to have one of my own vehicles prepared? Or would you like to spend the night here, as my guest?”
“Stay here, after what you’ve done? Certainly not. I don’t know what type of lady you are used to dealing with, but I can promise you I am a far different breed. I am sure Mr. Clark would not dream of departing without me. He is a true gentleman rather than just a pretender to the name. I have never felt so put upon in all my days. How could you do this to me, Marguerite? Who will take care of me in my declining years? Do you really think your sister Hetty is up to the task? You know how forgetful she is. She will be so disappointed in you – not that I’ll let you see her and spread your uncharitable influence. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a strumpet for a daughter. And you, my lord, to take advantage of my poor innocent child. How could you do such a thing and break a mother’s heart? Now will someone help me from this chair?”
Tristan offered his hand. It had definitely been too long since he’d darkened the door at Gentleman Jim’s Boxing Salon, his straining muscles informed him.
Finally Mrs. Wilkes was up, she flounced her skirts around her like the youngest of coquettes. She walked over to her daughter and bent slightly until they were face to face. “I hope you know what you’ve done. I tried to keep you from making these mistakes. Being headstrong doesn’t pay.”
She heaved back to her full height, thrust out her breasts and narrowed her eyes. “I will expect to receive the license and the names of all the guests.”
She turned and stalked from the room without a backward glance.
“Her manners are usually very polished.” Marguerite resisted the urge to sway. The world had begun to spin about halfway through her mother’s speech, but she would manage to be strong a few minutes longer. She edged back towards the chair. “It’s just the unpleasant surprise.”
“I don’t know that I like being considered an unpleasant surprise.” Tristan turned from his protective position beside her to face her dead on. Her breath caught as those silver eyes looked through her. “I’d never realize that capturing a marquess was such a disgrace. Did she have a duke in mind?”
Marguerite sank back into the chair. Did he have to sound so cold?” “No, as you heard she’d always thought that Mr. Clark and I – well, I think she’d just made up her mind that we would suit. She has very strong ideas about a parent’s duty to their children.”
“And who exactly is Clark that he should be so high in your mother’s esteem?”
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about this. It had been hard enough confronting her mother. She could only imagine what Tristan must think. She opened her eyes and stared at the pearl inlay of the side table. Finally she found the words. “He’s our neighbor. He is an important member of our parish and is always first when a contribution is needed. His home is larger than ours and his soirees more lavish – not that mother approves of overindulgence.”
“No, I am sure she doesn’t.”
“Don’t look like that. Mother has always been of delicate health. She became very ill, shortly after my birth and my father’s death, and was counseled to eat sweets and cream to help build up her constitution. She’s struggled with weakness ever since. She had hoped that as her neighbor’s wife I could continue my care of her. And I do confess, mostly I believe she is scared of being alone. I should have been kinder to her.”
Tristan turned and walked away. He picked up a delicate marble bust of Aphrodite and ran his fingers over the smooth curves. “That response will only go so far. Why was your mother so in favor of the match with Clark? Does she know something you have failed to divulge to me?”
Chapter Five
“What do you mean?” Marguerite sputtered the question.
“I have played games of words with heads of state and generals. I have persuaded parliament to my course and even on occasion held my own with Lady Smythe-Burke. Do you really want to begin this way? Answer my question. What does your mother know, that I do not?”
How could his eyes pierce her when he wasn’t looking at her? How could his carefully modulated pitch