Page 63 of Destined to be a Duchess
“I believe I left it behind in your gallery,” Anthony quipped. “With a great many other things that I am better off without.”
“But not her?” The marquess shifted in his seat. He knew he had lost, wanting to get in a final blow before Anthony left with his victory. “You cannot intimidate thetoninto accepting Marianne. You cannot bully your way into a position of power with her at your side. When you wake forty years from now and findyourself at the age your father was when he died, you will look back on your devotion to her as the greatest mistake of your life.”
“A pity you could not afford the rest of De Laurier’s treatments. Had you continued with them, you might have grown old enough to see how wrong you are.” Anthony extracted a sovereign from his pocket, leaving it on the table. “I believe our business here is done.”
Chapter 24
Marianne wasn’t sure what she expected to feel after being recognized as Nicholas Chambers’ daughter. She exited the hall feeling almost no different than when she entered it—if not relieved that the marquess had not shown his face during the proceedings.
The Lord Chancellor had found everything to be in order with the documents collected by Catherine. Marianne was now legally Lady Marianne Chambers, and next year, she would make her long overdue presentation to the Queen.
She skipped down the steps into the courtyard before Westminster Hall, hoping to find Anthony waiting for her. A quick search revealed that he had not returned from his talks with Lord Hindborough, and she began imagining the worst: that despite their efforts, the Webbs would carry their threats through to the end.
“A fine morning’s work, My Lady,” Gideon said from behind her. He joined her at the base of the steps, mustering a smile. Even at a time of celebration, he was lukewarm with her at best. “I would say that I did not doubt you for a second. But as we both know, that would not be entirely true. Still, I am glad that you have become part of our family. Lavinia will be beside herself when I return with you to Saltsman House.”
“I have not yet decided where I am next headed,” Marianne reminded him for the umpteenth time. She sighed when it became obvious Anthony was not going to appear. “I really hoped he would be here ...”
“No doubt His Grace had more important matters to attend with Lord Hindborough. It does not surprise me. If what was rumoured at Hagram Park was true, the duke and the marquess’ daughter are all but guaranteed to wed. Perhaps they are discussing the match at present. We should leave him be.”
“It’s not like you to give the business of others much consideration. I thought you were above the gossip of theton.” Marianne scowled at him. “No, I should like to remain here until he returns. That is what he would want me to do.”
“That’s hardly rational. Are you going to stay here until nightfall? We have no guarantee the duke will return.”Gideon extended his arm to her, and Marianne took it to avoid causing a scene. “We should celebrate your triumph today. I have consulted with my staff about hosting a dinner for you this evening.”
“A little presumptuous,” Marianne murmured, keeping her eyes on the ground. “As I said, I am all too happy remaining at Colline House for my stay in London.”
Gideon paused their walk, stopping in the walkway that led to Parliament Square.
“But ... Marianne, that would raise a great number of questions. You are a single woman, and now that you are a lady, all eyes will be upon you. You should not remain in the company of the duke, unmarried as he is when there is a more fitting place for you at my side. I understand these rules may be difficult to assimilate—”
“My assimilation skills are in perfect working order, thank you very much,” Marianne bit back, tearing her arm out of his hold. “It is with the Collines that I feel most comfortable, and that is where I want to stay. You and I are still practically strangers. I cannot be blamed for being reluctant to join you.”
“We have known each other for as long as you have known the duke. And you show him much more trust than you have shown me, even though I have done nothing to warrant your suspicion.” Gideon looked around, worried about attracting unwanted attention.
“And if we are speaking frankly, your dependence on the Colline family cannot endure much longer. For one day, you will need to be separated from them and begin your own life. Was today not about marking your freedom?”
“Your definition of freedom does not match my own. How much freer am I living under your thumb than I was while living at Moorhaven Manor?”
She continued walking away from Westminster, not caring whether Gideon followed her to the carriage. His incessant talk about rules and appearances would not ruin her day. It was obvious to Marianne what he intended. She didn’t want to give him the chance. Her mind and heart focused solely on Anthony—wherever he had gone.
Marianne gasped as Gideon grabbed her, forcing her to turn and look at him. She tore her arm away, stunned at his behaviour. People passing by looked but did not intervene. When Gideon seemed to realize what he had done, his face flashed with shame.
“I should not have done that, Marianne. But what choice do I have when you refuse to listen?” He lowered his voice, and Marianne almost felt bad for him. “You are now officially a family member of which I am the patriarch. And that position demands respect from you whether you like it or not.”
She stood motionless as he raged quietly at her, pushed to the brink by her insubordination.
“There are many things about this life that I would not have chosen,” he said. “The duty that comes with this title often takes more from one than it gives. So, forgive me if I cannot be lenientwith you while you defy me at every turn. Your actions will have a direct impact on your family.”
He paused, pressing his lips together until they turned white. “I am not a man of feelings. This ... closeness you have developed for the duke has not escaped even my attention. The sooner you rid yourself of your delusions, the better.”
“By marrying you?” Marianne laughed. What point was there in beating around the bush any longer?
“You are a fine man, Gideon. But I have no desire to give my hand to you. Perhaps I am a fool for holding out hope for something true, but then I shall live happily as a fool, either alone or with someone who genuinely cares for me—and not because hemust. This world does not need to take everything from you. And love ...? You cannot tell me you have never wanted to dream of love.”
Her cousin hesitated a moment, gazing over the gardens of Parliament Square. She watched his face carefully, confident in her own feelings but not in his. She thought he looked sad, pained by something. It could not have been about her.
There was no love lost between them. She wondered whether something had happened in his past. From their first meeting, he had been cold and distant, speaking of duty like it was the only thing that mattered. Men were not born that way. They became thralls by the actions of others.
“Of course ... How could I not ...? But there are many things ...” Gideon sighed, revealing more than he knew in his fractured answer. The vulnerability in his gaze disappeared, hardening all over again. “We play with the cards we are dealt. And yours is not a bad hand, no matter how you feel.”
