The Marquis' Kiss (The Marvelous Munroes Book 3) Read online

  Now, watching Catherine greet the portly vicar and his equally portly wife, she wondered whether Thomas’ sister would be able to survive the evening. Liberal use of powder could not completely hide the dark shadows beneath her eyes, and, when she thought no one was watching, the forced smile would fade into something far less amenable. Margaret did not know what to do to help the woman. She could only hope that some of the activities she had planned for that evening would cheer her.

  The Byerslys were last to arrive. They were plumply respectable, round and comfortable like two robins on a fence. Their stilted response to the introductions made her wonder whether they would be worth anything more than a five-minute conversation. Their gangly son was greeted by a chorus of giggles from the Rothbottom girls, who waited near the sitting room door, but as he fixed his gaze in the center of Margaret’s bosom as he gushed his pleasure at meeting her, the young ladies seemed destined to disappointment. Margaret was glad when Thomas reached out to seize the fellow and propel him into the sitting room before he started drooling.

  The Byersly’s guest was the last through the door. Margaret chilled at the sight of him.

  “Good evening, Margaret,” Reggie said, bowing with a grin. He straightened and went so far as to wink at Thomas, who had returned from escorting Matthew Byersly into the clutches of the Rothbottom girls. “And good evening to you as well, my Lord DeGuis.”

  “Do you know this mushroom?” Lady Agnes demanded of Margaret, even as Thomas gave the fellow the barest of nods in acknowledgment.

  “Know me?” Reggie gurgled before Margaret could answer. “Dear lady, we are cousins.”

  “By marriage,” Margaret amended, seeing her carefully planned party disintegrating before her eyes. How could anyone enjoy themselves with Reggie spying on every action? How could she get Thomas alone if her cousin was watching her every move? Small wonder the Byerslys were closed-mouthed; they had no other defense if they had been silly enough to invite Reggie to stay with them.

  Reggie ignored her implied slur. “And I was the one to introduce her to his lordship.”

  “Well, at least you have one good deed to your credit,” Lady Agnes quipped.

  To Margaret’s relief, Thomas interceded to introduce his aunt and sister. Her relief was short-lived, however, for no sooner had Reggie bowed over their hands than he grabbed her arm as if to lead her in to the sitting room.

  “We have much to discuss, cousin,” he said, beaming. Margaret’s heart sank. She should shake him off and tell him to take himself home, but she had promised herself to be on her best behavior.

  Thomas loomed up to block their way. He removed Reggie’s arm from hers. “Sorry, Pinstin. Your discussion will have to wait. Miss Munroe is acting as my hostess tonight. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  Reggie began sputtering something that sounded suspiciously like congratulations, but Thomas whisked Margaret away into the sitting room before she could be sure.

  “Thank you for the rescue,” she murmured, enjoying the feel of his arm under hers and wondering whether it would be the last time she felt it.

  “My pleasure,” Thomas assured her, casting a glance at her cousin, who was greeting her father and stepmother. “Lord knows I’ve needed rescuing from the fellow often enough. Someday I’m going to feel compelled to strike him, I fear.”

  Margaret stared at him, but his face was as composed as always. Even in his dislikes, he showed no emotion. She was doomed.

  Dinner, however, went well. The vicar said the blessing in his considered, respectful voice, and everyone made congenial conversation. Reggie told several on dits that set the Byerslys, Rothbottoms, and even Court laughing. Seated next to Thomas, with Court on her right, only Catherine was quiet. Thomas, on the other hand, was plainly pleased with the meal. Margaret did not think she had ever seen him eat so much as he did of the fish chowder. Still, even though he clearly delighted in it, his face was composed, and he took each bite politely, never showing how much he cared for it. The fact set her spirits plummeting once again.

  The presentation of the gifts, on the other hand, raised them. Catherine paled at the love poem but thanked her kindly for it. By the way she kept running her gloved hands over the tooled leather cover, Margaret knew she liked it. Reggie opened his mouth as if to make a witty comment, and Margaret glared him into silence.

  Lady Agnes was even more obviously pleased with her gift. She crowed in delight at the parrot.

  “He doesn’t talk yet,” Margaret explained when Thomas’ aunt had tried immediately to engage it in conversation. “But I expect you will enjoy teaching him a few terms.”

  “He might even learn to debate you,” Mr. Munroe put in.

  Lady Agnes eyed the colorful bird thoughtfully. “He might indeed. Aren’t there certain terms used in debate in Parliament? Did you ever learn those, Thomas?”

  Thomas quirked a smile, winking at Margaret even as the Court frowned at how his aunt would unknowingly disparage him. “I think I may remember a few. If I can’t remember, I’m sure Viscount Darton can be of assistance. We would be delighted to help you teach the bird.”

  Court agreed good-naturedly.

  Lady Agnes was eager to start, but other amusements awaited. They all wandered in companionable conversation to the withdrawing room. As they entered, the quartet began a gentle melody. Lord Rothbottom grinned. Matthew Bylersly sidled up to Margaret and cleared his throat. Court bowed to Catherine.

  “Might I have the honor of the first dance on your birthday, Lady Catherine?”

  This, of course, proved to be nearly the party’s demise.

  “No, thank you, Lord Darton,” Catherine replied, turning away from everyone. “I find myself fatigued. Please enjoy yourselves without me.” She walked to the windows while most of her guests gazed at each other, perplexed. Reggie’s gleaming eyes told Margaret he was memorizing the moment for future use.

  Court’s mouth tightened, but he turned gallantly to Lady Agnes. “Perhaps you might be willing to take your niece’s place, my lady?”

  Lady Agnes was too busy frowning after Catherine. “No, thank you.”

  Court bowed, stiffly. When he straightened, it was to find the oldest Rothbottom girl in front of him, batting her lashes in obvious expectation. Unable to escape, he offered her his arm and she grabbed it as a drowning victim grabs a lifeline. He gave Thomas a dark look as he led her onto the floor.

  The vicar and his wife demurred, but Lord and Lady Rothbottom took the floor, as did Mr. and Mrs. Munroe. Reggie, of course, was content to watch, and Margaret could only hope he would have the sense to leave Catherine alone. Thomas bowed to Margaret, and they completed the set. The others took seats about the room to watch.

  Margaret tried to enjoy the dance, but every few turns brought Catherine into view, and guilt stabbed her. The woman stared out the window into the darkening night, head bowed, and mouth turned down in melancholy. If Margaret had succeeded in giving her a memorable birthday, no one would have guessed. It did not seem right that the guest of honor should be so downcast. As soon as the last bars of the music faded, she excused herself from a surprised Thomas and hurried to the girl’s side, ignoring the interested glances her cousin cast her.

  “You don’t have to dance with Lord Darton, you know,” she told Catherine. “If you asked, I’m sure my father would partner you.”

  Catherine managed a smile, turning from the window. “That would be kind of him, but I’m not overly fond of dancing.”

  “But this is your party,” Margaret insisted. “You told me you wanted dancing. If it does not amuse you, what would you like to do?”

  Catherine glanced about in an obvious attempt to make sure no one else was in hearing distance. “Can you help me go outside to meet Christien?”

  “He’s here?” Margaret yelped. Then, hastily lowering her voice as Reggie pricked up his ears, she added, “He followed you from London?”

  Catherine nodded. “I begged him to. The summer was too
long without him. I’ve managed to slip away a few times since he arrived, but not for the last couple of days. Could you help me?”

  Margaret cocked her head. “What about simply telling Thomas instead? It is your birthday. Perhaps he would be inclined to grant you a wish.”

  “I doubt that,” Catherine replied, wringing her hands. “I told Christien of your advice about Thomas, and he agreed it was too dangerous.”

  “Did he?” Margaret frowned suspiciously. “And what did he advise, a hasty trip to Gretna Green?”

  “No.” Catherine shuddered. “He told me to accept Lord Darton’s offer. He is so noble! I cannot do it, Miss Munroe. I fear I am not as strong as he is. I cannot stand waiting any longer. I have a plan.”

  “I’m almost afraid to hear it,” Margaret replied. “I simply do not understand why you cannot be honest with your brother. I know he loves you.”

  Catherine picked at the skirt of her rose-colored dress. “I believe he loves me, but he also wants what he thinks is best for me. That is why I intend to prove to him that Christien is best.”

  “And how are you going to do that when you cannot even admit the fellow exists?” Margaret demanded.

  Catherine glanced up at her, deep blue eyes determined. “I will arrange for Thomas to see Lord Darton trying to take liberties, only Christien will arrive to save me before it is too late.”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Margaret declared, exasperated. “In the first place, Lord Darton is not likely to act the libertine knowing your brother is nearby. In the second, while you might get Thomas to agree that Darton is not the best man for you, it does not follow that Christien is.”

  “But it will work!” Catherine cried. “It must work. I cannot bear being away from him. These last few days have been impossible. I feel I will burst under the strain.”

  Margaret could well imagine that. “Then talk to Thomas,” she ordered.

  “Talk to Thomas about what?” Thomas asked politely behind her. Behind him, Reggie was panting with eagerness.

  Catherine washed white. Margaret smiled sweetly. “A very important matter, I assure you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let your sister explain.” With a warning glance at the wide-eyed and trembling Catherine, she left her to Thomas’ curious attentions, grabbing Reggie’s arm to steer him away. She only hoped the girl would do the right thing and confess, before she caused a great deal of trouble, for everyone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thomas had, in fact, come in search of Margaret. As soon as he had her in custody, he intended to signal the quartet to begin a waltz. He still had only seen the dance performed, but felt himself capable of trying, especially given the significance of the act. Surely she would remember her father had said he might propose once he proved he could waltz. The DeGuis diamond lay heavy in his pocket of his black-and-white striped waistcoat. As he had looked at Margaret with his sister, he had been a little surprised to find his palms sweating inside his gloves. He was about to make a statement that would tie him to Margaret for eternity. Funny how he had never felt this nervous in his first two courtships.

  Now, much as he would have liked to protest Margaret’s departure, he could easily see that something was upsetting Catherine. Accordingly, he let Margaret go without a murmur and focused on his sister.

  “What is it, Catherine?” he asked gently.

  She swallowed, avoided his gaze, and began wringing her hands. “Oh, Thomas, I don’t know how to begin.”

  Alarmed, he caught her hands in his own. “Whatever it is obviously greatly concerns you. Therefore, it is of great concern to me. Please, tell me.”

  She looked up and immediately flinched. “Everyone’s watching us!”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she was right. Even though Margaret had drawn off Pinstin, the fellow was still gazing at Catherine. Lord and Lady Rothbottom had paused in their conversation with the Byerslys. Lady Agnes was frowning in his direction. Even the simpering Rothbottom chits were peering over the top of their fans in curiosity. A few weeks ago he would have told his sister to pull herself together before she made a scene. That was before Margaret had shown him how superficial his life was. Turning back to Catherine, he offered her his arm.

  “If you need someone to talk with, Catherine,” he told her, “I am quite willing. Perhaps a stroll in the gardens will give us the privacy you need.”

  She accepted his arm, but his suggestion only seemed to worry her further. “No! That is, we do not need to go outside. Perhaps a simple promenade would do.”

  He nodded, leading her forward. The musicians were looking his direction, and he shook his head. They launched into a lively gavotte. The Rothbottoms and Byerslys returned to the floor. Court, still attempting to escape the determined young ladies, offered for a surprised Margaret, who was clearly torn. Thomas smiled wryly at her dilemma—enjoying her beloved dancing or keeping Pinstin from poisoning her party. She shook her head at Court and dragged her protesting cousin onto the floor. Court strode out into the garden to escape. The Byersly son offered for the youngest Rothbottom girl, which annoyed her older sisters, if the rapid plying of fans was any indication.

  “Now, then,” he said to his sister as the dancers began to move. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  She tried to start several times, trailing off lamely after the first word. He gathered it had something to do with Court and the marriage business and gave her arm a squeeze.

  “I’ve told you repeatedly you do not have to marry the viscount,” he chided. “Am I such an ogre to force you?”

  She glanced up at him and quickly away, biting her lip before answering him. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt the need to stand up to you before, Thomas. I’m not sure I can. Will you truly listen to me if I say I will not marry him?”

  Thomas sighed. “I’ve done all I can, Catherine. You do not seem to have grown accustomed to him, as I had hoped. Court does not seem overly enthused either, if that is any comfort. I obviously chose the wrong person for you. I’ll tell him the marriage is off.”

  She let out her breath slowly as if she had been holding it for some time. “Thank you, Thomas.”

  “I told you, I’m not an ogre,” he replied, still a little stung that she would think him so unfeeling. But then, perhaps he had been unfeeling before Margaret had shown him the error of his ways. His eyes sought out Margaret, gracefully darting through the dance. Reggie had more appreciation for the drama with Catherine than for his cousin’s talents. Thomas wished he could take the fellow’s place. As he watched, Margaret looked up at him and grinned. He smiled in return.

  “Everyone should find a soul mate,” he told Catherine. “We’ll find someone for you, as soon as we return to town. I promise you, you will have your own establishment before the end of the next Season.”

  She faltered in her steps. They were just passing Lady Agnes, who scowled at him in her debate with Mr. Munroe. Mrs. Munroe was frowning as well. Thomas’ smile froze into a polite mask.

  “I don’t want you to find someone else,” Catherine all but whined. “I will not marry anyone just because you set him before me.”

  Her tone was rising again, and despite his good intentions, he frowned.

  “I don’t intend to offer you gentlemen on a platter, like a tray of sweet meats,” he replied. “I think we should be able to have a civil discussion about the matter this time.”

  She pulled up short, not far from the end of the dance floor, requiring him to stop as well. He had never seen his sister so agitated. Bright color spotted her cheeks, and her eyes blazed. “This isn’t a debate in Parliament, Thomas, or a discussion with your man of business as to what you should invest on the Exchange. This is my life. And I am tired of you interfering in it.”

  His guests were beginning to stare again, and this time, Thomas felt his temper rising. It would do his family and his heart no good for him to snap now. He struggled to contain the frustration, tossing out his words again
st the building anger. “I do not consider wishing to see my sister happy interference. Or are you complaining about the homes I have set up for you, the food I provide, your wardrobe?”

  “As if those mattered!” she complained. Another time he would have marveled that her temper was as volatile as his, but at the moment, all he could do was grit his teeth.

  “I daresay they matter to some people.”

  “Not to me,” she declared. “All I’ve ever wanted, Thomas, was for someone to appreciate and love me, just as I am. You can’t seem to do that. I feel as if you’re constantly poking at me to be something I’m not.”

  “I’ve never done that,” he argued vehemently. “All I’ve asked is that you be a DeGuis. That name comes with a certain level of expectation.”

  “Oh!” she squealed. “I’m so sick of that! What makes us so special? Why are we the model to which all others aspire? I cringe every time Aunt Agnes says that. You may be perfect, Thomas, but I cannot, I will not live up to your ideal of perfection. I do not want to keep everything inside me. I want to shout if I’m angry. I want to cry if I’m sad. I don’t want to pretend I’m stunningly beautiful, or witty, or vivacious, when I’m none of those things. I’m not even as honest as your Margaret Munroe.”

  “The last person you should compare yourself to,” Thomas all but shouted, “is Margaret Munroe.”

  The name echoed in the silent room. Catherine glared at him, bosom heaving. The music had stopped, all conversation had ceased. Every person in the room was staring at him. He was the center of attention, the thing he most despised. Worse, the comment, which everyone had clearly heard, could be taken as publicly disparaging the woman he loved.