It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(86)

“No,” Lady Olivia reassured her gently. “As always, my brother was closemouthed about the details. He is an annoyingly private man who adores tormenting inquisitive people like myself. Go on.”

“The truth is that I want to accept him,” Lillian said frankly. “But I do have a few reservations.”

“Of course you do,” Lady Olivia said promptly. “Marcus is an overwhelming man. He does everything well, and he makes certain that everyone is aware of it. One can’t approach the simplest of endeavors, such as brushing your teeth, without having him advise whether you should begin with the molars or incisors.”

“Yes.”

“A dreadfully trying man,” Lady Olivia continued, “who insists on seeing things in absolutes—right or wrong, good or bad. He is opinionated and overbearing, not to mention incapable of admitting that he is ever wrong.”

It was clear that Lady Olivia would have gone on at length about Marcus’s flaws, but Lillian experienced a sudden rush of defensiveness. After all, it wasn’t quite fair to paint such a harsh portrait of him. “All that may be true,” she said, “but one has to give Lord Westcliff credit for being honest. He always keeps his word. And even when he is overbearing, he is only trying to do what he thinks is best for other people.”

“I suppose…” Lady Olivia said dubiously, and that encouraged Lillian to expound on the subject.

“Moreover, a woman who married Lord Westcliff would never have to fear him straying. He would be faithful to her. He would make her feel safe, because he would always take care of her and never lose his head in an emergency.”

“But he is rigid,” Lady Olivia insisted.

“Not really—”

“And cold-natured,” Lady Olivia said with a regretful shake of her head.

“Oh no,” Lillian argued, “not in the least. He is the most—” She stopped abruptly, turning scarlet as she saw Lady Olivia’s satisfied smile. She had just been neatly cornered.

“Miss Bowman,” Lady Olivia murmured, “you sound like a woman in love. And I fervently hope that you are. Because it has taken so long for Marcus to find you…and it would break my heart for his sake, if his love went unrequited.”

Lillian flinched at the sudden violent thump of her heart. “He doesn’t love me,” she said unevenly. “At least he hasn’t said anything to that effect.”

“I’m not surprised. My brother tends to express his feelings with actions rather than words. You’ll have to be patient with him.”

“So I’m discovering,” Lillian replied darkly, and the other woman laughed.

“I’ve never known him quite as well as my older sister, Aline, does. They are much closer in age, and she was his main confidante until she left for America with her husband. It was Aline who explained quite a lot to me about Marcus whenever I was ready to murder him.”

Lillian was very still as she listened attentively to the low, sweetly mellow voice. She had not realized until this very moment how much she wanted to understand Marcus. Never before had she comprehended why lovers were preoccupied with collecting keepsakes; letters, locks of hair, a lost glove, a ring. But now she knew how it felt to be obsessed by someone. She was filled with the compulsive desire to know the smallest details about a man who seemed so utterly straightforward and yet was practically unknowable.

Lady Olivia draped an arm across the camelback of the settee, and stared thoughtfully at the plant-laden scaffolding beside them. “There are things that Marcus will never reveal to anyone about his past, as he considers it unmanly to complain, and he would rather die by slow inches than be the object of sympathy. And if he ever finds out that I’ve told you anything, he’ll have my head.”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Lillian assured her.

Lady Olivia gave her a quick smile, then studied the tip of her own shoe as it peeped from the ruffled hem of her skirts. “You’ll fit in well with the Marsdens, then. We’re nothing if not a secretive lot. And none of us likes to dwell on the past. Marcus, Aline, and I all suffered in different ways from the actions of my parents, neither of whom, in my opinion, was ever fit to have children. My mother has never been interested in anyone other than herself, or anything beyond what might affect her directly. And my father never gave a damn about either of his daughters.”

“I’m sorry,” Lillian said sincerely.

“No, his indifference was a blessing, and we knew it. It was far worse for Marcus, who was the victim of my father’s insane notions of how to raise the Westcliff heir.” Although Lady Olivia’s voice was quiet and even, Lillian felt a chill run through her, and she rubbed her hands over her sleeves to soothe the prickling flesh of her arms. “My father tolerated nothing less than perfection in his son. He set ridiculously high standards in every aspect of Marcus’s life, and punished him terribly if ever he failed to meet them. Marcus learned to endure a thrashing without shedding a tear or displaying one hint of rebellion, for if he did, the punishment was doubled. And Father was merciless when he discovered any weakness. I once asked Aline why Marcus has never been very fond of dogs…she told me that when he was a child, he was afraid of a pair of wolfhounds that Father kept as pets. The dogs sensed his fear, and hence were aggressive with him, barking and snarling whenever they saw him. When Father discovered how much Marcus feared them, he locked him alone in a room with them, to force him to confront what he was most afraid of. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for a five-year-old boy to be shut away with those beasts for hours.” She smiled bitterly. “Trust my father to give literal meaning to the phrase ‘thrown to the dogs.’ At the moment he should have protected his son, he chose instead to put him through hell.”