Loving Lady Marcia (36 page)

“But she says she has many children, those at Oak Hall.”

“One can lead a fine life as an unmarried headmistress, I’m sure,” said Lord Brady. “But she’s made for love.
Romantic
love. How could she not be with her parents so much in love and a houseful of children who bring us such happiness? She may not have been born with a drop of Irish blood, but she’s Irish by virtue of being my daughter, and since she was a little girl, she’s been enthralled by Celtic stories, songs, and poems celebrating the glories of love and the heroes and heroines who fight for it.”

Duncan was burning with the desire to do just that. “It could be why she won’t have me, my lord.”

Lord Brady eyed him. “Do you not love her?”

“I do.” He could almost smell the lavender that scented her hair.

“Have you told her?”

“No.” Duncan inhaled a breath. “I haven’t found the right time.”

He remembered after they’d put their clothes back on in the garden shed, how she’d looked up at him with such trust in her eyes.
That
had been the right time. Or after she’d confessed at the little house on Curzon Street that she couldn’t give up being with him.

If only he’d known. The knowledge that he couldn’t go back fair drove him mad.

“It’s never the right time to tell someone you love them,” Lord Brady said, “whether it’s a father, a brother, a daughter, or a woman you cherish. But it must be done. You take the risk of having it flung back in your face sometimes. But you do it anyway.”

Duncan swallowed, unable to speak. How many times had he longed for loving words to be spoken between him and his father and brother? But they never had. It hadn’t seemed the right time. Ever.

And now it was too late.

Lord Brady shot out an arm and grabbed his. “You’re your own man, Duncan. We can’t take on our loved ones’ faults.”

He felt a physical pain near his heart. In addition to Finn’s, the marquess might know something of his father’s failings. “I’m learning that.”

He hoped he hadn’t learned too late.

The marquess drained his glass. “My daughter is stubborn and independent. Your plan to marry her is as close to a perfect solution as we’ll get. Your brother won’t do. But you will. You’ll more than do. You love her. And that’s what I want for all my daughters.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“You’ll be winning a grand prize in our girl. Hardly a punishment for the egregious wrong done her by your brother. So here’s your trial, lad. I believe in you and believe you’re up to the challenge.” The marquess finished his drink with a resounding gasp of appreciation, put his glass on his desk, and turned back to him.

Duncan braced himself. Whatever it was, he could handle it.

“I’m not giving you any more time to woo her,” the marquess said flatly. “And even though she’ll be mightily upset, I refuse to give her a choice in the matter. You two shall marry. I’m procuring a special license and submitting an engagement announcement to the paper as soon as we’re done here. You’ll have to win her as her husband.”

“But Lord Brady. Let me speak to her first. Tell her how I feel.”

“You can do that after
I’ve
spoken with her and informed her of my decision,” Lord Brady said. “Your words of love will soften her, I’m sure.”

Duncan wasn’t nearly as confident of that outcome as the marquess was.

“Of course, your brother, if and when he shows himself on our doorstep, will be thrown out on his ear,” Lord Brady said dryly. “Lady Janice will survive. The same way her sister before her did.”

Duncan resolved to be as cooperative as possible. “I can only guess how difficult it must be for a father to give his daughter’s hand in marriage under normal circumstances, much less one like this involving a breach of honor against the most lovely girl in the world. Thank you for your trust.”

“You’re welcome,” Lord Brady said, his voice a bit rough around the edges.

Duncan had obviously hit a nerve in the sentimental marquess. “But there’s one complication you should know about first.”

“And that is?”

“Lady Marcia has entered into a deal with the Duke of Beauchamp.”

“Already? And I wonder how she accomplished that without my assistance?”

“I introduced her to him, my lord.”

“Duncan Lattimore,” Lord Brady chided him sternly.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I believed in her. And I still do.”

Lord Brady’s lips thinned. “Exactly what is this plan?”

Duncan told him the entire story. “Oak Hall means the world to her,” he concluded, “so on her behalf, I’m asking you to delay the engagement announcement and the wedding until the end of the Season.”

“Hmmm,” said Lord Brady. “She must stay, as you called it, ‘happily independent,’ until the Season’s over?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re saying, in essence, that my daughter is to serve as the bait to lure the duke into enrolling his granddaughter at Oak Hall.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Damned right it is.” Lord Brady pushed himself out of his chair. “The answer is no. There’ll be no delay.”

Duncan rose, too. “But I won’t go anywhere, I promise you. I want to marry her, my lord, and I’m willing to wait.”

The marquess put up a hand. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Chadwick. It’s Marcia. I know my daughter, and she’ll do her damnedest to put Oak Hall’s requirements above her own needs on every occasion. It’s time she came first, whether she likes it or not.”

He went to the window and looked over the back garden, then turned back to Duncan. “Four years I’ve been patient with her seeking out her own life, and as long as she was happy and fulfilled, I went along with it. But my patience has come to an end. She’s still of the House of Brady and all the values associated with it. And one thing we don’t tolerate is putting the security and well-being of one of our own at risk.”

“But she can carry this off, my lord. Trust her. Trust
me
.”

“She’s been hurt,” Lord Brady said in a low, dangerous tone. “Terribly hurt. Her work at Oak Hall is a temporary remedy for what truly ails her. I can’t trust her in this state.”

“You’re right that she was hurt.” Duncan’s heart pounded against his chest. “And at first, she might have been running away by staying on at Oak Hall. But over the past four years, her passion for guiding those girls has become
bigger
than the old hurt. And it’s a joy to see.” He looked steadily at Marcia’s father. “She’s moved on, Lord Brady.”

“No, by God, she hasn’t!” The marquess pounded his fist on his desk, his eyes gleaming with fury … which quickly dissipated. “I saw it in her eyes,” he whispered. “And I heard it in her voice when she told me—and cried in my arms.” His shoulders bowed, and he leaned on the desk, lost in some memory.

Was he seeing Marcia’s confession again? Or his daughter as a carefree young girl—before her loss of innocence changed her forever?

“I know that the news was shocking to hear,” Duncan said quietly, “and that you’re still in the grips of taking it in. But I swear to you, delaying your plan will
not
result in its dissolution.”

Lord Brady looked up at him. “Part of being a man is making impossible choices when called upon to do so.” There was steel in his tone. “Risk my own beloved daughter’s welfare by delaying your union? Or turn my back on the crisis at Oak Hall?” He straightened. “Other people can save the school. It’s up to me to look out for my daughter.”

“So what do you expect me to do,” Duncan said bitterly, “when she comes in here and learns she must marry me imminently—an alliance which, if it takes place now, will mean the dashing of her dreams?”

His belly burned with heat and anger so hot, he hurled his empty tumbler into the fire. For a split second, the sound of broken glass brought him satisfaction. But it was followed quickly by a black remorse.

“Is that how you plan to deal with problems that come your way during marriage?” Lord Brady demanded to know. “This won’t be the last crisis you’ll face with my daughter. If you don’t know that yet, you’re in for a big surprise.”

“Sorry,” Duncan said roughly. “I’ll replace the glass. That was uncalled for.”

The older man came up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about my good Irish crystal.” He chuckled.

Duncan turned to him and scratched his jaw, embarrassment flooding him. “I was an idiot,” he admitted sheepishly.

“We all are at times.” Lord Brady’s expression softened. “This is your opportunity, man, to prove your words and your worth. If you truly love my daughter, you’ll find a way to help her past this.” He tilted his chin at him. “I’m willing to bet on you, Chadwick.”

There was a long silence.

Duncan felt the tension gripping him melt away. It was no use staying angry at a man who felt he was doing his fatherly duty, a man who was giving up his beloved daughter to him, trusting that he’d be a good husband to her. “Thank you, my lord.”

The marquess lofted a brow. “Are you ready?”

“As I ever will be,” Duncan said. She would hate him, yet he had to win her over. No easy task, but he was up for the challenge.

His future father-in-law pulled on the bell rope.

Jenkins came to the door.

“Send her in,” Lord Brady said tersely.

Duncan threw his arms across his chest, trying to tamp down the conflicting emotions still churning in him: desire to see Marcia and tell her he loved her; anxiety over her reaction to Lord Brady’s demands; and uncertainty as to how in hell he was going to prove his worth as a husband and son-in-law.

It was a long minute while Jenkins summoned Marcia. And then Duncan heard her footsteps coming down the stairs, slow and sure.

When she walked through the door and saw him standing there, her eyes flew wide. “What are
you
doing here, Lord Chadwick?”

“I’m here to marry you,” he said, before Lord Brady could intervene. It was his marriage proposal. No one else’s.
He
would be the one to speak it. “But let me explain. In private.”

She stared in shock at her father, then looked back at Duncan.
“Over my dead body,”
she said.

If she were a cat, she would have hissed. A cobra, she would have struck.

She marched back out the door without giving him or her father a second glance.

Chapter Thirty-three

“No,
Mother
.” Marcia hadn’t called Mama that since she was thirteen and vaguely annoyed with her at least ten hours a day for no reason at all.

Mama knocked again. “Open this door, young lady.”

“I’m not a child,” Marcia called through the door, trembling still with fury, brushing tears out of her eyes. She was angry, but she was frightened, too. Her world was spiraling out of control again. “Leave me alone.”

“I’ve already left you alone for an hour.”

“I don’t want to see anyone,” Marcia said.

“When, then?”

“I don’t know. Years, maybe. Perhaps I’ll stay in here and never see anyone again. Except Kerry.” She knew she was being completely illogical. And rude.

“You’ll see me
now,
” Mama said firmly. “I’ll get the keys if I have to.”

Marcia released a frustrated breath. “All right,” she said. “I’ll open the door.” She took her time unlocking it. Her hands trembled the whole while.

Marcia had never seen her mother like this. Her complexion was paler than usual. She’d been crying, as well. Her eyes were red-rimmed. But when she walked through that door, she was fierce, so fierce Marcia took a step back.

Mama strode past her. “Shut the door.”

Marcia fumbled with it to lock it again, but her hands were shaking, still. So she leaned her back on it to press it closed.

She and Mama exchanged a long, silent look.

And then Mama held open her arms.

Marcia looked down and away, her chest heaving. It was as if she couldn’t breathe, but she was sucking in large gulps of air.

Still, no sound came from Mama.

Marcia looked up again.

“Come, darling.” Mama’s arms were still outstretched.

“I don’t want any pity,” Marcia said, her voice a mere croak.

“I don’t pity you. I
love
you.” Mama’s eyes filled with tears.

Marcia walked slowly to her. Mama walked toward her, too. By the time they’d reached each other, Marcia’s arms were out. They fell together and clasped each other hard. Harder than Marcia had ever done in her life.

“Mama,” she whispered.

“You’re our brave daughter,” Mama said. “We’re so proud of who you are.”

They clung until Marcia’s breathing became easier. When they pulled apart, Mama took her arm and led her to the bed.

“Let’s sit,” Mama said.

Marcia sank onto the bed next to her.

Mama took her hand. “I know you were trying to help Janice. And look what happened as a result. It must not seem fair.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Marcia. But the heat had gone out of her. Now she could look at herself from the outside. She saw a girl in a not unusual situation. She certainly wasn’t the first to be forced to marry a man to satisfy the requirements of honor, to restore her reputation to an unsullied state. “At least I saved Janice from a disaster.”

“You did. And your father and I will be forever grateful.”

Marcia gave a short laugh. “This is an odd way to show it.”

Mama sighed and squeezed her fingers, which were limp and cold. “It hurts Daddy to have to take the steps he did, knowing how unhappy you’d be. But he is the head of this household, and he has to do what he thinks is right.”

“You could have stopped him, Mama. You know he’d do nothing that went against your wishes.”

“True.” Mama tugged on Marcia’s hand and made her look her in the eye. “But I agree with Daddy. I think this is the best possible solution. Lord Chadwick is a fine man. Of course, I’m so sorry about Oak Hall. It grieves me to know it’s in jeopardy.”

Marcia shrugged. “It will be shut down now for sure.”

Mama rubbed her sweet little chin thoughtfully. “I wish there were a solution. Perhaps Daddy will buy the school from Lady Ennis.”