Loving Lady Marcia (21 page)

Duncan pulled up another chair and sat directly in front of her. “Tell me what’s happened,” he said as kindly as he could.

The maid looked at the carpet, then at him, then back at the carpet. “My sister is very ill,” she said quietly. “I need to go to her.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said. “Please take as much time as you need with her.”

There was a long, bleak pause. She managed to meet his eyes. “I won’t be coming back,” she whispered. Tears began to pour down her cheeks.

Duncan leaned forward and took her hands. “My dear girl, why not?”

She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t think she’ll live,” she said through her fingers. “I’ll have to take care of her children.”

“Of course you will.” Duncan pressed her hand. He understood. But Joe would lose someone vastly important to him.

Aislinn looked up, her eyes wide with worry. “I’m so sorry about Joe. You must hate me.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

“I would never hate you.” But how was he going to tell Joe? “Are you
sure
you can’t come back?” he asked her gently.

She shook her head.

He put his palms on his thighs and sighed aloud. “Very well. I understand. And we will all miss you, especially Joe”—his chest constricted—“quite dearly.”

“As I will him. And all of you.” Her voice wavered with emotion, and she stood.

He stood with her. “I’ll write you an outstanding letter of reference. And I also intend to give you enough of a parting gift to see to it that you and your sister’s family will have at least four years in which you won’t have any financial worries whatsoever.”

“My lord! That’s very generous of you, but you needn’t.”

“You deserve this, Aislinn. You’ve given me four years of peace of mind, which is something I can never repay. It’s the least I can do for all the love you’ve shown Joe, all the support you’ve given me.”

She managed a smile back. “Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She sniffed.

He escorted her to the door. “How soon before you go?”

She looked up at him. “It would be best that I leave early in the morning.”

“So soon?” He wished he hadn’t committed to attending the opera with the Sherwood family. He’d be disappointed not to see Lady Marcia, but his spirit was heavy. He felt the need to be with Joe. His whole world was about to shift tomorrow morning. Should he tell him tonight? Or should he let the parting be swift?

Perhaps he’d cry off from the opera.

Yes, that’s what he’d do.

Aislinn’s eyes filled with tears again. “It will be torture seeing Joe. I’m afraid all I’ll do is cry until I go.” She took a breath. “If I have to, I’ll stay, my lord. Another few days, if needs be. I—I’ll manage somehow.”

“No,” he said slowly, “you have your sister to worry about. She’s in Ireland?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “I was born outside of Dublin, a village called Drumree. She’s there still.”

“Well, you have a long journey ahead of you. We have the other girls, so you should go when it’s best for you. It looks like tomorrow morning is the time.”

“Aye,” she whispered. “And Lord Chadwick?”

“Yes?”

Her expression was taut. “I’d rather not say good-bye to the other servants when I depart. And tonight, I’ll stay in my room. Someone else will have to take over caring for Joe. I’ve no need to lie about being ill, to be sure—my temples are throbbing with a headache. After I arrive in Drumree, I’ll write the household a note. I’ll need all my strength to say good-bye to Joe.”

“Understood. I’ll tell everyone it was imperative you leave immediately due to a family member’s illness and that you were too distracted and overwrought to speak to them before you left.”

“You’re too good, my lord.” She threw her arms around him.

He hugged her back, his heart aching.

“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to say good-bye to you two.” She cried some more into his shirt.

“I’ll be there to take care of Joe when you tell him,” he told her in confident tones to comfort her. “He’ll be sad, but we’ll pull him through. You go pack. And don’t worry about us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You need to be strong for yourself. Joe will be
fine
. Believe me, he will. I’ll make certain he will. And I will, too. We’ll soldier through.”

“Yes, my lord.” She pulled away and wiped her face with her apron. “You’re a good father, you are.”

“Thank you.” He put an arm around her shoulder again. “Tomorrow morning, come get me when you’re ready to say good-bye. I’ll not leave your side through the whole ordeal.”

Even through her obvious misery, her face brightened a tad. “Thank you, Lord Chadwick.”

He opened the door for her, and she walked abruptly out. He could hear her feet thumping on the carpeted stairs to the next floor, and then a clatter of heels on hardwood as she ascended another set of stairs to the servants’ quarters.

After a moment, the house was quiet and peaceful. It would be the opposite in less than twenty-four hours.

Well, he’d wanted a distraction from Lady Marcia, hadn’t he? He’d certainly gotten himself one.

He went to check on Joe. Looking at his sleeping face, he wondered what would happen when the other maids left someday. As they would, surely, for one reason or another.

It’s not all right,
Duncan thought. He used to think it was a perfectly acceptable set of circumstances, but now he saw that Joe needed an anchor, a guarantee that one woman would love him forever as her own.

Joe needed a mother.

Chapter Seventeen

An hour later, Duncan pulled a quill from the inkpot on his desk and began to write his regrets to the Marquess and Marchioness of Brady.

There was another knock, this time on the front door, and he lifted his head.
Please don’t let it be Finn. Not today
. He was in no mood to deal with his neediness, his belligerence, or damn-fool behavior.

His thoughts drifted to a question that had long plagued him: Was Finn’s selfishness a familial trait he’d inherited from their father, one that Duncan had been lucky enough to sidestep? Or was his tendency to think only of himself a choice—a character flaw?

Duncan didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

Jenkins came to the library door. “Mr. Lattimore, my lord.”

Blast it all.

“Shall I say you’re home?” Jenkins waited.

“Of course he’s home.” With a grin, Finn sidestepped the butler, entering the library with his usual swagger. Jenkins sent him a look of disapproval, which Finn never saw because he was too busy throwing himself into a chair and propping his feet on Duncan’s desk.

Duncan put his quill back in the inkpot. “Feet
off,
” he said.

Finn sighed loudly but complied.

“I’m in no mood for conversation.” Duncan poured himself a second small brandy from a decanter he’d placed on the desk.

Finn chuckled. “It’s not like you to start so early in the day.”

Duncan glared at him. “This is confidential information, but Joe’s favorite maid is quitting my employ as of tomorrow morning. You can join me for a drink, or leave.”

“A drink. Of course.” Finn waited while Duncan poured one for him, then took a healthy gulp and sighed. “That’s a shame about the maid.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Who was it?”

“Aislinn.”

“Ah.” His brother nodded. “I remember her. Dark hair and green eyes. Nice smile. What will you do? Replace her?”

“No,” Duncan said. “Joe will get by with the others.” He felt the need to change the subject. “I understand your companions at Astley’s included three Sherwood siblings?”

“I told Lady Brady not to write you.” Finn sulked for half a second. “Do you really need details? A man’s entitled to some privacy.”

“When you’ve earned it, I’ll leave you alone. You should have told me of your plans. You didn’t because you knew I wouldn’t approve.”

“For reasons beyond me.” Finn took another sip of his brandy. “So I suppose she invited you to the opera tonight?”

“Yes, she did, and I accepted. I’m just about to renege, however. I’m in no mood to socialize.”

“You never are.”

Duncan stood. “I have
responsibilities,
Finnian. Unlike you.” He sent his brother a hard stare. “Lady Brady told me you turned down the invitation. Why?”

Finn stifled a yawn. “Because it will be deadly dull without Lady Marcia there. The rest of those Sherwoods are too good—I’d rather not bother with them.”

“I agree they’re all of stellar character. But Lord Westdale is also intelligent and agreeable. Lady Janice is perfectly charming—a trifle enigmatic, I’d venture to say. The one time I met Lord Peter, he had me laughing with his jokes almost immediately. And Lord and Lady Brady are always invigorating company.”

Finnian shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Duncan put a hand on either side of his brother’s chair and got in his face. “I resent your implication about Lady Marcia,” he said, low.

Finn’s eyes registered some fear. “What implication? Don’t go off on me again, Duncan. Please. You’re a madman when you’re angry.”

He straightened but didn’t move. “You implied that she isn’t good, too.
You
lured her into misbehavior. She’s not to blame in the least. She’s a lady. And don’t you forget it.” He locked gazes with Finn until his brother looked away, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

“And for your information,” Duncan went on, “Lady Marcia
will
be at the opera. In her note, Lady Brady told me about her mishap, expressed her gratitude to you for following through despite the change in company”—he looked at Finn with strong approval, happy that he was able to do so for the first time since he’d returned to England—“and said that as of this morning, Lady Marcia has fully recovered.”

Of course, she’d recovered by yesterday afternoon. He’d seen her. Kissed her, as a matter of fact.

Finn raked a hand through his golden hair and cursed. “If I’d known she’d be better by this evening, I would’ve accepted the invitation. I thought she might have broken her nose. It would have ruined her looks, for certain.”

“Please. Is that all you care about?”

“Certainly not.” Finn sat up higher.

“Did they call in the doctor?”

“No. Lady Brady ordered a cold poultice, and that was it.”

“That means it wasn’t terribly serious. Now tell me about Astley’s.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “I got roped into taking Lady Janice and the two youngest children, Robert and Cynthia, to the show. They were polite as could be, and Lady Janice is very attractive and fine company—I might even like her as much as Lady Marcia, and was beginning to think I’d like her even
more
than her elder sister, that is, if Lady Marcia’s nose took on a permanent bend from that accident—but it was bloody torture sitting in the front row of the ring and looking like a proud papa. I saw some of my mates there. Gad.” He drained his glass and wiped his mouth. “Not to mention I need a bigger allowance, Duncan. I can’t go about London being the gentleman you want me to be on the pittance you give me.”

“I’m not going to fund another of your attempts at seduction of any young lady, especially a Sherwood sister, both of whom you dishonor with your impertinent remarks. I’m to the point I’m ready to pick you up by your lapels and shake you until your teeth fall out.”

Finn drew in his chin. “Maybe I should leave.”

“Yes, you should.” Duncan went to the library door and held it open. “
No
to the bigger allowance. If you want my trust and my money, then be open about your activities. All of them.”

Finn stood, as well, his brows low. “You’re being ridiculous. I have no intention of repeating my past behavior with Lady Marcia.”

“Oh? What are your intentions concerning her, then? Why would you need to hide from me that you intended to see her today?”

“Because you’d have bloody well lost your temper, that’s why.” Finn caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror above a bookshelf and raked his hands through his wavy locks. “My intentions toward her are perfectly honorable. All I want is … friendship. And a little flirtation. What’s the harm in that?”

“A great deal when you don’t intend to marry someone, and I know you don’t.”

“Of course not! I’m much too young to marry.” Finn wasn’t the least bit nervous about saying so.

Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve already toyed with Lady Marcia enough. If you want to call yourself a gentleman, in her presence you’ll act like a gentleman. Is that clear?”

Finn’s brows lowered. “You want her for yourself, don’t you? I read about the attention you paid her at the Livingston ball before I got there. You’re jealous. You know that
I
can win her over you. Easily.”

“We’re not competing.” Duncan’s voice was cold. “Is that what this is about? Because if you intend to use Lady Marcia to best me, reconsider. You’ll regret it.”

They stared at each other.

Finn’s handsome jaw clenched. “I wish I had any brother but you.”

“Feel free to detach yourself from my financial support,” Duncan said. “I won’t stop you.”

Finn brushed past him, then turned to glare at him one last time. “I’m going to write Lady Brady back and accept the invitation to the opera, after all. She sent it to us because of
my
chivalrous behavior.”

Duncan noted, without surprise, the obvious retreat from an extreme level of venom on Finn’s part. Now they were back to slightly elevated levels, which was usual for them.

“I’ll come, after all,” Duncan said pleasantly enough.

“Oh,
no
—”

“We’ll go together,” Duncan forged on, “and you’ll continue to be on your best behavior. I’ll entertain the question of increasing your allowance when the chivalry becomes a well-ingrained habit. And, Finn—”

“What?” His tone was predictably surly.

“You don’t have to be this way, you know. You could make your way through the world as a respectable soldier or landowner. You have the skills to do so, as well as the support of a brother who loves you, despite all our differences. And eventually, you could add the support of a loving wife and children. But you have to make the right choices. I have faith that you know what they are, and I’ll never stop hoping you’ll choose them.”