Page 25 of Stealing a Scoundrel's Heart
“A good morn to everyone.” Marjorie skipped past him and bussed both her grace and Lady Elise. She turned back and Alister noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and her lips quivered ever so slightly. She was pretending to be happy when it was clear she wasn’t.
In the time he’d known her, she’d never feigned merriment, sadness, or any other emotion.
“A good morn to you too, Marjorie. Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Of course. Although the bed was rather crowded with the three of us in it. We are not as small as we once were.” Marjorie winked at both her friends. “But I must admit it did bring back fond memories of the days when we would all stay up late at night in Elise’s chambers discussing…”
“Discussing?” he prompted as Marjorie’s voice faded.
Marjorie frowned. “Discussing matters… matters that are important to girls who are about to make their debut, of course.”
Elise looped her arm through Marjorie’s. “I didn’t receive a proper tour of the cottage and the gardens yesterday.” Elise effectively waltzed Marjorie out of sight.
He was about to follow when Lady Dorinda blocked his path. “Lord Dartman, let us stay here and have a nice chat, shall we?”
It wasn’t really a question but a command. “That sounds lovely.” He disguised his sarcasm rather well in his opinion, but his reply still garnered him a stern look from the duchess.
“I’ll not mince words, Lord Dartman. The Bow Street Runners report my husband obtained on you was filled with revelations that would make even the most worldly of bawds blush.” His inquisitor crossed the room and sank into the wingback chair next to the settee with the grace of a queen.
Alister followed and took a seat on the settee. He forced himself to relax back and casually slung his arm along the back. “What exactly concerns you the most?”
“The fact that you seem to have no issue living a life built on a lie.”
The duchess had not lied—the woman was blunt like a butter knife. “I assume you are referring to my lineage and the legitimacy of the title I hold.”
“We can start there.”
Start? The woman’s direct stare unnerved him. Alister asked, “Is there some other secret I should be concerned about?”
“Marrie deserves to live in peace, without the shroud of scandal and with someone she can trust, someone to protect her, not place her in danger.”
Egad, the woman was formidable. “How would associating with me place Marjorie in danger?”
“You are a prominent member of Masters’.”
Stunned that the woman had knowledge of the exclusive gentleman’s club’s existence, Alister studied the Duchess of Fairmont closely. She hadn’t sought confirmation of his association but stated it as fact. What was the woman’s point? His blackened soul knew it best not to stray from the facts. “I am.”
The woman’s shoulders rose ever so slightly as she heaved in a deep breath. She hadn’t been as confident as she’d made herself appear.Interesting.
Seated calmly with her hands clasped in her lap, the lady said, “I have it on good authority that the number of members is limited and for good reason: not all are trustworthy.”
“Because they are all not titled?” he asked.
“No. Because they hold secrets. Dark secrets that are damaging to the soul.” The well-informed duchess stared directly into his eyes. “You wouldn’t want Marrie’s bright spirit to be tarnished by exposing her to such things, now would you?”
It wasn’t that Alister hadn’t considered the matter himself, but the sting of the truth still hurt. He wasn’t a saint, hadn’t lived a life of a saint, but when he was with Marjorie the possibility he wasn’t as heartless as others believed him to be was real.
Mayhap the duchess was right. Marjorie should be loved and love a man without a stained soul. He lived his life as the Viscount of Dartman, despite the fact that there wasn’t an ounce of the Dartman bloodline that ran through him. Aside from the fact he resembled Maxwell to a tee, there wasn’t a single trace of evidence to disprove or prove his identity. Assuming the title and all it entailed wasn’t of his own doing, yet he still felt guilty. He sighed and answered the duchess’ question. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Shall I convey your goodbyes on your behalf, then?”
He had arrived at the cottage with every intention of convincing Marjorie to consider marriage once more, marriage to him, but now he was considering leaving her. Leaving her for good.
“Please do.” Alister stood and tugged on his lapels. “As you mentioned yesterday, I really should see to fulfilling my duties in town.”
Alister marched out of the cottage. With each step he took away from Marjorie, the warmth that had resided in his heart dissipated. He was once again a scoundrel without a heart.
Cook had prepared her favorites for supper, but the sweetened carrots were tasteless in Marjorie’s mouth.
