Adoration Page 5

  When Morgan looked up, he found that Sissy had vanished.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you back to your carriage. I think it is time for you to go home,’ he said to the woman beside him. When Felicity opened her mouth to object, Morgan began to walk back to the carriage, but his thoughts remained on Sissy.

  ‘Here, take this, dear,’ Mrs Ambleton, the haberdashery shop owner’s wife offered Sissy when she stumbled past the shop.

  Sissy looked at the cloak Mrs Ambleton held out to her.

  Mrs Ambleton smiled. ‘It will be a bit warmer than that jacket.’

  Sissy accepted it off her with a watery smile of thanks. Draping it over her shoulders, she shivered and sniffed miserably and tried to decide what to do.

  ‘Someone needs to do something about that insufferable oaf. He just sat there grinning like it was funny. Did you see that? It makes you wonder what the world is coming to,’ Mrs Ambleton muttered in disgust.

  Mr Ambleton scowled and shook his head at Morgan, who was driving past on his Barouche, before ushering both his wife and Sissy into the shop.

  ‘You come on into the back and get yourself warm. You cannot go out in the rain. It’s getting worse. Come and have a cup of tea while you wait for it to pass,’ Mrs Ambleton urged.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Sissy whispered shakily. She carefully avoided the curious looks of the shop’s customers as she hovered just inside the door. ‘I need to get home.’

  ‘They are leaving now. Lord Campton didn’t look all that happy,’ Mr Ambleton murmured as he peered out of the window to watch the carriages turn around at the end of the street and retrace their route. ‘It looks like they are going back to his estate.’

  ‘So they should. They should all be ashamed of themselves for what they have just done,’ Mrs Ambleton growled. ‘Coming into the village to show off and mock the villagers. It’s a damned disgrace. His father wouldn’t have allowed him to do such a thing, I can tell you. Why, he would be rolling in his grave if he witnessed this morning’s antics,’ Mrs Ambleton continued.

  ‘It just goes to show you that money doesn’t come with good breeding. People with wealth are often the most spiteful and arrogant of everyone,’ one of the customer’s declared.

  While listening to a chorus of agreements from the shop’s customers, Sissy watched Morgan turn out of the road. She had just witnessed the gentlemanly way Morgan had helped the beautiful young woman into the carriage before carefully closing the door.

  But his friend wasn’t that careful driving past me.

  Sighing miserably, Sissy felt another wave of tears threaten to overwhelm her. She knew that the longer she stood in the shop the more likely it was that she would embarrass herself. Her tears couldn’t be contained for much longer. With a shaky smile of thanks, she removed the cloak and hurried out of the shop before either Mr or Mrs Ambleton could delay her.

  Aware of the startled looks of the villagers on the main street, Sissy dodged down a side alley and took a different route home. While she could avoid the curious gazes of the villagers there was little that she could do about avoiding the stark warning she had received this morning.

  ‘My world and Morgan’s don’t belong together.’ Sissy had known that all along, but days like today made her feel less than worthy of, well, anything. She felt useless, dowdy, second rate. All sorts of words tumbled through her thoughts, each one as condemnatory as the last.

  ‘My dear, what on earth is wrong?’ Norma cried when Sissy stumbled through the door looking as bedraggled as she was devastated.

  Sissy opened her mouth to tell her but words just couldn’t be spoken. They hovered in her throat and threatened to choke the life out of her. When she realised that her aunt had guests, Sissy glared at each of the startled women, dropped her basket, and ran up the stairs without uttering a word to any of them.

  In her bed chamber she slammed the door closed and locked it before resting her shoulders against the cold, hard wood. Her wet slippers slid out from beneath her and she slowly lowered to the floor. Tucking her legs up, Sissy rested her chin on her knees and stared blankly at the room before her.

  ‘It hurts too much,’ she whispered miserably before collapsing into a wealth of misery that left her crying for hours and her aunt seriously concerned about her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Morgan hauled his Barouche to a stop in front of the house. Despite being told to stay away, Arthur had parked his curricle directly outside Morgan’s house. He was busy showing off to the group of men, guests from last night, who had gathered on the doorstep to wait for their respective carriages to be brought around from the stable block. Each man was as wealthy as the next. Equally titled, all with good connections.

  They are all arrogant, and dismissive of women like Sissy, and consequently no friends of mine.

  The more Morgan studied each guest the more he realised that he truly didn’t give a damn if he never set eyes on any of them again. They had once been considered people he would have been happy to share a drink with if they happened to be at White’s at the same time, even though they weren’t acquaintances he would actively go and find if he got bored. As a result, he never really spoke to them outside of the social functions they frequented together.

  ‘There is no reason why I should allow their opinions to sway my decisions,’ Morgan growled.

  ‘Morgan?’

  Morgan jerked because he hadn’t even realised that Felicity was standing beside him. When he saw the hope still lingering in his eyes, he made sure that his scowl deepened.

  ‘Arthur is an oaf,’ she announced with a rather calculating smile.

  ‘He is indeed,’ Morgan replied without bothering to return her smile. ‘I hope you enjoyed your time here. Have a safe journey home.’

  Felicity blinked at the rather abrupt dismissal and stared after him in dismay as he stalked into the house without a backward look.

  ‘Are you not going to see our guests off?’ Mariette asked as he swept past her and marched into the entrance hall.

  ‘No. That’s your job. They are your guests, Mariette. Once they have gone, I want this house returned to how you found it and then I want to be left in peace. If you want to hold any social functions from now on you and mother must use the Dowager House.’

  ‘My dear, what is wrong?’ his mother cried before he could disappear into his study with Ralph right behind him.

  Morgan would have answered his mother quite calmly had Arthur not chosen that moment to saunter arrogantly through the open front door and look around the entrance hall as if to see if it met his exacting standards. Morgan threw the man a dark glare and rounded on his mother. ‘I shall tell you what is wrong, shall I? Your guests for want of a better word are arrogant, ignorant, and rude. Their behaviour is shameful. Do you know what has just happened?’ Morgan told them. ‘Without a care in the world that oaf just doused Sissy from head to toe with a muddy puddle. Do you know something? If she ends up ill it is because of Arthur. He didn’t even deign to get down from his carriage to apologise for what he had done to her. I am not going to accommodate such uncouth behaviour under my roof again.’ Morgan planted himself firmly in Arthur’s path when he tried to edge closer to the study. ‘Move any further and I will throw you out on your ear.’

  ‘Morgan,’ Mariette protested.

  Morgan rounded on her. ‘I don’t care whom you choose to spend time with Mariette, but don’t you dare bring such disrespectful creatures into my home again, do you hear me? Keep that, and his friends away from here.’

  ‘But they are your friends, Morgan,’ Mariette wailed. ‘I only invited them because they are your acquaintances.’

  ‘Well in that you are wrong. Just because they are of a similar age to me does not mean that I wish to spend any time with them. We are worlds apart and after what I have seen this morning, I can only be glad of it.’ Morgan then rounded on his mother. ‘And you, mother. Might I ask why you have taken it upon yourself to announce to the matchmaking mother
s you invited into my house that I am looking for a wife? It is strange, is it not, that I cannot ever remember mentioning such a thing to you? Further, I have never handed over authority to you to make such announcements or decisions on my behalf. Moreover, I have never introduced you to the woman I love. I have never made any declaration of intent toward anybody of our mutual acquaintance that I have any wish to present the woman I love to any social gathering just yet. When I do, believe me that it shall be my decision and mine only. I do not need your involvement, approval, or permission to do so. Now, you have all entertained yourselves. The party is over. Go home. Arthur, get out of this house and don’t come back.’

  Morgan slammed into this study and headed straight over to the brandy decanter. While he poured himself a drink, Morgan didn’t drink it. He stared broodingly at it. His thoughts remained locked on Sissy. The urge to call upon her to see for himself if she was alright was strong but he doubted she would let him in.

  She must hate me right now.

  Not that he could blame her.

  When he heard the door open, Morgan didn’t bother to look at who it was. He suspected it was Ralph. It came as a surprise to find that it was his mother instead.

  ‘My dear, what’s wrong?’

  Morgan told her. ‘It is a bloody abysmal way for someone to treat her.’ He glared at his mother, daring her to dismiss it.

  Alicia stared at him and carefully positioned herself on the edge of the chair closest to the door. She rarely saw Morgan this angry. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Besides soaked to the skin, you mean?’ Morgan drawled.

  ‘Other than that.’

  ‘Angry. As you would be if it happened to you,’ Morgan retorted.

  ‘You have always had a soft spot for her,’ Alicia murmured into the silence. ‘Don’t deny it.’

  ‘I don’t intend to.’

  ‘She is quite content looking after her aunt,’ Alicia added.

  Morgan whirled on her. ‘Oh, don’t you dare have the poor grace to sit there and try to lecture me on people knowing their places. She is not responsible for what happened to her. She lost the roof over her head and the life she was born into because of draconian rules about inheritance that are far beyond her control. The same could have happened to you had father not already built the Dowager’s house for his mother, so don’t you dare sneer down at her because you have been more fortunate.’

  His mother stared at him with somewhat horrified eyes. Duly chastised, she lapsed into thoughtful silence.

  ‘Do you see, mother?’ Morgan hissed. ‘It is exactly that same scornful attitude that sickens me. You sit here with all of the wealth and luxury anybody could ever be graced with and what do you do with it? You stare at Sissy like she is wanting. You criticise her and look down at her as if she is lacking in some way. Well, do you know what? She has better manners than a dozen of those arrogant and very spiteful young women on my doorstep. Sissy would never scorn people just because they don’t wear the height of fashion or move about in fashionable circles. She wouldn’t be that crass and shallow.’

  His mother looked incensed. ‘Are you calling me shallow?’

  ‘You are dressed from head to foot in the finest fashion money can buy. You are sitting in my huge mansion, ready to go back to your equally huge house none of which you have to pay for. The guests on the doorstep are the last of a guest list of a ball which has matched anything Royalty could host. If that isn’t enough for you, you have nothing to do with your day than take tea and order servants about. I doubt you have ever been stressed in your life. I doubt you have ever had to wonder where the next meal is coming from, or whether you are able to darn the hole in your favourite dress, which has already been repaired dozens of times. Your life of entitlement has made you selfish and scornful of others who aren’t so well blessed, but why? Why should you feel superior? Why should you feel more worthy? Do you know something, mother? I cannot think of anything worse than being saddled to any of those young women you encouraged into my house last night. I would rather die a slow death in Hell than allow myself to spend the rest of my life encumbered with such callow, spiteful, laziness. I would rather spend my days alone than have to house any of the calculating, greedy, avaricious women you think are eligible to be my wife. I will choose who I wish to marry, not you. I will choose when I wish to marry, not you. And I shall choose where I wish to live, not you. What I will say to you is that if you ever attempt to interfere in my marriage, my courtship of any woman I choose, or criticise anything about the woman I want to take to wife, I shall have you out of the Dowager House faster than you can blink. Moreover, if you and your cohorts, sorry friends, consider yourselves high enough to criticise my future bride in any way, I shall have no hesitation in selling this estate and everything in it and finding a life for myself elsewhere. I shall, of course, find a nice, modest house for you to live in, with Mariette of course – until she marries at least.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Alicia hissed. ‘How dare you say this to me?’

  ‘Oh, I dare, mother. Because I have just about had enough of you and Mariette trying to rule my life. You have your house on the other side of the estate but that isn’t enough for you. You must come here and take over mine. Even that isn’t enough for you. You then have the audacity to invite half the bloody country to my property and promptly tell everyone that I am looking for a wife!’

  ‘Morgan, you are shouting.’ Alicia slid a worried look at the door.

  ‘It’s my house! I can do what I damned well like in it,’ Morgan bellowed. ‘I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks. If they are offended, they can go home. Moreover, mother, you can take them to your house to stay with you. That’s fair seeing as you invited them here in the first place.’

  ‘But I thought you agreed that we could have the ball here. You know the Dowager House doesn’t have a ballroom.’

  ‘Well don’t have a ball then. What is the point of inviting people to a ball if you don’t have a ballroom?’ Morgan hissed.

  ‘You could have simply said you wouldn’t host a ball before we sent out the invitations if you weren’t happy.’

  ‘I did, but Mariette, and you, ignored me. You merely brazenly went ahead with your plans, despite my protestations, because you had already assumed that I would agree and sent the invitations out. Knowing then that I was well and truly stuck playing host, you proceeded to take complete control of my home and turn it into a matchmaking event from Hell. Strangely, neither of you even bothered to ask me if I wanted a bride before you told half the sodding country that I am looking to marry.’

  Alicia stared at him. ‘Don’t swear.’

  ‘This is my house,’ Morgan growled, shoving a warning finger under her nose. ‘This is my house. This is my life, mother. Don’t you dare tell me what to do in it.’

  Alicia gulped and tried to stand up but was too shaken to. ‘Well, seeing as you are clearly not in any fit state of mind to have a normal conversation, I shall leave you to nurse your temper in peace. We were supposed to have a dinner here next Thursday because your dining table is much bigger than the one at the Dowager House. I suppose I am going to have to change the venue.’

  Alicia began to dab at her eyes, but Morgan knew that if he cared to look there would be no tears. His mother was a class manipulator but had tried it far too often on Morgan. He wasn’t prepared to be taken in by her theatrics this time, mostly because he could feel the misery of a barren life looming in front of him because the people in his life were blocking him from being with the only woman he wanted.

  The only woman I can ever love.

  ‘Why did you invite more people than you can fit comfortably around your dining table? Oh, I know, because you think you can bring your guests here and make use of my home, don’t you?’ Morgan snarled. ‘Well, no, you can’t. In future, if you wish to invite people to dine with you only invite people you can sit at your table. If you wish to have a ball, clear out the garden room in the Dowager House and yo
u have the upheaval. Moreover, if you wish to have a wedding in the family, make it clear to everyone in society that Mariette is looking for a husband, or yourself. That should give you plenty to do.’

  Morgan slammed his goblet onto a side table and stomped toward his desk. Dropping into it he slammed a ledger before him and flipped open the pages. He didn’t bother to look at his mother who silently glided toward the door. Before she opened it, though, she turned to face him.

  ‘You said just now that you are in love with her,’ she murmured quietly as she stared blankly at the door. ‘Just remember that while I would not have any objection to her being a part of the family if she made you happy, not everyone is going to be of the same opinion. She is always going to be considered unworthy because she doesn’t have wealth or a title, or very good connections apart from us. People will scorn her, turn their backs on her and gossip. She will find life very uncomfortable. If you do wish to have her a part of your life you have to consider how much you are going to have to sacrifice. You are going to have to turn your back on everything you have grown up to expect in life. You are going to have to lose friends and acquaintances and yes, even business contacts.’

  ‘She doesn’t want me,’ Morgan growled. ‘She knows all of this, mother. You and your kind have taken great strides in making her feel unworthy. Congratulate everyone, won’t you, for a job well done.’

  ‘Morgan.’

  Morgan threw her a dismissive look and said coldly: ‘I have work to do.’

  Alicia sighed heavily. She knew from the closed look on her son’s face that he wasn’t going to discuss it with her anymore. Slowly, reluctantly, she let herself out of the room but knew that when she closed the door behind her she was closing the door to something more than her son’s study. Alicia suspected she was closing the door to the life she had become used to from the day she had married her husband.

  ‘Is everything all right, mother?’ Mariette asked worriedly from directly outside the door.