Since he could not manage to speak to her, he’d thought a letter might do. He attempted one on several occasions, his left hand smudging and crabbing the letters, forming them even worse than usual. Carefully phrased sentences, which spoke of ‘mistakes’ and ‘misunderstandings’ were feeble and inadequate for the situation at hand. After hours of painstaking composition, he’d managed a worthy attempt. He’d taken full responsibility for what had happened. He offered marriage if she would have it. At the very least, he would give her so much money that she might close the shop and move to a place where no one had ever heard of her, or her association with him.
It was returned unopened.
Apparently, she feared another request for a tryst and had decided that their association was at an end. He could not blame her. By now, even he had heard the rumours that the Marquess of Fanworth had taken up with the jeweller. When he entered an assembly room, pushed his way through a rout, or attended a musicale, ladies whispered about it and gentlemen congratulated him on his excellent taste.
He glared at all of them until they went silent. But as soon as he was out of earshot, the conversation began again. Avoiding her did not stop the gossip. But going to her would only make it worse.
Something must be done. This visit from Felkirk came as a relief. She might choose to shun Stephen. It was wise to do so, he had earned her scorn. But in her brother-in-law, Stephen would have an intermediary who could not be ignored.
‘Felkirk,’ he greeted the man with his most formal bow, silently thanking God that it had not been the Duke of Buh-Buh-Belston he’d needed to greet. The man come to deal with him was the duke’s brother. In precedence, he was beneath Stephen and owed him respect. But his demeanour was of a disapproving schoolmaster, about to administer a whipping.
Felkirk took the chair he offered, but refused refreshment with a look that said he would rather sup from a pig’s trough than share a drink with the person he’d come to visit. ‘I understand that you have entered into a relationship with Miss Margot de Bryun?’
‘If I had, I would not speak of it,’ Stephen replied, narrowing his eyes to seem equally disapproving.
‘The lady in question is my wife’s sister.’
‘I know.’ When he’d imagined a union between them, he’d hung much on this relationship. The older sister had married well. If Margot was also elevated, would it really come as such a surprise?
‘Our connection is not widely known,’ Felkirk admitted. ‘That has less to do with any reticence on the part of my family than it does with the single-minded independence of Miss de Bryun. Margot did not wish to trade on the family name to make her success.’
‘She would not have to,’ he replied with no hesitation. ‘Her work is the finest I have seen in England.’
By the shocked look on Felkirk’s face, a two-sentence reply from the notoriously silent Fanworth must have seemed like a flood of words. That it came in praise of a woman he refused to acknowledge was even more interesting.
Felkirk gave a brief nod. ‘I will inform her sister of the fact. It will be a great comfort to her. But other matters are not.’ He gave Stephen a searching look, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.
When Stephen did not immediately answer, Felkirk continued. ‘My wife and her sister are very close. They are similar in appearance as well.’
‘Then you are fortunate to have a married a lovely woman,’ Stephen said, again surprising the man again with his honesty.
‘I am aware of that. But I am also aware of the sort of attention such beauty can draw when one appears to be alone and unprotected—’
‘Her looks are not Margot’s only virtue,’ Stephen interrupted, feeling suddenly eloquent when presented with his favourite subject. ‘She is an intelligent young woman with an excellent sense of humour.’
If Felkirk had been surprised before, now he looked positively shocked by this quick admission. ‘Since we can agree on her many excellent qualities, you must also understand how troubling it is to hear that she is entering into a liaison not likely to end in marriage.’
‘I fail to see how it can end any other way,’ Stephen said. Then he fixed Felkirk with a look that implied he was the one to put a dishonourable intent on their rather unorthodox courtship.
‘You mean to...’ It was like watching air leak from a billowing sail. Felkirk had not been prepared to win so easily.
‘Marry her,’ Stephen finished.
Felkirk responded to this with stunned silence.
The man expected him to explain himself. Not bloody likely, since any attempt to describe the current circumstances would end in a stammering mess. Stephen continued to stare, waiting for the man to speak.
He saw Felkirk’s eyes narrowing again, as he tried to decide what to make of this sudden and complete victory. ‘Margot would not tell us the reason that she went to you.’
‘Nor will I,’ Stephen replied and continued to stare at him.
‘A marriage is necessary, of course, and the sooner the better. The rumours flow faster than the water at the pump room.’ Felkirk stated the obvious, but in a doubtful tone as though suddenly unsure of his mission.
‘A special licence then. I will set off for London immediately.’
‘Immediately,’ Felkirk repeated. ‘Without speaking to the lady you are to marry?’
Stephen sighed. Perhaps, with some other girl, the matter could be easily settled between gentlemen. But his Margot was not the sort to let her future be decided by others. ‘I suppose I shall have to.’
‘You do not wish to speak to her?’ Felkirk was clearly offended.
‘She will not speak to me,’ Stephen clarified.
‘Despite the circumstances, I will not force her to wed you, if she does not wish to,’ Felkirk said.
‘She wishes it,’ Stephen said. ‘She is not yet aware of the fact. But she wants to marry.’
‘Then, how...?’
It was an excellent, if unfinished question. And then a plan occurred to him. ‘You must offer her an urgent reason to wed,’ Stephen said with a smile. ‘For example, if there were threat of a...’ He took a deep breath and forced the word out. ‘A duel...’
‘You wish me to call you out over this?’ Felkirk said with an incredulous snort.
‘If you would be so kind,’ Stephen said, relaxing.
‘I had hoped it would not come to that.’
‘It is not for my sake,’ Stephen reminded him. ‘It is for hers.’
‘But suppose she wishes me to fight you?’
‘If I know Margot,’ Stephen said, surprised by his own confidence, ‘she will not. She would think it foolish.’ His Margot was far too sensible to demand that men fight for her honour.
‘Then what good can it do?’ Felkirk asked.
‘Your wife will not take it so lightly. Suppose I am not the one injured?’
Felkirk gave him a speculative look. ‘Think you can best me, do you?’
Actually, he did. Fencing had been an excellent way to channel the rage he felt at his impediment. Those who had seen him with a blade deemed him a master. But now, he shrugged. ‘For the sake of argument, you must make her think I might. Though it may appear so, Margot will not risk the happiness of her sister to see me suffer.’ If such a strong-willed creature as his Margot had wanted