you consider that having a daughter married to be ageing to yourself?’
‘Do not be any more ridiculous than you have already been, Wolfingham!’ Mariah stood up agitatedly. ‘My reservations have absolutely nothing to do with myself and everything to do with Christina. She is far too young to know her own mind in such matters.’
‘She seemed a prepossessing young lady when I danced with her the other evening.’
‘So she is.’ Mariah nodded her impatience. ‘And no doubt I will one day, in the distant future, be happy to dance at her wedding. But not now, when Christina has only been out for a matter of weeks, rather than years. Nor do I have any reason to believe that you would approve of an alliance between your brother and my daughter?’ She looked up at him challengingly.
No, of course Darian did not approve of it and he had voiced his reservations regarding the match to his brother when the two of them had spoken so frankly together two evenings ago. A disapproval that Darian knew had once again fallen on deaf ears; Anthony was bound and determined in his pursuit of Christina Beecham.
A determination that was obviously to now be thwarted by that young lady’s mother.
Again, Darian found himself playing devil’s advocate. ‘I still fail to see, apart from your daughter’s youth, what your own objections can be to the match. Anthony will come into his own fortune on the occasion of his twenty-fifth birthday in just a few months’ time. He is the grandson, the son and now the brother of a duke—’
‘I am fully aware of who Lord Anthony is and of his family connections,’ Mariah assured him dismissively.
‘And the fact that the severe and sober Duke of Wolfingham is his brother is no doubt part of the reason for your own objections to the match?’ Darian surmised drily.
‘Do not even pretend to be insulted, Wolfingham, when you know full well your feelings on this matter entirely match my own.’ Mariah sighed her impatience.
‘I repeat, why are they?’
Mariah drew in a deep and controlling breath, knowing she was overreacting to this situation, allowing her own unhappy marriage at the age of seventeen, the same age as her daughter was now, to colour her judgement. And in front of the astute and intelligent Darian Hunter, of all people. ‘Of course I wish for Christina’s future happiness. Just not yet. She is so young and has not yet had chance to enjoy even her first Season.’
‘Is it only because he is my younger brother?’ he guessed shrewdly.
Mariah gave a determined shake of her head. ‘I also have no doubt that, if Christina were ever to become your brother’s wife, you would make her life, as your sister-in-law, nothing but a misery.’
He stiffened. ‘You are insulting, madam, to believe I would ever treat any woman so shabbily.’
‘You would treat any daughter of mine more than shabbily,’ she insisted. ‘And I do not want that for Christina. She deserves so much more than that.’ So much more than Mariah had suffered herself as Martin’s wife, unloved by her husband and disapproved of and ignored by his family for her more humble beginnings. ‘No.’ She shuddered at the thought of Christina suffering the same fate. ‘If Lord Anthony should ask, I will not ever give my blessing to such a match.’
Darian frowned darkly. ‘And what of your daughter’s feelings on the matter? Have you considered that perhaps she might return Anthony’s affections? If not now, then at some future date?’
‘It is perhaps a possibility that she may one day believe she returns those feelings,’ Mariah allowed grudgingly. ‘But at seventeen she is too young to know her own heart and mind.’
‘As you yourself were at the same age?’
She stiffened. ‘Again, we were not talking about me.’
‘Then perhaps we should be.’
‘No, we will not,’ Mariah informed Wolfingham coldly. ‘Not now, nor at any time in the future.’
Darian studied Mariah intently, knowing by the stubborn set of her mouth, and those flashing turquoise eyes, that she would not be moved on the subject of her own marriage.
And so adding to the mystery that Mariah Beecham had become to him.
A mystery that had already occupied far too much of his time and thoughts these past ten days.
He gave a grimace. ‘Have you considered how your husband might have felt regarding an alliance between his daughter and the Hunter family?’
Her chin rose. ‘I had no interest in my husband’s opinions whilst he was alive and I certainly have none now that he is dead.’
Because, as he had begun to suspect, like so many marriages of the ton, the Beecham marriage had been one of convenience rather than a love match? A question of marrying wealth to a title? The wealth of Mariah’s father matched to Beecham’s title as the Earl of Carlisle?
Darian’s own parents had married under similar circumstances, but they had been two of the lucky ones, in that they had come to feel a deep love and respect for each other, ensuring that their two sons had grown up in a family filled with that same love and respect.
The fact that Mariah had only been seventeen to Beecham’s two and forty when their marriage took place, and the rumours of her numerous affairs since, would seem to imply she might not have been so fortunate.
‘That is a very enlightening comment,’ he said slowly.
‘Is it?’ Mariah returned scathingly. ‘I doubt I am the first woman to admit to having felt a lack of love for the man who was her husband.’
‘Your words implied a lack of respect, too.’
Those eyes flashed again. ‘Respect has to be earned. It is not just given.’
‘And Carlisle did not earn yours?’
‘The feeling was mutual, I assure you.’
‘And yet the two of you had a daughter together.’
A cold shiver ran down the length of Mariah’s spine as she remembered the night of Christina’s conception. A painful and frightening experience for Mariah and a triumphant one for Martin.
Her gaze now avoided Wolfingham’s probing green one. ‘I believe it is time you left.’
‘Mariah—’
‘Now, Wolfingham!’ Before Mariah broke down completely. Something she dared not do, in front of the one man who had already somehow managed to get through the barrier Mariah had long ago placed about both her emotions and the memories of the past. For fear they might destroy her utterly.
Darian had no idea what would have happened next. Whether he would have acceded to Mariah’s request for him to leave, or whether he would have followed his own instincts and instead taken Mariah in his arms and comforted her. This talk of her marriage to Carlisle seemed to have shaken her cool self-confidence in a way nothing else had.
Instead, their privacy was interrupted as the butler entered the room bearing
