Page 54 of A Mayfair Maid

“Oh.” He sat. He did not deny the fact that he had once had a wife. Marilee felt an arrow go through her heart. At least that part of Lady Lydia’s story was true.

“You lied to me.”

“So did you,” he countered.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “I never loved you.”

He looked like he had taken a kick to the gut. He said nothing.

“I have grown weary of your company.”

“Marilee, please. Let me explain,” he hissed so low that none could have heard save Marilee except that she could also see from over his shoulder that the door swung inward ever so slightly as Mrs. Cavendish tried to get a better purchase. He gestured behind him, asking if someone were listening, if she were being forced to say such things, and wondering why she was being so cryptic.

“I don’t want an explanation,” she replied with a cool shrug. “I want you gone. I think that I have made myself clear. I never wish to see your face again.”

“Kate,” Nikolas grabbed her in earnest this time. Pulling her near so that he might whisper in her ear. “What have they done?”

She cursed his devotion. Cursed herself for having shown the true depth of her feeling with every kiss that she had permitted. Cursed the fact that he would never believe that she truly meant every word. He must not return.

“Good heavens, Nick,” she scoffed, “unhand me.” For the sake of their voyeur, she could not appear to enjoy his touch.

But he would not allow her to push him away. He gripped her arms.

“Come away with me,” he offered, “tonight.”

She laughed. He knew as well as she that such a thing would never be permitted. How could they escape especially now when an assassin was perched waiting for Nikolas? The man would just kill both of them.

“I’ve thought it through,” he breathed against her ear. “They cannot prevent it if we were betrothed. We’ll come back for Peggy; I promise. Whatever has happened, we leave tonight.”

Marilee felt her stomach rise to her throat, and all sound seemed to be eliminated by the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. She spun to face the window, but remained within the circle of his arms as she attempted to stifle her shock. Why did her heart believe him? Why could she not believe him to be flawed and repulsive?

“I mean it,” he promised. “Peggy would agree if you are in danger. I can sense it, something is wrong,” he whispered. “Say you’ll marry me, Kate. Let me take you away from here tonight.” Good Lord, he really did mean it, she realized. How many times had she imagined hearing him ask her to be his, to take her away, to keep her under his protection? How she had longed for this moment, but not here in this horrible house.

Could she agree so that she might explain the danger once they were free of these walls? Could she run away with him, and might they both escape the nefarious Mr. Benedict? No. She could not trust such a capricious plan. Still the Blackwell’s held all the cards. It was all for naught. Even if she agreed, Mrs. Cavendish would tell Lady Lydia and they would both be killed. Peggy would be interrogated and even Miss Caroline might be put in peril’s path. No, she could never give in to her own selfish dreaming, especially if it put others in such great danger. She must remain at Blackwell house to prevent any hint of suspicion. And yet, she still needed Nikolas to run. To run far away from London, far away from her. She blinked back a tear. There was no other way.

What she needed to do was drive the man away in the realest sense, not in appearance alone. The crux of the matter was that Nikolas was far too true to his word. He would never abandon the pledge he had made to the females, to grant them their freedom. He would try to right the wronged by principle, no matter the cost or his own feeling. She knew it as well as she knew that she could never poison him even if it meant attaining her own freedom. He was too noble, too good, and he loved her. He would never leave her to this life, even if she caused him pain, so long as he thought she was here unwillingly. Just as she would rather be imprisoned for all time than see him hurt, particularly by her own hand. He had made a promise and he would keep it to the bitter end. No, she would have to fool Nikolas into leaving this place, break him so badly that he would go far away just to escape the very thought of her. If she could not make her message clear, then she would have to make it true.

There was only one way for it. She would have to convince him that Lady Lydia’s offer was worth more to her than his affections. That she had achieved her freedom and did not have a care that it could be done at his expense, at the cost of his life. That her own benefit was worth more than his life. That even if shehadloved him in a way, it was all lesser than her own selfish wants.

She would have to convince Nikolas that she really had poisoned him, and that she had chosen to do so of her own accord.

Marilee fought to swallow past the lump in her throat. She felt ill at the very thought of what she was about to do.

“I need a moment to think,” she replied as she gestured he make use of the window that she might be left to the privacy of her own thoughts.

“Of course,” he nodded. She noted that he was not his usual, calm self. He was worried for her and perhaps, slightly afraid that she might have been put off by his unexpected offer to elope.

Marilee watched with bated breath as he turned his back to the window. She made her way back to the small seating area where the tea set looked back at her like a snake about to strike. She refilled the two cups with the steaming liquid, cast a confirmatory glance over her shoulder to be certain that he was not looking, and slipped the two vials from the pouch hidden beneath her skirts. Two drops of the emetic went into the cup on her left, three for good measure, before the yellowed bottle was thrust back into its hiding place. The second vial, the poison, clearly marked by the vibrant green of its glass, lost the entirety of its contents into the potted palm that stood between the two high-backed chairs opposite her seat on the settee. Marilee tucked that bottle too back beneath her skirts and stood to clutch a saucer in each hand. She then made her way over to Nikolas at the window and offered him the drink in her left hand.

Then, to choke away the cry that threatened to rise in her throat, she took a large swallow from her own cup.

“I see no reason why we cannot be civil about this,” she said, handing him the cup of tea. “Tea makes everything better; do you not think it is so?”

“It does,” Nikolas said taking a sip himself. “And?” he asked, awaiting her decision.

She would refuse him, and she would need to be brutal in her delivery. The only way to make him believe it, without a doubt even in the very depths of his soul, was to make him well and truly hate her. There could be no glimmer of hope at the end, no secret message of affection passed by the flinging of her bracelet. She needed him to be gone and not even consider following the route of their previous plan where he might reappear in an attempt to win her favor once more. Lady Lydia would have fallen for that ruse, had she not wanted him dead.

Marilee was glad that she had not had time for tears. That she had, in these recent weeks, perfected the art of schooling her features into a mask of indifference. If Nikolas suspected she had been crying, for he would have noted her puffy eyes and reddened cheeks, then he would have known that she cared for him. If he had even the slightest suspicion of the truth of her love, then he would never abandon her. He would fight to the death, to his own death, to protect her and that was something that she could not allow.

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