Rand bit back a retort. The marquess had claimed he cared for her as a daughter. For Margery’s sake, Rand hoped the man believed a daughter should be better treated than a son.
She rose, her black skirts trembling as she slowly approached the doorway. “What is your plan, Uncle William?”
The marquess straightened. “On your twenty-first birthday, one week hence, you will wed my son.”
“Oh, no—”
“Oh, yes. Should the two of you fail to marry, your lover will hang. Should the wedding take place, I shall see that he is granted a commutation of sentence and transported to the colonies instead.” He paused, drawing breath. “May God forgive me my weakness,” he said to no one in particular, then turned and strode from the chamber.
As one, the three of them released their breaths.
“This is unconscionable,” Rand gritted out.
Margery’s face was even paler than usual. A pure, bloodless white. “We must marry,” she whispered, casting an apologetic glance to Lily. She focused back on Rand. “We must marry to save Bennett’s life.”
FORTY-EIGHT
MARGERY TOOK a few faltering steps toward Rand, then dropped to her knees at his feet. “We must marry.” She clutched his ankles. “We must.”
A dazed expression on his face, Rand reached for her shoulders and raised her to stand. “There must be another way.”
Unable to believe this turn of events, Lily watched as Margery searched Rand’s eyes, her own green eyes frantic. She gripped his hands in both of hers. “But will you? To save his life? Tell me you will. From my earliest memories, I looked up to you, Rand. You were my big brother who could do no wrong. You won’t let me down, will you? Tell me you’ll marry me to save Bennett’s life.”
Though a muscle in his jaw twitched, he nodded. “I won’t doom another man to die. But there must be another way.”
Tears streaming down her face, Margery hugged him, hard. Then, without another word, she ran from the room.
Lily released a deep, shuddering breath. “Rand—”
“I’ve never seen her this selfish.” His gaze swung from the empty doorway to Lily. “She didn’t for a moment consider how I’d feel about this marriage. Or you.”
“I’d feel the same way if your life were threatened. I’d ask anything of anyone.”
After a moment of thought, he nodded. “I’d do the same for you. But there must be another way for Margery and Bennett. I won’t lose you.”
She walked closer. “A man’s life is at stake.”
“There must be another way.”
It was becoming a litany, one Lily wished she could believe. “Does your father truly wield such power?”
“I’m afraid so.” Rand took her elbow and began walking her toward her chamber. “You must realize that outside of London there is little if any provision for due process of the law. If the Marquess of Hawkridge wishes Bennett dead, he can make it happen. Is it not the same for the little area of the world where your father is the lord?”
Reluctantly she nodded. “I suppose it is. But I’ve never seen him wish anyone dead. Life at Trentingham is generally peaceful.” A peace she hadn’t expected to miss, a peace she’d even equated with boredom at times.
Oh, to live again that blessed, boring peace.
“Life at Hawkridge has never been peaceful,” Rand said ruefully, stopping in front of the Queen’s Bedchamber. “But I hope to take you away from here to where we can live in peace. Soon.”
He opened the door. Inside, a fire was already lit and several candles burned merrily, but the room still seemed an empty void.
“Oh, Rand.” She turned into his arms.
He held her tight for a long, long time before he extricated himself. “Sleep well,” he said softly, then turned and walked away.
Unable to watch him leave, she stepped into the chamber and shut the door behind her. Then leaned back against it, fighting the nausea that threatened when she thought of her happiness slipping away.
Just that morning, she’d stood with Rand by the river, laughing, hugging him, so very glad to learn that Margery was in love with another man. Tonight, he’d said, after all this is settled, I’ll come to you.
In that moment, it had seemed that life would be perfect after all. But now, instead of coming to her, he had walked away.
To go to Margery instead? She thought not. She was far past any insecurities where Rand’s love was concerned.
But he was an honorable man, and she knew, without a doubt, that if it meant saving Bennett’s life, he’d marry Margery instead of her.
FORTY-NINE
IN HIS SMALL chamber, Rand sat on the bed to tug off his boots. There must be another way, he repeated to himself over and over as he pulled off his stockings and crushed them into balls that he threw across the room with an anger he hadn’t felt since he’d last lived in this damned house. He shrugged out of his surcoat and yanked at the cravat at his throat, throwing those across the room, too. He wished he had something to break, but his chamber had been stripped of all but the furniture some time in the fourteen years between when he’d left for Oxford and now.
There had to be another way.
He was loosening the laces on his shirt when a soft knock came at the door. Thinking it must be Lily, his heart gave a little hitch. He wanted her. Oh, how he wanted her.
And he couldn’t have her, not now. But neither could he turn her away. Fighting with himself, he hurried to open the door.
Margery stood there instead.
She was still wearing the dull black gown, the clothes the marquess had sent her to London to obtain to show the proper respect for his dead son. Her eyes red-rimmed, she twisted her fingers together. “There’s something else I need to
