story.”
Mrs. Parker-Roth took the marchioness’s arm and started toward the door. “Oh, it was indeed a scandal, and at first my husband and I—and John, too—were very angry. But once we saw how happy Jane was, well, we couldn’t stay angry.” She laughed and shook her head. “Even at the time I suspected Jane was an active participant in her seduction—she is not a namby-pamby sort of girl, you know—so I couldn’t think too harshly of Edmund. And now we like him very well, especially as Jane is expecting our first grandchild.”
“Really?”
“Yes. So, I’d say everything turned out well for my daughter, and I believe everything will turn out well for your sister.”
Lady Knightsdale paused in the doorway to glare back at Parks. “I hope so.”
The marquis was the last one to leave the room. “Ten minutes, Parker-Roth,” he said as he pulled the door closed.
Meg exploded the moment they heard the latch click.
“Can you believe Emma? She’s always tried to run my life, but since she married, she’s become unbearable. I thought once Charlie was born—and then Henry—she’d be too busy to concern herself with my affairs any longer, but I was wrong.”
“She loves you.” As Mother loves me.
He could certainly sympathize with Miss Peterson on the subject of interfering family members.
What did Mother think of this evening’s drama? She’d dragged him to Town to find him a leg-shackle—was she pleased with Miss Peterson?
Was he?
It made no difference. He had compromised the girl past redemption. Lady Dunlee had seen to that—and after the rather heated…exchange they’d had in this room, he couldn’t even consider himself an innocent victim. What the hell had come over him?
The long and short of it was he had no choice. The Marquis of Knightsdale was not letting him out of this room an unengaged man—he just needed to convince Miss Peterson of that fact.
She sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers twitched to touch the silky length again.
He clasped his hands behind his back.
“I know Emma loves me. I know she only wants the best for me, which makes me feel even worse, but I can’t let her dictate my decisions.”
“No, of course not. I’m sure she doesn’t wish to.”
“Ha! You have no idea. She thinks I must be married to be happy. She’s been torturing me about it for the last three years. You should have seen the men she was throwing at my head. It was enough to drive me to Town for the Season.”
“Surely they couldn’t have been that objectionable.”
“They were ancient. Well into their dotage.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it, her expression was so horrified.
“I find it hard to believe your sister would think an old man a suitable match for you.” Especially if the rumors about the marchioness’s marriage were true. More than one wag had said the marquis and his wife didn’t need a fire in the bedroom grate—they produced enough heat on their own. After seeing them together, he believed it.
“Well, the younger men were equally revolting. Cabbage heads, all of them—and that’s insulting the cabbage.”
“Miss Peterson—”
Meg waved her arm—and caught the shawl before it slipped far enough to reveal anything interesting.
“I don’t live at Knightsdale—I live at the vicarage with my father and his wife, Harriet—so I’m not even underfoot. Well, not under Emma’s feet at any rate. There is no need for her to worry about my future.”
“Still, it is perfectly natural that she’d want to see you well settled. Surely your father has made a push in that direction as well?”
Meg shook her head. “No. He hasn’t said a word about my marrying.”
“So he’s happy to have you spend your life with him?”
“Yes. No. Oh, botheration.” She frowned at a garish red vase on the mantle. “Truth be told, I’m certain he and Harriet would enjoy the privacy my absence would give them.” She sighed. “And I would like a home of my own. It’s not marriage I object to, it’s Emma’s meddling.” She turned and met his eyes. “If you must know, I came to London this Season with the express goal of finding a husband.”
“Then you should be happy to have achieved your purpose so quickly.” He could not keep an edge from his voice. Why did he feel this spurt of annoyance? She had been honest. And it was far from surprising. Lady Palmerson’s ballroom was filled with young ladies intent on exactly the same objective.
“Well, I…” She flushed. “I had thought to, um, spend more time looking.”
So she was not happy with him as her bridegroom? He gripped his hands tightly together. What was it about him that failed to impress the ladies of the ton? Hell, Grace had been so unimpressed she’d left him standing at the altar.
It wasn’t a mystery. He had no title. A mere mister could not hope to compete with a lord.
He should have left her to Viscount Bennington.
Parks was scowling. Of course he was. He obviously did not want to marry her. His tone of voice made that abundantly clear. Mauling her, though, that was another matter. Men must all be alike. They were happy to—oh.
She suddenly remembered exactly what she and Parks had been doing when Parks’s mother had entered the room.
Dear God.
She covered her face and moaned.
“What must your mother think of me? We were…I was…I looked like a…well, I won’t say what I looked like. It is too shocking. And Emma and I were squabbling like children.” Had Emma actually shouted at Mrs. Parker-Roth? “My sister could hardly have been more insulting. I’m certain your mother must want nothing to do with me or my family.”
“And I’m certain Mother understood completely. As she said, Jane got herself into a similar predicament last year. Mother was as upset then as your sister was just now.”
“Still, she cannot want you to marry me.”
“Miss Peterson, I hope you will not take it poorly, but some days I think my mother would be delighted if I wed the lowest scullery maid just as long as I wed someone. You say your sister thinks you must be married to be happy? Well, my mother has the same notion. She firmly believes that a man cannot find contentment without a wife at his side, guiding him in the right direction.”
Parks sounded extremely bitter.
“And you do not agree?”
“I do not!” He frowned, running his hand through his hair. “I do not wish to marry. Ever. My mother has been dragging me to Town for years, nagging me on the subject without mercy. Since I turned thirty, she has become relentless—and Westbrooke’s marriage has only made matters worse. I don’t doubt she is in ecstasy now that I’ve finally been tricked into parson’s mousetrap.”
“I did not trick you.” Meg felt another spurt of anger. Yes, the situation was monstrously unfortunate; yes, Parks had not chosen his fate; yes, in some regards his predicament was her fault. But she had not planned for things to happen as they had. She was almost as much a victim as he.
Well, perhaps not. Some people would doubtless have said she’d gotten her just desserts if she’d been forced to marry Lord Bennington.
Apparently one of those people was Mr. Parker-Roth.
“No, you did not trick me. However, if you had not been so bold as to disregard society’s rules—if you had not gone