Miss Grantham's One True Sin (The Regency Matchmaker Series Book 2) (25 page)

"You speak of me," Truesdale whispered. "My God ...
I am your son
."

She nodded, misery in her eyes. Tears flowed freely down her face now. "You'd grown up so wild. And then I watched you reject the
ton
—of which I was so firmly a part—I was certain you would reject me, too. I could see the anger in your beautiful eyes. I was afraid to tell you. Afraid of how you would react."

"Mrs. Robinson ... Mother, I—"

A sob burst forth from Ophelia, and she held her fist to her mouth. “How I have longed to hear you call me that ... my son ... my boy.”

Truesdale drew a breath to respond, but Ophelia held up her hand, interrupting him. "Let me finish—while I can." Truesdale subsided with a nod of acquiescence, and Ophelia went on. "You have made no secret amongst the
ton
of your determination never to wed."

He sat heavily. "I did not want any children. I thought ...

"You thought your wickedness was in your blood."

He nodded. "I was determined that True Sin would be the last Sin."

"I am afraid your particular flavor of wildness did not come from the Sinclairs, but from me, my boy. You can now rid yourself of the notion that you are a Sin."

"I emulated my father's example brilliantly enough," Truesdale said and gave a bitter laugh.

"For a time," Ophelia agreed. "Even better than his own true son, I daresay. Yet you always felt different, somehow, did you not?"

Truesdale nodded.

"I know. I watched you grow more and more apart from your family, more and more apart from the
ton
. And I ached for you, my boy." She closed her eyes. "
My boy
," she whispered, her voice catching. "You deserved so much more. More than I had wrung from my own miserable life. Watching you make your lonely way in life broke my heart. You deserved a loving wife, a family." She shook her head. "And then I met Marianna ... and I thought ... " She bit her lip. "Please. Can you forgive me? Can you both forgive me?"

Truesdale didn't hesitate. He walked to Ophelia, knelt, and embraced her. Ophelia sobbed into his shoulder.

Marianna dashed tears from her eyes and glided soundlessly toward the door, intending to leave mother and son to their reunion, but Truesdale stopped her. "Please, Marianna, wait. Ophelia ... Mother," he said, "pray wait here. I will return."

Ophelia nodded her understanding and smiled tremulously. "I know."

Truesdale ushered Marianna into the library, where she had first met him. That day seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"What did you tell my father?" she asked.

"It does not signify."

He was right. It did not matter. She would likely never see her father again. She felt a profound sadness, but she also felt an equally profound relief. She stuffed such emotions away. She would take them out to examine them later. "What do you wish to say to me, my lord?"

His broad chest rose and fell. She could see his pulse beating at the side of his neck.

TRUE LOOKED INTO her wondering eyes and fought to keep himself from falling to his knees before her and
begging
her to marry him.

He knew she loved the ABC's. And when he’d spoken those hushed words to her father, True had done so knowing that Marianna would do anything to secure the girls’ futures, to keep them from losing their home, even if that meant marrying him in order to get him to accept her bottle of gems. She would sacrifice her own security, her own dreams and marry him, a man she did not love, for the happiness of the ABC's. And, as much as he loved her, as much as he fervently wished to be her husband, True would not ask her. He had to make her leave Trowbridge Manor willingly, with her jewels, and without delay.

He had to lie to her once again.

"Marianna," he began, "I have deceived you. I attempted to seduce you to secure your fortune. I needed the money to rescue my ships and thus the ABC's. But I no longer need your gems.”

He poured himself a whiskey and took a sip. “When I left here a week ago, I went to London to gamble. Luck was with me, and I have word this morning that my shipping business has more than recovered. I am before the wind and free of debt. I do not need you anymore."

He smiled. "So. I release you from our bargain. Your parents' gems—all of them—are yours to keep." He hesitated for a moment and then kissed her cheek and walked from the library and out of her life. He did not look back.

Chapter Eighteen

M
ARIANNA

was on her own. She was free.

Isn't that what she wanted?

She retired to her chamber to pack but soon heard the guests beginning to take their leave. Unwilling to interact with any of them, she stayed in her room all day as the exodus proceeded. She slept off and on, took meals in her room—which Cook delivered herself with a worried smile and a pat on the shoulder. She half expected Orion Chase, Earl of Lindenshire, to ask to speak with her, and she didn't know whether to hope for it or to dread it, but in the end she needn't have fretted either way, for she received no such request. No one else came to speak with her, either. Not True Sin, Ophelia, John, nor even the ABC's.

As the sun's rays slanted low over the verdant hills surrounding Trowbridge Manor, Marianna realized she was an outsider here now. She would leave at first light, return to London, and get on with her life—wherever that might be.

Truesdale would keep their bargain secret, she was certain. He had proved today that she could trust him to protect her as much as he was able. To Society he would convey that they'd cried off their engagement amicably. She shook her head, silently imagining the expressions of intrigued speculation the
on-dits
would elicit amongst the
ton
, and then an image of Mrs. Smith's kind face filled her mind. Marianna sighed.

Unlike the ladies of the
ton
, Eliza Smith would not find anything amusing about a broken engagement. No, she and the other women of Trowbridge Village would feel nothing but dismay when they heard Marianna was not to be the new viscountess after all. They had all been so kind to her on the day of the cottage raising. They'd wished her happy so earnestly that Marianna knew they truly meant it in spite of all the trouble she caused them. She'd thought their hearts truly glad for her and the Viscount Trowbridge.

A pang of regret suffused Marianna with sadness. She would never see the women of Trowbridge Village again. The memory of the day she spent in their company would fade in time, along with everything else that had happened there, like a pleasant dream, yet she would never forget what they taught her.

One short afternoon had changed Marianna into a person quite different from the one who had come to Trowbridge Manor. Without the villagers—and Truesdale—she might always have had a distorted image of the
ton
's worth. She might have thought being a part of the
ton
the only way to be happy. She knew now that the
ton
was not the only good society, nor even the best society. She knew now that the
ton's
image of respectability and decorum was only a veneer.

But logic also told her that if there were people amongst the
ton
like Orion Chase, Baroness Marchman, Ophelia, John, and their niece and nephew, Lord and Lady Blackshire, then there must be more people like them. All societies had their good and bad aspects. There were no absolutes.

She awakened frequently all through the night and kept a candle burning. She had only a few hours at Trowbridge Manor left to her; she could not bear to lose them to the obscurity of darkness, even if all she had to look at was her own chamber.

Sometime before dawn, she looked over at her mother's emeralds, which lay gleaming in the candlelight on the dressing table along with the rest of the jewels her mother had abandoned. Sent by Trowbridge to Marianna's chamber around evensong the previous day, the jewels were not a vast fortune, but they would be enough to live well on. Or, she realized, they would make a tidy dowry—though they likely would not be enough of a dowry to compel any of the Trowbridge bachelors to marry her, not after her disgrace at the brook. They were all titled, wealthy, young, and handsome—and Marianna no longer had a vast fortune to inherit, for she had no doubt her parents would cut her out of their will as neatly as she had cut them out of her life.

Still, not all of the gentlemen of the
ton
were titled. If she were willing to settle for a man of meager means and fewer prospects, then she might yet marry into the
ton
in spite of her infamous past. After all, True Sin was a part of the
ton
in spite of his own scandalous exploits. And so was his natural mother in spite of her equally outrageous behavior. Perhaps Marianna could be like them. Still very much a part of the
ton
, yet ... different. If that’s what she wanted. But for the first time in her life, Marianna wasn’t sure what she wanted.

She inhaled deeply and stretched her arms above her head. She could go where she wished, do as she wished, think, act, and feel as she wished. She should have been bounding about the room in paroxysms of joy. Instead, she was miserable, and as the first rays of the sun painted the sky blue, she at last recognized why. The prospect of achieving a respectable, unremarkable, highly placed and titled social position held little appeal for her now. She didn't want to be a duchess. She didn't want to be a regular patron of Almack's. She didn't want to spend her time hurrying from one ball to another in smoky, crowded London.

“What I want is Truesdale Sinclair,” she whispered into the darkness.

What nonsense!
She chided herself. True Sin was a libertine, a reckless gambler, a fortune hunter. Had he not admitted to attempting to seduce her for her fortune? Had he not abandoned her in order to hie off to London to gamble money he did not have—
her
money? And when fortune smiled upon him so that he did not need her anymore, had he not set their bargain to naught and then walked away without a backward glance?

And yet ... and yet he had said he'd sought her hand in marriage not for himself, but for his nieces' sake. And he had behaved quite gallantly yesterday and as a friend might, all along. He had forced her to see the truth even when it was difficult, even when
she
was difficult, calling him callous and cruel. He had been kind to Ophelia and John, to the servants and to the ABC's. And even to Marianna.

And—
oh!
—he had kissed her with passion. Passion and tenderness. She brushed the backs of her fingers against her cheek, where he had kissed her yesterday, and closed her eyes. She could not believe he felt nothing for her. She did not
want
to believe it.

The logical thing to do was to go and ask him how he felt, but for once Marianna tossed logic willingly aside. She needed to talk with someone, all right, but what she needed was a mama—something, she understood now, she'd never really had. She tugged on her night-rail and stole into the hall, seeking the next best thing: Ophelia. She knocked on the door softly as the clocks chimed five o' the clock.

"Enter," Ophelia called.

Marianna peeked inside. "It is I, Marianna."

"Come in, dearling." Ophelia sat upright in her bed A single candle illumined the room. "I have been waiting for you."

"Where is John?"

"The stables, as is usual for him at this ungodly hour. Sit, child, and warm your feet." She patted the pillow beside her, and Marianna curled up against the old woman’s shoulder. Ophelia pulled a blanket over her and tucked it in "Tell me," she said, "have you forgiven him?"

"For deceiving me?"

Ophelia nodded. "For lying, for intending to seduce you into marriage from the start."

"
You knew?
"

"I have known from the first day. I knew very well your bottle of gems was not enough to satisfy his debts. I knew he would have a go at luring you into marriage. I ask again: can you forgive him?"

Marianna stared at the candle. "He deceived me in order to provide for the ABC's. He was in danger of losing his ships and Trowbridge Manor. He did not want the girls to be torn away from the only home they have ever known. He said they have lost too much. How could I not forgive so noble a purpose?"

Ophelia closed her eyes, and a smile softened the lines around her mouth. "Indeed." Her eyes opened and fixed upon Marianna. "Do you love him?" she asked.

Marianna hesitated. Did she? Could she really have given her heart to such a rogue? "It would not matter if I did," she averred, "for he clearly does not love me. He said he does not need me or my fortune and has released me from our bargain."

"He has?"

Marianna nodded.

"But what about his ships?"

"What about them?"

"They are still impounded. He stands to lose everything unless he can find a buyer."

"A buyer?"

"Did he not tell you? He has put his remaining ships up for sale. It is the only way he can save Trowbridge Manor. He refuses to take any money from me, though I know he needs the blunt quite urgently. He shall need every last farthing the ships can bring. Why, one of his solicitors came to dun him here at Trowbridge just today. Nasty little man. He said he would be just the first of a mob of creditors who will be descending upon Trowbridge this week. He loudly demanded immediate payment and then threatened the boy with imprisonment!" She thumped the counterpane angrily. As though he could. Can you imagine? I am one of the richest ladies in London. Wait until they find out he is my son! Wait until they realize I could—Marianna?" she said, her voice filled with concern, for Marianna's eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "Marianna, whatever is wrong, dearest?"

"He has lied to me again." Her words tumbled out as she repeated Truesdale's parting words to her. "He told me he was out of debt and that his shipping business was safe. Why?" She searched Ophelia’s eyes. “Why would Trowbridge lie to me about that?”

Ophelia laid one hand aside of her wrinkled cheek. "I do not know."

Marianna sighed. "Come now, dear friend, we both know there can be only one conclusion. Your son does not want me. After coming to know me, he has decided he would rather sell his beloved ships than be forced to marry me."

"No, Marianna. There must be some other explanation," Ophelia reasoned.

But Marianna shook her head. "Can you think of one?" she asked.

Ophelia bit her lip and frowned. "I wish I could," she said finally.

Marianna gave her a sad smile and kissed her withered cheek. "Thank you, dear lady, for everything." She rose. "Please thank John for me."

"Where are you going?"

"To my chamber to pack my things."

"Oh ... Marianna! Dearling, you are welcome at our house in Grosvenor Square. Why, you may stay as long as you like.
Forever
. I have come to think of you as my daughter, and I will treat you as such in spite of my witless son's lack of a proposal."

Marianna smiled sadly. "Thank you, dear lady, but I believe I shall return to Lady Marchman's School—at least for a time. It seems I have a talent for handling children, and I might do some good there." And if I am busy at the school, I will not have as much time to pine away for True Sin.

“My dear,” Ophelia said gently, “I am afraid that will not be possible. Your reputation in London ... ” She trailed off.

Marianna blinked. “I have a reputation now.” Ladies with
reputations
were not welcome as schoolmistresses.

Ophelia nodded sadly.

“Very well. I shall travel to Exeter ... or Plymouth ... or ... or Edinburgh. There has to be a school somewhere that will take me. If I travel far enough away, I can assume a name as I did before.”

“Or you could stay with John and I.”

Marianna knew in her heart she would avoid Ophelia and John's grand mansion, even for a visit. She was sure that Truesdale and the ABC's would be spending time there from now on, and seeing them would be too painful for her. It would be a reminder of all she had lost. A reminder of all she never had—and of all she never would have. No, she would never go there.

Ophelia sighed. "I had so hoped . . ." Ophelia smiled sadly. "You
will
visit us, won't you? John is excessively fond of you. We both are."

Marianna hugged and kissed Ophelia, then slipped from the room at last. As the door clicked shut, she heard a soft intake of air and then a forlorn sob from within.

She fled down the hall.

Returning to her bedchamber, Marianna blindly stuffed her new clothing and other belongings into her trunk, thinking to leave as soon as possible. Saying good-bye to Ophelia was horrible enough, but a moan escaped her at the thought of saying good-bye to the ABC's. Why hadn't they come to see her? She was sure they'd been purposely kept away. If they saw her before she departed Trowbridge, they would ask her when they would see her again. Marianna knew it would be a very long time—or never. She couldn’t tell them that.

It would be kinder to the girls if she just let their memories of her fade into the obscurity of their pasts. It would be kinder to them if she were simply to slip away into the thick morning fog.

She took the time to write a carefully worded letter to them and then dressed in a faded blue-flowered calico that reminded her of her meadow of bluebells. She would never see that meadow again. She waited until just after dawn, and then, with a last look around, she quit her chamber, a small portmanteau in hand. She would leave Trowbridge Manor immediately and send for her trunk later. She intended to walk to the next village and wait there for the mail coach. She could hardly carry the trunk away with her.

She walked down the stairs to the grand entry hall for the last time. There would be other meadows, she told herself, and other little girls. But she did not believe it.

There was only one thing left to do. She ducked into the parlor and, taking down the little porcelain box from the mantel, replaced the Trowbridge ruby, the ring Truesdale's adoptive mother had worn, the ring that would never be Marianna’s. She had only to walk out the front door and down the lane now, and her time at Trowbridge—no, her entire youth, she realized— would be done with. Her hand lingered upon the box, upon her past, for a few last, precious seconds, and she stood there, remembering how tenderly Truesdale had held her hand when he'd placed the ring on her finger.

And then a movement reflected in the gleaming surface of the box caught her eye. A figure entered the room behind her. A man.
Truesdale!
Her heart pounded, and her knees went weak, and she chided herself for such a reaction. There was no reason for her to feel that way. She did not love him, after all. She
would
not love him. What did it matter that he was here to witness her leave-taking? He would wish her well. Perhaps he would shake her hand. He certainly would not sweep her into his arms and kiss her as he had done before. There was no need for that now. He'd been deceiving her then, trying to make her think he truly wanted her. He'd been bent upon seduction. But no longer.

She affected a pleasant smile and turned to face him.

It was Lord Lindenshire.

"My—my lord!" she stammered

"Did I frighten you?"