Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

T he Marquess of Feverton was shown into the sitting room.

He looked at one of the vacant chairs, but he did not sit down, and Cressida couldn't help raising her eyebrows at his strange behavior. He looked as if he did not mean to stay for very long, and she wasn't sure what to make of that.

What she did think about him was that he was handsome. He was extremely tall, taller than her own father, and the fit of his clothing hinted at a muscular build. He had dark blue eyes that captivated Cressida—they shone like sapphires, and she imagined that it would be very easy to develop romantic feelings for such a gentleman.

That was, if he hadn't had such an ugly expression on his face.

He looked around the room as if everything he saw was in some way beneath him, as if he was judging them. Cressida felt her temper flare. He might be a marquess, and her father only an earl, but that didn't mean they were nobody at all. This was a perfectly fine house!

His eyes fell on Victoria. "Is this her, then?" he asked.

"Is this whom?" Cressida demanded.

The marquess didn't look at her. He didn't even acknowledge her.

Cressida could see that even her father was rather taken aback. They had all gotten so used to Cressida managing the affairs of the household that it felt strange to have someone come in and not defer to her authority.

But the marquess had his gaze fixed on Cressida's father, as if his voice was the one that truly mattered here. Cressida supposed that in most households, that would have been true. In most households, the marquess would have been correct to focus on the father.

But that wasn't the case here, and in any event, it was clear that her father was at a loss for words. He might have been the one to invite the marquess here, but he hadn't been prepared for the conversation that would follow, the questions that would be asked—even this most basic of all possible questions.

So Cressida cleared her throat and spoke again. "Is this whom ?" she repeated.

Now the marquess did look at her. As his eyes met hers, a chill ran down Cressida's spine. "Who might you be?"

"Lady Cressida Montrose."

"My eldest," her father spoke up. "But yes—this is Victoria, Lord Feverton."

Cressida looked at Victoria. She was frowning, looking very upset indeed. "What is this?" she asked. "What's happening?"

"Your father has given his permission for the two of us to marry," Lord Feverton explained.

He said it as calmly as if he had been discussing the weather. But Victoria gasped and sat up very straight.

"Marry!" she exclaimed, distraught.

"It's a good match, Victoria," her father said lightly. "Lord Feverton is very well off. He'll be able to provide for all our family's needs."

Our needs, he had said. Not Victoria's needs. Ours . The family's. In other words, her father was talking about marrying Victoria to the marquess in order to provide for the family—and Cressida understood all too well that this was about managing her father's debts. She had seen those ledgers. She knew that her father had no way out of hole he had gotten himself into—no way, that was, except to marry his daughters off.

Why was he putting Victoria into this situation, when she was the eldest?

Perhaps it was because she was the eldest. With her sister having made her debut before Cressida herself had married, it would be apparent that she had at least contemplated a life of spinsterhood, and perhaps that was what made her father think it would be impossible to marry her to anyone.

Or perhaps he simply understood that Victoria was the one who would be easier to manipulate. He must realize that if he had asked Cressida to marry Lord Feverton, she would simply refuse.

Now, Lord Feverton was here to claim a bride for himself, and what could anyone say? He had already been promised that he would be able to marry one of the young ladies of this household. He had been promised Lord Sedgwick's daughter.

Cressida looked at her sister.

Victoria wasn't even trying to disguise her distress. Her face was white, and Cressida knew her well enough to know that she was on the verge of tears.

Cressida had never been able to bear the sight of her sister crying, and today was no exception. Ignoring her father entirely—she would deal with him later—she turned to Victoria instead.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "Why don't you go up to your room, Victoria, and I'll come and speak to you soon?"

Her father knew better than to contradict her. He was used to the fact that Cressida was the one who would take charge of Victoria's affairs. But the marquess did not take it in stride. He frowned at her. "I came here to meet my bride," he said, and his tone was so firm that it was clear nothing about what he was saying was a request. "I would have her stay."

"Nonetheless, she's going to be excused to her room," Cressida said, just as firmly. "You'll deal with me today."

"Who are you?" he asked again. "What makes you think you can give orders?"

"I've told you. Lady Cressida Montrose. I'm the eldest daughter of the Earl of Sedgwick." She inclined her head toward her father, lest there be any doubt about who she meant.

"Well, I'm not here to see you. I'm here to see the earl and Lady Victoria. I think you ought to be excused."

Cressida hesitated. She knew that if the marquess pressed the matter, she would be removed from the room. She could exercise authority over her father, but not over him. "Allow me to stay," she said at last. "I care for my sister. My father knows that. That's why he's asked me to be here."

"He never even mentioned you to me," the marquess said.

"My sister is distressed. You can see that. I beg you to let her leave and discuss this matter with my father and I, at least for now."

The marquess hesitated, but apparently he wasn't a cruel man. He gave a brief nod.

Cressida turned to Victoria. "Go ahead," she urged.

"Cressida—you recall what I told you last night? About…"

"I remember." Her sister was thinking of Mr. Young, of course. Cressida knew that now was no time to bring up the prospect of a marriage to the second son of a baron to her father. It was clear that he was sold on the idea of marrying Victoria to someone wealthy, and Mr. Young was not that person. No matter how Victoria felt, they wouldn't get their father to agree to a match like that. Not today.

Cressida knew how to handle her father. She knew how to control things in her household and how to get what she wanted out of any situation. But she also knew that it was important to wait until the right moment to make a request. She would speak to him about Victoria's feelings. For now, though, the best thing would be to get rid of the marquess with no further disagreements.

Victoria cast her a final look, one full of a trust that existed between the two sisters but did not exist between either of them and their father. It was a stark reminder to Cressida that she had a responsibility to Victoria, that she needed to take care of this situation, and she was determined to do so.

She waited until her sister had left the sitting room and closed the door behind her before turning back to Lord Feverton. "What were you promised, exactly?"

"I don't know why I'm speaking to you," Lord Feverton countered. "My agreement was with Lord Sedgwick."

"Well, now you're going to speak with me," Cressida said evenly. "If you ever wish to spend time with my sister again, you are going to need my approval in order to do it."

"Your approval? I don't need your approval. It's your father whose approval I need."

Cressida turned to her father. "This gentleman seems incapable of answering my question, so I put it to you," she said. "What exactly did you promise him?"

And because her father was intimidated by her, he answered. "I promised him a marriage to one of my daughters."

"To Victoria?" Had her father mentioned Victoria by name? He must have, or else why would Lord Feverton have assumed she was the one?

"I know you care more for Victoria's prospects than for your own," her father said. "I would have thought you would be pleased with my choice, Cressida."

"I would have thought you would ask her for her opinion before promising her to anyone," Cressida said. "I'm not sure I approve of this, Father."

"Nobody has asked for your approval," Lord Feverton spoke up. "I'm not sure why you even need to be here. I came here today to meet the young lady who is to be my wife. I didn't come here to meet with her difficult sister."

"I'm not convinced that I'm going to let my sister marry you," Cressida said.

"And I tell you that I don't care how you feel about it," Lord Feverton returned. "I mean to have what was promised to me, Lady Cressida. I shall be married to Lady Victoria. She meets my standards, and I am not going to permit you to stand between us out of some sense of authority that you don't have over the situation." He looked at Cressida's father. "Are you incapable of bringing your daughter under your control? I certainly hope the one you've promised to me isn't like this. I don't need a wife who will challenge me at every turn."

"Victoria is nothing like Cressida," Lord Sedgwick said, but his eyes were on Cressida.

"Father," Cressida said, "I need to discuss this matter with you before things go any farther. You owe Victoria that much."

"This has been decided, Cressida."

"Yes, Lady Cressida," Lord Feverton said maddeningly. "It has. Remember that my choice is what matters most here. An agreement has been made between your father and myself, and whatever you may think of it, I have every right to proceed with that agreement today."

"Begging your forgiveness, Lord Feverton, but a conversation will do no harm," Cressida said evenly. "Will you consent to leave so that my father and I may discuss this?"

Lord Feverton's face darkened. "I am unaccustomed to being dismissed ," he informed them. "And I am not a man who takes insults well."

"I am not dismissing you. Nor could I," Cressida said. "I merely ask you to allow me to speak to my father privately."

"Lord Feverton, I apologize for my daughter," Cressida's father said quickly. "If you'll permit me some time with her, I'll put this matter to rights."

"See that you do," Lord Feverton said. "You promised me a bride, and I intend to have one. Remember what is at stake for you, Lord Sedgwick." He gave Cressida's father a lingering look.

"Yes, of course," Lord Sedgwick said fretfully. "Don't worry, Lord Feverton—you will hear from me by tomorrow, and I assure you that everything will be in order."

"Very well, then." As Lord Feverton had never taken a seat, there was no need for him to rise. He simply turned away and saw himself out.

Before he left, though, he fixed Cressida with a penetrating stare, and for a moment, it rooted her to the spot. She wasn't sure if she was frightened of him or not, but she was certainly intimidated, and she wasn't accustomed to any man making her feel that way.

Once he was gone, Cressida stared at her father. "You must be mad," she said. "Choosing a husband for Victoria without even consulting her? Without consulting me ?"

"Cressida, you've grown too accustomed to being consulted on everything that happens around here," her father told her. "I have every right to select a husband for my daughter without your say-so."

"And does it matter to you at all that Victoria is miserable about your choice? You saw her face!"

"Nonsense. She doesn't even know the marquess yet. She can't have made up her mind what she thinks about him. She was taken by surprise, that's all it is. She'll feel better once she's had the chance to get used to the idea."

"And I say she won't. Father, she has hopes for herself—for who she might marry—and they don't involve this gentleman."

"That doesn't matter," her father said. "You said yourself that you looked at my books, Cressida. You understand the financial state we're in."

Because of your poor investments . She didn't say it aloud. Her father had never been a savvy businessman, but he did his best, and Cressida knew that he cared for them. Most of the time, she was not quick to anger. She did what she could to help her father, and she kept her cool.

But she couldn't allow her sister to be forced into a marriage that made her unhappy. Especially not to Lord Feverton, who seemed to have no regard for anyone but himself.

"Give me one day," she told her father. "Give me one day to come up with another solution to this problem."

Her father regarded her dubiously, but Cressida's mind was already spinning.

If anyone could solve this, she could.