by Terry Long
The Notorious Proposal
By Terry Long
Copyright © 2012 by Terry Long
ISBN: 978-1-938076-03-9
All Rights Reserved
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and is punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Dedication
"To Paul, for your constant support, faith and devotion."
Chapter One
England, 1812
Michael Langdon muttered a streak of colorful blasphemy that would make a sailor blush. He should be at the railway meeting this morning, not cantering around Dartford trying to find his brother’s elusive fancy. Where the hell was Miss Overton’s house? He hadn’t been able to find a single person to give him decent directions, and he was already fed up with this whole ordeal.
Riding deeper into town, Michael understood why he couldn’t find a soul in the outer regions. A large gathering of people sang and danced in the town’s square. Music drifted into the late morning air. Multi-colored banners with the words “Welcome to Dartford’s Annual Summer Festival” stretched between tree trunks and alleyways, while ribbons hung everywhere. The aroma of roasted boars and birds wafted through the air, along with a blanket of smoke that covered the skies like thick morning fog.
After obtaining directions from a gentleman in the crowd, Michael turned his horse, Caspian, around and rode toward the house with the white fence. He paused when a man stumbled out the door, fastening his waistcoat before weaving into the street. From behind a large oak tree where Michael had concealed himself, he frowned. Something about a gentleman buttoning up his garment outdoors seemed rather unusual. Michael snorted. A liaison, most likely, had been made between the man and Mrs. Overton. And to think Victor had wanted to ask the daughter of this household for her hand. Over his dead body!
Since he’d arrived, Michael decided it best to shove his uncertainties aside. He’d discover the true facts in just minutes. Perhaps the gentleman was Mr. Overton?
After dismounting, Michael climbed the few small steps leading to the door, and rapped twice. While waiting for an answer, he stared at the wooden doorframe he’d have to duck under once invited in to be received.
The turn of a key clicked in its lock, and then the knob rattled for a few seconds before the door pulled open two inches. Michael swore the person behind it peeked through the tiny crack first, before widening it fully.
And then Michael stared.
Of course, he already knew the vision standing before him must be Miss Ally Overton, the woman his brother claimed to love. But he asked anyway. “Miss Overton?”
“Yes?”
The tilt of her flushed face as she returned his steady gaze showed a delicate and nervous disposition. He had a strange compulsion to smooth out her brows like a creased letter.
She had those fathomless eyes Victor had tried to explain. But Victor was infinitely wrong. Hers weren’t blue, they were violet, and they had the most honest and sincere appeal about them. A thick curl of lashes framed those incredible eyes, making them the most prominent feature.
And her hair wasn’t merely blonde, like Victor had said. They were shimmering strands of gold. A few unruly wisps escaped its ribbon, dancing around her face with the light breeze.
Had Victor mentioned that her mouth tempted kisses? No, he had mentioned that she had a cute little nose. Michael almost laughed. His brother was an idiot. When a woman had lips like hers, who would notice her nose? The sultry pout did strange things to his insides, and even more so now, when she parted that mouth.
Her cheeks were tinted with the color of pink rose petals, and the longer Michael assessed her, the darker they grew.
My God, no wonder Victor had declared himself in love with her.
But Michael wasn’t a man to let a woman’s mere appearance dictate his mind. He cleared his throat and presented her one brisk nod. “Miss Overton, I have a few matters of import to discuss with your father. Is he present?”
He detected a touch of shock cross over her heart-shaped face before she begged his pardon.
“Your father.” His tone came out curt and dismissive. He didn’t know if it was because of his discomfort to the instant reaction to her, or his disdain for the kind of chits who liked to play at naïveté. Perhaps both.
***
Ally had never seen this man, but she disliked him forthwith. For one thing, he had neglected to introduce himself, and additionally, he didn’t have “matters of import” to discuss with her father, for her father was dead.
Her insides quaked at the way he towered over her, staring down from his immense height. Goodness, but she’d never had to tilt her head so far back to look at anyone before.
Though he had the straight nose of a nobleman, nothing about his façade suggested he was noble in the least. His eyes were muted, lacking all traces of emotion, they alarmed her beyond belief. The dark gaze took in her features and appeared able to read her every thought. A tremor jolted down her spine, and she may have even shivered.
A late morning breeze gusted into her face, sending a whiff of leather and steed with a hint of sandalwood to her nostrils. Ally had never been aware of a man’s scent before, and she had no idea why she did now. Much to her mortification, she found she liked it and could not help taking in another deep breath.
The muscle near his cheek jumped, drawing her attention to his dark jaw, which ultimately brought her focus to his wide set mouth that looked a good deal too soft in contrast with his hard face.
“Your father, Miss,” she heard him say in a clipped tone.
Her gaze flew to his, and she realized she’d been staring. Burning heat crept to her cheeks, making its way up to her hairline.
He brooded like a man who had everything at stake, narrowing his eyes with a touch of petulance, while his mouth compressed into a thin line. He seemed so determined to speak to a dead man.
“The reason, sir?”
He lifted his chin. “Is purely up to your father,” he ground out with absolute superiority.
Though his manner and the expression etched on his face hinted it inconvenienced him to be in her company, his terse tone confirmed this suspicion.
The man narrowed his gaze on her as she remained rooted in place. “A topic such as one I must convey is much too…” He pursed his lips as if searching for the right words. “Delicate a subject matter to discuss with…” he waved a hand at her.
Ally had the distinct feeling that he believed she wouldn’t be competent to follow much of anything he’d relate.
He went on, further adding to her annoyance. “Now would be a good time as any to fetch him.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, when all she wanted to do was shut the door in his face, she settled for giving him a cutting remark instead. “Not if he’s dead. Sir.”
A flash of surprise passed in his eyes before he hastily shielded them to…blankness. “Your mother then.”
“Also dead. Would you like to discuss your matter of import with anyone else? I have a dog here somewhere, if you’d like.” The incredulous look on his face threatened a bubble of laughter to rise in her chest, but she hurried to stifle it. The man appeared angry enough to wring her neck.
“No one is home with you then?”
Ally lifted her chin, much like how he’d done earlier. It didn’t deliver the desired effect however, being that her face was al
ready tilted upward. “I do not see how that is any of your concern, sir. Please state your reason of questioning after my family and how you know my name.”
“It concerns me plenty.” His eyes made a slow and deliberate exploration of her body.
Ally fought the urge to put her hands over her bosom to shield her body from the rude perusal.
Even the town’s whoremonger, Mr. Kent, who had the unfortunate tendency to constantly be inebriated and had just snuck into her home through a window, didn’t make her feel so violated. It made her wary because he’d done it before, trying to strip off his clothes in her presence, to see if she’d finally have him. She’d chased the intoxicated man out with a fireplace poker before, and she’d done it again today.
She’d have to tell Margaret to latch all the windows from now on, and make sure they were truly secure. The thought of her maid had Ally prepared to call out for her, just so Margaret could confirm later that she hadn’t imagined a giant of a man at her doorstep with all the manners of a goat. But, at the last minute, she recalled her maid requesting the remainder of the afternoon off, to join the town’s festivities.
“Stay away from Victor,” the man said, cutting into her thoughts.
“V-Victor? How do you know Mr. Langdon, sir?”
“It matters naught. You’ll do as I say.”
Staring at him in pure disbelief, Ally opened her mouth to say something scathing, but to her frustration, nothing came out.
“Have a pleasant life, Miss Overton.”
Ally watched him with her mouth hanging open as he gained his mount, and even watched as he rode off. And after he’d disappeared, she still stood there motionless in absolute incredulity.
Chapter Two
Matthews appeared at the doorway of Michael’s study the following morning. “Mr. Victor Langdon, milord.”
Victor came into sight a scant ten seconds later. “Good morning.” He smiled broadly, seeming to be in a jovial mood, if the dimple in the side of his cheek was any indication.
“Morning,” Michael returned, preparing himself for an altercation. Setting his quill down, he sat back.
Victor plopped into one of the two chairs in front of his large desk. “You wanted to see me at once?” Tipping his chair back, Victor balanced his weight on two of its wooden legs. He missed the butler’s apprehensive glance at the elegant piece of furniture the large man treated so cavalierly.
“What are your plans today?”
Victor gave him a sheepish grin. “Can’t you tell, dressed superbly as I am? My valet swore my Hessians were polished thrice times over before I left my bachelor apartments.”
“You’re not going to see the girl.”
Victor lost his smile almost instantly. “Why not?”
“Furthermore, you’ll not offer her marriage.”
Victor stood and just about upset his chair. “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t?”
Offended, Michael scowled. His brother never questioned his motives. “Because I’m telling you not to.”
“No.” Victor shook his head with vigor, becoming stubbornly determined with this silly endeavor. “I…can’t do as you ask.”
“I’m not asking.”
“You must understand.” After seating himself once more, the words that flooded from Victor’s mouth sounded as if they’d been rehearsed. “If you met her, you’d realize why I should offer her marriage. Ally is just the sort of woman you’ve always wanted me to marry. She’s a gentle, sweet-natured woman with pleasant manners.”
In his mind’s eye, Michael replayed the events that unfolded before him the preceding day. His brother’s gentle lady had a rendezvous with one of her lovers just before Michael knocked on her door. There was no mistaking it. It didn’t take an intellect to collectively piece the puzzle. There was no way in hell he’d give Victor consent to marry her. “She’s not what you think,” he drawled with annoyance.
“How would you know…?” Victor paused, his expression that of deliberation. A brief moment later, he started, his eyes wide. “You have sent someone to collect information on her, haven’t you? Well, don’t trust them. Just let me bring her here to meet you. You will notice straightaway that she is the perfect woman for me.”
“I forbid you to ever bring her here.” Tension grew as Michael stared his brother down.
“I’ve always done everything you wanted of me, but…this, I cannot do. I’m sorry. I’m…I’m going to marry her.” Victor mumbled the second half of this foolish announcement, and then swallowed hard; Michael noticed the ripple that passed down his throat. Lifting his gaze ever-so-slowly, as if prolonging the silent moment would reduce Michael’s anger, Victor added, “As soon as possible.”
Michael abruptly stood. His leather chair fell back behind him with a crash. He put both hands on the desk and leaned forward. “You will not!”
“I will!” Victor countered in a booming voice, but he refused to meet Michael’s eyes. He crossed his arms across his chest, appearing like a lad who’d just had his dessert taken away.
Michael decided a different route was in order- threat. “I’ll cut you off.”
Victor gaped.
Really, his brother knew naught of him at all? Michael would never do such an abysmal thing.
Victor’s shoulders relaxed a scant second later as if he’d just caught on to Michael’s ruse. “Do as you must.”
Michael blew out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “Let me enlighten you, dear boy. Your little Miss Overton is not a gentle lady, if you catch my meaning.”
“You have a tendency to believe the worst in everyone. You don’t know her!”
Michael balled his fists at his brother’s impudence, but managed to hold onto a thread of whatever patience he had left. “And you do? You met the girl a mere three days ago,” he reminded gently. He had to keep telling himself that Victor was terrible at interpreting people. And young. And sometimes impractical.
“It’s enough!” Victor added.
Like now. Michael stifled another irritating sigh which, lately, seemed to be sparking up with increasing frequency. If the truth was what Victor needed to understand why Michael stood so firmly against the match, then by God, he’ll get it. “She gives herself freely. I’ve seen an…Look—”
“Don’t!” Victor looked as if he’d been slapped across the face. He visibly shook, and his rage was evident in his brown eyes. He sported bright red spots on both cheeks. Steadily easing from the chair, he declared, “Don’t speak poorly of Ally. I’m going to make her my wife.”
“The hell you will!” Michael finally unleashed his wrath. His eyes bore down on Victor, his jaws clamped tight. He was ready to tear his brother limb from limb. “You’ll not get a shilling from me if you dare,” he said so low, Victor slightly tilted his head forward as if straining to hear his words. Michael continued his voice flat, “I will close all your accounts. I will cut off all your funds, and notify your clubs to no longer admit you.” Surely that would terrify the boy into quitting all of this foolhardiness.
“I do not need anything if I have Ally.”
Michael’s mouth hung in disbelief. “Don’t be dense. You want a woman like that to become the mother of your children? You could do better. There are plenty of girls here in London who are just as pretty. I’ll ask Havenbrook and his wife to hold a house party in your honor. You may choose—”
“No. I do not wish to choose anyone else. I’ve chosen Ally. You will just have to accept her!”
Michael stared at his brother, his mind doing its usual routine: predicting, calculating, arranging. The results would be precisely as he sought.
His butler crossed the threshold, likely seeking to reposition his toppled chair, but Michael fiercely grabbed it himself, allowing his frustration to show. Noisily straightening it, letting the legs screech against the marbled floors of the study, he fell into the seat. Gnashing his teeth, he picked up his quill and scribbled a few words onto a clean sheet of parchment
.
Michael refused to tear his gaze from the task of sealing the letter. “Deliver this to Lord Reynolds on your way out, if you could spare a minute of your time for me.”
Victor reached over and took the missive. “Of course.” He rose with sluggishness, frowning with puckered brows, and then fell back into his chair as if his legs could no longer support his weight. “Michael—”
“Not now. We’ll discuss this later.”
Hope lighted Victor’s eyes. “We’ll discuss it?”
Michael gave his brother a decidedly curt nod.
“Oh, you will not be sorry, I assure you!”
After his brother left with the scribbled note to Lord Reynolds, requesting he keep the boy occupied for the next few hours, Michael rose and paced the study. “Get my horse ready,” he instructed his butler who remained at the door like a gargoyle guarding its cathedral.
“Very good, sir. Er, where are you headed, sir?”
“To see the girl.”
***
“What do you mean she’s not feeling better? Isn’t she supposed to?” Ally cried, sidestepping to let a passing nurse through the hospital hallway. Dr. Reeves shook his head and sighed. “No, don’t shake your head. You’re supposed to make her better. You’re a physician, if you’ll remember.”
Dr. Reeves gazed at her with poignant eyes, causing her deeper distress. “Miss Overton, I’ve done the best I could, but there are certain things we need to ensure before we proceed with your grandmother’s treatment.”
“Certain things to ensure?” Although unable to help the slump of her shoulders, Ally was able to suppress the groan that almost escaped her throat. “What kind of things?”
“Funds, Miss Overton,” Dr. Reeves told her, pushing up the horn rimmed spectacles from the middle of his nose. “Unfortunately, the funds we’ve had from our donors aren’t nearly enough. Your grandmother’s health is severe. Did you know she had had chest pains for nearly a month?” he asked. At the shake of her head, he continued, “No? Well, you see, your grandmother confessed she’d been trying to hide the fact from you, sure you’d be worried, I imagine.”
