Free Lucien Tregellas by Margaret McPhee

‘Papa, please, I cannot do this.’
    â€˜Madeline,’ he said gently, and it seemed as if his heart were breaking. ‘If you really cannot bear to marry Lord Farquharson, then I am obliged to take other steps. He has impugned your honour. As your father, I cannot just sit back and let that happen. If word were to get out of your meeting with Farquharson in Lady Gilmour’s bedchamber, then your reputation would be utterly tarnished, and even Angelina would not remain unharmed.’ His eyes shuttered in anguish, and prised open again. ‘Either he marries you or I must call him out. The guilt is Farquharson’s, not yours, never doubt that, my dear, but we both know that society will not view it that way, and I cannot let you suffer their persecution should the matter come to light.’ His fingers fluttered against her hair, drawing her face up to look at him. ‘I will not force you to this marriage, Madeline. The choice is yours to make. If you truly cannot bear to have Farquharson as your husband, then so be it.’
    Mrs Langley gripped at her husband’s arm, pulling it away from Madeline. ‘Oh, Mr Langley, you cannot seriously mean to challenge his lordship?’ Her voice rose in a panic. ‘Duelling is illegal…and dangerous. You might be killed!’ She clung to him, tears springing to her eyes. ‘And what good would it do? Madeline’s reputation will be ruined if she does not marry him, regardless of the outcome of any duel. I beg of you, Mr Langley, do not give her the choice. Madeline must wed him and be done with it.’
    â€˜It is a matter of honour, Mrs Langley, and I shall not force her to wed against her will,’ said Mr Langley.
    Madeline’s teeth clung to her lower lip. Her throat constricted ready to choke her. She would not cry. She would not.
    â€˜You may have some little time to think on your decision, but if you decide against the marriage, Madeline, speed might yet prevent the sending of the invitations.’
    Mrs Langley was tugging at her husband’s hand. ‘No, Arthur, no, please!’
    For Madeline there was, of course, no decision to be made. Marry Lord Farquharson, or have her father risk his life. The choice was not a difficult one, and in its making, a cold calm settled upon her. Tears and fear and anger would come later. For now, Madeline moved like an automaton.
    Mr Langley turned to go.
    â€˜Wait, Papa…’ Madeline stayed him with a hand ‘…I’ve made my choice.’
    Her father’s kindly brown eyes looked down into hers.
    â€˜I will marry Lord Farquharson.’
    Mrs Langley’s face uncrinkled.
    â€˜Are you certain, my dear?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yes.’ Such a little word to tilt the axis of the world.
    An uncertain smile blossomed on Mrs Langley’s face. ‘It will not be so bad, Madeline. You’ll see. His lordship will make up for his mistakes, I’m sure he will.’ She patted at her daughter’s arm. ‘And he is a baron.’
    Madeline barely felt her touch. Yes, Lord Farquharson would more than make up for his mistakes, just not in the way her mother thought. There had been nothing of care or affection in his eyes. Whatever he meant to do, Madeline knew that it would not be with her welfare or her wishes in mind. Neither would matter once she was his wife. He could do what he pleased with her then, and no one would mind in the slightest. Farquharson’s wife. The ball of nausea within her stomach started to grow. ‘Please excuse me, Mama, Papa. I feel suddenly rather…tired.’
    â€˜Of course, my dearest,’ said Mrs Langley.
    Her father looked drained, wrung out. ‘It’s for the best,’ he said.
    Madeline tried to smile, tried to give him some small measure of false assurance, but her lips would do nothing but waver. ‘Yes,’ she said again, and slipped quietly from the room.
    Â 
    â€˜Hell!’