The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

“Oh—yes, thank you.” Mary sent him a grateful look. “That would be welcome.” Knowing her parents, they’d read her letter immediately they’d reached home and had come on to Mount Street directly. And she could certainly do with a cup of tea; she’d slept through breakfast.

Pemberly bowed. “At once, miss.”

Noting the exchange, Louise briefly met Arthur’s eyes, then at Mary’s wave, they both sat on the sofa and gave her their undivided attention.

Sinking into one of the wing chairs, Mary faced them. “First, I should tell you that Ryder has been . . . well, pursuing me, if you know what I mean, since he and I crossed paths at Henrietta and James’s engagement ball.”

“Pursuing you?” Arthur bristled.

“Hush, dear.” Louise patted his thigh. “You know very well what she means.”

“Exactly.” Mary gave thanks for her mother’s insight—as she so often did. “In just that way—perfectly acceptable, with not so much as a toe over any line. He’s been at all the balls I’ve attended recently, and two nights ago, he appeared at Lady Hopetoun’s musicale and stayed by my side throughout.”

Louise sucked in a breath. “Good heavens! So he’s in earnest, and not backward in declaring his interest.”

Mary bit back words to the effect that Ryder wouldn’t know how to be “backward” about anything, and nodded. “Indeed. But until then I’d thought he was just . . . well, amusing himself because he was bored—or later, because he realized I was interested in his half brother Randolph, and Ryder didn’t approve. Well, he didn’t approve, but he wasn’t just pursuing me to distract me from Randolph, as I’d supposed.”

Arthur nodded. “Had his eye on you himself. Never thought Ryder was slow.”

“Yes, well, when, in the wake of the musicale and his subsequent behavior, I suspected that and taxed him with it, he . . .” She paused, recalling the exchange on Lady Bracewell’s terrace. “He was entirely forthright in declaring that he wanted me as his marchioness.”

Louise smiled. “My dear, that’s delightful news—yet why do I fear I’m about to hear a ‘but’?”

Arthur looked puzzled. “No buts about it—what answer did you give him?”

Mary met Arthur’s eyes, a shade lighter than her own. “I pointed out that he was an unmanageable despot, and that as I prefer to be in charge of my own life, in my opinion he and I would not suit.”

She glanced at her mother, only to see a delighted grin break across Louise’s face.

Louise tried to rein it in but failed. “Oh, darling—if you truly wished to discourage the likes of Ryder, that was definitely not the right answer.”

“Well,” Arthur opined, “I don’t see why she would want to discourage Ryder anyway, but that’s a fair enough observation—so what did he say, heh?”

Looking into Arthur’s eager eyes, then glancing at Louise and seeing her mother’s rather deeper understanding, Mary drew breath and said, “Aside from vowing to succeed in changing my mind, he insisted we would suit—and he suggested he was willing to find ways to accommodate my . . . requirements.”

Even Louise looked taken aback at that, but in a wholly approving way. “So . . . what did you say?”

Mary grimaced. “I didn’t know what to say, and then we had to go inside—we’d been on the terrace.”

“So you left it at that?” Arthur said.

She nodded. “That was how we parted at Lady Bracewell’s ball last night. And then, on my way home in the carriage . . .”

Crisply and concisely, she related the events of the previous night.

Pemberly appeared with a well-stocked tea tray; he set it on the low table, then withdrew. Mary paused to pour and hand around the cups; she sipped, then continued her recitation.

Both Arthur and Louise were thoroughly shocked by Ryder’s so-close brush with death, and entirely supportive of her actions.

“I should certainly hope you did everything you could—rest assured, my dear, no one will censure you for that,” Louise said. “Especially as there’s no one living here but Ryder himself. In the circumstances, even waiting for the doctor was the right thing to do.”

“Yes, well, that’s not quite all.” Mary wondered how to explain and decided she would simply have to take the bull by the horns. “Even after that, as you’ve realized, I stayed. I simply couldn’t bring myself to leave him—not when we didn’t know if he would live or die.”

“Entirely understandable,” Arthur gruffly said.

“Indeed.” Louise nodded. “Besides, quite aside from any finer feelings on your part, if you’d left and he’d died . . . well, you know the sort of questions a man of his station dying alone can raise.”

“And anyway, you knew we would be home this morning and would come and cover for you. That’s why you sent us that note.” Arthur set down his empty cup and eyed Mary shrewdly. “So what’s got you in a flap, heh?”