Page 20 of The Marquess of Temptation
"Oh, yes. I know when I was studying--"
"Excuse me," the Marquess finally found his voice, interrupting Jane mid-speech. "We are not here for a lecture on the history of pirates. We are here to discuss Miss Hestia Stockbow; your companion and my ward."
"Your ward?"
Judging by the expression of horror on Jane's face, she found the idea that Hestia was the Marquess's ward far more shocking than the fact that her companion's father had once been a thief of the high seas. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Hestia would have laughed, for Jane was full of surprises.
"Yes. My ward," the Marquess cast Hestia a possessive glance, "And once we return to London, she will be my bride."
"Hold up, old fellow. Did I miss something?" Lord Payne asked in bemusement, "I thought I just heard you say that you intend to marry Miss Bowstock --I mean Stockbow."
"I do," the Marquess spoke in a pompous manner, drawing himself up to his full height as he did so. "For two reasons, the first being that she needs the protection of my name, the second being that I compromised her honour."
"You did not compromise my honour," Hestia interjected testily --who did he think he was, announcing that to her employer? All they had shared was a brief kiss, and no one would ever have known of it, if he hadn't blabbered so.
"Yes, I did," Lord Delaney smiled at her in a most patronising manner. "That night in the Library in Hawkfield Manor."
"That was just a kiss," Hestia snapped, his self satisfied smile filling her with rage. "A mere peck, stolen I might add, by you."
She watched in satisfaction as the Marquess turned a rather alarming shade of red at her dismissive remark. It gave her a slight thrill to know that she could fluster him in the same way that he had left her flustered in the library.
"Nevertheless, your honour was compromised, and we must wed," Falconbridge stated, through gritted teeth, obviously deciding to ignore her.
"My honour was not compromised, though if you insist on shouting that it was people will start to believe you."
Hestia and the Marquess were squared off in the centre of the hallway, almost nose to nose, and they would surely have begun a most undignified shouting match, had Lord Payne not spoken.
"How would that work out then, Falconbridge, I wonder?" he asked casually, a grin threatening to erupt across his handsome face. "You being Miss Stockbow's guardian, would mean that to defend her honour, you'd have to call the man who allegedly besmirched it out. Though you can't very well call yourself out, now can you?"
"No, I can't."
Hestia thought that the Marquess's head might explode, or at the very least steam might start pouring out his ears, as he digested Lord Payne's silly observation. The laughter that had been threatening finally bubbled over and she found herself wiping tears of mirth away.
"She's hysterical with nerves," Falconbridge muttered, glancing at Hestia in alarm. Even Jane looked rather worried as she took in the sight of her companion, bent double, as laughter wracked her frame.
"I shall have to send for a physician," Falconbridge continued, running an agitated hand through his thick hair. "She'll need some smelling salts --or perhaps a tonic of some sort."
"What I need," Hestia, who had finally stopped laughing said, "Is a cup of tea and a rational discussion on what I am supposed to do, now that the secret of my identity has been revealed."
She would never know what the Marquess's response to her demands would have been, for a cheerful Northern voice spoke, startling them all.
"I don't know much about secret identities," a flame haired woman said cheerfully, as she came bustling down the hallway. "But I do know a lot about tea, and I know that Mrs Actrol has asked that I serve my best brew in the parlour for her old friend Hestia --and anyone who has an interest in Hestia's wellbeing."
Hestia watched, overwhelmed with gratitude, as Jane gave a firm nod and said; "That would be me."
"And me," the Marquess added.
Fiddlesticks.
It was rather a surreal experience, watching three people discuss her future as though she were not there. Mrs Actrol, Jane and the Marquess of Falconbridge had been going back and forth for the past half hour, arguing amongst themselves on the best course of action for Hestia's future.
Jane was adamant that Hestia stay with her, while the Marquess kept making dark noises about London and special licences, that Jane did her best to ignore.
The debate was chaired by Mrs Actrol, who would interject occasionally, to question the two on minor details that they had overlooked.
"Stockbow made you the executioner of his will, Falconbridge," the older woman stated, her blue eyes thoughtful behind her spectacles, "Did he leave Hestia anything of worth?"
"Just the cottage near Truro," Falconbridge shrugged dismissively, "Which would be better off condemned, than lived in. He left no money, just several small debts, which have been looked after."
