Chapter 21
The last echo of leather-soled shoes exiting the foyer sent a shudder of disgust through John. Why had he ever thought he could live amongst these hateful people?
James, looking as shocked as a man on the brink of battle, demanded, “How the devil did that happen?”
John shook his head, swallowing back a sick feeling. “My fault, I fear.”
“Damnation, John.” James stalked away from the doors. “How is that possible?”
John could hardly believe what had transpired. Barely able to make sense of it, he said, “I kicked her uncle off my land without his living and I did not keep my eye on him. I’ve never let something like that slip. Never. He was abusing her, James. But how could I—”
“Your mind has been elsewhere it seems,” Edward cut in without recrimination.
“Elsewhere?” John echoed, staring at the now closed double doors where all those so eager to condemn Meredith had gone.
“Face it, man,” Edward said, “You have feelings for Meredith.”
“Does that matter?” John asked, drowning in fury at himself.
“It’s skewed your thinking,” Edward explained as he folded his arms across his chest. “You never would have had such an outburst as you did this evening if you didn’t care for her.”
“Outburst?” John roared. “She was being dragged through the mud."
James sighed. “You may have made it worse.”
“How?” John demanded. Then he thought and winced. “Oh. I see. I validated her uncle’s claims.”
James gave a sharp nod.
“They can all go sod themselves,” John spat.
“While I agree,” James said tightly. “That doesn’t change the situation.”
“She’s going to have to keep company with Emmaline,” Harriet said from the door way.
“How long have you been listening?” John asked, weary now.
“Ever since Garret went and started to nearly push people outside and into their coaches.” She gave a hard smile which was no easy thing given the witty beauty that had always been key to Harriet’s person. “They will keep lingering.”
“All we wanted was to set things right,” John lamented.
“One cannot change the past,” Harriet said kindly as she walked forward, her ruby gown rustling softly.
John flinched. Surely, he knew that better than most. “I’m going to kill that man.”
“No, John, you’re not,” James said flatly. “Dueling is a crime.”
“I don’t give a rat’s farthing,” John hissed.
James narrowed his eyes.
God, was James right? Should he not fight? Should he turn away from the duel? Possibly. It might make the whole damned thing far more brutal in the gossips than it already was.
“I’ll bloody him them,” John amended.
Three sets of defiant eyes met him. John swung his dismayed gaze from brother to brother to brother, and then sister-in-law. All bore the same grim visage.
“You can’t be serious,” he challenged. “You wish me to withdraw?”
“Yes,” Edward said carefully. “John, you’re not liked. It won’t go easy on you even with James’ protection if you go forward with it.”
John glared, wishing he could strangle that puffed up aristocrat who’d had no compunction in his disgusting behavior. “Fine then, I’ll ensure the man dies in his sleep.”
Harriet choked on a laughed. “Oh, John, you always were direct. And determined.”
Arching a brow, he allowed, “I am not the sort to give up if that’s what you mean.”
She nodded, an admiring smile tilting her pink lips. “We are all aware of your dedication to those you love.”
To those he loved.
He didn’t love Meredith. But why had Harriet said that?
Of course, she knew why he’d sought revenge. His mother and the love he’d bore her. But to say such a thing about Meredith? No. He wouldn’t argue. There wasn’t a chance in Hades he was going to tangle with Harriet’s smart tongue.
“What is to be done?” he asked hollowly. He stared back at the quiet, resigned faces and then it dawned on him exactly what had to be done.
He lifted his gaze to the elaborately painted ceiling as if he could see through it, all the way up to wherever she was in the house.
How was she feeling? His splendid, fierce Merry? Furious? Hurt? Destroyed?
No. Not destroyed. Meredith could never be destroyed.
He smiled.
“What the devil is that look for?” James asked, dread darkening his voice.
“Never you mind,” John sallied, already feeling a damned sight better as he started for the stairs. “I have something to do.”
“John?” Edward prompted. “John, where are you going?”
“To get me a wife,” he called over his shoulder.
And with that, he left them all. He was ready to come to the rescue one last time and ready to finally accept that Merry was the only woman who could ever be his for eternity.
***
The desire to pour the entire contents of the wine decanter down her throat was all too powerful. Still, Meredith was more than aware that there was too much to do to imbibe to the point of utter unconsciousness. Besides, waking up wishing to die from a bad headache wouldn’t improve things.
After her near escape a year ago, it had truly never occurred to her that she’d be on the run because of a scandal. How foolish.
Scandal was, perhaps, in her nature. She couldn’t argue that after longing to be with John. But to be so publicly exposed? She’d never thought it could occur. Not like this. Not to such a horrific extent. No doubt, that made her terribly naive.
The soft snick of the door opening startled her. Olivia had gone to write a note to her mother’s friend in France. Paris seemed the best option. London was certainly no longer a possibility.
To her surprise, this particular facet did not seem to sadden her.
She glanced up, half-expecting to see Andromeda or, perhaps, even the Duke of Huntsdown come to comfort her.
John stood in the doorway, his cravat askew, his eyes wild with emotion.
He did not wait to be invited in, but rather strode forward. His intense presence filled the room.
She drew herself up. “John, I do not wish to hear any recriminations.”
Wordlessly, he knelt before her and took her hands in his.
The action so flummoxed her, she could do naught but savor the feel of his touch upon her skin.
“I have no desire to recriminate you, Merry.” The passion in his voice flowed over her, determined, strong, resolute. “You have been wronged time and again.”
“It does seem so,” she said without self-pity. She forced a smile. “I am not perfect, but it does seem that I find myself in particularly nasty scrapes.”
He, too, smiled. But there was nothing forced about it. “This life is full of unkind actions towards the kindest of people. This is, I think, largely my fault.”
“How?” she gasped, appalled he could think such a thing. “It is I who went to your castle all alone.”
“Yes, but I acted out of fury with your uncle,” he replied evenly. “I cast him out without ensuring he could not seek revenge. I know about the madness of vengeance. It is relentless and without reason. I can’t forgive myself for letting him hurt you so viciously.”
“He is vicious,” she said, determined that John not paint himself the villain of this tale. “Not you, John. For all your own bad actions in the past, you have a good heart.”
He sighed. “I don’t seem to be able to convince you otherwise. And you may be correct. My heart is not entirely stone.”
“Oh?”
He rubbed his thumb softly over her palm then brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “Meredith, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
She tensed, astonished. The moment the words were between them, the conflicting emotions in her breast brought tears to her eyes.
“That bad a prospect am I?” he teased.
“Don’t,” she replied, wiping her eyes. “Don’t make light of it right now.”
“It’s what I do,” he replied honestly.
She laughed ruefully. “I am aware. You say, you can’t forgive yourself for my uncle’s behavior. How can I do this to you? You don’t wish to marry me.”
“But I do,” he countered calmly.
She couldn’t form words for several moments. Then finally, she managed, “You do?”
“Merry, I couldn’t bear to see you wed someone else.” His gaze flashed with a host of emotions as he rushed, “Tonight, I saw you dancing with so many ponces. Wealthy idiots. Titled fops. Damnation, even a few decent men and all I could think was that none of them would understand you the way I do. They would not see your nature. They would expect you to walk their paths. You are not meant for well-worn ways.”
Her heart soared for a moment then fell. He had not declared love or any particular affection. Still, his concern was genuine. The passion of it burned in his gaze.
Did she say no? Did she set him free?
As the room seemed to spin, she said, “I will be your wife.”
“Good.” A triumphant smile flashed across his handsome face. “We shall tell the ton to go to the devil and you will be free to be whoever you wish to be.”
And if she wanted to be his wife in more than name? It was a question she did not dare ask. For she wasn’t willing to hear his answer. John had made it clear long ago that he had no heart to give, even if it wasn’t quite as hard as he had proclaimed.