I Kissed an Earl (and I Liked It) (That Wicked O'Shea Family Book 1)

by Merry Farmer

  “Shameful.” Miles sneered, looking as smug as always. “But then, I wouldn’t expect anything more from a reprobate and exhibitionist like Christian.”

  “Just because I am comfortable in my own skin does not make me either an exhibitionist or a reprobate,” Christian argued. Though he had a few university chums in Italy who would probably argue the point. His record for going without clothes was four days, and a lovely four days they were.

  “You would never be comfortable with anything ever again if I had my way,” his father bellowed, pacing back toward Christian, eyes wide. “I sent you off to Cambridge to learn more than just classics and the law, young man. I sent you there to learn your place in the hierarchy of man.”

  “And I learned it,” Christian argued. He gripped his hands behind his back so hard that he would likely bruise his own knuckles. “I learned that there is little for the second son of a middling earl to do with himself.” And he’d learned that he would never, ever be anything but an afterthought in his father’s eyes. A distasteful afterthought at that. So what harm was there in him enjoying life, since he would never meet his father’s exacting standards?

  “You could join the army,” Miles suggested with a smirk, as if he knew exactly how well that would turn out. “Or take up the cloth,” he went on, unable to keep himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the notion.

  Christian sent him a flat look, hoping the idiot knew he wasn’t helping. “I will gladly return to Europe,” he said, glancing back to his father. “If you provide me with the financing. Because as I have also discovered, there is very little that a second son can do to earn his own income when he isn’t permitted any sort of employment and his allowance is a pittance.”

  “Are you complaining about my generosity, boy?” his father shouted.

  “No, Father, I’m not.” Christian let out a breath, his shoulders sinking.

  He really wasn’t complaining. His father offered him more than enough to live comfortably in a small way. He wouldn’t have minded living a small life either, except that he craved company. And as a member of the aristocracy, the company he was supposed to keep lived in a way that required a level of income just out of his reach.

  “You know, you could always give me something to do,” he said, following the line of his father’s pacing with his eyes. “Something with the managing of the estate. What’s this I hear about a dispute over fresh water and property boundaries between us and Ned Woodlea’s estate?”

  “The property dispute with Lord Garvagh is none of your damn business, boy,” his father snapped.

  Christian flinched back at the vehemence of his father’s statement, raising his hands as if to appease the man. “I was merely hoping to find some sort of employment that might be of help to this family that you think I should prize and respect more than I do.”

  “Ah ha! So you admit that you don’t respect it?” Miles said with a victorious leer.

  “I said no such thing,” Christian defended himself, even though it felt pointless. As the oldest son and heir to the earldom, Miles had always been an arrogant prick. He’d tortured Christian mercilessly all through their childhoods, letting Christian know exactly where he stood, both in terms of rank and with their father’s affections. Indeed, even though Christian always had the sense that he was never enough for his father, he’d never truly shaken his desire to try to please the man and earn his love at last.

  “Just…just tell me what I can do to make up for this sin in your eyes,” he said, his heart sinking. He didn’t think anything he’d done came close to being a sin. Lady Marie certainly hadn’t been offended. Far from it, she’d been a delight. He’d fallen asleep with the memory of her laughter ringing in his ears the night before and the flash of her green eyes tickling every bit of his remembrance. So much so that he couldn’t resist frigging himself senseless as he imagined a different way their encounter might have turned out. But those thoughts were the last thing he wanted his father to have so much as a hint of.

  “You can behave yourself and do as you’re told,” his father said, coming to a stop in front of him with a sharp glower. “That begins with marrying.”

  A light of hope blossomed in Christian’s chest. “You want me to marry?” he asked.

  Instantly, he thought of Lady Marie. She was the daughter of an earl, after all, and his social equal. Granted, he’d only just made her acquaintance, but if he was being forced into matrimony, why not marry the woman who had sparked his imagination in such a delightful way? There had certainly been enough of an initial spark between them to suggest that they might be a brilliant match. The more he considered it, the more he was in favor of the idea.

  “All right, Father,” he said with a shrug, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “I’ll marry. In fact, I have a woman in mind who—”

  “I’ve already arranged a marriage for you,” his father cut him off.

  “Arranged?” Frustration burned where hope had been inside of Christian a second before.

  His father glanced at his pocket watch. “In fact, she and her brother should be here now. Come along.”

  His father turned sharply and gestured to Miles. The two of them started out of the room, leaving Christian stunned in their wake. He leapt into motion after them, his heart lifting again. His father had arranged for him to marry, and the woman was there with her brother now? Marie had a brother. Fergus O’Shea was responsible for his sisters. It couldn’t possibly be that his father had done something he might actually approve of, could it?

  He marched down the hall from his father’s study to the morning parlor, his heart lifting with each step. It swelled near to the point of bursting as the three of them walked into the room to find his mother already hosting what looked like a delightful tea party.

  And there she was. Lady Marie looked like a dream in light green silk, her ginger hair pulled up in the latest style. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes flashed with good humor as she sat beside his mother on the settee, entertaining her with what must have been a cheeky story, judging by his mother’s amusement. There were two other people in the room, a lady and a gentleman, but Christian only had eyes for Marie. Everything was going to turn out the way it should after all.

  “Ah, there you are,” his mother said, rising from her seat with a smile. “I’ve just been listening to the most delightful story from your fiancée, Miles.”

  At first, Christian didn’t think he’d heard right. Marie glanced in his direction, their eyes met, and it was as if the rest of the world disappeared for a moment. Even though several yards separated them, Christian felt the same rush of excitement and rightness that he’d felt the morning before, as he and Marie had played their prank on the hapless old woman. Yes, he could marry Marie. He could easily marry her. And the two of them would be happy together and—

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head and dragged his eyes away from Marie to frown at his mother. “Did you say Miles?”

  “Yes, you dolt,” Miles said, shifting to stand by Christian’s side with a superior smirk. “We’re both getting married.”

  Christian’s pulse kicked up as he glanced from his smug brother to his father, then on to his mother, and finally, Marie. “We are?” His voice sounded far away in his own ears.

  “Yes, and what a happy day it is,” his mother said. “Lord Ballymena here has agreed to have his sister, Lady Marie, marry Miles, and Lord Boleran has graciously given over the hand of his darling sister, Lady Aoife to you, Christian.”

  Christian’s jaw dropped as his mother gestured to a pale, rather mousy-looking young woman with downcast eyes who looked as though she didn’t have enough spark within her to light a match. The hopes that had towered so high within him moments before came crashing down.

  Chapter 4

  Marie gasped so hard at Lady Kilrea’s revelation of who was engaged to whom that she instantly burst into a fit of coughing. She couldn’t believe it. She simp
ly couldn’t believe it. But more immediately, she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Good heavens, my dear, are you well?” Lady Kilrea asked, resting a maternal hand on Marie’s back.

  The gesture was pure and sweet, which only twisted Marie’s heart in her chest and prolonged her fit. “I’m fine,” she managed to croak as Lady Kilrea gestured for Lady Aoife to fetch Marie’s teacup from the low table in front of the settee.

  “Here you go, Lady Marie. A spot of tea will make everything well again.” Lady Kilrea handed her the teacup with a worried look in her eyes. Not just a worried look, a shrewd one. The older woman glanced from Marie to Christian for a moment before focusing on helping Marie steady herself. “It must be a shock to learn you will be a countess someday.”

  A thousand different emotions ricocheted through Marie. Shock was indeed one of them, but it had nothing to do with her becoming a countess. She swallowed a second mouthful of tea and did her best to smile gratefully at Lady Aoife.

  Lady Aoife, who looked like a porcelain doll that had been left at the back of the shelf. One that hadn’t been painted vividly enough to catch anyone’s interest. Lady Aoife, who could barely lift her eyes to make certain Marie wasn’t choking to death, who had turned scarlet when it was announced she was betrothed to Christian. Lady Aoife, who damn well wasn’t going to marry Christian Darrow if Marie had anything to say about it.

  The trouble was, she couldn’t say anything about it. Not when Fergus and Lord Kilrea were so busy congratulating themselves at the side of the gathering. Worse still, Lord Kilrea looked down at Fergus as though he were a leper and not just a man who had lost an eye and the use of his legs in a scurrilous attack. Marie wasn’t sure which she hated more, the betrayal that had been hoisted on her or Lord Kilrea’s condescension.

  “Father, perhaps we could discuss these marital arrangements?” Christian asked into the relative silence that had followed the announcement.

  “Yes, a discussion would be grand,” Marie managed to croak after swallowing another mouthful of tea. She glared at Fergus as though she could bore a hole through her brother’s head.

  Lord Kilrea looked surprised at the hint of mutiny. “I see nothing to discuss,” he said with a shrug. The way he looked at Christian was almost as harsh as the glare Fergus had for Marie. “There is a necessity of marriage. For both my sons. Suitable brides became available. What more is needed?”

  “Suitable brides?” Marie said, teetering on the verge of exploding. The only thing that kept her from going off was Lady Kilrea’s maternal presence at her side.

  “James,” she hissed at her husband. “There is no need to diminish the importance of these lovely ladies by referring to them merely as brides. As though they were chattel.” She sniffed and shook her head, then smiled broadly at Marie. She turned that smile to Lady Aoife as well. “Soon they will be more than brides, they will be daughters-in-law.”

  A whole different kind of misery flooded Marie. It didn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to see that Lady Kilrea was lonely. Perhaps for female company in particular. The hope that shone in her eyes was devastating. And it looked rather like the mischief that had shone in Christian’s eyes the day before. In fact, Marie could see that Christian favored his mother in looks and temperament, whereas his brother, Miles, took after their father.

  Christian’s brother Miles. To whom she was now engaged, thanks to Fergus’s shenanigans.

  “Fergus, dear brother,” Marie said through clenched teeth, stepping away from Lady Kilrea as gently as she could. “Might I have a word with you?”

  “I thought you might want to,” Fergus said, the gleam of an impending fight in his one eye.

  Henrietta stood by, of course, and as Marie stepped toward them, she shifted behind Fergus’s chair and wheeled him to the far corner of the room.

  As soon as the three of them were alone, Marie stood as close as she dared to Fergus’s chair and leaned over him to hiss, “Of all the slimy, underhanded, miserable tricks.”

  “I told you I had arranged a marriage for you to keep you out of trouble,” Fergus said, radiating anger.

  “You could have engaged me to Mr. Darrow,” Marie managed to push out, trembling with fury. “He was the one whose actions you found so objectionable and ruinous in the first place.”

  Fergus had to lean back in his chair to glare up at her. “Oh, so you think you should be rewarded for behaving like a hussy, do you?”

  Marie bristled, eyes going wide. “You intend to punish me for life by shackling me to Lord…Lord…I don’t even know the man’s proper title?” she seethed.

  “Lord Agivey is a perfectly decent fellow,” Fergus growled in return. “And he’s set to inherit the title. Most sisters would be falling all over their brothers in thanks right about now.”

  “I will not thank you for engaging me to a man that I can see at once I could not possibly ever love,” Marie snapped, alarmed to find herself on the edge of tears.

  “Whereas you think you could love Mr. Darrow,” Henrietta filled in the rest of her thought. At least Henrietta had a shred of compassion in her eyes.

  Marie wanted to reply, but she feared if she opened her mouth, anything that came out of it would issue forth as a howl.

  “Lord Boleran beat me to it,” Fergus admitted in a low voice. “By a matter of hours, I might add.”

  “What?” Marie squeaked.

  She glanced briefly over her shoulder to where Lord Boleran and Lady Aoife were now in conversation with Christian, his father, and his brother, Marie’s wretched fiancé. Christian wore an irritated flush, but was attempting to speak politely to Lady Aoife and Lord Boleran both. He happened to look in her direction, and when their eyes met, Marie could feel the strength of his frustration in her bones. She had a feeling Christian could sense the depths of her irritation as well.

  Fergus’s sigh drew her attention back to her own conversation. “I came here yesterday, fully intending to marry you off to that bounder, Darrow,” he said. “But as I was coming in, Boleran was just leaving. For whatever reason, he needed to marry his sister off in a hurry.”

  Marie blinked, glanced across to Lady Aoife, and frowned. She studied the bland wisp of a woman for a second before frowning at Fergus again. “She’s not, you know, in the family way, is she?”

  “I doubt it, by the looks of her,” Fergus said. “And there was no chance of me asking Boleran right out.”

  “But really, the only reason a brother has to marry off his sister in a hurry is if she has compromised herself in some way,” Henrietta said, staring pointedly at Marie.

  “I did not compromise myself,” Marie whispered tightly. Guilt lashed her a moment later, so she added, “Not that way, at least.”

  “It hardly matters now,” Fergus said. “You made your choices and I’ve made mine. To save us all from disgrace and ruination, you’re marrying Lord Agivey.”

  “I don’t like the look of him,” Marie grumbled. She was being sullen and petulant, she would admit as much, even though it stung her pride. But this wasn’t a hand of cards or a waltz at some ball they were talking about. This was her life, her future.

  She stole another look over her shoulder at Christian. He clearly wasn’t any happier about the situation than she was. But once again, Marie caught sight of Lady Kilrea and the pure joy in the woman’s eyes as she joined the conversation with Lady Aoife. Misery ate a hole in Marie’s chest.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive you for this, Fergus,” she said in a dangerously hollow voice.

  Fergus and Henrietta exchanged a wary look.

  “Perhaps this whole plot was entered into with a bit too much haste,” Henrietta said. “Marie likes Mr. Darrow, not his brother.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about it,” Fergus argued. “The agreement has already been made.”

  “How many times have I told you not to enter into business dealings while angry, darling?” Henrietta scolded Fergus.

&nb
sp; “Undo it,” Marie said, balling her hands into fists at her sides. “I don’t care what it costs you, undo the betrothal this instant.”

  “And if that is even possible?” Fergus stared up at her, his one eye sharp. “I suppose you want me to convince Lord Boleran to undo his sister’s engagement to your Mr. Darrow as well?”

  Marie winced. “Lord Boleran is a marquess. You’re just an earl. Surely, Lord Kilrea would want his eldest son and heir to marry the sister of a marquess instead of an earl’s wicked sister.”

  “Kilrea was a little too intrigued by my English connections,” Fergus said with a frown. “Not to mention Henrietta’s connections. Boleran might be a marquess, but he doesn’t have the connections I do.”

  “Dammit.” Marie stomped her foot, feeling far too boxed in by the machinations of an aristocracy she had never had the time of day for.

  Her tiny outburst caught the attention of everyone at the other end of the room. Lady Kilrea’s face pinched with regret, which spilled even more guilt through Marie. Lady Aoife kept her head down, of course, but Lord Boleran and Lord Agivey frowned in disapproval. The sight of her fiancé’s frown sent dread pooling in Marie’s stomach. That was what she had to look forward to?

  Christian’s expression was the only one that hardened into a sense of purpose. But when he attempted to step away from his group and head across the room to Marie’s, his father caught his arm and jerked him to a stop. Christian remained off-balance for the amount of time it took for his father to whisper something to him. After that, Christian’s expression flattened and he stood straighter, turning back to the conversation in front of him.

  Not that there was much conversation after the awkward interruption.

  “Well, isn’t this a fine kettle of fish,” Marie said, shaking her head in annoyance and stepping away from her brother and sister-in-law. She couldn’t think of anything to do in the moment to get out of the horrific situation. The only thing she could do was to gather more information so she could figure out a way to save her skin.