Merry had no time to respond to Alex’s action before their tête-à-tête was interrupted by Beth, who seemed not to notice her cousin’s frustration.

“We’re going to play whist,” Beth said with a smile. “I know how you cannot resist a challenge, Wrotham, so I know you’ll wish to partner me.”

She gave him a hopeful glance, and Merry knew that whatever plan he’d had for walking on the terrace had been neatly usurped by his favorite cousin.

He gave Merry a look of apology, but she gave him an almost imperceptible shake of the head, telling him not to worry.

“What fun,” she said to the younger girl. “I suppose I should find a partner myself.”

She walked with the other two into the other half of the drawing room and saw that servants were already setting up card tables.

William, who was looking a bit less harassed than he’d been when she arrived, came forward. “I wonder if you would partner me, Miss Parks,” he said with a slight bow. “I believe we have mutual friends, and I’d like to inquire about them.”

Which she interpreted to mean that he wished to discuss Charlotte. Or perhaps Lottie. How he would manage to do so amid the curious onlookers in the room, she had no idea. But she nevertheless agreed.

She didn’t miss, however, the frustrated glance that Alex threw her way before he allowed Beth to draw him toward a table where his grandmother and one of his uncles were already taking their seats.

“I wish to thank you again, Miss Parks,” said William as he guided Merry to a chair at an as yet empty table. “I . . . I am heartily ashamed of my behavior toward Charlotte. But I promise you that I will do right by Lottie. I plan to place an announcement in the Times of our marriage, with another of Charlotte’s death. I want the world to know that Lottie is legitimate. She shouldn’t suffer the censure of society for something that’s no fault of her own.”

Merry felt her heart softening to him. During the time she’d spent with Charlotte near the end, she’d come to despise the man who’d abandoned her friend without a backward glance. But what could he do in the face of what he’d done but acknowledge it and promise to do better? As much as she’d wished she could keep Lottie to herself, Charlotte had asked Merry to give her up to her father. And she had. It had been a relief to see that instead of the callous rake she’d expected, he was just a man who had been overcome by his own demons.

Putting a hand on his arm, she was about to say as much when a bright voice intruded.

“What can you possibly be so grave about, Mr. Ponsonby?” Miss Delaford asked with a teasing smile. “I vow, you look as if you’re at a funeral instead of a Christmas celebration. Miss Parks, you will help me rouse him from his dark mood, won’t you?”

The question sounded like more of a command than a request, but Merry gave a polite nod as they were joined by the fourth at their table, who was, unfortunately, Cassandra.

“I do hope you are prepared to lose, Cousin,” Cassandra said to Will with a feline smile. “For you know what a ferocious competitor I am.”

Merry had little doubt that the lady spoke the truth. She’d already taken up the pasteboard cards and was shuffling them with a deftness that spoke of long years of practice.

While Merry enjoyed cards occasionally, she’d never been a particularly avid player. It was a pleasant way to pass the time—if one’s partner and competitors were agreeable—but it wasn’t something she put much thought into. As Cassandra began to deal, however, she realized she might be a bit out of her depth.

“How do you know one another?” Miss Delaford asked, looking from William to Merry, then back again. “I don’t mean to pry, but it seems as if you’re very well acquainted.”

Merry blinked at the thread of pettishness in the other lady’s voice.

“We met in town,” Will said blandly. Then, as if realizing that wasn’t very forthcoming, he continued, “We have friends in common, and I was simply asking Miss Parks how they fare. You know how it is.”

Cassandra, who was rearranging the cards in her hand, looked up at this. “I find it odd that you’d know one another from town. For I must confess I’ve never seen Miss Parks at any ton entertainments. Unless, of course, she took the town by storm while I was buried in Sussex.”

Thinking to change the subject, Merry asked, “Whereabouts in Sussex is your country home, Mrs. Northman? I have a friend there whom you might know. A Miss Ivy Wareham? Her father is well acquainted with mine because of their shared study of the classics. I believe she inherited a house there? It was all a surprise, but I’ve not heard from her since she departed for the village—Little Seaford, is it?”

At the mention of Ivy Wareham, Cassandra’s mouth went tight. “Yes, I am acquainted with Miss Wareham. You might not have heard, but she is the Marchioness of Kerr now.”

To Merry’s amusement, Cassandra didn’t seem particularly pleased at Ivy’s good fortune. It can’t have been easy for her to be outranked in local society by a lowly scholar’s daughter.

Still, she was happy for her friend and didn’t bother concealing it. “That is wonderful news! I shall have to send her a wedding gift. I must admit that I do remember now seeing the announcement in the papers, but it had slipped my mind.”

The news had come while she was at Charlotte’s bedside during the last month of her confinement, so she’d been happy for Ivy, but distracted. It gave her some unbecoming pleasure, however, to see how far out of joint Ivy’s marriage to Lord Kerr had put Cassandra’s patrician nose.

“It was a rather hasty affair,” Cassandra said dismissively as she discarded. “I’m sure Kerr’s family wasn’t pleased about it. Especially given that he’s chosen to remain in Sussex for the remainder of Miss W—, that is, Lady Kerr’s tenure at Beauchamp House. But I suppose there’s no accounting for what mad things a gentleman will do in the throes of love.”

“Would you ever do such a thing, Mr. Ponsonby?” asked Miss Delaford coyly. “Would you move across the country for your beloved?”

At the question, William turned slightly red. His lips pursed. “I am not someone you should hold up as an example, Miss Delaford,” he said stiffly. “I had a beloved once, but I treated her very badly.” At this he looked up at Merry across the table, and their eyes met. His chagrin was genuine, she saw. If only Charlotte had been alive to see this.

And yet, she knew her friend had defended him to the last. Was this what love was like? Did it truly last beyond the grave? Beyond betrayal and recriminations?

She glanced over at the table where Alex and his cousin Beth were laughing over some nonsense, and she felt a stab of jealousy. Not over Beth, but of how lighthearted they were together. It felt as if she and Alex could never get beyond their past, when she’d let fear ruin their future.

He said he wished to begin again, but was that even possible? Looking at William, who was still, it seemed, in love with Charlotte, she thought maybe it was. And rather than frightening her as it had done when she first set eyes on Alex again, now the notion of reunion gave her hope.

“I understand you didn’t come alone from London, Miss Parks,” Cassandra said, breaking into her thoughts. “I heard you traveled with my cousin. How did that happen? For I don’t believe you were on my grandmother’s guest list for the holiday.”

The guests had been given a polite fiction, that Merry’s coach had broken down and Alex had taken her party up in his own carriage while he rode. The details had been kept from the family. At least, that had been the intention. It seemed someone had been snooping, or very likely his grandmother had shared the true nature of their travel arrangements.

“Lord Wrotham was kind enough to offer my entourage a ride when my carriage lost a wheel,” she said mildly. People like Cassandra thrived on weakness, and Merry intended to show none.

“How interesting,” Cassandra said over her cards. “Where were you destined? Another Christmas party? For I must say, it’s quite odd that an infant traveled with you. I know Christmas is about the baby Jesus and such, but really, it’s rather literal to carry an actual infant cross country simply to show the level of one’s devotion.”

It was a verbal assault, and Merry was quiet for a few seconds as she took in what Cassandra was saying. She knew about Lottie, that was certain. And she’d just announced the child’s existence before a crowded drawing room.

Merry glanced around the room and saw that while most of the players were immersed in their own games a few were gazing in their direction, no doubt alerted to some drama by Cassandra’s raised voice.

“Mrs. Northman,” she began, in a low voice, “I don’t think—”

“Enough.”

William’s voice cut through Merry’s words like a saber through snow.

“You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Cassandra,” he said sharply, rising from his seat. “I shouldn’t be surprised, given you’ve always tended to strike before you had all the facts. Allow me to nip your attempt at rumormongering in the bud this instant.”

Scanning the room, Merry saw they were all gazing at Will with a mixture of horror and expectation. Except the dowager, who was staring at Merry with malice in her eyes.

“I was going to wait to make a formal announcement,” William went on, “but my cousin Cassandra has made that impractical. And as I do not wish to tarnish the reputation of the lady who was so kind as to introduce me to my daughter, I will tell you all the truth now. Last year, I was married, but through my own bad behavior and weakness for drink, I left my bride when she needed me most, and now she’s dead.”

A little gasp went up through the room. And even Merry was shocked by his direct language. He was determined to paint himself in the darkest light, she saw, and though she couldn’t say she’d entirely forgiven him, neither was she comfortable with his public self-censure. Still, he continued.

“Miss Merry Parks was kind enough to bring my daughter, Lottie, named for her mother Charlotte, to me. Despite the fact that she had no reason to think me anything but a brute. For which I will be forever grateful.” His eyes were wet with tears as he glanced at Merry.

“Miss Charlotte Smithson was my wife. And she died without me at her side. But I have my daughter now. And I will do whatever it takes to redeem myself by caring for her as my legitimate daughter. Which she is. I shall show anyone who wishes to see them the marriage lines.”

There was a murmur of demurral from the occupants of the room. Merry saw that Alex was looking grim, and wished she could be beside him to give him some comfort. For all that he’d been angry at Will, he also held him in great affection as evidenced by his role in helping him stop drinking.

“So you see, Cassandra,” Will said, his voice harsh, “Miss Parks did me a remarkable service. And the fact that you attempted to bring shame upon her for it is unbecoming, to say the least. I had hoped for better from my own family, but I suppose you took after the matriarchal line.”

With that, he turned and left the room without a backward glance for his cousin or anyone else.

* * *

Alex caught up to Merry in the hallway as his family and their guests dispersed in the wake of Will’s revelations.

“I apologize for my cousin Cassandra,” he said in an undertone, once he’d guided her to a small parlor that didn’t get much use. As such, no fire had been lit in it, and once he’d seen Merry seated, he knelt before the grate and lit the logs that had been laid there.

He took the time to mentally compose just what he could say that would erase the ugliness of his cousin’s attempt to publicly humiliate the woman he loved. For he was certain that had been Cassandra’s intent. And her source of information had to have been the dowager.

Alex would deal with his grandmother in the morning.

“I’m quite well,” Merry said wryly from where she perched on a rather ugly needlepoint chair behind him. “The truth is out now, and though I daresay some will continue to believe that Lottie is my child, William’s confession was sincere. And his plan to post both a marriage and death notice for Charlotte in the papers will go a long way toward clearing my name.”

He’d stood up and faced her while she was still delivering this little speech, and he watched as her blue eyes grew misty at the mention of Charlotte. It was easy to forget that she’d only recently lost a dear friend. That she was faced with slights against both her own reputation and her friend’s was unfair. And hardly the sort of thing she should face when she should be enjoying a holiday party.

“I should have known you’d face this situation with your usual pragmatism,” he said, moving to stand before her. From this vantage point he could see the soft curls of her hair, which had been dressed more intricately than before, and the light of the many-faceted crystal chandeliershone against the dark tresses. He remembered vividly what it felt like when the tendrils slid through his fingers. How his hands shaped to her delicate nape as he kissed her.

“The true victim in all of this is Charlotte,” she said softly. “And Lottie. Not me. I am simply the messenger. And sometimes messengers are attacked.”

His jaw clenched at the memory of Cassandra’s accusation. “That doesn’t make it right,” he said tightly. “And I have no doubt that my grandmother was the one who informed her about Lottie’s presence in the house. She’s not perceptive enough to have guessed it on her own.”

Merry’s expression grew troubled. “I didn’t come here to cause strife within your family, my lord.” She looked down at her hands unhappily. “If only the snow had waited a few more hours, I would be on the road back to London, and you’d never have to see me again.”

At this, he moved to sit beside her. Unable to let her place blame on herself for something she had no control over. “Have you forgotten what I said to you earlier? I want you here. Merry, I want you to be my wife. And no amount of manipulation from the dowager or my cousin will change that.”

He tried to take her hand in his, but she pulled it away.

“Alex,” she said with a little shake of her head, “I don’t know what I was thinking earlier when I gave you permission to court me. It’s obvious this family will not simply accept a resumption of our betrothal as if nothing ever happened. And what of Lady Katherine and Miss Emily Delaford? They came here with no other purpose than to let you consider them as potential brides.”

She stood, and he did as well, watching as she hurried to stand before the fire. “I have lived a retired life since our . . . disappointment.” She paused over the word. “And though I do manage my father’s home, it is nothing compared to this.” She gestured around her, clearly referring to the Keep itself. “What do I know of running a household of this size? Or state visits and balls and soirees and the like? I am a scholar, though my name is never on any of the work I do. And I should make you the most incompetent wife imaginable.”

She turned to look into the fire, as she couldn’t face him for a moment more.

Unable to leave her to her fears, Alex moved to stand behind her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. “You spoke of disappointment, my dear,” he said softly. “Once, I thought the disappointment of that day was all mine. That you’d left me without a backward glance. And your refusal to see me or answer any of my letters only reinforced that idea. I had some notion that I’d see your engagement announcement in the papers not long after. Or some notice that you’d married some brilliant scholar like your father. Someone who could discuss the ancient world with you with the sort of knowledge that I certainly don’t have.”

She pulled away and turned so that she could look at him. “Is that what you thought?” A line appeared between her brows as she looked up at him. Her blue eyes puzzled. “Why on earth would you think that’s what I wanted? I never said any such thing, I’m sure of it.”

“Sometimes words aren’t necessary,” he said, unable to look her in the eyes. “I was an indifferent student. And I certainly am not able to read Greek, though my Latin is passable, I suppose.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling as nervous as the schoolboy he’d once been.

“I never wanted to marry someone like my father,” she said, her mystification at his words evident in her tone. “He can be affectionate, I suppose, but I’ve lived for far too long as his unattributed assistant to ever wish to marry someone who would do little more than put me in the same kind of role.”

Alex was genuinely shocked at her words. Had he gotten her reasons for leaving wrong for all these years? He had suspected, of course, that the dowager had pushed her into it, but he’d thought some other motive had been there, too.

“Then why did you break things off?” he asked, unable to stop himself from asking the question, though he’d promised himself he’d let her tell him in her own time.

But she shook her head. “I won’t do it,” she said, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I won’t bring more chaos into your family when it’s already reeling from William’s confession tonight.”

He took her hands in his. “It was the dowager, wasn’t it?”

Her pained expression, coupled with an inability to meet his eyes, told him he was right.

“Have I ever told you about my mother?” he asked, reminded of another important lady his grandmother had wrenched from him.

Merry looked surprised at the change of subject, but shook her head. “No,” she said. “I thought she’d died long ago. Your family never spoke of her. And neither did you.”

He led her to the settee where he waited for her to sit before taking the seat beside her. “I told you when you came to my townhouse that I’d been away in France for the better part of a year. What I didn’t tell you is that I was visiting my mother.”

She gasped. “But how can that be? Wouldn’t there be some sort of talk if Lady Wrotham had absconded to the Continent? And why did she leave? Why did she leave you?”

He reflected for a moment, trying to think of how best to describe the situation. Finally, he said, “You never met my father. But he was a brute.”

Her eyes shone with sympathy, but she let him speak.

“Because I was his heir, he made sure never to strike me. He saved that bit of violence for my mother. Though he was quite good at harming her in places that could be covered from prying eyes by a gown. Despite this—or maybe because of it?—he could do no wrong in my grandmother’s eyes. She doted on him as much as she abused my mother.”

Merry gasped.

“No, no,” he assured her. “She never laid a hand on her. My mother told me that when I saw her in France. But she did everything she could to make life for my mother as difficult as possible. She usurped her authority as a hostess. Wouldn’t give up control of the house. And my mother, a young and naïve young lady when she wed, didn’t have the strength to fight back. So, when by chance she met and fell in love with a French émigré who’d come to stay with a neighbor, she weighed her options and decided that if she wished to live—for my father’s beatings were becoming more violent—she had to leave.”

“Oh, Alex,” Merry said softly, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. “She didn’t take you with her.”

“She couldn’t take me with her,” he said. “If she tried, my father would have chased her to the ends of the earth to retrieve his precious heir. And both she and M. Dumont believed that her life was in danger. So she made the painful decision to leave, abandoning me in the process.”

“How old were you?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I was nine years old,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral so that he could finish his tale. “I was at school at the time, so I didn’t even know she was gone until Christmas break. It was that year that Grandmama began her mandatory family house parties.”

“She covered your mother’s disappearance with a party?” Merry looked confused. “But wouldn’t that have drawn attention to her absence?”

“Oh, it did,” he assured her. “And that was what she wanted. She used the gathering to inform the family that Lady Wrotham had abandoned her husband and child, and to assure them that my father was heartbroken. It was a minor scandal in the ton for a few weeks, but soon after that some other scandal occurred; I believe it was Uxbridge’s divorce. So the talk died down, and everyone seemed to accept my grandmother as the rightful mistress of Wrotham Keep and as my father’s hostess. It was as if my mother had died. And no one questioned it. Least of all me.”

“What made you look for her?” Merry asked. “How did you find out where she was?”

“She saw the notice of Father’s death in the papers ten years ago and wrote to me. By some miracle I got the letter before Grandmama did. Otherwise I feel sure I’d never have seen it.” He shook his head. “She told me briefly why she’d run. And she invited me to visit her in Paris. I took some time to answer her. And, of course, I said I couldn’t possibly travel to France. I claimed to be too busy, but the truth was that I was terrified.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about all this when we were betrothed?” Merry couldn’t stop herself from asking. He’d been evasive when it came to speaking of his mother when they’d been betrothed, but she’d assumed it was from shame. Now, she couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt that he’d not felt himself able to share the fact that he’d been in communication with Lady Wrotham with her. “I know I have no right to feel hurt when I was the one who broke away from you, but . . .”

“You have every right,” Alex assured her before she could finish. “But she swore me to secrecy. Even though my father was gone, she feared that Grandmama would dislike our being in communication and would make life difficult for me. I didn’t care, but my mother insisted. I didn’t like keeping it from you, but I’d given my word.”

She reached out and stroked a thumb over his cheek. “And you always keep your word.”

His honor and fidelity were among the qualities that led her to fall in love with him.

Alex placed his hand over hers for a moment, before bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “Of course you understand,” he said simply. “You always seemed to know me better than I knew myself.”

She let that pass without comment. “What made you change your mind last year?”

He shook his head. “I’m not precisely sure. Perhaps enough time had passed to allow me to contemplate seeing her again? Maybe I’d come to realize that the dowager had likely played a larger role in her flight than I’d previously realized.”

Alex looked up, catching her eyes. “I think perhaps it might have been that I was looking to find a way to reconcile with one of the two women who’d left me.

“You see, several of my friends had gotten married recently. And I imagined what we would have been like together. Four years had passed. We’d have likely had children by then.” He saw her eyes soften, a wistful look in them. “But since I couldn’t have you, I thought I could at least solve the mystery of my mother. And so I did.”

Blinking away the moment of dreaminess, Merry asked, “What did you find? I assume since you stayed a year that it was a joyful reunion.”

Alex smiled. “Not at first. I was a bit stiff at first. Especially when I learned that she and M. Dumont had married only a few years ago. But given her situation, she couldn’t have done otherwise without becoming a bigamist.

“But eventually, I relaxed and she relaxed,” he continued. “And rather than resenting her for what I’d seen as abandonment, I was grateful that she’d escaped so that I was able to see her again. Even if it was twenty years later.”

“It’s extraordinary,” Merry said with a genuine smile. “I’m so happy for you. That you were able to find her again.”

“As am I,” he said, answering her happiness with a smile of his own. “But then I decided it was time to return to England. I was contemplating how best to approach you, when you landed on my doorstep with baby Lottie.”

At his words, her smile turned into a look of surprise. “You weren’t.”

“Oh, indeed I was,” he assured her. “Because one of the things my mother said to me was that the dowager couldn’t be trusted. And that she’d done whatever she could to make sure that my mother was never comfortable in Wrotham House.”

It was telling that instead of asking what that had to do with her, she said nothing.

“Merry,” he told her gravely, “I know she is responsible somehow for your leaving me. And though I wish you would tell me what she did, I will make you this promise instead. I won’t let her harm you or intimidate you ever again. Especially not as she engineered tonight.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, and to his relief, she kissed him back. Her lips were soft against his, and though he was intoxicated by her taste, her scent, her touch, he pulled away.

She blinked at him for a moment, as if in a daze.

“You’d better get to bed,” he said, rising and pulling her up to slip his arm through hers. “It’s been a long day, and I want you well rested for tomorrow’s adventures.”

She frowned. “What adventures?” she asked, though her eyes were intrigued.

“It’s a surprise. I’ll tell you after luncheon tomorrow.”

And with that promise, he led her from the room and up to the landing where he let her go to her own rooms.

Soon, he thought to himself as he watched her go. Soon, she would be his forever. And nothing his grandmother did would stop that from happening.