Page 85 of When the Viscount Seduces
“Come in, Gwen,” he said from where he sat at his desk. He stood as she entered. “Markwith has just sent a note. He intends to call this afternoon.” Papa smiled. “He was quite enthused about the marriage.”
Gwen sagged. “I had hoped to speak with you last night, but you didn’t return home until after I retired. If I’d known you were about this morning, I would have sought you out.” In hindsight, she should have told his valet that she wanted to see her father first thing today.
He frowned. “Is aught amiss?”
“I know you want me to marry Mr. Markwith, and he is very pleasant.” She dropped her hands to her sides and straightened her spine, lifting her shoulders as if she could become larger. She could be a bear or a stag, something of impressive stature. “However, I am in love with someone else. Indeed, this gentleman has already asked if I will marry him, and I said yes.”
“What the devil is this about?” Papa rarely became angry, but he looked to be that now. His face had darkened, and his eyes narrowed. “You said nothing of another gentleman yesterday when we informed you that you would wed Markwith.”
“His proposal happened since then,” Gwen replied. Seeing her father open his mouth, she was certain he would ask when. “I encountered him at Henlow House yesterday, by chance.”
Her father was nearly scowling. “And who is this gentleman?”
“Lord Somerton.”
As Papa’s eyes tried to bulge from his face, Gwen heard her mother speak from behind her.
“Somerton? The man you are alleged to be having an affair with?” Mama’s voice sounded raspy.
“Look what you’ve done to your poor mother.” Papa raced to Mama’s side and helped her into a chair. Indeed, Gwen’s mother did look pale.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Gwen said, rushing to her and taking her hand, which was rather cool.
“This will be a terrible scandal,” her mother said. “I spent so much time at the ball the other night telling people that you had not been meeting Somerton at Lord Droxford’s, that it was merely coincidence.”
Gwen’s father’s gaze landed on her as his lips pursed heavily. “And we’re to believe you just happened upon him at Henlow House? Have you no shame?”
Wincing beneath the heat of her father’s words, Gwen chewed the inside of her cheek. This was worse than she’d expected.
“I have no shame for choosing Somerton. I love him, and he loves me.”
Her mother gaped at her. “How can you be so naive? Men like Somerton don’t make good husbands.”
Gwen released her hand. “You seemed enthusiastic about his interest when he first began paying me attention.”
“As a suitor, yes,” her mother said, appearing pained. “But not to marry. Markwith is a far better choice. You must reconsider, my dear. He is everything we hoped for.”
“Except I don’t love him,” Gwen replied.
“Not yet, but you may in time,” Papa said gruffly. “You would be foolish to choose Somerton over him—if he really plans to marry you. The man hasn’t even bothered to pay me a call.” Papa sniffed with disdain. “We only care about your happiness.”
How it stung that they assumed Lazarus to be disingenuous, but they only knew of his reputation, not the man he truly was. “I know you both think I’m hopeless. You didn’t even want to give me a Season, but I finally wore you down. Then it was nearly a disaster because I am awkward and clumsy. But do you know who turned my Season around? Lord Somerton. He paid me public attention, which prompted other gentlemen to consider me, and he met with me at his cousin’s house to advise me on how best to attract a husband. Without his help, I would not have even attracted Markwith’s notice. Because of him, I was queen of the Phoenix Club ball. Weren’t you proud of me that night, Mama?”
“You were meeting with him?” her mother whispered. Was that all she’d heard?
“Yes, but not to have an affair. We did fall in love, but that was not why we started our association. Indeed, we realized ourfeelings after we’d already agreed to stop meeting. Somerton was adamant I didn’t need him anymore. He worried his further attention and help could be detrimental to my reputation if we persisted.” She couldn’t reveal the truth of their meetings—that was Lazarus’s secret, not hers.
“At least he knew that much,” her father muttered. “I can’t support this marriage, Gwen. He is not a suitable husband.”
Gwen’s mother looked to her beseechingly. “You must know that he will make you unhappy. He may say he loves you, but I doubt he will be faithful. He will break your heart, my dearest girl.”
“No, he won’t. I don’t know how to explain to you that he loves me and could not bear me wedding someone else.”
“Some men want what they can’t have,” her father said darkly. “Trust us, Gwen. You must choose Markwith.”
Again, she stood as tall as she could and tried to become an intimidating creature. “I can’t do that. I’ve already chosen Somerton. I am of age, and he is the man I will wed. I am deeply sorry you do not approve and hope you will change your mind.” Gwen knew in that moment that she wasn’t going to let anyone come between her and Lazarus—not her parents and certainly not Miss Worsley’s lies. “Furthermore, you will need to tell Markwith you were mistaken about where my feelings lie. I never promised him anything, so the apology must come from you.”
Her father’s face had returned to his regular color, but now it reddened again. He took a deep breath, and Gwen decided she should go before things deteriorated further.
