Page 19 of An Amiable Foe
“Came here?” Robert said, his voice rising in astonishment. “Who was he? Which one?”
“He said his name was Mr. Wilmot. And as I said, he was perfectly cordial,” Marianne said, neglecting to add that he was also rather informal. After all, was not Robert informal as well? Perhaps it was the way of gentlemen.
“I’m telling you, Marianne, you need to stay clear of them—the lot of them, including Osborne. I hear their conversation when no ladies are about, and you must trust me on this.”
Sarah did not appear to have heard Robert’s arrival, and the tea tray would not bring itself. Marianne waved for him to follow as she led him into the kitchen where Sarah was kneading dough. “I do not need you to tell me this, Robert. I assure you I am fine.”
Sarah took a cue from Robert’s intense look and Marianne’s belligerent one and wiped her hands on her apron with a murmur about fetching something from the cellar.
“You have to allow me to look out for you. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be living here alone. Where is…?” Robert looked around suddenly as though Miss Fife might suddenly accost him from some shadowy corner.
“I’m not alone—” Marianne started to say, but he cut her off.
“And don’t tell me that you have a companion, for both you and I know that she is no companion for you. Thunder an’ turf, Mary, it’s time you were married. You need a husband who can take care of you.”
Marianne wasn’t tall, but at those words, she drew herself up. “I should not need to tell you that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I did so when I lived at the castle; and as you can see, I am taking care of myself here. I do not need a husband. I have an independence, and I have a place to live. That is all I need.”
“You’ve always been too naïve. Until now you’ve been young, sheltered. But it’s time you leave childhood fancies behind. It’s time to start behaving like a woman and see to your future. I’m not a man of honeyed tongue, but you must know how I feel—”
“Don’t—please.”
Now Marianne was truly distressed. She needed time to adjust to her new situation. And if only to prove it to herself, she needed to show she could manage it. She did not need an offer of marriage. Robert didn’t speak right away, and she turned so she wouldn’t have to look at his accusatory eyes.
“As you wish,” he said at last, his tone curt.
They both fell silent as Sarah reentered the kitchen. “I will bring tea to the sitting room,” she said. “I ’ull soon have some fresh-baked scones and jam. I believe the jam’s from your house, Mr. Vernon.”
Her practical words helped Marianne to relax, and Robert appeared to do so as well. By the time they had entered the sitting room—Miss Fife was not long in joining them as she seemed to have a knack for appearing when the teapot did—Robert and Marianne had resumed their more usual friendly discourse. Marianne was glad of it, for she needed the comfort of a familiar presence. When he was ready to leave, she walked him to the door.
“I won’t press you again, but do think about what I said.” Robert put his hat on as he faced her.
“If you please…” Marianne shook her head. She did not want to fight with Robert. He might be one of the few friends she had, but he had to see that she would not give in to him. “I beg you will turn your thoughts in another direction and look upon me as your friend, as you have always done.”
Robert’s lips straightened into a thin line. “I merely asked you to think about it.”
It was a losing battle, it seemed. Marianne looked down. “I will.”
That night, as Marianne lay in bed, she thought about Robert’s reference to her being alone. She would be twenty-one in a couple of months, and she would take steps to find a new companion at that time. She had put up with Miss Fife’s presence long enough. A new, more agreeable companion and her maid Sarah were all she needed. If only Robert could see that Marianne had no wish to be married. She had no need to. Even this transition to her new home had gone much better than she could have imagined, and she was perfectly fine on her own.
Well, she was as fine as she could be with her soul having been ripped out of her when she left Brindale.
That night, Marianne had fallen into a deep sleep when a sharpthwacksounded from below, causing her to wake suddenly. She sat up, breathing hard.What had caused that sound?There was an absence of moonlight, and she could not see the details of her room, but she listened as hard as she could. Was someone downstairs?
Then another sharp noise broke the stillness—the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. Marianne gasped. Somewhere in her house, someone had broken a window.
CHAPTERTEN
Adull, persistent noise pulled Perry from sleep, and a crack in the curtains around his bed showed the faint light of dawn, which allowed him to gain his bearings. However, he couldn’t clear his head of sleep well enough to grasp what could be making such a noise at this ungodly hour of the morning. It had not been until sometime in the middle of the night, or perhaps it was early in the morning, that he had been able to fall into his bed, and his head felt like lead. He had not dipped deep—it was not his nature, as he had developed the habit of keeping his wits about him when surrounded by gentlemen who could just as easily be foes as they were friends. But he could hardly leave his three guests to their drinks and cards while he crept off like a wounded dog to bed.
The pounding came again and matched the pounding that would begin in his head if he didn’t get more sleep. However, such a thing was not possible. He was the master of the house, and if someone was going to investigate, the job fell to him. Perry arrived downstairs at the same time that Charlie reached the front door. Matley had gone to sleep in the servants’ quarters, even farther from the entrance than Neck’s makeshift bedroom, and he likely did not hear a thing. He would not expect Perry to call him to dress for several hours at least.
The footman, although in better form than Perry since he had been given leave to go to bed after midnight, was not quite properly attired as was evidenced by his hair falling out of its queue and his half-buttoned coat. Charlie quickly fastened the last three buttons of his coat before unbolting the door and swinging it open, just as Perry arrived at the front entrance. To his astonishment, three women in varying states of undress huddled together in a group at his doorstep, with Miss Edgewood in the center.
“What in heaven’s name has happened?” he asked, pushing past Charlie and exiting into the brisk morning air, all thought of his fatigue dissipating.
Miss Edgewood curtsied to him. “Might we come in?” Charlie did not wait for Perry’s answer but swung the door wider to allow them entrance.
“It was the most frightful thing!” Miss Fife’s voice shook as she removed the handkerchief she was holding to her mouth and waved it in his direction. Of the three, she looked the most disordered, with her hair bound in rags that were likely used to achieve the curls, such as they were, and an open cloak, revealing her dressing gown.
