Page 59 of A Sense of Misgiving
‘You only have yourself to blame for that. You have not made the least effort to pay court to me, and simply assumed that I would accept you with gratitude. In which case, it is I who should be offended.’ Mary turned towards the door. ‘This situation is embarrassing for us both, so perhaps you will have the goodness to summon your coachman and have him drive me home. I shall not enter a carriage alone with you.’
‘You little fool!’ He grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn and look at him. The lightning change in his expression—from passion to simmering rage—took her breath away. He was a dangerous and resentful man, she realised, belatedly wondering if she should have rejected his proposal a little less decisively. ‘If you do not marry me then your entire miserable family will suffer the consequences.’
‘Kindly release my arm and refrain from issuing mindless threats.’
She rubbed her wrist when he let it go, wondering if she would have bruises. This wasdéjà vuin its cruellest form. Her only previous proposal had been delivered by a fortune hunter after he had contrived to get her alone, and he too had proved reluctant to take nofor an answer. He had turned violent when she repeatedly declined him, which it what she suspected the captain would also do.
It appeared as if he really had expected her to accept him. He thought too well of himself to consider any other outcome, and Mary supposed she was partly to blame for that situation since she had made little effort to hide the fact that she enjoyed his attentions. What was it about her that attracted such vain men? Was she so very plain that they really did think she would be grateful to be noticed by them? Perhaps she should consider having a season after all, even if the prospect didn’t appeal to her. Presumably in London the unmarried gentlemen would be obliged to remember their manners at the height of the season. But then again, her very presence would imply that she was on the prowl for a husband, and she would be targeted by just as many fortune hunters.
‘It is no threat,’ he said into the ensuing silence.
‘I won’t listen to this. You have proposed, I have refused you. A gentleman would leave it at that.’
‘You have no idea, do you?’
Mary blinked at him. ‘No idea about what?’
‘Your sainted father reneged on a debt of honour.’
Mary again laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
She felt her mouth fall open and denials spill from her lips when the captain explained about a supposed debt incurred during a card game at Redfern Hall not long before her parents had tragically drowned. She fumed with anger when he hinted that his father’s death had been no accident and that her father had been responsible for it.
‘Where is your proof?’ Mary sent him a scathing glance. ‘You have none, I am absolutely sure, because Papa would never have behaved in such a fashion.’
‘Oh, there is proof. There are gentlemen who witnessed the game.’
‘And gentlemen’s testimonies cannot be bought? A vowel would go some small way to convincing me.’
‘There is nothing in writing.’ He made the concession grudgingly. ‘My own father foolishly assumed that a gentleman’s word would be his bond.’
‘Careful,’ Mary warned, her temper rising. ‘You claim you want to marry me, but when I respectfully declined, you chose to employ coercion, yet you speak of gentlemanly behaviour. It might have escaped your notice that I am not of age and cannot marry anyone without my brother’s permission, which will not be forthcoming if it is you I wish to marry. He is already wary of you. Now, we have exhausted the subject of your marital ambitions and I would like to leave. Either arrange for my return home or I will walk.’
‘I am not the only person in possession of the particulars of that infamous card game.’ He paused. ‘Or of the shooting party where my father lost his life.’ He sounded a little desperate now, presumably not having expected to meet with so much opposition to his proposal, or Mary’s outright denial of her father’s supposed crimes.
‘If you expect me to ask who else is involved with this fiction then I fear you will be in for a long wait.’
‘Your little friend, Miss Latimer. Her father, a respected clergyman, is also aware of the situation.’
Mary blinked up at him. ‘Flora?’
‘Ah, I see I have your full attention at last,’ he said, with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Now, we can resolve this matter easily enough. The bottom line is that your family are indebted to mine. Not only did your father fail to satisfy his gambling debts, but your sainted brother disappointed my sister. We will say nothing more about my father’s untimely death. There is, as you say, no proof, although I know in my heart that what I say is true. However, I am inordinately fond of Lucy and cannot permit Luke’s slight to go unavenged.’
‘Luke?’ Mary frowned, trying to ignore her fear at his sudden hostility. Wondering what had happened to his limp, which had magically disappeared. ‘Luke didn’t make Lucy any promises as far as I’m aware.’
‘You were a child. You didn’t see them together or know what was agreed between them.’
He turned again and took her upper arms in a vice-like grip, pushing her against the wall and pinning her there with the weight of his body. His breath peppered her face and she felt scalded by the searing anger in his eyes. The man was truly deranged, and she was terrified. Why, oh why, had Maud been taken unwell and why had she not brought someone else with her? It would, she knew, only have postponed the inevitable, but still…
He had already persuaded her to like and trust him, and more time would have enabled him to consolidate that situation. He should not have acted so precipitously. But if he had not, she might have been taken in completely by his performance and begged Luke to let her marry him. Maud’s indisposition had definitely worked in her favour, she concluded, just as long as she could extricate herself from this situation, which seemed far from certain. She was dealing with a resentful and unbalanced individual, accustomed to getting his own way.
‘If you think brute strength will get you anywhere, then you quite mistake the matter,’ she said, her voice sounding commendably calm. ‘I cannot abide men who use their superior strength to coerce females.’
He tried to kiss her—a situation that she had half hoped might arise a half-hour previously—but she was now repelled by the prospect and turned her face aside.
‘Accept my proposal, along with my assurance that I am fond of you and will do my very best to make you happy. Convince your brother that we are in love and I will not shame your family name by telling what I know.’
She snorted her disapproval. ‘Never!’
