Chapter 10

Marianne hummed as she swept down the hallway, performing a few steps when she was sure the coast was clear. In the two days since Catherine had taught her how to dance, her mind had been full of music, replaying her waltz with Anthony until she couldn't tell where her memory had ended, and her imagination had begun.

Dancing with Anthony had felt strangely exciting, eliciting prickly, unsettling feelings within her. She had never danced a waltz before—had never come close to having a man hold her that way. The dance had left her breathless, dizzy, and tingling all over. Marianne guessed that any woman would have felt the same, being swept off her feet by a handsome duke.

Despite his protestations, she had found Anthony to be a decent dancer in the end. He was far from a natural, holding her like he was afraid she would break in his embrace. She had found it strange that a man who claimed to love art could be so hesitant on the dance floor. Both pursuits required a passionate soul. Maybe something else had accounted for Anthony's hesitation.

I imagine his mother watching his every move probably didn't help matters, she thought, twirling as she approached the drawing room.

The sequence was cut short. Voices emanated from within. A hot summer rain pattered against the windows, obscuring the conversation. Marianne started just before the archway, her chest constricting. She didn't want to disturb Anthony or Catherine during one of their social calls. They had just been teaching her good manners. She picked up her skirts and prepared to sneak back the other way.

A shadow passed over the threshold of the drawing room, stopping her in her tracks.

"I was just coming to find you," Anthony said, inspecting her from head to toe. The shoulders of his jacket were speckled with rain, as though he'd just come in from outside. "There has been … a development." He glanced into the drawing room, his expression unreadable. "I think it's better you see for yourself. Come."

Marianne would have followed him anywhere, even though his expression scared her half to death. She swallowed down her fear and nodded before Anthony escorted her inside.

Three people were in the drawing room, but she only recognized Catherine among them. A gentleman was sitting by the fireplace with his hand over his mouth. He had dark blond hair, not dissimilar in shade to Marianne's.

From a distance, Marianne estimated that he was young, maybe a few years older than Anthony, who was twenty-five. Sporting a brown travelling jacket and a stiff eggshell cravat, he looked every part the handsome dandy that the magazines back in London often featured in their illustrations.

A woman was sitting opposite Catherine. Unlike the gentleman, she leaned forward with an inquisitive, warm manner. Her hair and complexion were much fairer than the gentleman's colouring, long tresses spun into an exquisite chignon at the crown of her head. Her features were angular and refined, perfectly complemented by her white day gown.

"Marianne. He found you," Catherine said, rising out of her seat. She pressed her hands against her abdomen, looking nervous for the first time since Marianne had met her. "Pray, come in quickly. There is much that we must discuss."

The strangers stood in turn—the woman moving more energetically than the male. When Marianne hesitated, she felt Anthony shift his weight behind her, wordlessly encouraging her inside.

He locked eyes with her and led her to their seats, sitting beside her. His presence was an immediate comfort, but Marianne still felt sick with nerves at the sight of the two strangers. They were the first ton members she would meet outside of the Colline family, and she didn't even know who they were.

"This is Gideon Manners, the Earl of Foxburn," Catherine introduced formally, gesturing towards the gentleman. "And this is his sister, Miss Lavinia Manners." She paused, turning towards Marianne. "Allow me to introduce Lady Marianne Chambers."

I suppose that answers that question, Marianne thought, gaping at her long-lost cousins.

"So we've been told," Lord Foxburn replied, not missing a beat. He fixed Marianne with a merciless look, obviously trying to determine whether she was who she claimed to be. "When I received Her Grace's letter, I decided to come as quickly as I could. I do not habitually call upon others unannounced, so you will have to pardon my impudence on this occasion."

"All is forgiven," Catherine replied, though Marianne had a sneaking suspicion she had not taken kindly to the interruption that afternoon. "These are highly irregular circumstances. One can completely understand the necessity of foregoing good manners at such a time."

"I so wondered what you would look like …" Miss Manners murmured, narrowing her gaze at Marianne. She conducted a brief inspection, her eyes widening as she turned to her brother. "Isn't she just the picture of her father, Gideon?"

Lord Foxburn said nothing in response.

"Did you know my father?" Marianne asked to fill the silence. She fisted the fabric of her skirts in her hands, trying to steady her breathing. Her curiosity triumphed over her fear. "You can imagine how curious I am about him, all things considered."

"Sadly, we didn't know him at all," Miss Manners replied. She averted her eyes to the ground, sounding apologetic. "We have a portrait gallery at home, featuring many of the earls who came before Gideon.

There is a painting of Nicholas Chambers and his father among them. According to the date, it was commissioned for Nicholas' twentieth birthday." She raised her gaze back up at Marianne. "I suspected I would know the moment I looked at you whether you were telling the truth. Your eyes look like they've been plucked directly from that painting. It really is incredible …"

"Or it is simply a coincidence," Lord Foxburn interjected. He sighed and straightened in his seat. "Forgive me for being the voice of reason, but you must understand that I cannot accept these lavish claims without definite proof of your birth.

It is not my desire to antagonize you—any of you—by requesting some sort of evidence to back up these stories. As far as I was aware, Lord Foxburn's line ended with his only son, and Nicholas had no children. That is how I came into the title. The late Earl of Foxburn's brother was my grandfather. My mother was Nicholas Chambers' cousin."

Marianne tried to imagine the complicated family tree in her mind. More dead relatives were appearing by the minute, and she couldn't help feeling cheated out of a family she had never known.

She would not allow the current Lord Foxburn to prevent her from meeting those who remained. Her nerves subsided slowly, replaced by a desire to regain what was rightfully hers.

"I will not pretend to understand much about heirs and titles," Marianne said, leaning forward to ensure Lord Foxburn heard her. "I imagine Her Grace has explained some of my situation to you. Until last week, I had no idea that any of you existed—and I certainly had no desire to try and usurp the Foxburn title. From what I gather, nothing substantial will be gained from my coming forward, regardless. My father left nothing to me upon his death. I have no claim to the properties and titles that have become yours.

By revealing myself to be a Chambers, I am exposing myself to more danger than if I had remained a seamstress in London. Why would I bother subjecting myself to the ton's scrutiny, potentially making a pariah of myself, for such little reward, if I were not telling the truth?"

She glanced up at Catherine, catching her breath. The duchess watched her proudly, nodding in agreement. Anthony shifted beside her, making her skin tingle. Marianne observed Lord Foxburn and his sister carefully for their reactions now that the duke wanted to speak.

"Lady Marianne is right," Anthony said. The sound of his voice was an immediate relief. "When she arrived here upon the invitation of Her Grace, I had similar doubts. In the short time she has been here, Lady Marianne has proved herself to be one of the most honest, principled individuals I have ever met.

If our support of her is not sufficient to prove to you that she is the legitimate daughter of Nicholas Chambers, I can assure you we will work tirelessly to provide you with enough evidence to ensconce you in an office with your solicitor for weeks."

Marianne had no idea that he thought so highly of her. There was a chance that he was just saying all this to defend his own honour. His voice commanded respect. And in all the time Marianne had been hosted at Moorhaven Manor, Anthony had never spoken to her like she was not worth his esteem.

Not like he was speaking to Lord Foxburn now. A threat was hidden behind his words, and Marianne knew just enough about the ton to understand. If Lord Foxburn denied Marianne as his relative, he would be denouncing Anthony and his mother—a duke and duchess in mourning, no less—as liars.

Lord Foxburn smiled mirthlessly, returning his hand to his mouth and looking towards his sister. Something passed between them, though Marianne couldn't tell what, leaving the rest of them waiting as they deliberated what to do with the news.

"You mentioned letters," Lord Foxburn said at last. "I would like to see them, Your Grace."

Marianne sagged in relief, holding back a victorious smile as Catherine ordered one of the maids to collect her mother's letters from Catherine's solar. The maid returned within minutes, and the stack of letters were soon exchanged. They ended up in the hands of Lord Foxburn. Licking his thumb, he unfolded the first note and began reading with his brows knit in concentration.

"The letters are organized chronologically," Catherine explained, regaining her seat beside Miss Manners. "At the top of the pile are letters sent to me from Nicholas. They should detail the beginning of his infatuation with Anne Buller—though I suppose we really should be calling her Mrs Chambers."

She leaned over to flick through the pile, visibly setting Lord Foxburn's teeth on edge. "At the bottom of the pile, you will find letters sent to me from Anne herself. These chronicle Nicholas' death, the life she led after him, and most notably, the birth and upbringing of their only child, Marianne."

Catherine paused a moment, and the room filled with silence. She took a deep breath before procuring a note from the table beside her. It had been hidden behind a vase of flowers. That had been no accident.

"Here is a letter from the vicar of Costessey parish, located a few miles south of here. In the letter, the vicar testifies to the existence of a marriage record for Nicholas and Anne Chambers at their church. He has invited us to investigate the records ourselves, given that there is little chance of locating the marriage licence. It is anyone's guess where the document ended up."

She smiled sadly, turning to Marianne. "I served as a witness at your parents' wedding and knew all along where it had been held. There was little reason to bring the matter up until now. However, if a visit to Costessey is necessary, then that is where we will go."

Marianne's lips parted in surprise. She imagined Catherine twenty years younger, dressing her mother for her wedding to Nicholas before serving as their witness. Her chest filled with warmth as she imagined the scene, knowing she would never be able to pay Catherine back for her kindness.

The Earl of Foxburn didn't look nearly as moved by Catherine's loyalty. He was still searching through Nicholas' letters for something that would invalidate her parents' marriage, or so Marianne guessed.

A few minutes passed in relative quiet. Lord Foxburn and Miss Manners pored over Catherine's correspondence, whispering to each other. Marianne stared into the fire, her eyes glazing over until the earl cleared his throat to speak.

"It seems that the letters corroborate your story," Lord Foxburn said joylessly. "However, I will require further proof before I can claim you as a member of this family. Some evidence of your birth, for instance …"

"Such evidence is on its way to us from France as we speak," Catherine replied, looking as relieved as Marianne felt.

"I shall have to take you at your word on that count, Your Grace." Lord Foxburn fell silent, driven to speak again by a scowl from his sister. "I apologize for my necessary unpleasantness earlier, Marianne."

"Thank you for the apology," Marianne replied, earning herself a slight smile from the earl. "Many would have done the same in your shoes, I'm sure."

Unsure what to do next, Marianne tensed as Catherine rose from her seat. The dowager duchess glanced between Marianne and Lord Foxburn as rain pattered against the windows.

The overcast sky made the room dark, shadows dancing in the glow from the fire. It cast a grim light on Catherine, dressed in black, who turned to her son. Marianne stared at him, surprised by the expression he wore. Was that … fear? Anger? There was no time to ask before Catherine spoke.

"Now that we are all better acquainted, I would like to invite you to take tea with us. You should remain at least until the rain subsides. Anthony," she called, "if you would accompany me outside for a moment?"

Anthony seemed reluctant to leave. He sighed and leaned into Marianne with the others watching, making her cheeks burn. "Will you be fine on your own for a while?" he whispered.

She nodded, warmed by his concern. Catherine's motivations became clear as she asked them all to get along in her absence. She wanted Marianne to spend some time with her cousins, and hopefully endear herself to them. The two of them soon departed. Anthony paused at the doors to take a final glance at Marianne, imbuing her with courage.

"Her Grace is a formidable presence," Miss Manners said once they were gone. She swapped seats, placing herself beside Marianne. "You could not have asked for a better friend to guide you through this difficult transition."

"I've often thought the same myself." Marianne leaned back, perturbed by Miss Manners' eagerness to be close to her. "Had you never met her before?"

"Oh, never. Frankly, it was not until recently that Gideon and I spent much time with the haut ton. Our grandfather became the Earl of Foxburn after the death of your grandfather. When was that …?" She tapped her fingers against her lips.

"Perhaps ten years ago now. Our grandfather passed last year, leaving the title to Gideon. We've chosen to remain at our home in Bury St. Edmunds for now. The ancestral seat is presently being rented by a lovely family from London. Until recently, we hadn't had a reason to take the house back from them. But with your apparition …" She pursed her lips. "Who knows what may happen next?"

"We are almost as new to this as you are," her brother interrupted. He crossed his arms over his chest. "If you are who you say you are, that is. How could it be that you did not know you were related to an earl?"

Marianne shrugged. "I could only know what my mother told me. And I had no reason to think she would lie to me." She paused, glad to see that the earl was willing to speak with her. "I meant it when I said that I don't intend to ask anything of you. Knowing that you both exist, that I have a history of my own at last … it's all that really matters."

"You genuinely mean that, don't you?" Miss Manners said, beaming with affection. "How lovely you are, Marianne. I can call you that, can't I? For I would very much like you to call me Lavinia. And Gideon …" She glanced over her shoulder at her brother. "Well, he's a cold fellow, but I'm sure you'll defrost him before long."

Gideon looked unconvinced. Both the earl and his sister were absurdly attractive, and Marianne began to consider what the rest of their family may have looked like.

"This is a lot to ask," Marianne said, "but I would love to peruse that gallery you mentioned. I have never actually seen a painting of my father."

"Well, then you must come to Saltsman House," Lavinia exclaimed, taking Marianne's hands. "That is where we live. We have so many paintings dating all the way back to the fourteenth century. You'll be able to see your father and your father's father, and so many other ancestors that it will make your head spin. And then, of course, we should have you for dinner because really—"

"Lavinia." Gideon's tone was firm. "We should not get carried away."

His sister shot her eyes heavenward. "I think now is the perfect time to get carried away." She laughed, and Marianne laughed too. "When will you be free to come and visit us?"

"Oh …" Marianne puffed out her cheeks. "His Grace has been invited to a hunting party by the Marquess of Hindborough." She thought that was the right name. Gideon's nod of approval confirmed it for her. "I have been invited to join him, but I'm unsure how long we will stay there. Perhaps a week?"

"I am somewhat familiar with the marquess' daughter, Lady Eliana," Lavinia said. "She is a …" Her lips formed a hard line. "You will see for yourself what she is. There are other ladies I could introduce you to if you would like. And there are gentlemen you could meet too if you catch my meaning …"

The brother and sister shared another look.

"Have you given any thought to attending the Season next year?" Lavinia asked.

"Oh." Marianne understood her meaning now. "Goodness, no. Not really, at least. The duchess said a few things, but … I've barely had time to catch my breath since Her Grace invited me here, let alone, well … Gentlemen have been quite far from my mind."

"You should strike while the iron is hot," Lavinia suggested. "Once we announce you, the whole of Norfolk will be abuzz with news of you. And news spreads quickly to London. Men will flock to you in droves just out of curiosity. Though, of course," she paused to laugh, "I always think that one should search closer to home for that sort of thing."

"Now you really are pushing your luck," Gideon warned. "You have known the woman for all of ten minutes, and already you're playing matchmaker. Leave her well be."

"It was only a bit of friendly advice." Lavinia's voice lilted, teasing them. "You'll see, Marianne. Once you are out, everything will fall into place. I'm sure of it."

For her part, Marianne was not convinced. Love and marriage were the last things on her mind. She needed to establish herself first and start implementing her philanthropy plans.

But how can I do that, she thought, without money or connections? Marrying someone with both could be the quickest way to reach my goals. Catherine has said as much already.

Her eyes darted to Gideon. He was watching her intently.

Is that what Lavinia meant? Marianne gulped, panicking. Does she intend to pair me up with her brother?

Her gut roiled at the thought. They were cousins, for heaven's sake. And not just cousins, but perfect strangers too. She was likely getting ahead of herself, imagining the worst. She opened her mouth to change the topic, except Anthony and Catherine chose that moment to re-enter with the maids.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything important," Catherine said, directing a maid to set the tea service between them.

"Not at all, Your Grace," Lavinia replied, grinning at Marianne. "We were all just getting to know one another. And that's what we should strive for, isn't it? To become one big, happy family."