The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel (The Marlow Intrigues) (5 page)

Part Seven

Emily clasped Mary’s arm as they left the room to walk up to the retiring room. “I am worried,” she whispered when they were in the hall. “I have been worried for days. Peter is so sullen, and it is unlike him. Do you not think him quiet tonight? It is not my imagination, is it? Should he not be happier now we are engaged?”

  “I have noticed he’s been less exuberant, but Andrew said it is nothing. His mind is simply on other things.”

“But should it be on other things. He has seemed unhappy ever since he proposed, but why would he propose if it makes him so unhappy?”

“I do not think him unhappy.”

“But I do, Mary, and I am worried. I am worried he does not really wish to be married. He has never once said he loves me.” Emily fell silent as they entered the retiring room, which was wise because his sister was there, ensuring the maids had put out plenty of powder and perfumes to help ladies refresh.

Her house was beautiful; her husband owned a large, three-story, town mansion. It was larger than Peter’s. Hence why they had agreed to hold the celebration here. Yet Peter’s home was just as lovely if a little smaller. He’d asked her to dine there with her parents two nights ago, and shown her through the downstairs rooms, and he’d spoken of his country property, which he said he’d rarely visited as a single man, but intended to visit often once they were married. He had shown her a painting of it.

Everything he had done was perfectly as it ought to be. Everything he’d said was perfectly correct and kind, and he’d been immensely attentive, taking her out each afternoon, escorting her each evening.

Yet it was as though he was not really there. His lips never separated when he smiled, and the light had gone from the dark heart of his eyes. Peter was with her, and yet his spirit was not. Promising himself to her had taken the humour and the charm from him, the part of him that had attracted her in the beginning.

Mary took hold of Emily’s arm as they left the room and entered the empty hall. “You must not worry. Men like Peter and Andrew are complex; words like I love you do not rattle off their tongues.”

“But, Mary.” Emily stopped on the landing and turned to her. “I do not think it would rattle off mine either. Is that an awful thing to think when we are to be married? It is just, I care for him, I do, and yet. It has always been his humour and his enjoyment of life which captured me. If he is unhappy what is the point? We cannot really suit if marrying me would make him miserable.”

“You have been happy to marry without love?” Mary’s brow creased into a frown of disapproval. Mary had loved her husband so much she’d risked everything for him.

“It is normal, Mary. Most marriages are not for love, and Peter is handsome and titled and wealthy, why would I not wish to be married to him?”

Mary sighed.

But there was one reason that would make her wish she had not married him, if he spent their marriage walking about with a face that looked as though he was living his life serving a prison sentence. She had her pride. She might be willing to live without love, she was not willing to live with a husband who disliked living with her.

Perhaps it was because they were so different. Since they’d spent more time together she had become painfully aware of that. He was a Corinthian, he knew everything and everyone in London, he was wise and cultured, and she was gauche and naïve in his company. Is that how she wished to spend her life, feeling like a lesser mortal? But then she was a lesser mortal compared to him—he was a lord.

“Come and speak to Andrew with me and leave Peter to his sulking.” Mary said as they walked the last few steps down the stairs.

But she did not reach Drew because Harry intercepted them. “Miss Smithfield, may I have the next dance?” Peter had had his allotted two allowed by polite society and so she was free to accept whomever she wished for the rest of the evening.

“I would love to, Harry.”

She glanced at Mary and smiled, but before Harry could lead her away, Mary pulled her closer and whispered, “I will ask Andrew to find out what is wrong with Peter.”

“Thank you.”

When they walked onto the floor Harry’s hand lay over her hers as she gripped his arm. “Peter is out of sorts, isn’t he? I’m sorry, it must feel insulting on the night you are celebrating your betrothal. I have told him off.”

Emily smiled at Harry. It was nice of him to care. “Mary said his mind is on something, but he has not spoken of it to me.”

“No, he would not,” Harry answered with a bitter note of judgement in his voice.

She did not wish Peter to isolate himself from his friends any more than she wished him unhappy. “Please do not interfere, Harry.”

“I cannot help myself, when I see him making you unhappy. It is not right, especially when you are to be married to him. “

“You are becoming very serious. It is unlike you and as unsettling as it is to see Peter glum.”

He laughed. “Then I shall not be serious. So tell me all about how well my friend is treating you, because if he is not buying you flowers hourly, and crawling on his knees before you when he calls, then he is not as in love with you as I am. You should throw Peter off and marry me.”

She smacked his shoulder before resting her hand upon it as they formed the hold for a waltz. Marry me was Harry’s favourite jest, he said it every time he saw her. The rogue. She laughed as she always did when he said it, and let him spin her into the dance.

~

Drew grasped Peter’s shoulder. Peter jolted with surprise and turned.

“I wish to speak with you.”

A sound which was half amusement and half bitter ill feeling left Peter’s throat. He was not in the mood to be spoken to. “Why? About what?”

“About the fact that you look bloody miserable on the night you are celebrating your engagement and your future bride has noticed and is now afraid.”

Drew gripped Peter’s arm, then Peter let Drew pull him away from the crowd who watched the dancers. Peter had been looking at Emily and Harry. She’d laughed half a dozen times with his friend, probably more than she had smiled and laughed with him all week.

Drew pulled Peter across the hall by the arm and shoved him into a dark dining room, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the windows, forming wide panels of light. None of the servants had come in to close the shutters.

“What is wrong with you?” Drew stated as he let go and faced Peter with a hard glare. “Your fiancée has been speaking to my wife. She is worried on a night she should be happy.”

“I…” Peter swallowed and moved to walk past his friend. “It does not matter.”

“Are you still seeing that actress?” The accusation dropped out of Drew’s pitch; it was a question only.

Peter turned back. “No. If you have dragged me in here to yell at me over that, you have wasted your time. I am not playing Emily false. That has all come to an end.”

“When?”

“A week ago. It will not recommence, it is done with, and I have no appetite for other woman. I shall be entirely faithful to Emily, you need have no fear, I shall not test our friendship. ”

Illuminated by a strip of moonlight reaching through the window, Drew frowned. “Yet perhaps I would prefer that you did.” He sighed.

Peter stared at him.

“Do you have any affection for Emily?”

“Of course, she is charming. Who would not like Emily?”

“But like is a very shallow emotion on which to choose a wife.”

“Dozens of people choose wives on less than like.”

“Yet a week ago you called it love and she does not seem to even be making you happy.”

“I thought it was love, but I know now I was wrong. Yet I do feel affection…”

“So what exactly is your purpose? Why are you marrying her? You do not need her money. She is beneath you in status. Why choose her?”

“Because Emily is a good woman, who would make a good mother—”

“You have picked her as you would a broodmare then.”

Peter swallowed. “That is harsh.”

“But if it is true it would be unkind to her and you.”

“It is not true. I like Emily.”

“Like. There’s that dull, impartial word again. How many women have you liked since I have known you?”

Hundreds. How many woman had he felt as much as he felt for Lillian? None. And he’d lost her.

“What of your actress?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said. What of your actress? What do you feel for her? Is it because of her you now deem your feelings for Emily lower, because you feel more for this actress?”

“It does not matter.”

“Yet, what if it does?”

“You are talking nonsense, Drew. I should get back to Emily, the waltz will be over.”

“And she will be dancing with someone else or Harry will have kept her to himself. Have you even noticed the way he looks at her?”

“How does he look at her?” Peter had noticed nothing odd.

Drew laughed. “As though she is the finest racehorse he has ever seen, and no one else has spotted her, and he sees a fortune to be won.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He has feelings for her. Harry looks at Emily as I used to look at Mary.”

“He…”
Damn.
“That is ridiculous.”

“It is not. It is true.”

Emily had been laughing with Harry… “No.”

“Yes.”

“Are you saying he’s been making advances? Harry…”

“No. I am saying he would if you stepped back. He deferred to you, because you have vocally expressed your interest from the first, but he has also said to me he is losing his patience with your ill-temper tonight. Either you wish to be with Emily or you do not. If you do not, you should let her go. Harry would make her happier than you have tonight, and all week, from what Mary has said.”

“When I came to see you, you told me to drop Lillian, or you would tell Emily.”

Drew moved a chair out of the way and leaned his buttocks back onto the empty dining table with a sigh as he also folded his arms over his chest. “I know. But perhaps I gave you the wrong advice. You were always better at advice than I.”

Peter shook his head.

“See, the Peter that I know would have laughed at that and agreed and mocked me. This Peter… Who are you? You remind me of who I was when Mary left me.”

Yes. Drew had been sullen and unsmiling and bloody miserable. That was how Peter felt. Heartbroken, empty inside, and half
fucking
dead.
I miss Lillian
.

“Perhaps I did not listen hard enough when you came to visit me. Were you seeking someone to give you permission to find a way out of your engagement? If I had said it is fine for you to keep the actress, what would you have done?”

“I do not know.” Peter walked across to the table, moved another chair then leaned his buttocks against the table too. He lifted one foot onto the chair and gripped its back. “I did not listen to you anyway. I was going to set her up, buy her a house, lead a double life, and keep it secret from you all. But someone showed Lillian the announcement. I did not even make the offer; she threw me out of her dressing room, and the next day she sent everything I have ever given to her back.” He glanced sideways at Drew. “So you were wrong, she had sold nothing. She even sent me all the cash I had given her.”

“Does she have feelings for you too then?”

“She’s never said so, but then nor have I told her how I feel. It is not the sort of conversation you have with a woman in her situation.”

“No. But if you did decide to have that conversation?”

“Lord. Are you encouraging me now?”

“If it would make you bloody smile again, and stop looking so sour, yes.”

“She will not have me.”

“Have you? You would truly offer for her then…”

Good Lord, Peter had not even heard what he’d said, but he had been thinking of marriage when he’d thought of her saying no. He took a deep breath. “Is that possible?” It was a thought he said aloud.

“It is, I suppose, if you are prepared to work a dozen times harder for her. She will not be welcomed in society, you would not be able to take her anywhere and leave her, no one would speak to her. You would have to help her adjust to her position, with education and such.”

“You’re serious.”

“Weren’t you?”

Yes, he was. “But what of Emily?”

“You are not making her happy. Emily will cope with this. It would be a curse if you married her when there is no deeper feeling there.”

It was true, and damn if it did not make the weight on his shoulders lighter. The longer he’d spent away from Lillian, the more he’d known that what he felt for Emily did not compare. “Yes.” Yes, he would offer for Lillian.

Peter straightened. “I should be honest with Emily and tell her now.”

“You should be honest with her, but is now the best time, when she is in your sister’s home, and this is your engagement ball?”