“But I thought you had no desire to marry her.”
“That’s not quite the case, Needham. I actually have no particular aversion to Lydia.” Nicholas regarded him blank-faced, forcing Marcus into an exasperated explanation. “You see, my friend, it’s not the idea of marriage that repels me, just the reality of it.”
“Then where’s the rub? She has set you free.”
“But you don’t understand at all. I was more than content with Lydia as my betrothed, just not as my wife. She has been my shield all these years, don’t you see? Only my attachment to her has protected me from all the ambitious mamas who only seek ties to a dukedom, even if remote ones. If I am freed, my life will become a purgatory of simpering debutantes.”
“Surely a living hell,” Nick replied.
“Precisely.” Marcus answered, ignoring the sarcasm. “And there is still the matter of her significant dowry. Should I release Lydia, God knows how long it could take to find another such prospect, let alone one acceptable to my family.”
“I can see the dilemma. The Duke of Bedford would hardly look favorably upon any of his family matched with some merchant chit.”
“Nor does my uncle wish to see me living indefinitely out of his pocket. I need a bride with a healthy dowry, Needham, and to be truthful, I haven’t the inclination to expend the effort of wooing another.”
“But you never truly wooed the first time,” Nicholas corrected.
“Precisely.” Marcus smiled. “Thank God I was saved that indignity. Our families arranged the entire business. I just showed up for the celebratory toasts. Poor thing was barely out of the schoolroom at the time. Quite a colorless little creature she was, though she did hold some promise.” Marcus’ lips quirked at the hazy memory of a young girl, whose blushing innocence he had corrupted under the tree swing.
His smile then altered into an exasperated grimace. “Now, this letter? Damn it all! I can’t afford this kind of distraction right now, not with final peace negotiations with France imminent. If I ever wish to advance beyond the post of undersecretary, we must accompany Lord Sandwich to Aix-la-Chapelle. If I don’t, the consular position I’ve worked three years for will surely fall to some far less deserving sod. It’s an opportunity I can’t afford to miss.”
“Do you not think taking a wife would be expected at such a point in your career?”
“I had hoped to postpone the dreaded deed, but I suppose you are right.” Marcus heaved a martyr’s sigh. “Perhaps I am only kicking at the pricks and fighting the inevitable.”
“But now you have little choice in the matter. The lady herself is calling it off.”
Marcus laughed aloud. “No, Nicholas. I beg to differ on that front. She has asked to be released. ‘Tis quite another thing.”
“I hate to gainsay you, but she was only providing you an opportunity to save face and bow out with grace. But it hardly matters. She’s clearly breaking it off. The world at large knows it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. ‘Fickle thy name is woman,’ and all that rot.”
“Then I’ll just have to change it back,” Marcus said.
“How?”
“You will write… No, wait.” Letter in hand, he flung himself from the chair with the graceful energy of a pouncing cat. “On second thought, since this is a matter of considerable delicacy, I’d best handle it myself.”
Needham gave him a dubious look.
“What? I’m a damned statesman, aren’t I? What kind of diplomat would I be if I could not even make peace with my own betrothed?”
“I only question your ability to sound suitably contrite. Humility has never been your strong suit.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Marcus drawled. “Lydia is nothing if not malleable. She will be begging me to wed her when I am finished with her.”
“Indeed? And just how do you expect to achieve such an about-face?” Nick asked.
Marcus stood at the mantel mirror, fussing with his lace cuffs, adjusting his cravat and openly admiring his reflection. “I’ll beguile her with the full power of my persuasive charm.”
“And should that fail?”
Marcus turned to his secretary with a slow, devious grin. “Why, Nick, I’d have thought it obvious. I’ll just have to ruin her.”
END EXCERPT
AUTHOR COMMENTARY
As an author of several sub-genres of historical fiction it is my belief that to truly understand a given era, one must study the popular culture of the times, and nowhere is the mindset of the people more clearly demonstrated than on the stage. It was while reading Hannah Cowley's The Belle's Strategem, one of the most popular of late Georgian era plays, that I was inspired to write A BREACH OF PROMISE.