Page 69 of The Gentlewoman Author

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Daniel’s mother placed a scone on a plate and handed it to him along with a cup of tea. Without taking a bite, he put it on a table and frowned. She seemed more cheerful than was her custom, which meant her mood bordered on exuberant.

Miss Thorpe sat too close, but it felt desperate rather than romantic. With Mary disappeared, the girl had only Mrs. Eliot to advocate for her. Not that Mrs. Eliot shirked her duty in any way, but where was Mary? Mrs. Eliot would not tell him, and Miss Thorpe did not know.

He awoke that morning with the remembrance of the night before hovering like a black cloud, memories pelting him like a torrent of hail. He had withheld his connection to Miss Thorpe. She had withheld her identity as Lady Mary. While her betrayal cut deep, he expected time to resolve their dispute. After preparing for the day, he went to his study to wait on her return, cursing himself for his stupidity in believing his rash plot would work.

As the day revolved into afternoon, and he ate with his family and their guests in the drawing room, he admitted this hope was illusory. His plan failed, and he was strapped to Miss Thorpe. Even now, arrangements for the wedding rolled forth, earnestly discussed among the party, a disaster that arrived too quickly to subvert. Daniel sat mutely next to Miss Thorpe whose lack of appetite indicated she was also full of nerves.

His sister, Emma, strode into the room, her eyes landing on Miss Thorpe, and took a seat across from her. Miss Thorpe wilted against him, their shoulders touching. This girl required, even deserved, his care, but he lacked the patience to put her at ease. His thoughts anchored to Mary, Lady Mary, a woman unknown to him.

While Emma procured tea and cake, Daniel asked Louisa, “Did you know your aunt is Lady Mary?”

“Only by accident. I went looking for ink and found a letter from Mr. Porter. You will guess how shocked I was, but also…” She lowered her voice. “She inspired me.” She pressed her fingers against her lips. “Oh. You must not think…I did not mean she inspired me to…”

“I believe I understand you.” This child was not ready for marriage. Could he marry her? Did he have a choice?

“I only mean that it showed me I can make my own decisions.” She pulled a stole tight around her. “Though that lesson proved false,” she added with a frown.

“Miss Thorpe,” Andrew cut into their conversation. “How is it you and Daniel came to meet? Did he go all the way to Cornwall to find you?”

“Oh, no. We met quite by accident. In Bath.”

Andrew squinted at the two of them, likely trying to conjecture Mary’s role in all of this.

Emma gestured for Miss Thorpe to sit by her. With a doe-eyed glance at Daniel, she moved to the seat next to her future sister. Let Louisa answer the uncomfortable questions. Though he knew it was not her fault, Daniel was angry at her, at Mary, at his parents. He needed someone to blame for the catastrophe, and Miss Thorpe was an easy target at that moment.

Daniel sagged deeper into the cushions of the settee. His mother’s tittering laughter drew his attention. She and Mrs. Eliot sat with their heads bent in conversation, chatting as if they’d known one another for years. “Mother, can I speak with you?”

She followed him into the library and took a seat in her favorite overstuffed chair, which sagged in pathetic contradiction to its name. Daniel poured a glass of port and sat across from her.

“Mrs. Eliot told me everything,” she said.

Daniel doubted that was true. If his mother knew everything, she may not be as joyous over the prospect of his marrying Miss Thorpe, but he would not be telling the tale.

She continued, “It seems Miss Thorpe has a lot of initiative for one so young. Did you know she’s been working as a lady’s companion?” His mother’s prattle irritated him.

“I want to talk about Mary.”

“Lady Mary?”

“Yes. I thought you liked her.”

“I do. But I want grandchildren. She will not supply many of those.”

Daniel groaned. “This is not about you.”

“Isn’t it?” She grinned. “Well?”

“I would like to release Miss Thorpe from the engagement and wed Mary.” As he said it, a flood of calm washed clear the turmoil that stormed inside.

“You could do that, but your father’s will is written, and you would lose your inheritance. I have a feeling Lady Mary will not sign over her estate to us. She showed last night that she is not the woman we thought.”

“She’s better.” This truth reverberated in his bones.

“Perhaps, but not so useful to your father and me.”

All the animosity Daniel had vanquished a few nights ago resurfaced in a bitter pool beneath his sternum. “Wills can be altered, and you can trust me to take care of you.”