The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

Toby looked whiter than a fish’s belly.

Susannah held herself stiff as a broom handle.

Finally, she said, barely above a whisper, “If you did know it was all a sham, then why didn’t you say anything when I showed you the license?”

Rohan looked her straight in the eye. “At first I couldn’t credit it even though the truth was staring me right in the face. I had always believed George to be so serious, so studious, such a scholar, what with his love for maps. He told me it was his dream to go on expeditions and become a famous cartographer. I always believed him good-hearted, gentle, and kindness itself. But then he did this to you. It was reprehensible. I couldn’t believe it, yet he had done it.

“I couldn’t bring myself to turn your life into a shambles before I even knew you or Marianne. Regardless of what George had done, Marianne was still my niece, of my blood. I decided to buy myself some time. That’s why I brought you all here. That’s why I went along with the lie until tonight.”

“You also made up the inheritance, didn’t you?”

“He didn’t have to, Susannah,” Toby said quietly. “Since you weren’t ever married to George, if there was an inheritance it wouldn’t come to you.”

“I made it up.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d blighted her to the dirt. She had nothing now, not even the illusion of a choice. She had just been shoved into a very deep well.

“I see,” Susannah said slowly. She was staring into the fireplace, at the orange embers that had nearly burned themselves out. “And now you feel so guilty about what George did that you are willing to offer yourself as a sacrifice? You are willing to marry me and claim Marianne as your own child?”

He looked a bit astonished at himself, but his voice was steady as a rock. “Yes, that’s about the size of it.”

“But, sir, Susannah’s right. We’re strangers to you. If my father hadn’t tried to squeeze money out of you, you would have never even known about us.”

“But he did and thus, now I do know you. Listen to me, Susannah, surely it isn’t such a rotten plan? I would be a tolerant husband. I would be a good father to Marianne. I will even try to bear with Toby, though he gives me hives and sends me to the brandy bottle with all his wild antics.”

“Sir, I’ve never done any wild antics!”

“I know and that’s the point, isn’t it? You would be my brother-in-law and that’s nice, since I’m fond of you. I am fond of all of you. Stay here. Stay with me. Become my family. I will protect you and in doing so, I will also protect George’s memory. I don’t want people to know what he did to you. I don’t want my mother to know. You see, no matter the wicked indulgences of my parents, there was always a solid core of honor, of fair play. They indulged themselves endlessly, but they would have never hurt an innocent person, never. There is only my mother now, but I don’t want her hurt. You must realize that I am very concerned with what I will find out in Oxford.

I imagine that you are concerned as well.”

Susannah rose and shook out her skirts—Charlotte’s skirts. Such a beautiful gown, and now it was wrinkled. She said very clearly, very precisely, “None of this makes sense. You are a womanizer, a man who changes mistresses as often as he changes his cravats, indeed, a man who loves women. Toby, if you wouldn’t mind—please cover your ears.”

“Oh, Susannah, don’t be silly. Everyone speaks with the highest regard of his lordship’s prowess and vigor. Everyone is proud of him.”

“That is excessively odd, but no matter for the moment. Rohan, I must be honest about this. I am not a milksop, nor will I ever be like Charlotte.”

“You make excellent points there.” He rubbed his knuckles over his chin. “However, I quite understand what you are not. In the coming years, perhaps I will learn what it is you are, exactly.”

Coming years. It was enough. Indeed, it was too much. She couldn’t bear any more of it. She’d believed herself married, but she wasn’t. She was naught but a woman with an illegitimate child because she had been a credulous fool, because she had trusted a young man who had seemed so very perfect for her—quiet, gentle, trustworthy. Ah, what a jest on her. What had George been? Why had he done it?

It didn’t matter. None of this was real. What it was, she didn’t know. She said, “Toby, we will leave Mountvale House tomorrow. We will return to Mulberry House.”

“You don’t have any money, Susannah,” Rohan said, his voice very gentle, yet implacable. “You won’t get far. You can’t very well walk back to Mulberry House, not with Marianne.”

She couldn’t find any more words. Just looking at Rohan would always tell her how very stupid she had been. No, she couldn’t bear any more. She turned on her heel and walked out of the library.

“Toby, stay here, I’ll be back. Then you and I can discuss what can be done.”

“I don’t think Susannah feels very good about things right now, Rohan.”

“I wouldn’t either, if I’d just found out what she has.” Jesus, it was crippling, this knowledge he’d had to dish out to her.

He would leave her be tonight, but tomorrow—he would not allow her to leave Mountvale House.

She was met on the upper landing by Lottie, looking to be at the end of her tether, holding a yelling Marianne.

“I gave her just two apple tarts, Mrs. Carrington—er, my lady. Just two, like you told me. But her stomach hurts now and I don’t know what to do.”

From the absurd to the mundane. Susannah took her daughter, soothing her as best she could. “These things happen, Lottie. It’s not your fault. I will see if Mrs. Beete has something to make her feel better.”