Page 34 of Notorious

“And you, my wonderful daughter,” Lady Exley said, examining Eva with keen eyes and making a tsking sound. “You must be the loveliest young woman in all of England, and you get prettier every day.”

“Oh, Mama.” Eva squirmed under her stepmother’s affection, but Drusilla could tell she loved it—and Lady Exley.

The tiny redhead leaned close to Drusilla. “We ladies are all too fine for our menfolk, but such is the way of things.” She squeezed Drusilla’s arm. “You must not tell my son I said that. Jibril believes he is the most beautiful, perfect creature alive, thanks to his doting mama.”

Drusilla could have told her, in all honesty, that she agreed. Yes, she could have said that easily. But she would have followed her declaration with weeping and the mortifying confession that she was about to marry a man with whom she was madly in love and who actively disliked her and wanted to marry another.

Fortunately, she kept her tongue behind her teeth.

Lady Exley chattered all the way down the stairs, into the drawing room where the rest of the small party waited, not stopping until the carriage arrived at the church perhaps a quarter of an hour later. The marquess watched his wife through slitted eyes the entire time, a half smile hovering on his cruel-looking mouth.

Aside from greeting her, telling her she looked lovely—a valiant lie—Drusilla’s bridegroom hardly said a word. He sat across from her and looked out the window, his expression like that of a man in a tumbril on his way to Madame Guillotine. As always, he was gloriously handsome. Her dress was a pale blue, and he had donned a dark blue coat over a gray silk waistcoat, fawn pantaloons, and glossy Hessians. The wedding was to be quiet and informal, so both he and Drusilla looked little different than if they’d been going for a walk in the park.

It did not disturb her to have a small wedding. After all, she had never planned to marry. Even so, part of her wished she’d possessed the courage to invite the members of her small circle, no matter that marriage went against everything they’d always stood for.

But she’d worried that, like Theo, they would have given her disapproving looks for joining the ranks of those who spent their lives frittering away time and money on the selfish pursuit of pleasure. An activity that would no doubt comprise the majority of her life henceforth.

Thinking about Theo brought back memories of their surprising—and rather unpleasant—discussion after Gabriel had left.

“My God, Drusilla—that man is—is, well, he is a barbarian. He is one of those responsible for terrorizing Christians in the Mediterranean, for ransoming captives—for raping Englishwomen.” He’d paused in order to let the full horror of his words sink in. “He is a slaver, Drusilla. Surely you cannot think to marry such a man.”

Rather than cause her to feel shame, his words had angered her. “You are doing nothing but rumormongering, Theo. Mr. Marlington had the support of Baron Ramsay, a man famous for his hatred of the slave trade. I find it hard to believe Lord Ramsay would countenance slavery, don’t you?”

Theo had shrugged that off. “Perhaps everything you’ve heard about Ramsay is mere rumormongering, as well.”

“Mr. Marlington’s sister, Lady Eva, assures me my fiancé was fighting for a new future for his people—one that didn’t rely on slavery.”

“Of course she does; she is his sister. Besides, everyone knows she is—”

“Theo.”

He’d lifted his hand in a gesture of placation. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” His expression said he thought otherwise. “Even if what she says about her brother is true, the man was reared in an environment where women were less than things, not even worthy of taking the sacrament of marriage for. It is said his father had over a hundred—well, one can’t call them wives.” He stopped and eyed her.

Her lips had twisted into an unpleasant smile. “Oh, and Englishmen behave so much better toward women? It is more civil and pleasant to marry one woman and keep others as mistresses, is it? Or to behave like the Regent, who married that poor Fitzherbert woman and denies it whenever it is convenient for him?”

He’d opened his mouth, looked into her eyes, and then shut it. Drusilla had just known he’d been about to mention Gabriel’s notorious union and thought better of it.

But then he’d veered onto another subject. “You know his mother was never—”

“Do not, Theo. Do not say what you are going to say.” Drusilla had been stunned by the force of her anger. “These people are to be my family. And the woman you are about to disparage survived unthinkable conditions.”

Theo’s pale face had darkened. “You’re correct, Drusilla. Please, forgive me. In my zeal to convince you, I’ve behaved badly.” He’d taken her hand again, but this time she’d pulled it away; his touch hadn’t been nearly as comforting after he’d exposed his prejudice. “You do not need to marry him to save your reputation—marry me, instead.”

Drusilla had been flabbergasted by his desperate expression and passionate tone. But she had been even more shocked by her immediate, and visceral, response to his offer: she did not want to marry Theo. The truth—the painful truth—was that she wanted to marry Gabriel Marlington. Drusilla wanted him. And, at the end of the day, she didn’t care if he loved another woman. She knew such a thought doomed her to a well-deserved life of misery. But she simply did not care. Meanwhile, she’d needed to come up with a response that didn’t crush her friend.

“I—I can’t, Theo, although I do appreciate your offering to sacrifice yourself and—”

He’d seized her hand again. “It is no sacrifice, my darling. I have a confession to make—I’ve loved you almost since we first began working together. In my eyes, you’re the perfect woman. Together we might—”

She’d yanked her hand away. “Theo, please recall where we are.”

He’d glanced round the teahouse, as if only now noticing they weren’t alone, and hung his head. “Forgive me—I’ve behaved like a fool. It’s just that I’m terrified our good work will now stop.” When he’d looked up, his eyes had been anguished. “And as to the other . . . Well, I do hold you in high regard, Drusilla—the highest. Together we would be such a marvelous team. We could continue your plans and even expand them. We could establish houses for poor women and children in every town and city in Britain. I love you, Drusilla, and I—”

She’d leaned back in her chair, deeply uncomfortable with his declaration and not wishing him to repeat it. “I’m engaged to be married, Theo. Please say no more on the topic.”

His cheeks were flaming red. “Yes . . . of course. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you. And even though I will be married, I’ll never abandon our work, Theo. You should know that. Marriage will free me from the economic constraints I’ve lived under.” She didn’t want to directly mention her father’s will, but just about everyone in London knew the conditions. “I will now have more resources than ever to put toward our cause.”