Page 16 of Rescued from Betrayal
Her legs trembled beneath her, the myriad of emotions nearly overcoming her. One moment she’d been planning her marriage to Lord Caraway, the next she’d feared being trapped into one by Mr. Fairchild. Now she would be sacrificed on the altar of propriety to Sir Nathaniel Stanford. She should be upset, but, oddly, it was an immense relief. At least she’d not have to marry a rake or his septuagenarian grandfather, Lord Penbrose.
She stumbled. Lord Penbrose was related to both Lord Caraway and Mr. Fairchild. That meant Lord Caraway was often in company with Mr. Fairchild. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck not to marry Lord Caraway after all, for she never wanted to see Mr. Fairchild again.
Not that she wanted to marry Sir Nathaniel either, but considering the option of social ruin, he was clearly the better choice. That is, if he actually offered.
What if he did not? What if they reached wherever they were going only for him to hand her over to her uncle to suffer the ruin on her own?
Uncle Percy stopped, grabbed a candelabra from a nearby table, and opened a door to their left.
“In here,” he directed, holding the door so they might proceed him into the room.
Meekly she followed Sir Nathaniel into the dimly lit area. Books lined one wall and several chairs and sofas sat about the room. A family library perhaps?
She shivered. Careful not to shift Sir Nathaniel’s coat off her shoulders, she rubbed her arms until the gooseflesh subsided.
“Who would like to go first?” Uncle Percy asked, settling himself in front of the fire. While there was no flame, the coals still glowed in the grey ash. No wonder it was so cold. She sat on a sofa and Sir Nathaniel took up the spot next to her.
“Your Grace,” he said, “I would like to ask your permission to marry Miss Kendall. I will, of course, consult her father as well, but—”
Uncle Percy held up a hand. “No need. I will speak with my brother on your behalf, but I would like to know what facilitated this mishap. I know you both, and you would not be caught in such a situation had something or someone else not been at fault.”
Emotion gathered in Melior’s throat and a lump formed in her belly. Uncle Percy had not jumped to conclusions, nor had he become angry. He was ever the fair judge, and she did not deserve it. If she’d not been trying to coerce a proposal out of Lord Caraway, she would not have been in the cloakroom.
“It was my fault,” she blurted out. “I—”
“She tore her gown, Your Grace.”
Melior’s gaze shot to Sir Nathaniel and he gave a subtle shake of his head. Why was he trying to stop her from taking the blame?
Uncle Percy folded his arms. “I heard that part of the story from the doorway. What I want to know is how?”
“One of her dance partners was a bit clumsy.” The lie slipped so smoothly from Sir Nathaniel’s lips that she almost believed it herself. Then again she had danced with Mr. Fairchild twice this season, so perhaps it was not a complete lie.
Her uncle’s attention focused on her. “May I see the tear, Melior?”
He wanted her to expose herself? Did he not believe such a tear existed? The thought galvanized her. She slipped her hand under Sir Nathaniel’s coat and placed it over the torn fabric to keep it from showing too much skin. Then she peeled back the coat with her other hand.
“That is quite the tear, and in such an odd place. One would expect a tear on your hem or perhaps the bottom of your sleeve, but not at the neckline.”
Heat traveled from her cheeks all the way down her neck.
“He—”
Uncle Percy held up his hand to stop Sir Nathaniel’s next words. “It might interest you both to know that I passed a very bloody Mr. Fairchild on my way to the cloakroom, so you might as well stop trying to protect my niece, Sir Nathaniel. I can put her tears and his bloody nose together well enough to have a good idea of what really occurred. And I also know the two of you well enough to understand how hard it is going to be to adjust to this marriage… founded upon such a beginning.”
The reality of her situation finally settled into Melior’s mind. As compassionate as Uncle Percy sounded, he believed a marriage was the only way to avoid social ruin. Her, married to Sir Nathaniel? The man who could hardly look at her without ascowl. How were they ever to get on in life? Could one be grateful and at the same time dread their future? Somehow, she found herself in a mixture of both.
More tears spilled down her cheeks.
Uncle Percy leaned his forearms upon his knees. “I must thank you, Sir Nathaniel. As a firm believer of fidelity in marriage, I would never want my only niece married to a rake such as Mr. Fairchild. She deserves to be loved and cherished as a woman ought to be. You are a man of honor, so I have no doubt you will do your best to hold to your marriage vows and treat my niece with the respect she deserves.”
The somber expression Sir Nathaniel wore as he nodded his head looked more like he was being sentenced to his execution than promising to love her. It probably felt like a death sentence to him. She had trapped them both because of her foolishness.
Heat filled her chest. If her mother had not been so insistent, she’d never have been caught in such a situation. She hadn’t even wanted to leave the ballroom in the first place. If it had been up to her, she’d simply have invited Lord Caraway to talk behind one of the tall plants or a pillar, but that had not been good enough for her mother. Nothing was ever good enough for her.
Somewhere near her she heard Sir Nathaniel solemnly promise to do his best to provide her with a good life, but she did not look up. There was no point in it. Nothing she did now would make a difference. She was trapped and there would be no getting out of it, unless she wanted to become a social pariah.
At least she would not be forced to marry Mr. Fairchild.
