Page 4 of The Viscount's Forgery
A heavy sigh broke from the Marquess’ lips as he ran one hand over his eyes. “Something occurred only a week after our engagement,” he said, his voice low. “Something that has deeply concerned me, something that I cannot seem to remove from my mind no matter how hard I try.”
“Should you like to share it?” Nicholas asked, still trying to understand. “If you do not wish to speak of it, however, I quite understand. It seems to me, however, that it has burdened you somewhat.”
“Indeed.” The Marquess sighed again and then grimaced. “I should have taken that brandy while I had the opportunity.”
Nicholas handed him his as yet untouched one. “I will get another.”
His friend did not protest but took it with a murmur of thanks, slinging it back rather than savoring it. Smacking his lips, he looked down at the empty glass and grimaced. “I thought that I was in love with Polly – Miss Paulina Sherwood, as she is formally known. Her eyes captivated me the first time I looked into them; her smile was so beautiful, I lost my breath.”
Nicholas’s eyebrows lifted. He and Lord Bothwell had spoken about matrimony and the like on many occasions, but they had never discussed love or affection. Indeed, their conversations had centered around what suitability would be required from their bride, what standards she would have to uphold. Never once had Nicholas thought of affection and neither, so he had thought, had the Marquess. Now, however, it seemed that his friend had quite lost his heart though mayhap that had been somewhat unexpected.
“You are wondering why I would fall in love when I had seemed not in the least bit interested in what my heart might do when it came to a lady,” Lord Bothwell said, reading Nicholas’mind. “I could not help it, I confess. I was lost, confounded, and overwhelmed. When she agreed to court me, I thought myself the most fortunate of all gentlemen.”
“You must have been drawn to her, given that her father’s title is significantly less than your own.”
Lord Bothwell shrugged. “He is still gentry, is he not? And wealthy also, though not by your standards.” His smile was brief. “It did not matter to me, truth be told. We had many conversations, manywonderfulconversations, and her character, it seemed, was gentle, kind, and sweet. I knew that she was well able to take on the duties that would be required of her, should she be my bride, and, in my longing, I asked her to marry me.”
“And she accepted you, surely?”
With a nod, Lord Bothwell looked down at the floor. “It was our first meeting together after the proposal. The family was residing in Bath, choosing to spend a few weeks there after their time in London, and given that my estate is not far from there, they came to call – at my request, of course. Nothing had been said to any friends and family as yet, for I had still to arrange matters with her father.”
Nicholas’ eyebrows lifted. “Surely he did not refuse you consent?”
This made his friend chuckle, though it held a weight there all the same. “No, he did not. It was not his doing at all. It was my own.” Closing his eyes again, his shoulders rounded. “Her sister, Miss Eugenia Sherwood, had taken a short respite from the drawing room. Polly went in search of her, and when she did not return, both I and her parents rose to go and find them. What I heard from Polly’s lips was the most unrefined speech that I had ever heard from her. It was callous and cruel, and I could not quite take it in! How could it be that the lady I adored,the lady that I thought so wonderful, could speak with such maliciousness?”
A little surprised, Nicholas took a moment to respond. “You mean to say that these sharp words were directed to her sister?”
“Yes.” Lord Bothwell’s lips tugged to one side as he looked away. “I cannot understand why she thought to say such things to her! I might have some level of understanding if it was her enemy or someone who had wronged her but this was hersister.”
“I see.” Nicholas, spying a footman, caught his attention and picked up two more brandies, handing one to Lord Bothwell. “So you chose to end the engagement?”
“No.” Lord Bothwell grimaced. “I am still quite in love with her, you see, but I cannot resolve in my heart what I saw of her that day. I do not want to let her go but neither am I sure that I want to marry her either.”
Taking a sip of his brandy, Nicholas frowned. “You have made her wait?”
Lord Bothwell’s lips flattened. “Yes, I have.”
“That seems a little cruel.”
“Again, with the blunt manner,” his friend sighed, though he smiled a little. “Yes, I suppose it is, but I must tell you, I do not mean to be so.” Pausing, he swirled his brandy around. “I spoke to her fatherandher sister a month after the conversation. I thought that they would be able to help me ascertain what I ought to do or help me understand who Polly really is, but instead, it only added to my confusion.”
“In what way?” Nicholas wanted to know. “What could have confused you further?”
His friend took a mouthful of brandy and then let out a sigh. “Because her father spoke only of her regret and her sorrow and her sister… well, Miss Eugenia Sherwood said more with her eyes than with her mouth, I am afraid.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Lord Bothwell smiled sadly. “She did not tell me a single thing that was wrong with her sister, did not tell me anything about her character nor her failings. Everything she said was neither one thing nor the other, neither negative nor positive. But when I asked her specifically if Polly had spoken to her often in that manner in which I had seen, she said that it was not particularly common but the pain in her eyes said quite differently.”
“Ah.” Nicholas, understanding, pursed his lips as he thought. “I can see now why it is confusing.”
“I have received letter upon letter from Polly,” Lord Bothwell said, a catch in his voice. “She has begged me to forgive her for her poor actions and has told me that she is quite determined not to behave so in the future.”
Nicholas brightened. “That is a good thing then, is it not? And everyone has their failings.”
“That is true.” Lord Bothwell ran one hand over his eyes. “All the same, I cannot help but be doubtful. I do not know whether the lady I fell in love with is just as she seems or not! I do not want her to berate the servants or the like in any such tones. I do not want to have such cruelty displayed!”
“I understand.” It was all Nicholas could say, thinking silently to himself that his friend was making the lady wait for a very long time to come to a decision. Silence fell between both gentlemen as they sipped their brandy, though the Marquess shot Nicholas a look that told him he was waiting for something more of a response. With a wry smile, Nicholas shrugged. “There is nothing more for me to say, Bothwell. Whatever you decide, it must be your decision.”
