“Yes,” Merryn said. She thought of Farne House with its long, empty echoing corridors, devoid of life, of love. “Yes, I do understand that.”
She looked back at the portrait, at Kitty Scott painted on that verdant summer day so many years ago, so soon before tragedy. Kitty had not been much of a helpmeet to her husband, that was for sure.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I did not realize that Garrick loved her.”
The Dowager gave a dry laugh. “Oh, he did not. My brother sold Garrick into marriage to further his political ambitions. He was a blackguard, Claudius. It was a fine dynastic match and Garrick would have done his duty. A pity that Miss Scott’s heart and much else was already given elsewhere.” The Duchess’s voice was very dry.
“Yes,” Merryn said. She felt a dull ache in the region of her own heart.
Garrick would have done his duty …
Merryn did not doubt it. It was the reason that she now found herself betrothed to Garrick, because he was a man who held honor and obligation above all things.
She thought of what she knew of Garrick, the young rakehell who had been sold into marriage by his father for gain, who had been prepared to make the match work out of duty. She felt an enormous sadness. She looked up to see the Dowager Duchess watching her keenly, and with some other emotion in her eyes, something softer.
“I am sorry,” she said again and she was not really sure what she was apologizing for. The Dowager Duchess actually patted her hand.
“It was not your fault, child.” She paused. “But now you bear a huge responsibility. If you cannot love Garrick, you will, I am sure, do your best to honor and respect him.”
If you cannot love him …
Merryn jolted to a stop, staring blindly in front of her. Garrick had taken her body and left her heart shattered, torn with doubt and confusion. She had thought that it was because of guilt and grief and the impossible choices she had to make. But that was not the whole truth. She felt breathless, frozen with shock. How had she not realized that her feelings were involved? Perhaps it was because she had never loved before. Perhaps it was because Garrick was the last man on earth that she had wanted to love. Yet she knew she did. The truth beat through her mind until she wanted to cry out to try to drown the words. It was impossible but it was undeniable. She loved Garrick Farne.
She had known it, in her heart. She had known there in terrifying dark when they had been trapped together and she had turned to him with absolute trust to hold her and protect her and keep her safe. She had known but she had turned the feelings away, reaching instead for her hatred and her grief to build a barrier and defend herself against him. Now, though, she could deny it no longer. And the thought brought a new wave of terror. Garrick had not wanted to wed her. He had been honest enough to admit that he had never wanted to wed again and without love those burdens of duty and honor and obligation that tied him to her could become the heaviest of shackles. She loved him but in return he could give nothing of his heart.
“Lady Merryn?” The Dowager Duchess sounded impatient. “You are woolgathering, my dear.”
“I beg your pardon,” Merryn said, blinking, pushing away the tumble of thoughts and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. “I was thinking …” She realized that she was still staring at Kitty’s pretty painted face and that the Dowager had misunderstood her.
“It was all a long time ago,” the Dowager said, “and nothing to do with you, child that you were. Don’t let it taint you.”
Too late. She had let it taint her life for twelve long years.
Merryn shuddered. She had made so many mistakes, taken so many false steps. What if she had been wrong about Garrick from the start? What if …
What if it was not Garrick who had shot Stephen at all? What if there had been a terrible accident and Kitty had shot her lover and Garrick had taken the blame?
Merryn’s heart started to hammer in long, slow strokes. She thought of the instinct that persistently told her that Garrick was an honorable man. She thought of his life raised in duty and service. She trembled at the enormity of what must have happened.
Suddenly she was possessed with the most monstrous impatience. She had to speak to Garrick, to ask him to tell her the truth. She had to get him alone. Not even she could be so direct as to ask him in front of the assembled crowd at the Royal Academy whether his wife had shot her lover by accident and he had taken the blame.
She looked across at Garrick. He was standing with Alex and Joanna, admiring a William Collins engraving, The Fishing Boys. His head was bent, his expression grave and thoughtful. He turned slightly to answer some remark of Joanna’s and for a second a smile lighted his eyes and Merryn felt a rush of emotion so strong and turbulent that it stole her breath.
He had to be innocent of the heinous crime of which she had accused him. She was sure that she was right. She had to be right. Kitty had shot Stephen and Garrick, out of duty and honor, had protected her.
Something urgent in her stance must have communicated itself to Garrick because he looked up and his gaze tangled with hers. For a moment they stared at one another while the crowd spun past them in a blur of color and noise. Garrick excused himself from Joanna and Alex and came across to her.
“What is it?” he said, raising his brows. His brown eyes were very steady. He took her hand, entwining his fingers in hers.
“I need to speak with you alone,” Merryn whispered.
The Dowager bent a very disapproving look upon her. “Not before the wedding, Lady Merryn. That would be quite improper. You shall be chaperoned at all times.” She looked around, summoning Joanna and Tess with the merest glance.
“It is time to take Lady Merryn home,” she instructed, making Merryn feel like a child. “I need hardly add,” she said, fixing Merryn with a very hard stare, “that the slightest sign of inappropriate behavior will destroy all the good work we have achieved tonight.” Her gimlet eye slid around from Merryn’s flushed face to Garrick’s rueful one. “Is that clear, nephew?”
“As crystal, aunt, I thank you,” Garrick said. He raised Merryn’s hand to his lips and placed an irreproachably proper kiss on the back. “Good night, Lady Merryn,” he said. “I will call on you tomorrow.”
As the coach trundled home Merryn sat between Joanna and Tess, the least proper chaperones in the world, she could not help thinking, and contemplated how on earth she was going to get Garrick alone now that she was watched over as closely as any virginal debutante. That was not her only difficulty. She could foresee that Garrick, who had guarded his secrets so well out of duty and honor, might not necessarily be willing to tell her the truth. She was going to have to make him talk.
Merryn’s heart was suddenly thumping, shivers of equal nervousness and excitement skittering across her skin. She understood now the power she had over Garrick. She understood how much he wanted her. She wondered if she dared to use his desire against him.
She had every intention of being very inappropriate indeed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT WAS THE night before the wedding.
Garrick sat in the library at Farne House. One candle burned on the desk before him beside a half-empty brandy bottle. The faint light reflected in the speckled pier glass above the fireplace and barely penetrated the darkness of the cavernous interior of the room, rank upon rank of shabby mahogany bookcases with uncut books on their shelves, dusty and ancient, a testament not to his father’s love of literature but to his need to impress. Tonight the Farne Dukedom hung like a lead weight about Garrick’s neck.