Love's Patient Fury (The Deverell Series Book 3) by Susan Ward Page B

and celebration.  Though the state of her marriage was uncertain at best, beyond the walls of the main house the story that was circulated was shrewdly crafted to spare all concerned added scandal since it was unavoidable the talebearers would have the account clear across Falmouth by sunset.
    Whatever Lucien Merrick released would eventually collide with the gossip rushing southward from London. Merry’s sudden return and marriage to Varian Deverell was no doubt the main topic of conversation in the drawing rooms of polite society.
    When Merry had stepped out of the front garden with Philip and Kate, the excited well-wishes from the workers was an indication of how expert her father was at scandal control. Her father had made an informal announcement to the house staff. That she had learned from Kate, who had told her with a reluctance you could taste, and Merry was now witnessing the artfully crafted result.
    If a hint of suspicion existed that something was amiss between Merry’s new husband and the Merricks it was not evident in the blur of glowing eyes, bobbing aprons, and quickly stripped off hats.  The workers stared at her as if she returned to them bathed in stardust instead of shame.
    The farm wives had surrounded her before she’d finished hoisting her hem to pick her way across the muddy ruts of the carriageway. It had taken an hour for Merry to escape their enthusiastic exclamations over how well she looked, what a fine figure His Grace was, and all their hopes and prayers for her future.
    It had been an agony to endure their joy for her, these dear people she loved, but when Jane Coleman, her playmate from childhood and now wife to the under-coachman, had shyly approached her, tear in eye, bundle of freshly picked wild flowers in her arms to present to her with a proudly exclaimed ‘Your Grace,’ Merry had had enough. She had disengaged herself with more abruptness than she had wanted, ashamed to note a misty tear of understanding here and there, and had quickly charged off with Kate and Philip in tow. Varian had left her suspended in a nightmare.
    At last in the friendly shelter of her siblings, Merry was finally free to try to lose herself in a lazy afternoon with Philip and Kate.  The hours were for renewing bonds, and trying to feel like a family again. She had been gone a year and that left a gulf between them. They were exactly how she had left them. It was as though time had not touched Bramble Hill. Smiling, she leaned into her cousin’s worn wicker basket to retrieve a blackberry tart. Blackberry tarts. Touch of Kate. It is all the same.
    It came to her memory that afternoon a year past when they had gathered in this very spot, Rensdale with them, the day she had recklessly gone to Grave’s End and ended up crossing paths with Morgan. The irony of it was unbelievable. Rensdale was Varian’s cousin and enemy. Rensdale had been her nemesis, and the cause of her colliding with Morgan.  Varian she had gossiped about in girlish romanticism on that long ago afternoon, later to be kidnapped by him, taken as his lover and was now his noble wife. If one had the impulse to laugh, there was certainly plenty to laugh at here. Merry couldn’t rally even the mildest of good humor.
    Staring at them both with wide eyes sealed to her thoughts, Merry wondered what their reaction would be if they knew of the adventure she had been on and that her husband was the infamous Captain Morgan.
    Thrusting her finger beneath the soft underside of a kitten, Merry watched as the kitten turned, chased its tail and then settled in a ball on her leg. She could never tell anyone the truth about Varian. No matter what he had done to her, no matter the humiliating state her life, he was her husband and father of her child. Though undeserved, he would have her loyalty and silence.  The truth had the whim to hurt them both.
    It was only then she remembered that Varian knew Uncle Andrew was the agent of the foreign office