Page 24 of Stealing a Scoundrel's Heart
“There is nothing for the two of you to apologize for.” Marjorie hugged Elise back and patted her friend on the back. “If you wouldn’t mind passing me a fresh shift and my robe, we could have a proper chat.”
Elise raced to the drawer, retrieved a clean shift, and threw it at Marjorie. Before her head even poked through the material Elise asked, “Why is Lord Dartman here in Brighton and not in London attending to his duty in the House of Lords? How irresponsible of the man.”
Duty. Duty. Duty. Is that all that everyone thought and cared about?
Regardless of her personal viewpoint, was Alister being irresponsible? Lovemaking in the middle of the day didn’t seem to be the most responsible use of their time. But oh how enjoyable it had been. Wickedly delightful.
She donned her robe and left the bed to stand by the window. Hands clasped behind her back, she inhaled deeply and prepared to share with her two best friends the tale of how she had managed to land a scoundrel.
Before she opened her mouth to begin, Elise leaped off the bed and began to pace about her chambers, muttering a string of questions. “Wasn’t Lord Dartman one of the gentlemen who were banned from White’s? Wasn’t it rumored he and his friends had to venture off to the Continent to avoid trouble? No doubt they were simply skirting their duties and avoiding the marriage mart.”
“Elise,” Dorinda chided. “You married Thornston—a renowned rake. You of all people should know not to place any merit in rumors.”
Dorinda had always come to her defense.
Not today.
“There is nothing for the two of you to worry over. I’m a widow, no longer a sheltered spinster. Taking on a scoundrel for a lover is nothing scandalous, especially away from the prying eyes of nosy matrons.” She smiled and grabbed Elise’s hand. “Maxwell was kind and generous to me. He gifted me this cottage and an annuity that grants me the freedom I’ve always wished for.”
“But how could you be happy here all alone?” Elise countered.
Marjorie squeezed Elise’s hand. “Need I remind you, I wasn’tallalone.”
Dorinda came to join them and took Marjorie’s free hand. “We are concerned for you. Your family forced you to marry a stranger, who was a recluse. In the six months you were married, we rarely saw you. Fairmont said not to interfere, for you were newlyweds and needed privacy. But I see now, I—” Dorinda glanced at Elise and then back at Marjorie. “We… yes,weshould have attempted to get to know your late husband better.”
“Despite all the hours we spent together, I’m not sure I even really discovered the real Maxwell, for he shared more about a friend of his than of himself. After spending a couple of weeks with Alister, I began to understand Maxwell’s motivation for marrying me.”
When she didn’t continue, Dorinda tugged on her hand. “Don’t keep us waiting. Why did the old man marry you?”
“He was playing matchmaker.”
Elise released Marjorie’s hand and threw both hands up in the air. “Matchmaker?” Elise spun and began to pace once more and muttered. “Of all the eligible gentlemen, why a scoundrel without a heart?”
Dorinda too released Marjorie hand but instead grabbed her by the shoulders. “Forgive us, but when you shared you were to travel with four gentlemen we were not closely acquainted with, Thornston and Fairmont hired Bow Street Runners to investigate.” Dorinda stared directly at Marjorie. “Details were revealed that were not as favorable as we had hoped. We came as soon as we knew…”
She shrugged off Dorinda’s hold and asked, “What did you discover?”
“Did Lord Dartman share with you that he is the biological son of your late husband?”
“W-what did you just say?”
Elise stopped next to her and succinctly reiterated Dorinda’s question into a statement. “Alister Knight, the Viscount of Dartman, is Maxwell’s son.”
“I know,” Marjorie replied.
Dorinda’s sharp gaze fell upon Marjorie and asked once more, “Did he tell you?”
“No. But one would have to be blind not to notice the physical similarities and an utter dimwit not to acknowledge that Dartman’s unassuming protective nature was akin to Maxwell’s.”
“Does it not concern you that he wasn’t truthful about his past?” Dorinda asked.
Marjorie took a moment to contemplate how to best answer her friend’s question. “No. The past is the past.” She wanted to believe that Alister would have told her the truth when he was ready. But bells of warning rang in her head.
Alister stood in the middle of Marjorie’s parlor under the penetrating gazes of Lady Elise and Her Grace, Lady Dorinda. The Countess of Thornston and the Duchess of Fairmont hadn’t always been pillars of polite society, and some might still argue that the pair remained far too outspoken and brazen to be model examples for young ladies. They might be married with children, but there was no doubt in Alister’s mind that the pair wouldn’t hesitate to go to the ends of the earth to search for Marjorie if he carried out his plan to steal Marjorie away and hide her where no one would interrupt them.
Frustrated at not having been able to lay abed all day with Marjorie yesterday, and having been forced to dine alone last eve, Alister was determined not to be run off by the two women staring at him as if he was some exotic animal at the Tower of London’s menagerie. Except the urge to run was strong. The women rarely blinked and when his eyes locked with theirs, it was as if they could read his mind and discover his deepest, darkest secrets. They were dangerous.
Marjorie entered the room all sunshine and smiles, and his tense shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t anxious when Marjorie looked directly at him; she only ever saw the good in others. Even after consorting with Foxton, Hurlington, Whistlestop, and himself for a fortnight, the woman remained untarnished.
