed. "Loved me? Apparently not, my dear. She—"

"I don't care what you say, Jack!" Emily's voice had risen to a shout. "She was happy, I tell you, and something has happened. I don't know what, but—"

"Emily, please." Bradleigh had moved to his wife's side and placed an arm around her, frowning over her head at Jack. "Calm yourself, my love. Remember your condition."

"My condition? My condition? What about poor Mary's condition? Is there no one among you fine gentlemen willing to go after her? She might be in trouble. She might be injured. She might be—"

"Oh, yes, please," Mrs. Bannister interrupted. She moved forward toward the gentlemen, gripping her hands in front of her in a plaintive gesture. "Please. Someone must go after her. She may have—"

"She was not abducted, ladies," Jack said with a sneer. "She left in her own carriage with her own maid and her own luggage. And of her own free will. It was her decision. There is no need to go haring after her. And at the moment that is the last thing I intend to do. Frankly, I don't care if I never see the woman again."

"Jack!" his mother exclaimed.

"Oh, but you are a scoundrel after all," Emily said through her teeth. "Don't you know how fragile Mary is? How hard she worked to put all that unpleasantness behind her? Don't you realize how meticulous she has been in maintaining that mask of cheerfulness? And something ...
something
happened to cause that careful mask to crack. But what? What is she running away from? Or whom? What did you do to her, Jack?" she shouted. "What did you say to her?"

"Emily, please," Bradleigh said, tightening his arm about her and scowling furiously at Jack. "I am taking you to our bedchamber. I won't have you upset like this. Come along, my love." He steered her toward the door, her determination to stay no match for his superior strength.

"Scoundrel!" she hissed over her shoulder as they left the room.

When the door had closed behind them, Jack spun angrily around. "Always the scoundrel, am I not?" Meeting the confused yet incensed eyes of Mrs. Bannister, he fixed her with an irate gaze. "That is what you think as well, is it not, ma'am? It is all
my
fault. Dear, sweet Mary can do no wrong.
I
am the villain," he said as he stabbed a finger against his chest. "
I
am at fault.
I
am somehow to blame for Mary's unconscionable behavior, am I not?"

Mrs. Bannister chewed on her lower lip and said nothing.

"Well?" Jack shouted. "Is that not what you think, ma'am? Is that not what you
all
think? Well, to hell with all of you. And to hell with Mary."

Mrs. Bannister turned and fled the room without a word.

Edward turned on Jack, an angry glare in his eyes, and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Get hold of yourself, boy!"

Jack shook off his uncle's firm grip and stared at him with undisguised anger.

"Damnation!" Edward said and then stormed out of the room.

"
Et tu
, Uncle?" Jack muttered.
He turned toward his mother. Her face was pale, her shoulders slumped. "Well, Mama?"

"Oh, Jack!" she said, blinking back tears. She followed Edward out of the room.

God damn it!

"Well. What an unexpected development this is."

Jack turned toward Sedgewick, who had seated himself back at the table and was calmly slathering a muffin with jam.

"Go ahead, Sedge. Berate me just like the rest of them." Jack sank into a chair across from Sedgewick. He placed his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. The fight had gone out of him. He felt drained, empty.

"I take leave to reserve judgment," Sedgewick said around a mouthful of muffin. "I met Lady Mary only yesterday, after all. Though I liked her, I have no knowledge of her character. I was encouraged, though, by your own words of affection. It sounded as though you had found happiness at last, that you had found someone to... to love."

"What a bloody fool I've been!" Jack did not lift his head from his hands, and his voice was soft and muffled. "I loved her, Sedge. I trusted her. I thought she was different. How could I have been so stupid?" He lifted his head and slumped back into his chair. "I learned years ago never to trust a woman. They are all heartless, faithless, fickle creatures. I should have known better. Mary is the same as all the rest."

"Are you so certain of that, Jack? She was different enough to have you singing her praises only yesterday."

"Don't remind me, please, of my own stupidity. She maniplated me into letting down my guard, that is all. Dammit, how could I have been such a fool?"

"Perhaps you were not so foolish," Sedgewick said. "Perhaps something
did
happen. Something beyond her control—"

"Sedge! She took everything. She sneaked out in the middle of the night without a word or a note ... nothing. Nothing."

"It does look rather odd," Sedgewick said. "What do you suppose set her off?"

"I have no idea," Jack said, his voice rising with impatience. "She apparently changed her mind and bolted. Plain and simple. Bloody hell!"

A footman quietly entered the room and looked in horror at the mess on and in front of the sideboard. He walked toward it, hands outstretched as though to pick something up, when he turned and met Jack's angry gaze. Startled, he backed out of the room, mouthing apologies as he left.

Jack rose and began to pace the room. "I should have known better," he said. "I
did
know better. The question is, what made me forget? I was right to merely take my pleasure from women and never get involved. Well, by God, that is exactly what I will do from now on. I will never,
never
trust a woman again."

"What about her fortune?" Sedgewick asked. "You need to marry a fortune, or have you forgotten that minor point? What will you do now?"

Jack snorted. "Oh, I still need a fortune, to be sure. But I'll be damned if I will have it from a woman. No, sir. Never again. I will find some other way."

"And Lady Mary? What will you do about her? Do you not think you should at least try to find out what happened? Find out if—"

"No!" Jack shouted. "By God, she has done enough damage. She has humiliated me in front of my friends and family. I shall never forget that. Never. I want nothing more to do with her."

Standing near the sideboard, he eyed a piece of broken porcelain and kicked it hard across the room.

God damn it!

Chapter 19

Olivia fled the breakfast room and made her way toward the Great Hall. There was no particular reason for going there; she simply needed to get away from all those people. She found an oak settle in an alcove beneath the Minstrel's Gallery, sat down, and dropped her head into her hands.

My God, what am I going to do?

She had been abandoned by her employer, left among virtual strangers, with no transportation, save what she could beg, and no idea where she should go in any case. What in the world was she going to do? A tightening in her chest caused her to lift her head, sit up straight, and breathe deeply. She was distraught beyond words, but the tears had stopped some time ago. She was still saddened by this strange turn of events, to be sure; but more than that, she was frightened. She was all at sixes and sevens, uncertain of what was expected of her, what Mary expected of her. Not since Martin had died had she felt so lost.

She had been upset—and hurt—by Mary's behavior yesterday afternoon, but had never dreamed anything like this would happen. But, then, what had happened? What had caused Mary to leave like that? Without a word? Without an explanation? To sneak off in the middle of the night like that? It was so unlike her. Especially now. Olivia had not been unaware of Mary's increased attachment to Lord Pemerton, which was written plainly on her face for all the world to see, or of her great pleasure in his family and his home. Always cheerful, Mary had never seemed so happy as she had been at Pemworth. What, then, could have changed all that? What had happened?

Olivia heard a noise behind her. Not wishing to be caught brooding in a dark corner of the Great Hall, she rose and turned toward the doorway in time to see Lord and Lady Bradleigh starting up the oak staircase.

"Excuse me, my lady," Olivia said without thinking. "But I wonder if I might have a word with you?"

Emily relinquished her husband's arm and turned toward Olivia.

"I was wondering," Olivia said, "if you ... I mean, do you have any idea what..."

Emily smiled weakly. "What happened to Mary?" she said, finishing Olivia's thought.

Olivia nodded, embarrassed to have approached the countess in such a forward manner.

"I wish I knew, Mrs. Bannister," Emily said. "I am afraid I do not understand at all. I am frankly worried about her."

"Oh, so am I! I wish someone would go after her."

"I must agree with Jack on that point, Mrs. Bannister," Lord Bradleigh said. "I doubt Lady Mary wishes to be followed. She apparently made a conscious decision to leave. Why, I cannot begin to say. But I suspect it was not an easy decision, and she probably wanted to be alone. That is most likely why, unfortunately, she left without you."

"Yes," Emily said. "Of all people, you must be closest to her, Mrs. Bannister. If she chose not to confide her plans even to you, then it must have been something very difficult for her to do. Poor Mary. What can have happened?"

Olivia stared at the countess hopelessly.

"We are all confused," Emily continued. "And hurt. But Mary must be feeling even more wretched than we are. I suppose we must simply accept her decision and continue on."