“My God,” she murmured. “Some stupid woman at your dinner party told me I should sack your cook as soon as I became Mrs. Somerset. I never imagined that there’d be any truth to her insinuations.”
“I’m sorry. That is one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you, so that you need not be subject to such unpleasantness in the future.”
She resumed her pacing, her motion propelled more by sheer astonishment than anything else. She stopped at the railing of the balcony. “Do you mean to marry her?”
Now, that would be truly mind-boggling. He would destroy everything he’d built of himself if he did so—he wasn’t placed so high in the world that he could marry whomever he pleased, and there was always his illegitimate birth that people would pounce on, given half a chance.
“You know very well I cannot marry her.” It seemed to pain him to say that. “But I plan to spend as much of the rest of my life with her as possible.”
“So you are crying off our engagement.”
“If you will let me go, I will be humbly grateful.” He gazed at her and his eyes were wistful. “I’m sorry, Lizzy. My heart belongs to her.”
She shook her head. She really did not know him, did she? A clandestine love affair with the most unsuitable woman. And yet it did not diminish her opinion of him. To love as he did—with passionate commitment—was the only way to love.
“I wish you both the very best then,” she said.
And it was the answer she would have given had there been no Will Marsden in her life. She was not so set on her own prerogatives that she was willing to chain the lives of others to accomplish them.
“Thank you,” he said. He closed the distance between them, took her hands, and kissed both of them. “Thank you. I did not plan on this. I cannot stop loving her, and it is not fair to keep you in the dark. Otherwise I would never choose to hurt you.”
She kissed his hands in return. “You didn’t hurt anything other than my vanity—and that’s only because I want to believe that every man in the world is secretly in love with me. And your decision does make it much, much easier for me to tell you that I’ve come to doubt the wisdom of our union as well.”
He smiled ruefully. “I’m not surprised that you have, what with my distraction.”
“Yes, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I’ve been distracted too.”
He was startled. “Is there someone else?”
She could not stop the smile that rose to her lips. “I’m going to marry your secretary, Stuart.”
His expression of disbelief was probably an exact facsimile of her own look of stupefaction earlier.
“I thought you couldn’t stand Marsden.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
They stared at each other a minute, then broke into laughter. “We have been a fine, mischievous pair, haven’t we?” he said, still chuckling.
Then, for the first time in their long acquaintance and without her prompting, he embraced her. “I cannot tell you how this puts my mind at ease. Marsden is a good man. I am already in the process of sponsoring him to Inner Temple. He will make a fine barrister and make you an excellent husband. And when he inherits, you will be very comfortably off—far better than if you’d married me without my brother’s estate.”
When he inherits? What could Will possibly inherit? He’d been cut out of both of his parents’ wills. And since those parents were already dead, there was no possibility of his being restored to said wills.
“I didn’t choose him for his inheritance,” she said dumbly.
“Of course not. But it’s always reassuring, is it not, to know that there is ease and plenty in your future? I acted as Marsden’s counsel in the matter, so I speak on good authority.”
Lizzy was more flabbergasted than she’d been at Stuart’s declaration of love for his less-than-respectable cook. Will was not a poor man. And yet he’d allowed her to think that he was. Why? Did he really think her so shallow that he had to test her? But she’d agreed to marry him, believing that he was penniless. Was this all but a game, then? Did he have any true intention of marrying her? Had he really gone to arrange for a special license, or was he laughing all the way back to London at how he’d gulled her?
Stuart kissed her on the cheek in parting. “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.”
Wedding? What wedding?
Verity had half-fretted that Miss Bessler would not let go of Stuart so easily. But her worries turned out to be quite unfounded. He cabled her to tell her that he was a free man and asked her to join him in London—since he’d planned to be away at Lyndhurst Hall, he’d given his servants a week of holiday, and the town house was conveniently and discreetly empty.
Michael took Verity to the train station.
“I am not sure how I feel about this,” said her son. “Are you aware that you are not setting a good example for me? Can’t Mr. Somerset marry you instead?”
She shrugged. “Not when we both want him to retain his position in Society.”