I have been very unkind in the past, Merryn thought. I must try to do better.
It was odd; she had thought she was happy before, keeping secrets, doing her work for Tom, harboring her hatred of Garrick Farne. Only now, with her past life in tatters and an uncertain future before her as Duchess of Farne, could she see that perhaps what she had thought was happiness had been something different, a partial life bringing interest and challenge through her work and her studies perhaps, but also devoid of love.
Shrugging off the disturbing thought, she grabbed the fur muff that matched the trim on the bonnet.
“Well,” she said, smiling at Joanna and Tess, “let us go and make them talk!”
Despite her bravado, the journey to the Royal Academy in the Strand was accomplished in tense silence. The fact that the exhibition rooms were crowded with people also did nothing to soothe Merryn’s nerves. Alex offered her his arm and Joanna and Tess walked ahead, arms linked, terrifyingly à la mode, challenging anyone, Merryn thought, who dared to look askance at them. Even so there was absolute silence for a moment as they swept into the main exhibition room before a positive barrage of chatter broke out around them. Merryn unconsciously raised her chin in exact parody of her sisters’ nonchalant disdain but she was horribly aware of all the flutter of speculation and gossip, the whispers, the sideways glances. She could imagine all the unpleasant things they were saying, the comments about her fall from grace, her scrambled betrothal to save face, the delicious on dit of her being found naked in a bordello, a piece of scandal that surely could never be surpassed. Her face burned and the tears pricked her eyes but she was not going to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing how she felt. She had always hated to be the center of attention; this was hideous, her worst nightmare, as the fans flicked and the eyes followed her and someone tittered, a laugh full of lewd suggestiveness.
“I wish Garrick had escorted me,” Merryn whispered impulsively to Alex. Although she appreciated her brother-in-law’s support a very great deal she felt bereft without Garrick at her side, an odd but undeniable sensation that she had not expected.
“He is here now,” Alex whispered back, smiling.
Merryn turned slowly, her heart in her mouth. Garrick had come through the main entrance doors and was walking toward them flanked on one side by a man Merryn recognized as Captain Owen Purchase. Purchase seemed to be looking at Tess with the expression of a man struck dumb with admiration.
“Another good man goes down under the onslaught of the Fenner sisters,” Alex was saying ruefully.
Merryn was not paying attention, however, for on Garrick’s arm was a tiny elderly lady, very stiff and upright in rustling black silk, not a white hair out of place and a truly astonishing diamond necklace glittering about her neck. They approached very slowly and by the time they were within a few paces every single person in the room was watching and once again the gossip had died to a murmur and then faded altogether.
“Is that not … Surely it is … I … Oh, dear …” Merryn was suddenly terrified.
“Lady Merryn.” Garrick had stopped before her and executed the most immaculately perfect bow. He raised his voice a little so that everyone nearby could hear him. “It is my very great honor and pleasure,” he said, “to introduce you to my aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Steyne. Aunt Elizabeth, my fiancée, Lady Merryn Fenner.”
The Dowager’s keen black gaze swept Merryn up and down as she made her curtsy and Merryn felt as though she was taking in every aspect of her appearance while leaving the verdict undeclared. The Duchess’s bearing was regal, her expression haughty. Around them the crowd bobbed and fluttered, waiting. The Dowager Duchess of Steyne was a high stickler, a relic from a previous age. She was a friend of the Queen, rarely seen in public these days but still wielding the most enormous social power. It was unthinkable that Garrick Farne would have introduced his father’s sister to a woman who had been his mistress, engaged in some shoddy affaire. All the same, the crowds waited in case the Dowager titillated their taste for gossip with the cut direct.
Merryn held the Dowager Duchess’s unreadable dark gaze until she felt her nerves were at screaming point. Then something that might have passed for a wintry smile flickered across the Dowager’s lips and she said, “It pleases me greatly that the breach between the Fenner and the Farne families is soon to be healed by your marriage to my nephew, Lady Merryn.”
There was a whooshing sound as everyone released their breath at the same moment, turned away and pretended that they had not really been listening at all. Merryn felt herself go limp with relief. She dropped another slight curtsy.
“Thank you, your grace.”
The Dowager Duchess nodded. “Charming,” she said, and turned to acknowledge Joanna.
“Lady Grant,” she said. “I congratulate you on the most beautiful design you created for Lady Drummond’s drawing room. Exquisite taste.” Her gaze moved on to Tess. “And Lady Darent … I congratulate you on once again being a rich widow.” She turned to Alex. “Now, Lord Grant. I have long wanted to make your acquaintance.”
Garrick drew Merryn slightly to one side. His broad shoulders blocked out the inquisitive crowd.
“Well,” Garrick said, raising his brows, “you seem to have made quite an impression. Aunt Elizabeth is not normally so fulsome in her praise.”
“That was praise?” Merryn tried for a light tone. She put a hand on his sleeve. “Thank you for what you did,” she whispered.
Garrick looked down at her, a smile lightening his dark eyes again, and Merryn felt a rush of feeling that left her light-headed and a little dizzy. “It was a risk,” he admitted, “but after I had explained everything to Aunt Elizabeth I trusted her to support us.”
“Everything?” Merryn said faintly.
“Almost everything,” Garrick amended. His gaze met hers, sliding over her, bringing heat in its wake. His smile was intimate, tender, for her alone, and it made her heart ache.
“You look very beautiful tonight, Merryn,” he said.
The Dowager had turned back to them. “Lady Merryn,” she said, her sharp black gaze traveling from her to Garrick and making Merryn feel as though her emotions were naked, “I have a fancy to see the Collins exhibition. You will accompany me.”
Merryn shot Garrick an anguished look. He laughed.
“I will come and find you shortly,” he said, a smile and a promise in his eyes. He leaned closer. “Remember she does not bite,” he whispered.
“Pray do not interrupt us too soon,” the Dowager snapped.
Merryn followed the Dowager’s ramrod-straight figure through the archway into the next, smaller exhibition room. There were fewer people here and those that were present took one look at the Dowager’s fierce expression and melted away, leaving the room empty. The Duchess stopped before a small portrait in the corner. It was a picture of a seated woman and might have been painted some fifteen years before. The subject was young, a girl of about eighteen or nineteen, exquisitely pretty, curvaceous, with dark hair curling softly about her face, limpid black eyes and a little smile just starting to dimple the corners of her mouth. A small dog sat a few feet away, gazing adoringly at the woman who looked as though she took such adoration for granted from animals and people alike.
Merryn caught her breath on a little gasp and the Duchess looked sharply at her.
“You recognize my nephew’s wife, Kitty Scott? This was painted just before their marriage.”
Merryn’s heart was beating fast in her throat. “I … Yes, I do. We … met once or twice,” she stammered. “I was only a child …”
The Duchess nodded. “Kitty was a pretty little chit. I liked her spirit but she had the most vicious temper when she was thwarted.”
Merryn was shocked. She frowned,