Chapter 23

Andrew had guessed that Marian had arrived from the way every lady in the ballroom turned to stare in the direction of the doorway, whispering that the bride-to-be had arrived at last.

He had not, however, guessed how beautiful she would look, and when she stopped just inside the room and turned to talk with her friend, still unaware of his presence, he was glad of the opportunity to stand and watch her for a few moments.

She wore a dark green velvet gown which showed off her creamy skin and dark, glossy hair to perfection. Emeralds glittered at her throat, and although she was slight in stature, she somehow seemed to fill the room with her presence. Andrew wondered that everyone in it was not stopping to look at her, just as he was.

"Well?" said Gregory's voice from behind him. "Are you going to speak to her, or are you just going to stand there staring at her?"

Andrew hesitated. When he'd decided to come here, he'd focused mainly on the more practical issues: how he would gain entry to the house without an invitation, and what he would do if Robert Sinclair tried to turn him away. He had not stopped to consider what he might do if he succeeded in getting close to Marian — and now that he had, he found himself suddenly wondering if this had been the right course of action.

Surely, she would not have come here if she did not wish to celebrate her engagement along with everyone else? That is the purpose of this event, after all, and she looks perfectly happy to be here. Perhaps I've made a mistake?

Then Marian turned in his direction, and Andrew noticed the pallor of her skin and the slight droop to her shoulders.

Or maybe, she's not quite as pleased to be here as she appears to be.

Marian still had not seen him, but as he stood there, wondering whether to approach her and what to say if he did, Charlotte suddenly caught sight of him through the crowd and pointed in his direction. Andrew held his breath as Marian looked up and saw him — and then suddenly he was walking towards her without even thinking about it, feeling the crowd part to let him pass and completely ignoring the curious stares he was attracting.

"Marian."

He stopped in front of her and gave a small, formal bow, not knowing how else to approach her.

"Andrew! But… but what are you doing here? How did you…? I had no idea, I…"

Marian looked up at him, her lovely face filled with confusion. All around them, the crowd seemed to stand still, all eyes fixed on this strange scene between Robert Sinclair's betrothed and the notorious Duke of Rottdwell.

Andrew badly wished to speak to her alone, but he knew all too well that attempting to detach her from the crowd and go off with her alone would cause even more of a scandal than the one he had created by merely stopping to speak to her. Embarrassing her was the last thing he wanted, so he simply turned his back to the room, shielding her from the worst of the stares, and lowered his voice so only she could hear him.

"Forgive me, Marian," he whispered, glancing gratefully at Gregory, who had appeared beside him and was now engaging Charlotte in conversation, giving Andrew and Marian what privacy they could. "I had to come. When I heard that you were betrothed —"

He broke up as Marian stared at him, puzzled.

"But how did you know?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I had not imagined you could possibly come to hear of it, living in isolation as you do?"

"You have your friend to thank for that," Andrew replied, nodding at Charlotte, who broke off her conversation with Gregory long enough to give Marian a cheeky wink over the top of her fan. "She came to speak to me. She told me in no uncertain terms that I must not allow this engagement to go ahead. And so here I am."

He did not mention the internal struggle he had gone through in deciding whether or not to come. All that mattered now was that he was here, and now that he had seen her again, he knew beyond doubt that he would not give her up without a fight.

Assuming, of course, that her friend was correct, and Marian is marrying this man against her will.

"I… I don't know what to say," Marian told him, stumbling over her words. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, and Andrew took a small step closer to her.

"Say that you don't want to marry him," he said fiercely, "and I will make sure you do not. Or tell me you do," he said, seeing the look on her face, "and I promise you will never hear from me again."

"It's not that simple, Andrew," Marian replied, looking anguished. "You talk as if the decision is mine to make, but it is not. I have been placed in an impossible position, and Charlotte must have known that when she came to you."

Andrew frowned, not understanding her.

"Do you love him?" he asked simply. "Robert Sinclair? Do you love him, Marian? Answer me that, and I will know what must be done."

Marian's eyes filled with tears.

"Of course, I do not love him, Andrew," she answered at last. "How can you even ask me that? I have never loved him, and I never will."

Andrew waited, hoping she would say more, but she seemed overcome with emotion, and he gave her a few moments to gather herself.

"Then it is settled," he said quietly. "You will not marry him. I have heard everything I need to know."

"Can't you see it's not your decision to make?" Marian cried, her voice rising. All around them, people paused in their conversations, turning to look at them, eyebrows raised.

"I told you," Marian went on quietly, her cheeks flushed, "it is not my decision to make, and it is certainly not yours, Andrew. I may not want to marry Robert, but I must. That's all there is to it. Now… now you must leave, I beg you. I do not want to make a scene, and I know how hard it must be for you: this place… these people. I am sure you just wish to leave, and that is what you must do. You cannot help me or change this."

"Is there a problem here?"

Andrew's fists clenched in frustration as he turned to see Robert Sinclair standing next to him, a sly smile on his lips.

"Is this gentleman troubling you, my dear?" he asked, going to Marian and putting an arm around her waist proprietorially. Andrew glowered at him, wishing he could punch the man and be done with it.

"No, he is not," answered Marian firmly. She tried to step away from him, but Robert's arm held her tightly to his side, refusing to let her move. Andrew felt the blood begin to pound in his ears.

"I am glad to hear it," said Robert, fixing Andrew with a challenging look. "I should hate to have to have the Duke thrown out."

"I would like to see you try," growled Andrew, before he could stop himself. "I don't fancy your chances."

Marian looked at him pleadingly, and Andrew reluctantly backed down.

I must not make a scene. At least, not until I absolutely have to.

"Come, Marian," ordered Robert. "I wish to introduce you to some of our guests. Your late arrival kept them waiting long enough this evening; let's not make them wait any longer."

Andrew started forward, incensed at the way the man was speaking to Marian as if she were some kind of possession to be ordered around at his will. But Gregory's hand was on his arm, so he looked enquiringly at Marian instead. After a moment's hesitation, during which an expression he could not read passed over her face, she gave a small, imperceptible nod, and Andrew reluctantly stepped aside to allow the two to pass.

"I will be here waiting for you," he whispered as Marian passed. "I will not leave until I know it is hopeless for me to stay."

"Come, Marian," said Robert impatiently, pulling her away before Andrew knew if she had even heard him.

"And you should come too," said Gregory, tugging at Andrew's sleeve. "I think we should step outside and get some air before you go something you'll regret, don't you?"

For Marian, the next hour or so passed as if in a dream — or a nightmare, rather — as she was forced to walk around the room on Robert's arm, nodding, smiling, and making polite conversation to the people he introduced her to whose faces all seemed to blur into each other.

Each new person congratulated her on her upcoming wedding, talking excitedly about the life that lay ahead of her as the new Lady Sinclair. But Marian heard next to none of this, smiling automatically as her eyes constantly scanned the room for Andrew, every sense in her body alert to his presence.

Where is he? I am sure he said he would stay, but now, I cannot see him. Oh, what am I to do?

"Goodness, my dear, you're so excited your hands are trembling," said the lady Robert had just introduced her to but Marian had instantly forgotten her name. "Oh, to be young and in love again! Isn't that right, my love?"

She turned to her husband, who guffawed obediently. Marian smiled back blankly as she sipped at the glass of champagne that had somehow appeared in her hand. Her hand did, indeed, tremble as she lifted it to her lips, but Marian knew it was not from excitement, or not the kind the people she was talking to imagined at least. From the moment she had seen Andrew approaching her from across the room, she had been barely able to contain herself, and now, her emotions threatened to bubble over entirely, like the champagne in her glass.

I still cannot believe he is actually here!

She realized how difficult it must have been for him to face this crowd after such a long time away from society. How brave of him.

Marian desperately wanted to talk over this new development with Charlotte — or better still, with Andrew himself. She wanted to know if he had come here purely at Charlotte's bidding, to help extricate Marian from her unwanted engagement, or whether he had come on his own account — because he simply could not stand the thought of her marrying another man.

All of these thoughts raced through her head as she listened to the couple in front of her talk to Robert. All of a sudden, though, a familiar name brought her back to the present.

"But Marian, my dear, what is this about you and the Duke of Rottdwell?" the lady was exclaiming. "It is the talk of the entire evening, I declare. Everyone wants to know how Marian Sullivan came to be acquainted with the most notorious man in England. You must put us out of our misery at once, my dear!"

Marian's face turned white as she felt Robert's eyes upon her.

"I should be interested to know the answer to that too," he said pleasantly but with an undertone of anger that sent a shiver running down Marian's spine. "How did you come to know the Duke, Marian?"

"I… I got lost while out riding some weeks ago," Marian said, opting for a version of the truth which omitted everything that had happened between her and the Duke since that first meeting. "He was kind enough to assist me and help me find my way home."

"Kind?" said the husband of the woman who had questioned her. "I find that hard to believe. ‘Kind' is not a word I have ever heard associated with the Duke of Rottdwell."

"Maybe not, but it is nevertheless true," retorted Marian before she could stop herself. "He has been most kind to me indeed. I… I mean…"

She trailed off, seeing surprised expressions on the faces of the married couple and fury on Robert's.

"But, Marian, you do know he is a murderer," the lady said, her eyes wide. "I wonder you were not terrified to be alone with him."

"Now, my dear," warned her husband, "there is no evidence that Rottdwell was responsible for the deaths of his family. That is why he was allowed to go free. It does not mean he didn't do it, of course, but we must be careful of what we say."

"If only my bride would take heed of your words, Sir," said Robert, his eyes cold. "I fear she has a tendency to speak without thinking."

Marian bit her lip, her hands trembling so much she was afraid she might drop the glass.

"Not at all," she said calmly once she had collected herself. "I can say only what I know, and I know the Duke to be kind indeed."

"Well, you were most fortunate that your encounter with him was brief," exclaimed the woman after a short pause during which Marian was certain Robert was going to smash his own glass to the ground in anger. "Although what he was thinking, coming here tonight, I cannot say!"

"He was not invited, I assure you," said Robert grimly. "And now that I think of it, I believe he's outstayed his welcome. I shall be asking him to leave as soon as I see him."

"No, don't, please," begged Marian, but Robert's hand was back on her arm, his fingers like a vice.

"Do not test my patience, Marian," he warned as he dragged her away from the surprised couple. "You will not like it if you continue to behave in such a way."

"I do not know what you mean," Marian replied coolly, trying to wrench her arm out of his grasp. "I was merely answering the lady's questions truthfully. Would you rather I had lied?"

"Truthful? You?" Robert stopped in his tracks, pulling her around to face him. "Why, that is funny now! Come."

Before she knew quite what was happening, he had pushed open the door of a room that lay behind them and forced her through it, his face a mask of anger.

"I know about you and Rottdwell," he spat as soon as the door closed behind them. "I know how long you stayed with him at his castle, unchaperoned. And while I do not know the details of what happened between you during that time, I can make a very good guess at it."

He stepped menacingly towards her, and Marian's heart raced with fear.

"How… how? How can you possibly know anything of the sort?" she asked with a pretense at confidence which was belied by the tremor in her voice. "You are lying."

Robert laughed — a hard, ugly sound that contained not a single hint of humor.

"I was there in the cafe that day when you confided in your friend," he told her. "You were so entranced by the ‘romance' of your story that you didn't even stop to check who was listening. Well, I was listening, Marian, and it's fortunate for you that I was still willing to marry you, knowing you had spent time alone with that man — with any man for that matter. Should word get out about your little stay with the Duke, your reputation would be quite destroyed; of course, you must know that. No man wishes to wed a ruined woman. And you, my dear, are quite ruined."

He moved closer, his eyes clouded with lust.

"I think it's time to teach you a lesson, Marian," he stated, holding her in place with one hand while the other reached down to unfasten his trousers. "Oh, come now," he said, seeing the fear on his face. "It is nothing you haven't done already with Rottdwell, I'm sure. But you are to be my wife, not his. And now, I shall take what's rightfully mine."

Marian gasped with fear as he pressed himself against her.

"I will scream," she warned him, terror and disgust coursing through her as she struggled to escape his grip. "I will scream so loudly everyone in this house will hear me."

Robert chuckled drily and moved to place his hand over her mouth. Seeing her opportunity, Marian bit down hard on it, feeling a small surge of satisfaction as Robert jerked away from her, clutching his hand and letting out a low howl of pain.

There was no time to be lost. Gathering her skirts in her hands, Marian ran for the door, her heart hammering in her chest and adrenalin pushing her forward. Just as she reached the door, however, it swung open, and she saw her father standing on the other side, a surprised look upon his face.

"Marian, my dear," he said, looking into the room behind her where Robert was now nursing his injured hand and muttering darkly under his breath. "I could not find you. And then I thought I heard someone cry out in pain —"

"It is nothing, Papa," assured Marian quickly, seeing the worry on his face and not wishing to add to it. "Robert and I had a… a disagreement, but it is over now. Come, let us go home; you look tired."

She took his arm and was about to walk away when Robert appeared behind them, his face a mask of fury.

"Leave? I don't think so, Marian," he said pointedly. "You will leave when I say you may and not before. Now, if you'll excuse us, Sir, I would like to dance with my fiancé."

Marian's father looked at her uncertainly.

"Marian?" he asked quietly. "Do you wish to dance?"

"Remember our conversation in the lane, Marian," warned Robert before she could answer. Marian swallowed nervously, her throat suddenly dry.

The one where he threatened to kill my father if I did not allow this sham of a marriage to go ahead. How could I forget it?

"It's fine, Papa," she said, patting him reassuringly on the arm. "Just one dance, and then we shall leave."

She reluctantly took the arm Robert offered her and allowed him to lead her through the crowded rooms to the dance floor, her eyes scanning the crowd anxiously as she looked for any sign of the Duke.

Andrew. I must find Andrew and tell him the real reason I must marry Robert. I do not think Charlotte can have told him about the threat to my father when she visited, but he will know what to do.

She nodded politely at the people she passed, her mind whirring. After what had just happened with Robert, she knew beyond doubt that she could not bear to marry him. Her skin crawled even to look at him so loathsome did she find him. And yet, she must tread carefully if she were to keep her father safe.

Robert was drunk; she could tell both by the slight slur to his words and the whiskey she had smelled on his breath when he had held her.

And if he's drunk enough to try to press himself upon me in a house filled with people, then who knows what he might do if I refuse to dance with him now — or worse, refuse to marry him altogether?

Marian's legs were trembling with nerves by the time they reached the dance floor. She still could not see Andrew anywhere, and as Robert pulled her into a waltz, she could feel panic start to set in.

Where are you, Andrew? You said you would not leave me here. Where are you now?