“And later,” Rand said, “as soon as we were old enough, Kit and I moved out and shared rooms.” He paused, then said, “Lavinia openly consorted with a small horde of lovers in those years.”
After a moment of silence, Godfrey said, “Stacie was with Mama virtually all the time. Mama kept her close. But how much she knew of Mama’s…activities, that I don’t know.” He looked at Rand, then at Ryder, and grimaced. “I’m not sure I want to—or could—guess what she might have seen.”
“Or heard.” Kit’s tone was harsh. He looked at Ryder, then at Rand. “Mama, I’m sure, had plans for Stacie—matrimonial plans. I do know that Mama would never countenance Stacie attending concerts—I once heard her refusing Stacie on the grounds that it wouldn’t do for anyone to start imagining her a blue stocking.” Kit shifted his gaze to Frederick. “Wh
en a concert Stacie particularly wanted to attend was on, she would plead illness and remain in her room, and with the staff’s help, I would smuggle her out and take her to the concert. That was the only way she could indulge her love of music.”
Frederick noted the exchange of looks—the silent discussion—that was going on between Ryder and Rand. Clearly, there was something more. Thinking to ease any reluctance on their parts to speak of it, he volunteered, “If it’s any help, my mother and her companion, Mrs. Weston, gave me the benefit of all they knew of Stacie, including their view that Lavinia was assiduous in ensuring that no hint of scandal ever touched Stacie. If Mrs. Weston, who is not prone to gossip but is, nevertheless, one of those to whom others appear to whisper all their secrets, says Lavinia was strongly protective of Stacie, then she was.”
Ryder arched his brows and looked at Rand. “Your choice.”
Rand studied his hands for a moment, then raised his gaze to Frederick’s face. “Lavinia was a fiend. She had plans for all her children’s futures—if she’d lived long enough, she would have attempted to sell our names and hands to the highest bidders. That was her attitude to us—it was always based on our potential use to her.” He paused, then went on, “Being the eldest of her children, I was the one she sought to exploit first, but she realized that my matrimonial value would be greatly increased if I was the marquess rather than Ryder’s heir. She concocted a scheme to murder Ryder, and Mary as well, thus installing me as the marquess.”
Frederick blinked.
Rand continued, “Her plan, obviously, came to naught. You’ve no doubt heard that Lavinia died in an accident on the Raventhorne Abbey estate. She fell to her death from an upper-story window while attempting to flee justice. We were all there that evening, Stacie included. She was there earlier, too, and saw Lavinia kill one of her henchmen in cold blood by ramming a hatpin through the man’s eye—that was the sort of person Lavinia was.”
After a moment, Rand said, “Prior to our father’s death, he and Stacie were particularly close—she was his only daughter. And as Godfrey and Kit said, we have no way of knowing what Stacie saw and heard while she lived under Lavinia’s wing. But that she might have, through all that, and most especially through Lavinia’s abiding view that marriage among our class was nothing more than a transaction, formed an adverse view of marriage is, perhaps, not to be wondered at.”
Frederick considered all he’d heard, then ventured, “What you’ve told me explains why Stacie would have a poor view of her parents’ marriage, specifically her mother’s role in that. But as far as I can see, none of that explains why she should so trenchantly recoil from marriage for herself.” He cut his gaze to Ryder. “If nothing else, she’s had the example of your marriage to Mary, and also the Cynster marriages in general, to counter the view her experience of her mother might have instilled in her.”
Ryder met his eyes, then grimaced. “I have to agree, but the problem is, we’re guessing at what’s in Stacie’s mind.” He raised his hands, palms out. “I’ll admit I’m less than confident over that.”
Both Rand and Kit humphed in agreement.
Godfrey stirred. “Actually”—he met Ryder’s gaze, then looked at Frederick—“there’s one aspect of what happened back then on which none of us have touched. That said, I can’t see how it would impinge on Stacie’s thoughts of marriage for herself, as it’s patently something that was peculiar to Mama.”
Frederick arched his brows. “What aspect?”
Godfrey looked at Rand, and when Rand, faintly puzzled, nodded in encouragement, returned his gaze to Frederick. “While Papa was still alive, Mama didn’t just take great delight in being scandalous, she took even more delight, derived even more real joy, from knowing her exploits were reported—in full detail—to Papa.” Godfrey’s features hardened. “Malicious isn’t a strong enough word to describe her—she took pleasure in, reveled in, hurting people. Not us, her children, but literally anyone else was fair game, and Papa was her favorite target.”
He paused, then went on, “I don’t know why—as far as I know, he never did anything to even curb her excesses. Where she was concerned, he was weak—always trying to appease her, she who was never either grateful or satisfied.” Godfrey glanced at Rand and Kit.
Frederick followed his gaze and saw that Godfrey’s older brothers looked shocked.
Godfrey went on, “Stacie and I saw it, but while Rand, Kit, and Ryder knew of Mama’s excesses, she largely kept her maliciously malevolent side from them. Probably because she knew how they would react if they learned she was attacking Papa like that.”
“Why,” Ryder asked, his expression appalled, “didn’t you say something? To any of us?”
Godfrey gave his powerful eldest brother a don’t-be-silly look. “You forget—I was ten when Papa died. Yes, I’d seen what was happening, but back then, I had nothing to compare it with. I saw and understood what Mama was doing, but I didn’t know, then, that marriages weren’t supposed to be like that. I can remember events from the last few years of Papa’s life quite vividly, but it’s only been in recent years, since you married and I’ve seen how a marriage is supposed to be, that I’ve come to understand how truly horrendous Mama’s behavior was.”
Godfrey’s gaze passed from Ryder, to Kit, to Rand. “I saw what happened, but only now do I understand what was actually happening.” He briefly shrugged. “That’s why I never said anything. But”—he shifted his gaze to Frederick—“the relevant point is that whatever I saw, Stacie—three years older—saw much more, especially as Mama made a point of keeping her close. That said”—Godfrey glanced at his brothers—“and speaking as the one of us who has spent most time with her over the last decade, Stacie is absolutely nothing like Mama, and while I can see that her experience of Mama’s actions might make her tentative over marrying, I can’t see why it would make her swear off marriage altogether.”
Frederick studied Godfrey’s face, then looked at Ryder, then at Kit and Rand. “There’s…an enormous amount to digest in all that. The reason behind Stacie’s aversion to marriage might well lie buried somewhere in it, yet correctly guessing the way a lady’s mind works is…not something our sex excels at.”
Several minutes passed in silence, then Ryder warned, “Changing Stacie’s mind about marriage won’t be easy—especially without knowing what her objection is based on.”
Frederick met Ryder’s gaze, then rose. “Luckily,” he said, “I enjoy challenges.”
On returning to Albury House, Frederick went straight to his study, rang for a footman, and dispatched the man to the City with a message.
Frederick spent the next half hour dealing with his correspondence and reports sent up from Brampton Hall.
A tap on the door heralded Fortingale. “Mr. Camber has arrived in response to your summons, my lord.”
Frederick nodded. “Show him in.”
Fortingale bowed and withdrew. Frederick set aside the papers he’d been working on, then William Camber walked in.