Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,61
fact was that Asher had not come yet. She tried to tell herself he probably had not had time, but his home in London was close to hers, so he most definitely could have gone there and then called on them this morning or even this afternoon. It was heading toward evening now, well past the calling hour, so perhaps once he was alone, he had reconsidered.
Her father’s lips pressed together momentarily, the only indication he was losing his patience with the fit that had not ceased since Guinevere had to tell her mother—or rather Vivian had told her, as Guinevere had been in shock—of what had occurred in the forest. Guinevere raced once more through what had happened after they’d been discovered in the woods. Her mother had demanded Asher appear before her to assure her that he intended to call upon Guinevere’s father. Had he agreed? At this point, her worry was so great, as well as her ire, that she was not sure she was recalling everything correctly. She felt certain, or nearly certain, that he had agreed to come to see her father, but it had been insinuated, not stated, that he would formally ask for Guinevere’s hand. It was mortifying, given what she knew of how he truly felt about her.
She stared down at her lap as her parents proceeded to argue and tried to find something bright in the darkness. She supposed at least nothing could ever be as painful as what she had endured in the past day; Asher could never hurt her again. She would not allow it. She had cried every moment that she was alone, and she would not—she could not—cry any more. She no longer loved him. She would tell herself that every single day until her heart understood it. It was neither wise nor healthy to love someone with every fiber of one’s being if they did not return the emotion in similar strength.
“She will be ruined if he does not wed her!” her mother shrieked, pointing at her as if Guinevere’s father did not know whom she was talking about. “And then she will take your other daughters down with her into the pit of spinsterhood. What shall we do if it comes to pass?” Mama clutched her chest, leaned her head back against the settee, and slapped a wet cloth over her eyes. “Ruined!” she wailed and sniffed at the same time. “And the day is all but gone! It was perfectly and plainly insinuated that he should call to formally ask for her hand!”
Guinevere felt ill. She had not thought things could get worse than discovering what she had from Kilgore and then allowing herself to be carried away by lust and found in the woods with Asher. However, if he did not make a formal offer for her, things would become far worse because her mother would be correct. Guinevere squeezed her eyes shut on the thought that her actions may have set the course of her sisters’ lives. She may have taken prospects away from them that had not even been presented yet.
A scratch came at the parlor door, which blessedly sent Mama into momentary silence. Guinevere’s heart leaped with unreasonable relief that Asher had come, that he had not changed his mind.
“Enter,” her father called.
The door opened, and the butler appeared. “My lord,” he said, “the Marquess of Kilgore has come to call.”
Confusion blanketed her for a moment. Kilgore? Whyever would Kilgore be here?
“Send him in,” her father instructed before Guinevere’s mind could clear. If Kilgore was here, it had to have something to do with protecting Lady Constantine, but Guinevere honestly could not fathom how.
The butler shot her father a pained look. “Lord Kilgore insisted—”
“I insisted on following your butler,” Kilgore announced, pushing past Templeton to enter the room. With an apologetic look, the butler departed.
Guinevere felt her jaw fall open at the sight of Kilgore, and her mother gasped, scrambling to sit up and remove the cloth from her eyes. With hair askew, her mother waved a frantic hand at Guinevere. “Rise up. Rise up and conduct yourself like the lady we raised you to be.”
Kilgore, bless him, cut her mother a dark look. “There is no need for Lady Guinevere to rise, Lady Fairfax. I know full well that your daughter is the epitome of a well-raised lady.”
Oh, Kilgore was good! He knew just what to say to please Mama. She beamed at him and patted her hair.