Page 10 of Marry in Secret
Which was ridiculous. People didn’t go feral. He was upset, maybe; angry at seeing her about to marry another man.
She needed to explain. She swallowed. It wasn’t going to be easy.
Aunt Agatha raged on. “As for Ashendon, what on earth did he think he was doing, allowing that scarecrow to disrupt our wedding? His father would be turning in his grave. He would have known what to do.”
“What could Cal do?” George objected. “It’s not his fault that man turned up.”
“If he’d done as I told him and thrown the wretched beggar back into the gutter—”
“It isn’t as simple as that,” Emm said. “It’s perfectly clear that therewasa wedding some years ago, but that Rose thought she was free to marry again. She has a lot of explaining to do, but not right now. She’s in no state to explain anything yet. Let us wait until Cal and Ned arrive with Mr. Beresford and perhaps things will become clearer then—”
Aunt Agatha ignored her. “You should have denied him from the start, Rose. Swooning away like the veriest weakling only drew attention to—”
“Oooh, but the way he caught her and swept her into his arms when she fainted. And that burning, possessive look he gave her. Soooo romantic.” Aunt Dottie heaved a gusty sigh.
“Dorothea!” her older sister snapped. “Don’t encourage her. The gel has behaved disgracefully! To make such an appallingmésalliancebehind everyone’s back! If her father had found out he would have had the fellow horsewhipped and the wretched affair annulled! Rose should be a duchess by now, and instead she’s, she’s—”
“Oh, stop fussing over what can’t be helped, Aggie,” Aunt Dottie said.
“Can’t be helped? Can’t behelped? What nonsense, of course it can be helped!”
The auntly squabbles washed over Rose. Her hands, still clad in those absurd lace gloves, were shaking, and not with cold. Her mind was swirling with questions, impossible-to-answer questions.
Oh, Thomas. What was she going to do? What would she say to him? She had no idea.
The door opened and she tensed, thinking Thomas had arrived, but it was only two footmen bearing laden trays. “Ah, the refreshments at last.” Emm seized on the distraction thankfully. “Lily, would you pour the tea, please? There’s nothing like a nice cup of tea to settle the nerves, and we can all do with that. And perhaps we can refrain from squa— from any further discussion of Rose’s situation for the moment. George, would you pass your aunt those cream cakes—and please don’t feed them to the—oh, really, must you encourage that animal?”
“I dropped it by accident,” George claimed. Finn, having devoured a little cake in one swift gulp, gazed mournfully at the spread, doing his usual impersonation of a dog who’d Never Been Fed.
Rose’s tension eased a little as the flow of questions—questions for which she had no answer—was diverted into a diatribe from Aunt Agatha on why Animals—especially Large Dogs—had No Place in a Gentlewoman’s drawing room.
George listened with a bland expression and surreptitiously fed a biscuit to Finn. She glanced at Rose and winked.
Tea was poured and cakes, biscuits and cucumber sandwiches were handed around. Rose felt ill.
Thomas wasalive. Where had he been all these years? What had happened?
Aunt Agatha waved away the cakes. “The marriage must be annulled, of course.”
“Now, Aggie, didn’t you hear Emm? Let’s give Rose a little time to collect her thoughts before we decide what is to be done,” Aunt Dottie said. “Rose, dear, you just drink your tea and eat one of these delicious-looking cakes, or perhaps a nice little sandwich—yes, I know you don’t want anything, but trust me, you’ll feel better with something in your stomach.”
“And when you’ve finished your tea, you can explain how this appalling situation came to be,” Aunt Agatha said. “The main question is whether we can convince the duke to forgive the insult and take Rose back. The poor man must be devastated.”
George picked up a sandwich. “Devastated? He barely seemed mildly put out.”
“Quite right. A true gentleman doesn’t show his feelings.” Aunt Agatha sipped her tea.
Aunt Dottie put a worried hand on Rose’s arm. “You weren’t in love with the duke, were you, my dear?”
Rose blinked, pulled back from the turmoil of her thoughts. “What? Oh. No.”
“As it should be,” Aunt Agatha said crisply. “People of our order don’t marry for love.”
“Piffle.” Aunt Dottie selected a small cake bulging with cream.
Her sister turned to her in exasperation. “You never didhave the least grasp of reality, Dorothea. It’s no wonder you never married. The chances you wasted—a duke, that marquess, several earls—”
“I’m perfectly happy with the choice I made.”
