My Brown-Eyed Earl

by Anna Bennett

  “To be clear,” Will said, “he wasn’t offering to pay me, merely to forgive my father’s debt.”

  “It is the same thing,” she spat. “It seems everyone involved in the deal had a rather low opinion of me.”

  “Meg,” he said softly, “I don’t think that’s true at all. Your father simply wanted the best possible future for you.”

  “And my best possible future was marriage to you?” With a snort, she leaped out of bed, snatched her robe off of the chair, and stuffed her arms into it.

  He shrugged his impossibly broad shoulders in a most vexing manner. “You could do worse.”

  “Your arrogance, my lord, is truly amazing.”

  “We’re back to my lord?” Shaking his head, he gave a hollow laugh. “Why do you insist on blaming me for a deal struck by our fathers?”

  “Because you’re the one who brought it to my attention and … and because you’re blind to the offensiveness of it.” She tied her wrapper tightly around her and paced the side of the room farthest from him.

  “I was just as much a pawn in this charade as you were,” he said.

  “Men are never pawns in the same way that women are. You were the heir to an earldom. Even if you had been forced to marry me—a fate I saved you from, by the way—you would have been free to pursue your own life, your own pleasures. I’m sure you would have had a mistress or two.”

  He speared his hands through his hair, frustration plain on his face. “Now you’re condemning me for hypothetical mistresses?”

  Very well, perhaps she’d gone too far. “I’m only trying to explain why our situations were so very different. My future was almost decided by the turn of a card, without any consideration for my wishes or feelings. I would have been trapped in a loveless sham of a marriage for the rest of my life.”

  The hurt look that crossed his face made her instantly regret her words. “Do you truly think our marriage would have been loveless?” he asked.

  She threw up her hands. “We were young and foolish, Will. Neither of us knew anything about love.”

  “And now?” His brown eyes had never looked more vulnerable. But she had everything to lose—including her heart.

  Wrapping her arms around her waist, she said, “It is a moot point.”

  “What if it isn’t?” He approached carefully, like a hunter tracking a deer.

  “I don’t take your meaning.” In no mood for games, she stepped back, needing some distance between them.

  “In the last couple of weeks, I’ve come to care for you deeply,” he began.

  Oh no. She knew what he was going to say and wanted nothing more than to freeze the words on his lips. “I care for you, too,” she said, “but we both knew this relationship would eventually have to end.”

  “I don’t think it does, Meg.” He reached for her hands and clasped them tenderly between his own. “I understand that you want to determine your own future and make your own choices … so I’m giving you a choice now.”

  Swallowing, she closed her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It probably wasn’t supposed to happen at all. “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m not doing anything because I have to, damn it.” He looked down at their hands before meeting her gaze again. “Allow me to finish. I want to marry you, and not out of obligation. I’d planned to ask you even before I learned of the debt.”

  He wanted to marry her? Or had he merely convinced himself that he did out of a misplaced sense of honor? Either way, it was a proposal—not the most romantic sort perhaps, but her chest squeezed nonetheless. After all, wallflowers could hardly expect bouquets and poetry.

  And they most certainly could not expect declarations of love.

  Which was just as well, since she could not possibly accept his proposal.

  “Will, I—”

  “Please, wait. I said that you have a choice. If you do not wish to marry me”—his voice grew rough—“I will, of course, honor my father’s debt. I want you to know that, no matter your decision, you, your sisters, and your uncle will be provided for.” Slowly, he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. “I want you to be my wife, but your future will not be determined by what I want. And it won’t be determined by what your parents wanted or by your dire financial straits. Your future will be determined solely by you.”

  The room tilted and her fingers went numb. Yes, she’d wanted to control her own destiny, but neither of his options felt like true choices.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want him for a husband. Lord save her, she did, with all her heart. But to marry Will after her initial rejection of him—which had directly led to her parents’ deaths—seemed like the ultimate betrayal. How could she live with herself, knowing that if she’d simply obeyed Papa and Mama’s wishes eight years ago, she’d be happily married to Will and her parents would be alive and well today?

  And while the ten thousand pounds would solve many problems for her family, it felt an awful lot like blood money—a windfall that would never have come her way but for her parents’ deaths.

  She had to wonder, too, whether Will would have insisted on paying the debt if she and he hadn’t … if they hadn’t made love. The very idea that the money might be compensation for their intimate relationship … well, it made her stomach roil.

  Pulling away, she pressed a palm to her forehead.

  His brows knitted. “Are you all right?”

  No. “Yes, it’s all just a bit overwhelming.”

  “I … I thought you’d be happy,” he said. “I’d hoped we would be celebrating our engagement.”

  “I’m not suited for this life.” She flung a hand at the elegant bedchamber.

  “A life with me? Of course you are.”

  “Your mother would never approve of me. Nor would half the ton.”

  He shrugged. “Then we shall have to change their minds.”

  Dear God, her belly was in knots. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you an answer right now. I’m afraid I need some time to think.”

  His face fell. “I understand. You may take as much time as you need. But don’t push me away.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “An hour ago we laid together in that bed, as close as two people can be. Nothing’s changed since then.”

  Oh, but it had. She’d just learned that her own father had wagered her like she was a breeding mare. Then Will’s proposal had jarred her out of the fantasy world she’d been living in, forcing her to take stock of what they’d done and to somehow reconcile it with her past. “The twins are going home tomorrow, and so am I.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t, Meg. Stay a few days at least—so we can sort this all out.” His heavy-lidded eyes pleaded with her, and he sidled closer. “You belong here, with me.”

  “I’m not certain where I belong,” she said hoarsely. “I promise to consider all you’ve said, but I think I’d like to be alone for a while now.”

  He pressed his lips into a thin line. While he silently pulled on his boots and wrestled with his shirt, she tried to keep her knees from wobbling.

  “I’ll leave you now,” he said, “but think about this. You and I are good together—and not just in bed. If you gave us a chance, we could be great together.”

  Her cheeks burned. She could not deny that they were well-matched in passion.

  He stalked to the door and gripped the knob, frustration written plain on his face. “I don’t know why you’re upset, but I do know that if you trusted me, we could face anything together. I swear to you, Meg, if you say yes, I’ll make you happy—or die trying.” As he quietly left her room, his words echoed in her head.

  She believed that he wanted to make her happy.

  She even believed that with him, she could be.

  But she’d once rejected him and sent her parents on a chase that led to their sudden, pointless, and tragic deaths. Maybe a girl who’d do something like that didn’t deserve to be happy.

  Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

  “Pardo
n the interruption, my lord. Miss Lacey wondered if you might have a trunk to spare for the twins’ belongings. They came with nothing but the frocks they wore and a small satchel of clothes to share between the two of them. Now they have a closetful of dresses—thanks to you.” Mrs. Lundy smiled approvingly.

  “Of course, there are plenty of trunks in the attic. Give Miss Lacey and the girls whatever they require.”

  “Thank you.” The housekeeper bobbed her head, started to scurry off, then hesitated in the doorway of his study. “Funny how those two managed to worm their ways into my heart. I’m going to miss the little mites.”

  Will knew just what she meant but snorted anyway. “Yes, all the peace and quiet will be unbearable.”

  Chuckling, she hurried toward the stairway once more.

  Will checked the time. Almost noon, and he hadn’t seen Meg all morning. She was avoiding him, and that was a very bad sign.

  Gibson shuffled into the room, proffering a small stack of envelopes. “The mail, my lord.”

  “I see that, Gibson. Place it there.” He inclined his head to the corner of his desk. “Like you do every other damned day.”

  “Very good, my lord.” A tortoise could have traveled to his desk faster than the butler.

  “Is there a problem, Gibson?”

  The butler pursed his lips. “I was just thinking about how Miss Diana and Miss Valerie liked to help me sort the mail each morning.”

  “You put them to work, did you? Brilliant, and also shameless. I approve.”

  Jowls waggling, the butler nodded vigorously. “Industriousness is its own reward. And the girls insisted on reciting your address to me each day. I tested each of them separately.”

  “How fascinating.” Will rolled his eyes, but his sarcasm was lost on Gibson.

  “They were rather proud of the accomplishment. Miss Lacey insisted that they commit the address to memory after the evening that Miss Diana disappeared.” The butler rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I’ll write them a letter now and then, just to let them practice. I’d hate for them to regress.”

  “It would be a tragedy.” Will glanced at the ledger on his desk so Gibson wouldn’t see him smiling. “I think you should write to them at least every fortnight or so.”

  The butler tilted his head thoughtfully. “I was considering writing a weekly missive,” he mused.

  “Even better.”

  “If you insist, my lord.”

  “Thank you. That will be all, Gibson.”

  Will couldn’t deny that he’d miss the girls too. But he’d been quite content with his life before they’d arrived. He’d adjust to life without them again. It wasn’t as though a person could completely change in a few weeks … or could he?

  Rather than contemplate the question, Will sifted through the letters that Gibson had delivered. One envelope in particular caught his eye, and he opened it.

  It was an invitation to Lord Wiltmore’s ball.

  Will immediately penned a response indicating he’d be delighted and honored to attend. He knew Meg was dreading the ball, but if he leaned on his friends and acquaintances, they would all attend, ensuring the ball’s success and sparing her further embarrassment.

  The ink had barely dried on his reply before Lila arrived and everyone congregated in the drawing room to say good-bye. Diana and Valerie beamed at the attention, and bounded around the room excitedly, towing Lila in their wake.

  All the staff wanted to wish the girls well; some gave them candies and small gifts. Mrs. Hopwood directed a footman to load two trunks and two bags in the hackney cab out front. Meg hung back, letting the girls slowly transition from her care into their mother’s. She’d put on a brave face, but her pink-rimmed eyes betrayed her.

  Eventually, the servants returned to work and Lila clasped the twins’ hands. “Well, my darlings, are you ready to go home?”

  “Yes!” they cried.

  “Then we shall. Say good-bye to Miss Lacey and Lord Castleton.”

  A look of alarm crossed Diana and Valerie’s faces—as though they’d just now realized that going home necessarily involved leaving the earl’s house. They ran to Meg and threw their arms around her. “You’ll come visit us, won’t you?”

  Over the girls’ heads, Meg glanced at Lila, who gave her a blank stare. “I shall try. I will most assuredly write to you. Be good for your mama and for Mrs. Hopwood. Be kind to each other, because sisters are the friends you shall have your whole life.”

  “We’ll miss you, Miss Lacey,” Valerie said.

  Diana nodded vigorously. “You were the best governess we ever had.”

  Her eyes brimming, Meg smiled and kissed each girl on the cheek. As though she didn’t trust herself to speak, she waved them in Will’s direction.

  “Ladies,” he said formally, “I wonder if we might have a brief word in private?”

  They stared at him, bewildered.

  “Let’s have a chat in the hall,” he said.

  They nearly tripped over themselves trying to be first through the doorway, and once they were in the corridor, Will crouched so he was approximately at a six-year-old height. “I have a couple of important matters to discuss with you,” he began.

  Two pairs of strikingly blue eyes went wide. “Yes, sir,” Diana replied.

  “First, I need your help selecting a thank-you gift for Miss Lacey. I thought we could give her something from the three of us.”

  Valerie clasped her plump hands beneath her chin. “Ooh, a gift would make her happy. What shall we give her?”

  “I was thinking a dress, to replace the one that…”

  “We stained with chocolate and burned to ash?” Diana provided.

  “Precisely.” Will smiled. “But you must tell me what you think Miss Lacey would like.”

  “A fairy princess dress,” announced Valerie.

  “Done.” Will turned to Diana.

  “What color?”

  “Dark pink—like the square of fabric we saw the first day we went dress shopping. I could tell that Miss Lacey admired it.”

  “Perfect,” Will announced. “I cannot tell you how helpful that information is.” The girls lifted their chins proudly.

  “What was the second thing?” asked Valerie.

  “I have a secret to tell you—an important one.”

  Diana shivered in anticipation. “Oh, I do love secrets.”

  Will placed his hands on their shoulders, drew them closer, and lowered his voice.

  “One day when you are older, I will tell you more, but for now, I want you to know that your father was a dear friend of mine.”

  “You know who our father was?”

  “I do. And he loved you … very much.”

  “I thought that…” Valerie blushed. “I thought that perhaps you were our father.”

  “I am not,” Will said carefully. “But I can tell you this. Any man would be lucky to have you two for his daughters.”

  They hugged him—surprisingly hard for such tiny girls—and he hugged them back, oddly reluctant to let go.

  When they returned to the drawing room, Lila tapped her toe impatiently. “I’m afraid we must be off now,” she said. “I want to have the girls settled before naptime.”

  “We have to take naps at home, too?” Diana moaned.

  As the twins, Lila, and Mrs. Hopwood bustled out the front door, Will spotted a trunk in the foyer. “Wait, there’s one more trunk to be loaded. I’ll see to it.” He leaned over and prepared to heft it onto his shoulder.

  “That’s not the girls’,” Meg said. “It’s mine. I wondered if Harry could deliver me home.”

  “Damn it, Meg,” he murmured. “If anyone’s going to take you home, it will be me. Let’s see the twins off first.”

  They stood on the doorstep as Diana and Valerie clambered into the cab, chatting endlessly. Their blue eyes shining and little noses pressed to the windows, they waved enthusiastically.

  Will waved back until the hackney disappeared from view. For
Meg’s sake and his pride’s, he remained stoic.

  He told himself that the hole left in his heart by two tiny hoydens couldn’t possibly take very long to heal.

  And he hoped to hell he was right.

  Chapter THIRTY-SIX

  “It’s not too late to turn around.” Will sat across from Meg on the plush squabs of his elegant coach as it rumbled through the streets of London. The shattered look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. “Let’s go home and discuss your concerns over dinner.”

  “No,” she said softly. “When we are alone together, we have a tendency to engage in activities other than talking.”

  “That’s not a bad thing, you know.”

  She took a deep breath. “I can’t be with you anymore, Will. A relationship shouldn’t be based on secret wagers, verbal sparring, and…”

  He raised a dark brow. “Amazing sex?”

  “Exactly,” she choked out.

  “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

  She did know it. But she couldn’t very well tell him about her guilt or the fear that if she married him, she’d wake up every day knowing that she was living the life her parents had wanted for her—only, due to her stubborn pride, they weren’t there to witness it. Her selfishness had made her sisters orphans. How was she supposed to tell them that she’d capriciously changed her mind about the decision that had led to their parents’ deaths?

  “Perhaps in time…” But she already knew she and Will had no hope of a future; she merely pretended otherwise in order to make a graceful exit from the coach—and from his life.

  As the coach rolled to a stop in front of Uncle Alistair’s house, she scooped her bag off the floor. “Thank you for seeing me home.”

  He shook his head, bewildered. “That is all you have to say to me? I asked you to marry me, Meg. We shared everything. And you act as though I’m a stranger who escorted you home from the park.”

  Dear God, she had to go. Quickly, before she lost her resolve and the last threads of her composure. “I shall write to you in a week or so.”