few ladies that it was my chamber he escaped from. There was no ravishment, Mama. No one climbed into my chamber at Lady Peregrine’s house party. I vow it.”
The varying degree of dawning shock indicated they finally believed her.
“Maryann,” her mother cried, her color heightened. “What a dreadful scheme!”
She was painfully aware of the cold disappointment emanating from her father and Crispin’s shock.
She lifted her chin. “A scheme I had to undertake because my family dismisses my hopes. I anticipated that Lord Stamford would hear the rumors and decide I would not do for his bride. I cannot conceive of anything worse than being his wife.”
“You silly, provoking girl,” her mother said, her eyes flashing with anger. “You are three and twenty and have had no offers! In a few months you will be four and twenty!”
“I would rather be called a spinster than Countess Stamford,” she replied firmly, a lump growing in her throat.
“I see,” her father said, his tone grave.
It was hard for her to hold his stare, but she stalwartly fought and did. “Papa, I tried to tell you several times. You ignored my hopes as if I were of little consequence to you. And you taught me I should always fight for the dreams in my heart.”
Her father regarded her curiously for a moment. “So it is my fault for being over-indulgent,” he said with a chilling bite.
“Papa—”
“It is my job to see that you do not end up an old spinster.”
“This is ridiculous,” she said softly.
Her mother sent her a swift glance of rebuke. One did not question the earl, but followed his orders, for as her mother often reiterated, he knew what was best for this family.
“I beg your pardon, young lady?” he demanded quietly.
Her father had that way about him. He did not shout or get angry. In truth, she could not ever recall him displaying an excess of emotions or even the bare minimum. It had always astonished her that Mama often said their courtship had been sweet and romantic.
“Papa, I am only three and twenty. Surely I can wait a few more years for marriage.”
“And if no one offered for you in the bloom of youth, who would come up to scratch for you this season or a few years from now? I did my duty, and you will be a countess.”
“An unhappy one?”
In a rare show of temper, he lowered his cup with a soft clink. “I’ve ensured someone will have you, and by God that will be the end of this obstinacy from you!”
Unexpectedly, she could not seem to catch her breath or stop the tears from burning her eyes. Her throat felt cramped, as though a noose were closing around it. “So it is because you pity me, Papa, that you’ve arranged my marriage to a man whom I do not know? A man I could not possibly grow to love? A man who would not value me or my opinions? I have no wish to marry Lord Stamford.”
In a rare show of discord, her mama lifted her chin and said, “Perhaps we should allow for—”
“Our daughter will marry the man who offered for her,” he said, reaching for the pressed newspaper.
“Why?” Maryann demanded, her voice raw. When her question was ignored as if she were an irritant, she curled her fist below the table. “I have no wish to marry, so why must I do so?” she stubbornly asked again. Mama shook her head, cautioning her, but Maryann did not want to hold her tongue, even if Papa were to punish her for challenging his authority. Her hands were shaking. “Papa, if you love me as you say you do, please consider my happiness.”
He lowered the paper and sent her a frown. Of course this would all be an oddity. She had been raised with the notion that his words were absolute law, and she had never challenged him. Not even her brother dared.
“I cannot marry a man who does not care for me and has only shown he is brutish and unkind, paying little regard to my thoughts and preferences.”
The silence felt painful and unnatural.
Her father’s stare grew curious, as if he saw her for the very first time in her three and twenty years. The last instance they had walked in the apple orchard as she regaled him with stories she had read had been years ago. Since her societal debut, they hadn’t been as close as during her childhood.
It was as if she turned