your wedding.”
“More is the pity,” Garrick heard Merryn murmur.
“Besides,” Joanna added, even more dryly, “he is too virile for your taste.”
Garrick saw Merryn’s gaze jerk up to his face and a wave of hot color stung her cheeks. For a second they stared at one another, captured in a fierce blaze of awareness, and then Merryn turned her head away again and her eyelashes flickered down to hide her expression. Garrick saw her knit her fingers tightly together in her lap.
“Ladies…” Churchward sounded reproving. Evidently, Garrick thought, he had had some previous experience of the shocking ways of the Fenner sisters. “No one,” he said severely, “is offering to marry anyone.” He turned to Garrick. “If you permit, your grace?”
“Of course,” Garrick said. “Please proceed, Mr. Churchward.”
Once again he felt Merryn Fenner’s gaze on him. Her expression was dark now, unreadable. For a second, though, Garrick thought that she looked frightened and he felt a tug of emotion inside; he wondered what this meeting must be like for her, stirring up as it did feelings and memories she had clearly never overcome. Then she raised her chin, scorning the tacit sympathy he realized that he had offered, rejecting every vestige of comfort he might give. Her dismissal felt like a slap across the face.
“This is a deed of gift made on the eleventh of November in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fourteen,” Mr. Churchward said precisely. “By this gift his grace Garrick Charles Christmas Farne, nineteenth Duke of Farne—”
“Christmas?” Merryn said, quite as though she could not help herself.
“I was born on the twenty-fifth of December,” Garrick said, smiling at her, “to a very devout mother.”
“How unfortunate for you,” Merryn said politely.
“It could have been worse,” Garrick said.
“The nineteenth Duke of Farne…” Mr. Churchward’s stern voice bore them down “…freely gives in equal part the house and estate in the County of Dorset and the sum of one hundred thousand pounds to Joanna, Lady Grant, Teresa, Lady Darent, and Lady Merryn Fenner, to hold as their absolute right and dispose of as they wish, with his grace the Duke of Farne making no further claim upon the estate or the fortune accruing unto it. The estate,” he added, “is in excellent repair.”
There was an odd silence as Churchward finished, like the lull before the first bolt of lightning split the sky. Garrick saw Joanna and Tess exchange a look and then Merryn’s chair clattered back with such sharpness that they all winced.
“Why?” she demanded.
Garrick could see that she was trembling. Her entire frame shook with the force of whatever anger or misery possessed her. Her eyes were huge. He could feel her passion and the pain beneath it, so raw and fierce it hurt. He put out a hand toward her, instinctively wanting to offer comfort again, and saw her recoil.
“Because Fenners should belong to you.” He spoke directly to her, as though the others were not there. “I did not know that my father had purchased the estate. He should not have done so. It is rightfully yours. So I am giving it back.”
She looked right into his eyes and Garrick felt the force of her gaze sweep through him. She was so transparent, so honest a person that nothing was hidden. There was no artifice in Merryn Fenner and that meant she had no defenses at times like this.
“This is to ease your conscience!” Her words hit him with the force of a blow. She swept the deed of gift to the floor with an unsteady hand. “You killed Stephen and now you think that this will be recompense?”
“Merryn.” Joanna had placed a restraining hand on her sister’s arm. “Please…”
“It is in no way intended as recompense,” Garrick said. “The death of your brother was—” He stopped, remembering the moment in the library the previous day. No words of his could ever give the Fenner sisters back what they had
“More is the pity,” Garrick heard Merryn murmur.
“Besides,” Joanna added, even more dryly, “he is too virile for your taste.”
Garrick saw Merryn’s gaze jerk up to his face and a wave of hot color stung her cheeks. For a second they stared at one another, captured in a fierce blaze of awareness, and then Merryn turned her head away again and her eyelashes flickered down to hide her expression. Garrick saw her knit her fingers tightly together in her lap.
“Ladies…” Churchward sounded reproving. Evidently, Garrick thought, he had had some previous experience of the shocking ways of the Fenner sisters. “No one,” he said severely, “is offering to marry anyone.” He turned to Garrick. “If you permit, your grace?”
“Of course,” Garrick said. “Please proceed, Mr. Churchward.”
Once again he felt Merryn Fenner’s gaze on him. Her expression was dark now, unreadable. For a second, though, Garrick thought that she looked frightened and he felt a tug of emotion inside; he wondered what this meeting must be like for her, stirring up as it did feelings and memories she had clearly never overcome. Then she raised her chin, scorning the tacit sympathy he realized that he had offered, rejecting every vestige of comfort he might give. Her dismissal felt like a slap across the face.
“This is a deed of gift made on the eleventh of November in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fourteen,” Mr. Churchward said precisely. “By this gift his grace Garrick Charles Christmas Farne, nineteenth Duke of Farne—”
“Christmas?” Merryn said, quite as though she could not help herself.
“I was born on the twenty-fifth of December,” Garrick said, smiling at her, “to a very devout mother.”
“How unfortunate for you,” Merryn said politely.
“It could have been worse,” Garrick said.
“The nineteenth Duke of Farne…” Mr. Churchward’s stern voice bore them down “…freely gives in equal part the house and estate in the County of Dorset and the sum of one hundred thousand pounds to Joanna, Lady Grant, Teresa, Lady Darent, and Lady Merryn Fenner, to hold as their absolute right and dispose of as they wish, with his grace the Duke of Farne making no further claim upon the estate or the fortune accruing unto it. The estate,” he added, “is in excellent repair.”
There was an odd silence as Churchward finished, like the lull before the first bolt of lightning split the sky. Garrick saw Joanna and Tess exchange a look and then Merryn’s chair clattered back with such sharpness that they all winced.
“Why?” she demanded.
Garrick could see that she was trembling. Her entire frame shook with the force of whatever anger or misery possessed her. Her eyes were huge. He could feel her passion and the pain beneath it, so raw and fierce it hurt. He put out a hand toward her, instinctively wanting to offer comfort again, and saw her recoil.
“Because Fenners should belong to you.” He spoke directly to her, as though the others were not there. “I did not know that my father had purchased the estate. He should not have done so. It is rightfully yours. So I am giving it back.”
She looked right into his eyes and Garrick felt the force of her gaze sweep through him. She was so transparent, so honest a person that nothing was hidden. There was no artifice in Merryn Fenner and that meant she had no defenses at times like this.
“This is to ease your conscience!” Her words hit him with the force of a blow. She swept the deed of gift to the floor with an unsteady hand. “You killed Stephen and now you think that this will be recompense?”
“Merryn.” Joanna had placed a restraining hand on her sister’s arm. “Please…”
“It is in no way intended as recompense,” Garrick said. “The death of your brother was—” He stopped, remembering the moment in the library the previous day. No words of his could ever give the Fenner sisters back what they had
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