took the management of the land most seriously. George learned diplomacy and deference as a result. But we stray from my topic, Marjorie: Will you fight for your marriage, or must I do it for you?”
“You?” She shot him such an incredulous look that Gabriel was assailed by… not simply guilt, but shame.
A coolish sort of breeze fluttered the edges of his handkerchief and sent more leaves cascading toward the earth.
“I wasn’t a very good fiancé, was I?”
“You’re a dozen years my senior. Were you supposed to play dolls with me?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, “if that’s what it took to become your friend.”
He was friends with Polly. The realization caused a trickle of warmth to well up through his insides.
“ Now you want to be friends?”
“You could use a friend,” Gabriel said. “God knows, I can use a few more.”
Marjorie’s expression became thoughtful. “Miss Hunt said the same thing. About me. She said…”
“What did she say?”
“A good friend is the best defense against any adversity.”
“Eat your roll.” Gabriel passed the remaining half to her. “We need to talk again, my lady, but know this: even if you let your mother set aside your marriage to Aaron, I will not be eager to wed you.”
“Plain speaking,” Marjorie allowed as she nibbled on her roll. She did not seem overset by plain speaking.
“You don’t care about the title, do you?”
“Honestly?” Eating her pastry, she looked very pretty and very alone. “I hate it. Aaron hates it, but it’s what brought us together.”
“Hate is a strong word.” Particularly strong coming from Marjorie.
“The title cost me my mother,” Marjorie said, popping the last bite into her mouth. “Your title did. She’s a good mother to my brothers and sisters, but in my case, she stopped seeing me long ago. I’m not a daughter to her; I’m a marchioness on the hoof.”
“One comprehends your point.” Gabriel smiled at her bluntness and at the way the roll had disappeared now that her nerves had settled. “Do you also hate the idea of providing the Hesketh heir?”
Marjorie dusted her hands together and made a production out of folding her gloves over and tucking them into a pocket. “You were blunt before, but not… not like this.”
“I’ve been away from society,” Gabriel replied, “but I ask, not out of vulgar curiosity, but because it’s the duty of a spare to provide the offspring if the title holder can’t. As Aaron’s wife, that duty could well befall you.”
Marjorie waved a second roll in the direction of the Hartle holdings. “Tell that to Mama. She craves the title, not the right to crow that her grandson is the heir.”
“Are you sure?” Gabriel thought back to little Edith and the magic of her gummy smile.
“I am certain.” Marjorie made short work of her second sweet. “It’s as if Mama gets the title by having it hung around my neck.”
“I suppose I could die again,” Gabriel mused, shifting about to ease the ache in his back. “That would serve her ends.”
“Don’t even jest about it.” Marjorie’s tone was uncharacteristically sharp. “You didn’t see your brother upon the occasion of your death. He wanted to go to Spain, because the reports did not satisfy him you were truly gone. But then your father took ill and Mama started her nonsense and the estate was without leadership. You put much on him, and it’s not a joking matter.”
The female of the species apparently did the protecting at Hesketh too. “Believe me, Marjorie, I was unable to come home at the time, not unwilling.”
“Aaron says your back still pains you.”
“Sometimes.” When had Aaron passed that along? “He’s decent to you?”
“Always. He’s better since you’ve come back, though. He’s not so beset, not so terribly worried every minute.”
“We were never exactly close, not like some brothers,” Gabriel reflected. “I think we each assumed the other would always be there.
“You?” She shot him such an incredulous look that Gabriel was assailed by… not simply guilt, but shame.
A coolish sort of breeze fluttered the edges of his handkerchief and sent more leaves cascading toward the earth.
“I wasn’t a very good fiancé, was I?”
“You’re a dozen years my senior. Were you supposed to play dolls with me?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, “if that’s what it took to become your friend.”
He was friends with Polly. The realization caused a trickle of warmth to well up through his insides.
“ Now you want to be friends?”
“You could use a friend,” Gabriel said. “God knows, I can use a few more.”
Marjorie’s expression became thoughtful. “Miss Hunt said the same thing. About me. She said…”
“What did she say?”
“A good friend is the best defense against any adversity.”
“Eat your roll.” Gabriel passed the remaining half to her. “We need to talk again, my lady, but know this: even if you let your mother set aside your marriage to Aaron, I will not be eager to wed you.”
“Plain speaking,” Marjorie allowed as she nibbled on her roll. She did not seem overset by plain speaking.
“You don’t care about the title, do you?”
“Honestly?” Eating her pastry, she looked very pretty and very alone. “I hate it. Aaron hates it, but it’s what brought us together.”
“Hate is a strong word.” Particularly strong coming from Marjorie.
“The title cost me my mother,” Marjorie said, popping the last bite into her mouth. “Your title did. She’s a good mother to my brothers and sisters, but in my case, she stopped seeing me long ago. I’m not a daughter to her; I’m a marchioness on the hoof.”
“One comprehends your point.” Gabriel smiled at her bluntness and at the way the roll had disappeared now that her nerves had settled. “Do you also hate the idea of providing the Hesketh heir?”
Marjorie dusted her hands together and made a production out of folding her gloves over and tucking them into a pocket. “You were blunt before, but not… not like this.”
“I’ve been away from society,” Gabriel replied, “but I ask, not out of vulgar curiosity, but because it’s the duty of a spare to provide the offspring if the title holder can’t. As Aaron’s wife, that duty could well befall you.”
Marjorie waved a second roll in the direction of the Hartle holdings. “Tell that to Mama. She craves the title, not the right to crow that her grandson is the heir.”
“Are you sure?” Gabriel thought back to little Edith and the magic of her gummy smile.
“I am certain.” Marjorie made short work of her second sweet. “It’s as if Mama gets the title by having it hung around my neck.”
“I suppose I could die again,” Gabriel mused, shifting about to ease the ache in his back. “That would serve her ends.”
“Don’t even jest about it.” Marjorie’s tone was uncharacteristically sharp. “You didn’t see your brother upon the occasion of your death. He wanted to go to Spain, because the reports did not satisfy him you were truly gone. But then your father took ill and Mama started her nonsense and the estate was without leadership. You put much on him, and it’s not a joking matter.”
The female of the species apparently did the protecting at Hesketh too. “Believe me, Marjorie, I was unable to come home at the time, not unwilling.”
“Aaron says your back still pains you.”
“Sometimes.” When had Aaron passed that along? “He’s decent to you?”
“Always. He’s better since you’ve come back, though. He’s not so beset, not so terribly worried every minute.”
“We were never exactly close, not like some brothers,” Gabriel reflected. “I think we each assumed the other would always be there.
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