Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(69)

“You work.”

“Yes, but not regularly, and everyone knows that I don’t have to. And my money is old, if only by New York standards.” Gideon paused for a thoughtful moment before continuing. “Don’t mistake me, McKenna—you’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I’d give my life for you if necessary. But the fact is, socially speaking, you’re not just a step down for Lady Aline. You’re a long tumble from the mountaintop.”

The words hardly did anything to improve McKenna’s mood. However, Gideon could always be counted on to speak to him honestly—and McKenna appreciated that far more than countless well-meant lies. Receiving the observation with a nod, he frowned at the tops of his shiny black shoes.

“I wouldn’t say that your situation is completely hopeless,” Gideon continued. “You’ve got some advantages that would inspire many women, even Lady Aline, to overlook the fact that you’re an oversized mongrel. The ladies seem to find you attractive enough, and the devil knows you don’t lack for money. And you’re damned persuasive when you want to be. Don’t tell me that you can’t manage to convince a thirty-one-year-old spinster from Hampshire to marry you. Especially if she’s already demonstrated her willingness to, er…favor you, as she apparently has.”

McKenna threw him a sharp glance. “Who said anything about marriage?”

The question seemed to catch Gideon off-guard. “You just said you want her to come to NewYork with you.”

“Not as my wife.”

“As a mistress?” Gideon asked incredulously. “You can’t really believe that she would lower herself to accept such an arrangement.”

“I’ll make her accept it—by any means necessary.”

“What about her relationship with Lord Sandridge?”

“I’ll put an end to that.”

Gideon stared at him, seeming confounded. “My God. Have I misunderstood, McKenna, or do you really intend to ruin Lady Aline’s hopes of marriage, blacken her name on two continents, break all ties to her family and friends, and destroy all hope of her ever participating in decent society? And probably foist a bastard child on her in the bargain?”

The thought caused McKenna to smile coldly. “A Marsden giving birth to the bastard of a bastard…yes, that would suit me quite well.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Holy hell—I never would have thought you capable of such malice.”

“You don’t know me, then.”

“Apparently not,” Gideon murmured with a wondering shake of his head. Though it was clear that he would have liked to continue, a particularly bumpy stretch of road caused him to subside back in his seat and clutch his head with a groan.

McKenna returned his gaze to the window, while the remnant of a cool smile remained on his lips.

Marcus’s pleasure at Shaw and McKenna’s departure lasted for precisely one day…until he discovered that Livia had left for London on the following morning. It had been no mean feat to accomplish the necessary packing and make the travel arrangements, all in secret. Aline had been certain that one of the servants might let something slip before Livia was actually off. Thanks to Mrs. Faircloth, however, lips were buttoned everywhere from the scullery to the stables, as no one dared to incur the housekeeper’s wrath by betraying Livia’s plans.

When Livia’s carriage finally rolled away, the sun had just begun to shed its first feeble rays on the drive leading from Stony Cross. Heaving a sigh of relief, Aline stood in the entrance hall, wearing a soft blue morning gown and worn felt slippers. She smiled at Mrs. Faircloth, whose obvious ambivalence about Livia’s actions had not prevented her from doing whatever was necessary to help her.

“Mrs. Faircloth,” Aline said, slipping her hand into the housekeeper’s. Their fingers clung briefly. “How many years have you stood by and watched Marsdens doing things you haven’t approved of?”

The housekeeper smiled at the rhetorical question, and they stood together in silent affection, watching the carriage disappear at the end of the drive.

A voice startled the two of them, and Aline turned to meet her brother’s suspicious gaze. Marcus was dressed in his hunting clothes, his eyes cold and black amid the hard angles of his face. “Would you care to tell me what is going on?” he asked brusquely.

“Certainly, dear.” Aline glanced at Mrs. Faircloth. “Thank you, Mrs. Faircloth—I am certain that you have things to do now.”

“Yes, my lady,” came the immediate and distinctly grateful reply, as the housekeeper had no wish to be present during one of Marcus’s rare but volcanic rages. She sped away, her black skirts fluttering behind her.

“Who was in that carriage?” Marcus demanded.

“Shall we go to the parlor?” Aline suggested. “I’ll ring for some tea, and—”

“Don’t tell me that it was Livia.”

“All right, I won’t.” She paused before adding sheepishly. “But it was. And before you work yourself into a lather about it—”

“By all that’s holy, my sister has not raced off to London to pursue that damned libertine!” Marcus said in murderous fury.

“Livia will be perfectly fine,” Aline said hastily. “She’s going to stay at Marsden Terrace, and she has a chaperone, and—”