Now her mother had placed her in a position that could very well take years to overcome. To say nothing of the fact that she found herself engaged to a man she barely knew, and didn’t even like. Add to the mess that Lord Clarendon had been about to offer for another, and the entire matter was a catastrophe.
She was sure that once he had time to think it over, he would come to the sane realization that they should not marry each other.
He assisted her into her pelisse and then held her elbow as they made their way down the steps to his carriage. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he was being so gracious when she was more than willing to give him a way out. Their encounters had left her with the firm belief that he was no happier with her than she was with him. Though she had some knowledge of him through her friendship with his sister, Eugenia, who was quite fond of her brother. And Eugenia found him tolerable. At least he was honorable—to a fault, it seemed.
He had been gentlemanly enough to rescue Miss Aphrodite…grudgingly. It was a far cry from rescuing her from her mother’s machinations. Especially since it meant spending the rest of their lives together.
There was also the multitude of young ladies who would be crying into their often-dropped handkerchiefs now that Lord Clarendon was off the marriage mart. If she could not convince him to stop this foolishness, the darling of the ton would be her husband.
Her husband.
Oh lord, Mother, what have you done?
…
Nash handed Lady Arabella into his carriage and climbed in behind her. She huddled in the corner, facing the window. He took the opportunity to study her in the scant light. Certainly not difficult to look at, as he’d noted before. Of course, that was when she’d merely been a pest with odd habits and not his intended bride. She had an acceptable figure underneath her gown. A form he’d noticed even more so when he’d picked her up. Her warm, soft curves had fit nicely against him.
Her skin was creamy, her lips lush and full. He would certainly not find bedding her a chore. But there was more to marriage than a romp between the sheets. She had to be able to handle his household and maneuver them among Society—accepting and rejecting invitations. She needed to plan and preside over dinner parties, garden parties, and balls. One day she would have to guide their children from childhood to adulthood.
Although he knew very little of her, he assumed she’d been trained by her governesses and tutors in all the appropriate competencies. No doubt she played the pianoforte well, stitched a lovely needlepoint, and produced acceptable watercolors. She was probably fluid in French, and perhaps German. Much like he’d found Lady Grace to be.
But the animals. That would be a problem, especially since he could not be near a cat without a sneezing fit. Well, that was something she would have to leave behind. As well as her stubborn nature. Once they married, he would be the one to make the decisions for the both of them. After all, when he’d awoken this morning, he’d had no intention of proposing marriage to Lady Arabella. But, if he put aside their recent unpleasant encounters, she would probably do as well as Lady Grace in the role of his countess.
It startled him to realize the two women were interchangeable. He had no great love or passion for Lady Grace. She had seemed an acceptable bride. And, of course, there had been her dowry.
Which left him with the question of Lady Arabella’s dowry, something he was sure to discover when he met with her solicitor. “Why is it you have no guardian?” The question popped out before he even thought about it.
A surprised Lady Arabella, no doubt deep in her own thoughts about the upcoming nuptials, faced him. “I had reached my majority when my papa passed last year.”
“You are two and twenty, then?”
“Yes. Papa was ill for more than two years before his passing. We were unable to travel to Town. Then with the mourning period after he died, I was already a few years older than the other girls the year I came out.” She raised her chin. “Do you have a problem with my age, my lord?”
God almighty, the girl seemed ready to begin an argument over anything he said.
“No. I was merely asking.” He studied her. “Do you take offense at every comment?”
“It depends on who is making the comment. Most of yours seem to be insulting.”
He sighed. “I meant no insult by asking why you have no guardian. However, I am finished with disagreements for the evening.” He settled back in the carriage. Given Lady Arabella’s age, that would explain why she seemed so sure of what she wanted and did not want. Unfortunately, she needed to realize that in the matter of their betrothal, they had no choice. In addition to her reputation, his would be tarnished, as well. A gentleman who was caught in a dark room, unchaperoned, with a young lady, was expected to step up and marry her. Whether that made sense or not was a moot point. It was the way of things in their world.
As the carriage rumbled through the streets of Mayfair, his thoughts wandered to Lady Grace. He’d planned on having to guide her into her new role as his wife. At eighteen years, she was young, and had shown signs of immaturity that he knew he’d have to deal with.
Truth be told, her constant chattering about nonsense had grated on his nerves more than once. On carriage rides and walks in the garden, he’d attempted to have more meaningful conversations with her. However, she had merely gazed at him with adoration and a bit of confusion. Hair ribbons, her wardrobe, hairstyles, and the latest gossip seemed to be their entire repartee when he was with her. Maybe having an older bride would suit him more.
That again left him with the odd, uncomfortable sense of the two women being transposable. An unnerving feeling, for sure. Had he not any attachment whatsoever to Lady Grace? Not that he’d intended to ever suffer the pangs of love and romance as Wentworth had, of course. Not for him the wrenching emotions of love that led to hurt feelings and messy botherations.
He focused his attention once more on Lady Arabella. “Since you did not wish to marry Pembroke, is there another you had hoped would offer?”
That was probably not a very gentlemanly question to ask, but nevertheless, he found he really wanted to know the answer. Would she be pining for someone else when he came to her bed?
“No, I have not been out in Society long enough to acquire a tendre.”
He noted the sharpness of her voice. Was this a young lady who was not ready to accept the constraints of marriage? Hopefully, that would not cause him immense trouble. “I must admit surprise that a beautiful woman such as yourself has received no offers.”
She turned and gave him a tight smile. “I did not say no offers. Merely that there was no one from whom I wished to receive an offer.”
“Ah. So, there have been offers you’ve turned down?”
“Yes.”
Now it made sense. Apparently, the young lady was being too particular, and her mama had decided to take matters into her own hands. “I take it Pembroke was the latest of your refusals?”
She nodded. “Although I never gave him the opportunity to actually propose.” She shuddered. “I suppose, if things had gone the way Mother had planned, I would be faced with the dilemma of Pembroke’s proposal.” She turned to him, the earnestness of her words clearly written on her face. “I certainly don’t desire love in my marriage, my lord, but I would like to be able to tolerate the man I marry.”
“Indeed.” His eyebrows rose. “And it seems I will now be that man.” He leaned forward, gazing into her hazel eyes, made visible through the carriage lamp on the wall beside her head.
“So, tell me, Lady Arabella. Do you find me tolerable?”
Chapter Four
Arabella sucked in a breath as butterflies took up residence in her stomach at Clarendon’s softly murmured words. Tolerable? Up to now she’d found him barely tolerable. To think she was expected to marry a man who disagreed with everything she said. But, she had found him to be a true gentleman. It would have been an easy thing for him to explain the truth of their encounter in
the library, which would not have been believed by anyone.
Rumors about her virtue—or lack thereof—would have spread, looks would have been cast in her direction, and she would have been ruined.
He had saved her from all that by announcing their betrothal. The moment he had looked down at her when Lord Ashbourne had demanded to know what was going on in his library, her heart had sped up. She’d waited for him to blame her for stumbling into his peace and quiet, and then, quite literally, falling into his arms.
Lord Clarendon had done no such thing. He’d explained away their situation by relinquishing the woman he had planned to marry. But Arabella had no intention of allowing the situation to go as far as the altar.
However, something about the way he looked at her now made it seem as though all the air in the carriage had suddenly vanished. His heavy-lidded eyes were a much deeper color, and a slight twist to his lips gave him a rakish look. She wondered what it would feel like to have those lips covering hers. Calling herself so much a fool, she answered, “Yes, my lord. I find you tolerable.” Drat, how breathless I sound.
Seeming satisfied with her answer, he nodded briefly. She took in a deep breath and ordered her body to behave itself. Within minutes the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her family’s residence. A townhouse that now belonged to an unknown, obscure relative who would be taking possession sometime later this year. Perhaps it had been her duty to marry quickly so as to provide security for her mother. But for Mother to set up the shenanigans tonight was beyond the pale.
Arabella took Clarendon’s hand after he alighted and turned to assist her. He appeared distracted, removed from the conversation they’d just had. As Tavers opened the front door, Clarendon spoke to the butler. “If Lady Melrose is receiving, I would request an audience with her.” He held out his card.
The well-trained butler never reacted to having her arrive with Lord Clarendon, nor his request to speak to her mother at this hour of the night. He merely accepted the card, bowed, and said, “I will have her ladyship’s maid inquire. If you will follow me, I will conduct you to the drawing room and send for refreshments.”
Clarendon waved his hand. “No need for refreshments. If her ladyship receives me, the encounter will not take long.” He glanced down at Arabella. “I will call upon you tomorrow. Plan to be ready for a ride in Hyde Park at five o’clock.”
She stiffened. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Perhaps I have other plans for tomorrow at five o’clock.”
Nash shrugged. “Cancel them.”
Oh, the man was insufferable. “Mayhap I do not wish to cancel them, my lord.”
He studied her for a minute, his arrogant eyebrow raised. Apparently, he’d never considered that she would not fall at his feet with glee at having a strong man order her about.
“I do not wish to make an issue of a simple request.”
She offered him a smile sweet enough to cause a toothache. “Ah, my lord, but ’twas not a simple request. It sounded more like a demand.”
They glared at each other.
Realizing that Tavers stood patiently while they had this exchange, and somewhat embarrassed at having the servant witness her impertinence, she tightened her jaw then offered a slight curtsy and headed up to her bedchamber, mumbling all the way.
If this was how he intended for them to go on, then he would be in for a surprise. She was no young, silly Lady Grace, who would gaze up at him adoringly, waiting longingly for commands and guidance through her life. Even though it was her mother who had inadvertently placed them both in a position that resulted in this fake betrothal, Arabella had no intention of assuming the demeanor of a swooning debutante, eyelashes batting. Until she could rid herself of the burden that was Lord Clarendon, she would make it clear he was not her lord and master.
She rang for Sophia and paced, wondering if Mother had granted Clarendon an audience and what had been said. Being the gentleman she’d found him to be, she doubted if he would insult Mother in any way. Hopefully, Mother would use her common sense and explain that jumping in with both feet to save her had been unnecessary.
Before Sophia had even arrived, Arabella heard the sound of a carriage door closing and wheels rolling on the cobblestones in front of the townhouse. Either his lordship had been correct, and what he needed to say was truly not very long, or Mother had refused to see him. In any event, the maneuverings Mother had set in play tonight had thrust Arabella into an untenable situation that needed correction, and fast.
The next morning, while Sophia fixed her hair, Arabella touched the puffy dark circles under her eyes with her fingertips. Based on what she saw in the mirror, a lie-down later would be necessary if she were to present herself to Clarendon for their carriage ride looking less like a hag than she did right now.
A slight knock at her door drew her from her thoughts. Mother entered, the first time she’d seen her since the debacle the prior evening. “Good morning, Arabella. I hope you slept well.”
Arabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Slept well? Hardly.
“As well as could be expected, I would think, under the circumstances.” Arabella glanced at Sophia in the mirror. “That is fine, Sophia. You may leave now.” The young maid curtsied and left the room.
Once the door closed, Mother went immediately on the defensive. “I am sorry for the mix-up last evening, but you must admit, Arabella, things have turned out rather well.”
Arabella spun around in her chair, her mouth agape. “Rather well? I am now betrothed to a man I hardly know, who was planning on offering for another lady, who probably hates me and will soon be spewing vitriol about my virtue. Which, no doubt, several people are already questioning.” Arabella stood and circled the room, slapping her fist into her palm. “Do you think I will go through with this farce? How could you do that, Mother? And Lord Pembroke?”
Mother raised her chin. “The situation had grown dire, Arabella.” She wrung her hands. “I received a letter yesterday from the new earl that his plans have changed and he will be back in England within the month. We have nowhere to go.”
She dropped her hands to her sides and stared at Arabella. “What do you mean ‘do I think you will go through with it?’”
“Just that. I have no intention of marrying Lord Clarendon. I can barely stand the man—although I did tell him he was tolerable—but I definitely do not want him for a husband.”
“You have no choice. If you do not marry him, you will be ruined. No one will offer for you. We will be tossed out into the streets.”
“Not so. The new earl has already said we were free to stay here and to also make use of the estate manor until I am settled.” They had discussed this very matter several times, and Arabella had no reason to believe her mother had softened her position.
“I will not live on another’s forbearance. Why, for all we know, he might have a wife and several children. I doubt very much if she would be happy with the arrangement.”
“You are jumping to conclusions with no merit. Furthermore, it appears to me your only consideration was worry for your own well-being. Did you, however, consider me and my wishes? I certainly would have preferred to spend the rest of my life with someone whose very presence does not cause my stomach to roil, as does Lord Pembroke.”
Her mother smirked. “Well, then it is a good thing Lord Clarendon had been in the library, because I doubt very much if you will find it difficult to sit across the table from him each morning. He is certainly not difficult to look at.”
This angered Arabella further. “Yes. And he is obnoxious, arrogant, high-handed, and overbearing.”
Mother tugged on the cuffs of her day gown, the gesture she always used to announce the subject under discussion was closed. “We have much to do before the wedding, Arabella.”
The wedding.
The memory of the scent of sandalwood and the feel of firm muscles under his clothing brought a slight kernel of excitement to her stomach. Although, as most young maidens
, she knew very little of the marriage bed, she could imagine that what took place there would certainly be much more pleasant with him than Lord Pembroke and his fat, sausage fingers.
But pleasant bed activities were not enough of an enticement to persuade her to marry the man.
Arabella took in a sharp breath. “I intend to explain to his lordship on our ride this afternoon that marriage between the two of us is not well founded. I am sure he can be convinced, and there will be no need for a wedding. Things will return to normal, I will avoid Society for a while, and all will be well.”
Apparently ignoring Arabella’s stance on the wedding, Mother said, “Before we begin preparations for your nuptials, however, I would like to know why another foul and grubby dog is now taking up space in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, getting in Cook’s way.”
Arabella groaned inwardly. She’d forgotten about the poor, straggly animal that had followed her home the prior afternoon—hours before her life had changed forever. After a bath and a bit of food, he’d looked much better, and had licked her face until she’d laughed with glee. With her penchant for strays, and Miss Aphrodite now residing elsewhere, the household currently had in residence four dogs, two cats, and a bird with a damaged wing.
“You do know it is highly unlikely that Lord Clarendon will allow all of these creatures into his house.”
Why wouldn’t Mother listen to her? Lord Clarendon would have no say because he would not be her husband. “Another reason I need to get this all straightened out with him. I cannot abandon those animals. That would be cruel.”
“No, young lady, sensible is the word that fits. Furthermore, once you marry and move into his lordship’s house, I will have Tavers release the animals in the park.” Once again, she tugged on the gown’s cuff. “Now it is time to prepare for your wedding.”
Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love) Page 4
