An Unsuitable Match

by Sasha Cottman

  She nodded. He did seem to find a way to easily offend most people.

  ‘Which is why, if I may be so bold as to discuss such a matter with you, I am in search of a wife.’

  Oh.

  Clarice sat silent on the rug, staring vacantly out over a nearby bed of brightly coloured peonies. Her mind had gone completely blank and she was incapable of speech.

  Please no, please no.

  She blinked and looked down at her hands, only then realising she had somehow picked up the plate of sandwiches and small cakes. Taking a sandwich of salmon and thinly sliced cucumber in her hand, she took a bite. She offered him the plate and he took it from her, placing it on the ground behind him.

  ‘A wife who would be able to guide me in the ways of high society. Someone born into the ton. Someone who possessed the requisite skills in running a country estate as well as a town house.’

  ‘Yes, well, I am sure that there are many suitable young ladies here today. As a future earl you have quite a lot to offer,’ she stammered, before taking another bite of the sandwich.

  He shifted closer to her and she felt the sandwich stick in her throat. She watched with growing trepidation as he reached out and took hold of her hand. He leaned in close. So close she could smell his overpowering cologne. So close she could hear him breathing. Her heart began to race.

  No! No! No! her mind’s protest cried out in ever-increasing fervour.

  His lips pressed against her outer ear and he murmured. ‘I know you and I have not known one another very long and I am yet to find your good favour. But I am certain that if we were to spend more time together, you would find I am a man with hidden talents and delights. Lady Clarice, if you would at least consider my —’

  ‘Susan!’ she cried.

  Lady Susan and her cousins had fortuitously chosen that exact moment to make an appearance at the edge of the pathway. Clarice shot up her hand and in a most unladylike manner waved furiously at them. The girls looked toward her and the Winchester cousins gave a cheery wave in reply.

  The three girls made a direct line for them. Thaxter withdrew his hand and made a show of picking up the plate.

  As they drew near, Clarice could see the look of thunder on Susan’s face.

  ‘How lovely to see you again; do come and join us,’ Clarice said. She patted the empty space on the other side of the blanket and motioned for Susan to sit down. Thaxter let out a barely disguised sigh of frustration and got to his feet. After assisting Susan and the Winchester sisters to take a place on the rug, it quickly became apparent that there was not enough room for the five of them.

  ‘And you have food; how thoughtful of you, Mr Fox,’ Susan said. She held out her hands and Thaxter reluctantly handed her the plate. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarice saw the two of them exchange an odd look.

  ‘So where is Lady Alice?’ Daisy Winchester asked.

  ‘She went to lie down a little while ago,’ replied Clarice.

  As soon as the words left her lips, she knew she had been saved. Being a dutiful granddaughter, she really should go and check on the health of her beloved grandmother. An unexpected means of escape had suddenly presented itself, and she quickly took it.

  ‘Speaking of which, I must go and make sure she is resting comfortably. Her injured leg causes her great pain,’ she added.

  Hurrying away from the group back to the house, she gave a quick glance over her shoulder. Thaxter Fox had taken her place next to Lady Susan and was seated with his back to the house.

  She stopped by the chair where she had been sitting earlier and retrieved her parasol. Stepping inside the house, she thought it wise to at least keep up the appearance of checking on Lady Alice. She had one foot on the staircase when a hand reached out and took hold of her arm.

  ‘We thought you would never escape that wretched man,’ Lucy said.

  Millie and Lucy stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the garden, effectively blocking any view of Clarice that might be had from the west lawn.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We have been watching and waiting for the right moment to come and rescue you. We were halfway out the door when Macbeth’s three witches appeared,’ Lucy added.

  Clarice couldn’t help but laugh at Lucy’s less than kind remark.

  ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t say that about your friends; they probably think the same of us,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Millie replied.

  I didn’t actually need rescuing; I’m on my way upstairs to see my grandmother,’ Clarice replied.

  Her friends looked at one another and nodded. ‘We have already been upstairs and spoken to Lady Alice. She says she will rest for a little while longer and that when you have finished in the garden you may go and sit with her,’ Millie said.

  Lucy and Millie positioned themselves either side of Clarice and guided her across the room and out through another door. Opposite the door was a small path, which meandered through the garden in the direction of the lake.

  Seeing that the sun was still high in the sky, Clarice began to open her parasol.

  ‘No!’ Millie whispered. She quickly took hold of Clarice’s parasol and swapped it with her own. She then dashed off down the path and out of sight. A minute or two later she reappeared further down the path with Alex, Clarice’s open parasol in her hand. They waved, and Lucy waved back.

  ‘Good, now we can begin,’ Lucy said. She took Millie’s parasol out of Clarice’s hand and opened it fully before handing it back. She raised her hand and adjusted Clarice’s grip.

  ‘You must keep it close to your head; that way no-one will be able to tell it is you. People know it belongs to Millie.’ The parasol was painted with dark blue birds, giving it a distinctive character.

  They followed the path down to where Alex and Millie waited. They had barely reached them when the newlyweds headed back up the path.

  Lucy and Clarice walked on for a few more yards before Lucy stopped and looked back toward the house. At this part of the garden, they were out of sight of the lawn.

  At a loss as to what was going on, Clarice’s confusion further increased when Lucy took hold of her arm and began to lead her toward the small summerhouse at the edge of the lake.

  As they neared the house, Lucy looked furtively from left to right. At a point in the path where it split into two, she stopped. The path before them continued around the garden and back up to the house. The second branch led down to the edge of the lake.

  ‘Good; I think we are alone. Now, listen carefully. Alex and Millie will hold a position at the top of the stone steps and intercept anyone who wanders down this way. Millie’s brother, Charles Ashton, is over the other side of the garden keeping watch on Mr Fox and his harem. All you have to do is go to the front door of the summerhouse and go inside.’

  Clarice sighed with frustrated confusion. ‘What on earth are we doing?’

  Lucy stepped in close.

  ‘David is waiting for you in the summerhouse. This is your secret rendezvous. Just follow the path down,’ she whispered.

  She gave Clarice a quick farewell kiss on the cheek before shoving her gently in the direction of the summerhouse. Clarice took several tentative steps before stopping.

  What secret rendezvous?

  She turned and saw Lucy still standing in the middle of the path, her gaze fixed in the direction of the house. Clarice sighed. All routes to the summerhouse were being watched by David’s friends and family.

  Turning back to the path that led down to the lake, she began to walk.

  With every footstep a growing sense of helpless panic rose within her. She had barely managed to escape Thaxter Fox’s clutches and yet here she was, willingly going to meet with another potential suitor.

  ‘This is madness,’ she muttered. She passed under the shady trees, around to the front door of the summerhouse, and there she stopped.

  With her gloved hands tightly gripping the handle of the parasol, she considered her situati
on. If she decided to walk away, if she refused to meet David, would he give up the fight for her?

  In all rational circumstances, she shouldn’t care what he did. If he went and found another woman to marry it should be none of her concern.

  ‘I should just go back to the house, find Lady Alice and go home,’ she muttered. David and his well-intentioned family would have to accept that her decision was no.

  She could give a thousand plausible excuses for crying off at this very moment. Refusing to meet him was the eminently sensible thing to do. Her father would expect it. Lord Langham would be furious if he knew his daughter was making a secret assignation with a man he considered entirely unsuitable for her.

  She chortled nervously. A secret meeting with David was far worse than a public dance.

  ‘Yes, utter madness,’ she said, closing her parasol.

  She opened the door and stepped inside.

  The cool sweet air of the summerhouse kissed her face and, closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

  ‘Welcome, Lady Clarice.’

  She opened her eyes and her gaze fell upon him.

  The summerhouse was a small room, obviously designed for Lord and Lady Brearley to relax in when they spent afternoons by the lake. David crossed the floor with three long strides and, stepping past her, closed the door. He turned and faced her.

  If she had been asked to describe the room, other than the striking oriental pattern on the curtains, she would have been at a loss for words. All her attention was taken by David.

  He was clad in an expertly cut deep blue jacket that displayed his strong, broad shoulders to brilliant effect. Beneath the jacket was a gold, silver and pale-blue striped waistcoat, complemented by his pure white linen shirt. She was powerless to stop her gaze from drifting lower. His pale suede buckskins clung to his muscular thighs. Her breathing faltered.

  Her newly rediscovered love of fashion allowed her to appreciate the way the gold tassels on his highly polished hessian boots matched perfectly with the gold thread of his waistcoat.

  His immaculately cut hair was as black as a moonless night.

  Other men of the ton might dress themselves as well as he did, but few carried themselves with such command. If she had not known him all her life, she might have feared the man who stood before her. Every blink of his eye held the promise of unleashed power.

  She swallowed.

  David Radley truly was a magnificent male specimen, the pinnacle of English nobility. He stepped forward and took hold of her hand. An easy, reassuring smile came to his lips.

  ‘I am so glad you came. I know your father is here, so I promise not to keep you too long. I would not wish for you to suffer his wrath on account of me,’ he said.

  She shook her head. For all her father’s failings, he only wanted what was best for her.

  ‘He is just trying to protect me. He thinks I suffer from a deep melancholy because of my mother’s death.’

  David raised an eyebrow. ‘And do you?’

  ‘No. As you can see, I am now fully out of mourning. And as for my nerves, they are perfectly fine. I just have the occasional bout of insomnia, nothing more.’

  This was not the time or the place to mention the guilt she still carried. Or why she knew he would never fully love her.

  He nodded. ‘I must compliment you, Clarice, on your beautiful new gown. If I am not mistaken, that cameo was once your mother’s. I remember her wearing it.’

  She watched his eyes as they took in all that stood before him. A secret warmth rippled through her body when his gaze lingered appreciatively at her bustline. Bella had been right to say that Madame de Feuillide knew what she was doing.

  He took a deep breath before lifting his head and meeting her gaze.

  ‘It warms my heart greatly to see you coming back into society. I hope it is a sign that you are thinking and planning with your future in mind.’

  He motioned toward a low, floral-patterned couch.

  ‘Would you like to sit for a moment? There are matters I would discuss if you are amenable?’

  Clarice looked at the couch and thought better of the idea. She was already in a very compromising situation. If anyone happened upon them, she would be left with no choice but to marry him.

  ‘Thank you, no; I cannot stay long. My father has many pairs of eyes in his service.’

  He nodded. ‘Very well.’ He straightened his back and gave her a small bow.

  ‘Lady Clarice, as you no doubt have come to realise, the love letter accidentally sent to you by my brother was in fact written by me. While the letter itself came to you by way of a series of unfortunate events, it does not change the fact that the sentiments within it are true.’

  He stopped, cleared his throat and frowned. It was obvious his eloquent speech had been rehearsed and somehow he had forgotten the rest of the words. Clarice smiled, humbled by the thought that he had gone to such effort on her behalf.

  ‘Just say what is in your heart,’ she replied.

  She saw her wishful smile reflected back at her in his gentle laugh.

  ‘Clarice, I love you. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I want you as my wife; it is really that simple.’

  She nodded. It really was that simple. David was not a man who played games with others’ feelings. He spoke his mind. Now that he had been honest with her, she trusted his words to be true.

  ‘Thank you. I know it took a great deal of bravery for you to say that to me,’ she replied.

  ‘But?’

  She curled up her bottom lip and sucked it under her top teeth. Over the preceding weeks, alone in her bedroom, she too had rehearsed this encounter, her response constantly changing and evolving.

  ‘But I am uncertain as to how I should respond,’ she replied.

  ‘Because of your father, or because of who I am?’

  She clenched her parasol tightly. Men were such stubborn creatures; why did they always think themselves at the centre of everything?

  ‘Neither. It is because of me.’

  He scowled. She could see this was not the answer he had been expecting or seeking. She slowly loosened her grip.

  ‘My life, as you can see,’ she said, looking down at the figure she cut in her new clothes, ‘is undergoing a transformation. At this moment I am unsure of a lot of things, including how I truly feel about you.’

  His shoulders stiffened in disappointment as his arms fell to his sides. She held up a hand.

  ‘I am not saying that I don’t love you. I am just saying I need time. Time to decide what I want from my life. Not what you want, nor what my father wants.’

  The bewildered look on his face said it all. He had been expecting her to accept or decline him, and had prepared suitable responses for both, but this left him floundering. David was a man of decision and action, and now he was rudderless. The battle was neither won nor lost.

  ‘I’m sorry if this encounter has not been as productive as you had hoped for, but if you are still serious in your intentions then there are some things you can do to further your cause,’ she said.

  ‘Name them,’ came the immediate response.

  She allowed herself a moment to let her gaze take in his manly form once more. To indulge with pleasure in the secret knowledge that he wanted her for his own.

  Stepping bravely forward, she laid a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes.

  ‘I need you to remain steadfast. To accept that I have to take time to make up my mind, and for you to be sure enough of yourself to allow it. Because if I do agree to marry you, we are going to have to fight forces other than my father to make our union a success. There will always be ignorance and intolerance from others.’

  He sighed. He was not happy with her demands, but at that moment she knew she held all the cards. He was strong, powerful and oh, so handsome a man – and he was at her command.

  ‘I have lived my entire life dealing with those who do not accept me as a full member of society;
I am well equipped to deal with them,’ he replied.

  She nodded. During the past three years she too had felt an outsider, but that had been due to circumstances beyond her control. Willingly marrying a duke’s bastard was an entirely different matter.

  ‘Yes, I expect you are, but there are other matters that I am not in a position to discuss with you at this time. These may have a greater bearing on your desire to marry me than I can currently predict. What I am asking for is time; if you cannot give me that then this conversation is at an end.’

  He reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of her cheek. He closed his eyes for an instant, and she watched him savour the moment.

  If only she could say yes to this man, knowing that her heart was full of love and conviction. The strength and willpower to defy her father could only come from such a steadfast place.

  He opened his eyes once more. ‘If I agree to your demands, I expect to be able to add a few of my own conditions. It is only fair.’

  Knowing David as she did, she understood it would kill him to let a woman dictate all the terms of an agreement. But if she did eventually decide to marry him, establishing some rules for their ongoing relationship was crucial. Give an English gentleman an inch and he would take the proverbial mile.

  A wry grin appeared on his lips. ‘Three conditions, to be precise, starting with this.’

  His fingers tugged gently on the ribbons of her bonnet and the bow came undone. He pulled on the bonnet, catching several hairpins. He slipped a hand to her hair and with a flick of his wrist, pulled the pins out. Once he had the bonnet free, he tossed both bonnet and pins and onto the nearby couch. Several pins clattered to the floor. He took hold of her parasol and set it down next to her bonnet.

  He laughed, deep and sensual, as he reached for her hands and removed her gloves.

  ‘It’s a good thing Lucy is keeping watch close by, she may need to help you find the rest of the pins when we are done.’