Darian knew he fully deserved Mariah’s lack of enjoyment of his company. He had made so many mistakes in their short acquaintance, it seemed. Too many for her to forgive him? Easily, if at all.

  He drew in a deep breath. ‘I needed to speak with you again because it appears that I owe you an apology, Mariah.’

  Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. ‘Indeed?’

  His jaw grated he held it so tightly clenched. ‘Yes.’

  ‘For what, pray? You have made far too many insults, to me and about me, for me to ever be able to pick out a specific one for which you might apologise.’

  Darian bristled. ‘Such as?’

  ‘The disgusting thoughts you so obviously held two evenings ago, with regard to my friendship with Aubrey Maystone, for one.’

  Ah. Yes. Well, there was that, of course...

  He shifted uncomfortably. ‘It was a natural conclusion to have come to, surely, given the circumstances of the ease of the friendship between the two of you?’

  ‘Only if your mind was already in the gutter, as yours so often appears to be where I am concerned!’ Her eyes flashed.

  Darian could not deny that he had thought the worst of Mariah before he had even met her, hence his initial alarm regarding Anthony’s involvement with her. But in his defence Mariah Beecham’s reputation in society was such that surely, at the time, he could have formed no other opinion, in regard to Anthony’s obvious and public attentions to her.

  At the time.

  Darian knew differently now, of course. Which was the very reason he had been so determined to speak with Mariah these past two days. So that he might apologise and, hopefully, discuss the matter with her further.

  ‘It was doubly insulting, when you had already accused me of being involved in an affair with your younger brother,’ she now accused coldly.

  And now, Darian recognised heavily, was the perfect opportunity in which to make that apology and inform her of his mistake.

  He grimaced. ‘I have had the opportunity to speak with Anthony again, since the two of us parted so badly at the Stockton ball.’ He ignored her scathing snort; she knew as well as he did that it had been Anthony’s parting remark—promise—that had caused the two brothers to talk again later that very same night. ‘And it would seem—it would seem—’

  Darian was not accustomed to apologising for his actions, to anyone, and yet in this particular instance he knew he had no choice; he had seriously wronged Mariah and now he must apologise for it.

  He sighed. ‘My brother has now made it more than clear to me that his affections lie elsewhere than yourself.’

  ‘Hah!’ Those turquoise-blue eyes gleamed across at him with triumphant satisfaction. ‘Did I not tell you that you were mistaken in your accusations?’

  ‘It is very unbecoming in a woman to say “I told you so” in that gleeful manner, Mariah.’ Darian scowled, still more than a little irritated with himself for having initially jumped to the wrong conclusion where his brother’s affections were concerned, and even more so for having then acted upon those conclusions by insulting Mariah to such a degree he now owed her an apology.

  He was equally as irritated that by doing so he had now placed himself in the position of being the one to tell Mariah the truth of that situation.

  ‘Not when that woman has been proved right and you have been proved wrong.’ she came back tartly.

  Darian chose his words carefully. ‘I was only half-wrong—’

  ‘How can a person, even the illustrious and arrogant Duke of Wolfingham, be half-wrong?’ she scorned. ‘Admit it, Wolfingham. In this matter you were completely and utterly in the wrong.’

  ‘No, I was not.’ Darian sighed deeply, choosing to ignore the scathing comment in regard to himself; no doubt Mariah would have more, far stronger insults to hurl at him before this conversation was over. ‘I was merely mistaken as to which of the Beecham ladies held Anthony’s affections and consequently, the reason for his polite and public attentions to you.’

  He also had absolutely no idea how Mariah was going to react upon learning that Anthony was paying court to her young daughter, Christina, rather than to herself. Even if he only took into consideration Mariah’s feelings towards him, Anthony’s despicable and insulting older brother, then Darian was sure that it could not be in a favourable way.

  Any more than were his own feelings on the matter. Admittedly, he could not help but feel a certain amount of relief at having learnt that Anthony was not besotted with Mariah Beecham, after all. For the reasons he had previously stated.

  But also on a personal level.

  Unwanted as his own desire for Mariah might be, Darian nevertheless felt a certain relief at knowing he was not harbouring a desire for the same woman for whom he had believed his brother had serious intentions.

  As for the real object of his brother’s affections...

  Admittedly the seventeen-year-old Lady Christina Beecham was more acceptable as a wife for Anthony than her mother could ever have been. But, in Darian’s opinion, only marginally so. Christina Beecham could not escape the fact that she was the daughter of a woman with a notorious and scandalous reputation.

  A woman with a notorious and scandalous reputation who, he realised belatedly, for the moment seemed to have been struck uncharacteristically dumb. At having learnt that his brother, Anthony’s, romantic inclinations were directed towards her young daughter rather than herself?

  Mariah drew a harsh breath into her starved lungs as she realised she had forgotten to do so these past few seconds. ‘Forgive me, but I— Am I to understand that your brother, Lord Anthony Hunter, a gentleman aged almost five and twenty, believes himself to be in love with—that he has serious intentions towards my seventeen-year-old daughter?’

  Wolfingham gave a terse nod of his head. ‘That is exactly what I am saying, yes. I have no reason to believe that your daughter returns Anthony’s feelings.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But perhaps you do?’

  ‘Not as such, no.’

  ‘You seem unduly concerned?’

  ‘She is seventeen years of age, Wolfingham. At the very least Christina will have been flattered by the attentions of an eligible and sophisticated gentleman such as your brother,’ Mariah answered distractedly as she now recalled all those occasions these past few weeks when Lord Anthony Hunter had been included in the group of admirers surrounding herself and Christina.

  As she also remembered the polite attentions the young Lord Anthony had paid to her and the visits he had made to Carlisle House—and that Wolfingham had mistaken for a romantic interest in Mariah—in an effort, no doubt, to ingratiate himself into Mariah’s good opinion.

  And Christina’s youthful heart?

  The more Mariah considered the matter, the more she believed that her daughter could not help but be aware of Anthony Hunter’s romantic interest in her.

  Having spent much of Christina’s early years closeted alone together in the country, Mariah believed she and Christina were closer than most mothers and daughters of the ton. But Christina was fully grown now—or believed that she was!—and Mariah now realised that those childhood confidences had become fewer and fewer during these past few weeks spent together in London.

  Perhaps because Christina harboured a secret passion for her handsome admirer?

  A secret passion that, because of her age, she knew Mariah could not, and would not, approve of?

  Oh, she had been unable to deny Christina her first Season; her daughter was seventeen, after all. But Mariah had not launched Christina into society with any intentions of seeing her young daughter engaged to be married within weeks of her having made that appearance.

  As she herself had been.

  Mariah gave a determined shake of her head. ‘Whether she does or does not, it will not do, Wolfingham.’

  He arched dark brows. ‘You would refuse Anthony’s suit?’

  ‘Her uncle, the earl, is her male guardian, but I will strongly advise against it, yes.’

  ‘Why would you?’ Having been so set against the match himself, Darian now felt contrarily defensive on his brother’s behalf. Anthony might be young, and occasionally irresponsible, but none could doubt his eligibility in the marriage mart. ‘Lady Christina is seventeen years of age—’

  ‘And so far too young to fall in love, or consider taking on the duties of marriage!’ Mariah scorned.

  ‘Surely she is the same age as you must have been when you married?’

  ‘We were not discussing me!’ Those turquoise-coloured eyes now glittered fiercely across the room at him.

  Wolfingham’s gaze became quizzical at her vehemence. ‘I thought an advantageous marriage was the whole purpose of a young lady making her debut in society?’

  ‘That is a typically male assessment of the situation.’

  He arched a dark brow. ‘Then perhaps it is that 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 a card upon a silver tray, which he proceeded to present to Mariah.

  She picked up the card and quickly read it, before tucking it into the pocket of her gown as she spoke to her butler. ‘Please show his Lordship into my private parlour, Fuller,’ she instructed briskly. ‘And then return here and show his Grace out.’ Her gaze was challenging as she turned and waited for the butler to leave before looking across the room at Darian.

  Darian breathed out his frustration, both with what was obviously Mariah’s dismissal of him and a burning curiosity to know the identity of the man the dismissed butler was even now escorting to Mariah’s private parlour.

  Which was utterly ridiculous of him.

  He had lived for two and thirty years without having the slightest interest in Mariah Beecham, or any of her friendships, and for him to now feel disgruntled, even jealous, of this other man was ludicrous on his part.

  And yet Darian could not deny that was exactly how he now felt.

  Just as he knew Mariah was equally as determined that her two male visitors would not meet each other.

  ‘I believe I am perfectly capable of showing myself out, Mariah,’ Darian informed her harshly.

  She blinked. ‘Fuller will return in just a moment.’

  ‘And I am ready to depart now.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Good day to you, Mariah.’ Darian bowed to her stiffly before crossing the room and stepping out into the cavernous hallway, only to come to an abrupt halt as he saw the identity of Mariah’s caller.

  ‘Wolfingham!’ Lord Aubrey Maystone turned at the bottom of the staircase to greet him enthusiastically; eyes alight with pleasure as he strode forward to shake Darian warmly by the hand. ‘How fortuitous this is, for you are just the man I wanted to see.’

  Darian failed to see how that was possible, when Maystone could not have had any idea that Darian would be at Mariah Beecham’s home this morning.

  Or could he?

  As Darian knew only too well, from working so closely with the older man for so many years, Maystone was deceptively wily. A man capable of weaving webs within webs and all without losing sight of a single thread of those intricate weavings.

  Although Darian seriously doubted that the other man’s role as spymaster was his reason for calling upon Mariah this morning.

  Indeed, Mariah’s instruction, for Maystone to be taken to her private parlour, left only one conclusion in regard to Maystone’s presence here this morning: that the older man was indeed the man Mariah was currently intimately involved with and his joviality was now merely a politeness in front of Mariah’s butler.