wise man. In any case, daughter, gather your belongings and get ready to come home. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”
Tristan stepped forward, moving between Marguerite and her – mother. The relationship did not seem possible. He knew Marguerite’s gaze was pinned to him as it had been since the moment her mother had mentioned the announcement. Why would that upset her? Of course, he’d put in a discreet announcement.
“Forgive me, Madam. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I am Tristan St. Johns, Marquess of Wimberley.”
“That’s all good and well, but it doesn’t explain what you’re doing with my daughter and why you’ve told the world you plan to marry her. Utter nonsense.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Wilkes.” He hoped the name was correct. “You seem to be under a misperception.”
“You don’t intend to marry her? Keep her in your house for several nights and then send her home? Isn’t that just like a lord, but probably no more than she deserves, and after all the worry she’s put me through.”
“I do beg your pardon, but I do believe you should let me explain the situation.”
“There’s no need for explanations. I have two eyes. I can see very clearly what’s been going on.”
Marguerite slipped from behind him and moved towards her mother.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just couldn’t –”
“Doesn’t matter what you could or couldn’t, what matters is what you will . . .” Evidently Mrs. Wilkes refused to let anyone finish a sentence. “Now, Mr. Clark was kind enough to drive me into town. Can’t imagine what you were thinking taking a public conveyance. The very thought of a daughter of mine mixing with – well, the only time a decent woman comes into such company is in church or when performing works of charity, neither of which you have shown the slightest interest in. Not that you seem to have any wish to be a decent woman. How a daughter of mine –“
“Now, Mary.” A tall, stoop-shouldered man stepped out from behind Mrs. Wilkes. “We’ve had this discussion. Marguerite is merely misguided in her youth. She didn’t mean to worry you. Once we are wed all will settle down. You’ll see.”
Marguerite staggered back as the man moved closer. Tristan could see the tendons in her neck pull tight.
“You’ve given you mother quite a fright,” the man said. “I’ve tried to explain that it was bridal nerves and nothing more. I know no matter what the appearance or circumstance you would never do anything to disappointment her.”
Tristan turned to Marguerite, resisting the urge to step between her and the stranger. Instead he held out his hand to her. She grasped his fingers eagerly and he could feel hers tremble within his palm.
Her eyes closed tight, a gesture he was coming to know well. Then she pulled in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and looked the man straight in the face.
“It was good of you to accompany Mama, Mr. Clark. But, there was no need for either you or Mama to make the journey. As you can see I am in no distress and well situated.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Mrs. Wilkes began. “You are involved in some pretense of an engagement with a man who would never marry you. I don’t know what is going on, but what is clear is that you need to come home now. I need you to come home. I will have no more of this foolishness.” She looked straight at Marguerite. Cool blue eyes met cool blue eyes and for the first time the resemblance was clear.
“Mama.”
Tristan had never heard his bride speak so forcefully.
“If you would have given me a chance to carry out more complete introductions perhaps our dialogue would proceed more smoothly. Wimberley, allow me to introduce my mother, Mrs. Mary Wilkes, and Mr. Samson Clark, her neighbor. Mama, Mr. Clark, may I present Tristan St. Johns, Marquess of Wimberley, as of this morning, my husband.”
Silence.
Then cacophony.
“Marguerite, I do not believe my ears.” Ms. Wilkes’ gaze fastened on her daughter. Her mouth slammed shut, then open. It shut again. Then opened wide. “You have not married this man. It simply is not so. Get your things. We are leaving.”
And Mr. Clark, “That is impossible. Marguerite and I must marry. I’ve already prepared the banns.”
“Is the carriage still outside?” Mrs. Wilkes did not care who was talking. “Marguerite, why aren’t you moving? So help me if you don’t come