Marry Temper? Desire her as he did, Giff had never given the notion more than a passing thought, believing she saw him—until recently, anyway—only as her older brother’s friend. She possessed few of the characteristics she’d just mentioned as desirable in a politician’s wife. But then, he’d stated only two requirements for a wife—that she have money and no inclination to hang about him, demanding attention. Temper certainly met both of those qualifications.
But...marry Temper? Could he really take her as his wife...and keep his distance? Permission to dally among the muslin company wasn’t a very attractive proposition when he considered the pleasure he might enjoy at home—with Temper in his bed.
In fact, between being preoccupied with squiring Temper and his duties in Parliament, he hadn’t visited the ladies in weeks.
‘You would marry me if I let you go your own way?’ he asked, probing at the matter tentatively, like poking a nest you think, but are not quite sure, the wasps have abandoned. ‘And what of...intimate matters?’
Her face colouring, she looked away, not meeting his eyes. ‘A marriage blanc would be a requirement.’
Giff stared at her, perplexed and, he admitted, the male in him a little affronted. He knew she was attracted to him. The air fairly buzzed with sensual tension when they were near each other, and he knew he hadn’t imagined the zing of contact when he touched her of late. So...why this reluctance to take the attraction further?
Maybe a lifetime of watching the disdain with which her mother had been treated for indulging her desires made Temper determined to repress her own. Or the distaste for the undeserved comments—like those of Thetford—and unsolicited advances—like those of Wendemere—to which her unjustified reputation subjected her made her want to deny the passionate nature he, and any man with breath in his body, sensed in her.
Whatever the reason, despite the fact that he was her brother’s best friend, if he actually had a husband’s rights to her body, he couldn’t think of anything less convenient and more designed to drive a man crazy than being married to Temper, having promised not to touch her.
And then there were the exploits she’d probably embroil herself in, here and abroad. He could hardly devote the necessary time and energy to his responsibilities in Parliament if he had to keep one eye always on Temper, rescuing her from her impulsive starts and protecting her from men seeking to take advantage. Lord help the hapless man permanently saddled with the task of controlling her!
Still, she’d made him a generous offer and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Choosing his words with care, he said, ‘That’s a tempting proposal, Temper, and I do appreciate it. But—’
‘—you’d rather not saddle yourself with a handful like me?’ she said gruffly, still not meeting his eyes. ‘I understand. You really do deserve a better wife, Giff. Someone with those talents and attributes I just mentioned. A woman you would be eager, rather than resigned, to marry. I suppose you’ll just have to put your mama off a while longer while I help you look for this paragon. I just thought for a moment the bargain might work—fulfilling your need for funds and mine for freedom. We’re friends who respect and trust each other. At least, I hope you feel that way about me.’
‘You know I do,’ he said, conflicted. It would be madness to accept her proposal under the terms she’d set, but he knew his refusal must hurt. And foolish as it was, the idea of claiming Temper as his wife, once broached, had an insidious appeal...
She gave him a swift, strained smile. ‘You were probably my best hope of attaining my desires speedily. Once Miss Avery finishes spreading the word of my exploit with Wendemere, I shouldn’t have much trouble discouraging respectable gentleman. Doubtless, I’ll be able to end the Season unwed—but I will still have to endure the whole Season. And even after that, there’s no guarantee Papa will release any funds to me. Whereas, if I married someone who sympathised with my hopes and was willing to let me to pursue my dreams, I might not have to spend the rest of my life in England, alone and...miserable.’
She looked so woebegone, Giff felt even worse. But before he could commit the idiocy of reconsidering, she shook her head again. ‘Heavens, listen to what a poor, pathetic creature I sound! No, Giff, you’re right to hold out for a proper wife, not saddle yourself with a hoyden whose chequered reputation—and impulsive behaviour—would make her a millstone around the neck of a rising politician. We won’t speak of it again.’
He agreed completely with her assessment—so why did the conclusion make him feel so...unsatisfied? ‘Very well, we’ll speak of it no more,’ he said at last.
‘I’ve taken you away from your duties long enough,’ she said briskly, gathering up their glasses and rising to take them back to the sideboard. ‘Thank you for riding to my rescue—even though it proved unnecessary. I shall try to be more circumspect and avoid situations that require your intervention.’
‘I’d appreciate that,’ he said, rising as well, ‘since I’m likely to be called on the carpet by my godmother for this event. Though the ton may only learn about the race through Hyde Park, being Lady Sayleford, she’s sure to discover the whole story. And then chastise me for not being present at Trenton Manor to have averted the situation—even while she applauds your ingenuity.’
She brightened at the compliment, making him feel better about having just disappointed her. ‘I would be gratified if she considered the solution “ingenious” rather than “madcap”.’
She walked him to the door. ‘Goodbye, Giff. I hope your committee meetings go well.’
Giving her a bow, he walked out, heading to the hackney stand to engage a jarvey to return to Parliament. Relieved to be returning with their relationship unchanged, but still...unsettled.
Would she really end up alone and miserable?
He’d always thought she would eventually find some compatible gentleman and yield to the practicality of marriage. Based on her last comments, she was nowhere close to reaching that conclusion.
Still, his major concern was making sure she ended the Season unharmed, whether or not she ended it engaged. It wasn’t his responsibility to see that she ended up happy.
But she was such a fierce, bright, compelling spirit, he couldn’t help wanting her to be.
* * *
The next evening, Gifford looked down the length of the dinner table and suppressed a groan. Apparently Lady Witherspoon was a friend of the late Lady Chilford—and had heard the tale about Temperance that the woman’s daughter, Miss Avery, had doubtless whispered to every of member of society she’d encountered since that ill-fated race the previous morning.
Temperance and Mrs Moorsby had been seated in the middle of the long table, surrounded by dowagers who must be the hostess’s friends or relations and two elderly gentlemen. No young or single men sat within three chairs of them.
Temper herself had given him an ironic lift of her brow as they took their places, indicating she was well aware of the significance of her placement.
Glancing down at her now, he had to suppress a grin. From the relish with which she was bedazzling the elderly gentleman beside her, she was amused by their hostess’s manoeuvre. After all, her desire not to marry was so singular, the woman couldn’t be blamed for failing to recognise that she’d delighted, rather than slighted, Temper by placing her far away from eligible gentlemen.
Delighted, however, he was not. To his great annoyance, he had ended up with Miss Avery for a dinner partner.
As dinner progressed, matters only worsened. With society’s richest matrimonial prize, Lord Solsworth, seated on Miss Avery’s other side, he’d hoped to avoid becoming the sole focus of her attention. But, impervious to the glare the Countess of Agremont kept directing towards her son, Solsworth sidestepped Miss Avery’s every conversational opening and devoted himself to the married lady on his other side.
Leaving Giff the only eligible gentleman on whom Miss A
very could work her charms.
In the few moments when Miss Avery turned from him to accord the bare minimum of polite comments to the gentleman on her other side, Giff watched Solsworth. The duke’s heir hadn’t seen Temper since the race, Giff knew, but he’d undoubtedly heard all the salacious stories. Giff couldn’t tell from the glances the man occasionally directed towards Temper whether he’d been intrigued, or disgusted, by the accounts.
As soon as the ladies left them to their brandy, however, Solsworth turned to him. ‘I understand Miss Lattimar bested Wendemere in a race in Hyde Park?’
He stiffened, waiting for the criticism to come. ‘She did.’
‘And you knew of this race beforehand?’
‘Most assuredly not! Else I would have put a stop to it—though I would have had no doubts she would win. She’s an excellent horsewoman.’
Solsworth nodded. ‘I’m relieved to hear it. I would otherwise have to re-evaluate my good opinion of you. No true gentleman would have allowed a lady to meet that reprobate Wendemere unaccompanied! I’ve heard he’s been pressing his lewd attentions on her. Can’t say I’m happy she decided to take matters in her own hands to dispense with him, but the results were certainly impressive. If the scum dares approach her now, he’ll lose the few remaining friends he has.’
Giff sighed. ‘You’ll hardly be the only member of society to disapprove her methods.’
Solsworth laughed shortly. ‘Every beldame in London I’ve encountered since yesterday has condemned her. Including, of course, my mother.’ He grimaced. ‘She would pair me up with the eldest Avery girl who, for all that she is lovely and well dowered, makes me feel like the last mouse fleeing the larder, running smack into the cat.’
‘She does...press too hard,’ Giff agreed. ‘Although no thanks to you for giving me any help during dinner.’
‘Sorry, old man,’ Solsworth replied, his grin unrepentant. ‘But when one is touted as the richest matrimonial prize in London—’ he rolled his eyes ‘—one must protect oneself.’
‘Understood,’ Giff said. Having apparently discovered what he needed to, Solsworth turned to address their host, leaving Giff alone with his thoughts.
As he’d suspected, the duke’s heir didn’t intend to be swayed by the disapproval of his formidable mother. Did he mean to court Temper openly, or simply remain an admirer?
Solsworth was a bit young to think of marriage—but a woman like Temper didn’t come along very often. He appeared to be strong-willed and confident enough to earn her respect, and intelligent enough to try diplomacy to dissuade her from rash actions, rather than incite her rebellion by forbidding them. If he did pursue her, it wouldn’t be for her fortune, of which he had no need, but only because he couldn’t resist the beautiful, unconventional essence of her.
If he succeeded in winning her affection, it would be accounted a brilliant match for her.
Why could Giff not feel more enthusiastic about it?
Perhaps because he doubted the wife of a duke’s heir would be permitted to roam the world, collecting treasures and having adventures. Could Temper be satisfied with being mistress over a vast ducal empire in England?
Giff didn’t think so. And chided himself for feeling relieved.
But then, who would make a better husband for the uniqueness that was Temper? Giff wasn’t sure. He just knew he hadn’t yet met a man he thought would be equal to the job.
* * *
Giff’s respite ended when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. While Solsworth, to his mingled relief and unease, made a beeline for Temper, Miss Avery sought him out, first bringing him tea and then asking if he would take a turn about the room with her.
As there was no polite way to refuse, he suppressed a sigh and offered his arm. Somehow this evening, he needed to diplomatically convey that she was wasting her time, attempting to attach him.
Once they were beyond hearing distance of the several groups enjoying their tea, Miss Avery said, ‘Have you recovered from the shock of rescuing Miss Lattimar from her latest start?’
Determined not to be drawn into comments that could be construed as either criticism or support, he said blandly, ‘She rather rescued herself, I think.’
Miss Avery shook her head. ‘She is so bold and beautiful, it’s a shame she suffers under the burden of such an impulsive nature. Our situations being somewhat similar, I had hoped we might be friends.’
Biting back the observation that disparaging another female in the presence of other gentlemen was not a tactic likely to win friendship, he’d intended to utter a polite murmur. Then, curious how she could consider their backgrounds anything at all alike, he found himself asking, ‘How, similar?’
‘She already has a reputation to live down, compromising her ability to make a good match. Whereas, if I do not marry quickly, I may be thrust into a situation of such embarrassing notoriety that my ability to marry at all will be threatened.’
‘Indeed? In what way?’
‘I probably ought not to say anything...but then, I’m sure I can count on your discretion. As well as, I hope, your sympathy over a poor innocent female finding herself in so difficult a situation.’
Was she trying to elicit his chivalry? Regretting now that he’d invited a confidence, he replied carefully, ‘Of course, you can rely on my discretion.’ There being no way he was going to guarantee sympathy.
She sighed. ‘I imagine you know that my father—’ she almost spat out the word ‘—is Viscount Chilford. He’s informed the family—in confidence, so I trust you will not repeat this information—that he intends soon to remarry. Which, as it has been two years since we lost my dear mama, I could forgive, even if I cannot understand how he could bring himself to put someone else in her place! I know men have needs, but the woman he means to marry is his former mistress, who bore him a child out of wedlock! A low-born former governess! The fact that, should he actually commit such a...travesty, my sister and I will be made laughing stocks—’
‘Please, Miss Avery, you must say no more,’ Giff interrupted, needing to stop her before she uttered anything else to offend him—or embarrass her, once he revealed his connections to the woman she was savaging. ‘Viscount Chilford’s natural son, Mr Tawny, is a member of my party in Parliament, and a talented gentleman whom I highly respect. Since he also happens to be a close friend of Miss Lattimar’s brothers, Christopher and Gregory, I am well aware of your father’s plans to marry Mr Tawny’s mother. A charming woman I have met on several occasions. I really can’t allow you to abuse either of them.’
Her face going white, then red, Miss Avery was rendered, for once, speechless. After a moment, she said, ‘Then I will say no more.’
‘Perhaps I’d better return you to our hostess,’ Giff said, finally sensing an opening where he might politely but permanently escape the girl’s clutches. ‘Miss Avery, you are a lovely, highly respected lady who will undoubtedly make a fine match, regardless of who your father marries. But given your desire to wed quickly and with me being too occupied by my Parliamentary duties to consider marriage any time soon, you might do better to bestow the privilege of your attention upon...other gentlemen.’
It took a full moment for the implications of that speech, as diplomatic as he’d been able to make it while still conveying his point, to fully register. Giff could tell when it did, as Miss Avery’s already pink cheeks darkened to cherry.
‘I see. I had heard that you were in dire need of a rich wife—’ She halted, pressing her lips together for a moment before continuing, with a forced smile. ‘But I see the rumours were in error—as they so often are. How very awkward! I do apologise.’ Though her cheeks remained red, she continued smoothly, ‘I hope you won’t hold my...unfortunate candour against me, that we can remain friends.’
Her brittle smile didn’t reassure him that the feelings she would have towards him in future, after that embarra
ssing faux pas, would be at all friendly. But happy to grasp any olive branch, he said, ‘Of course. It would be my privilege.’
He’d turned to walk her back to the group around her aunt when suddenly she halted. ‘Is...is Miss Lattimar also aware of my father’s intentions?’
‘I’m sure she must be. As I mentioned, her brother Christopher is a close friend of Mr Tawny.’
Miss Avery sucked in a deep breath. Giff watched with dismay as the mortification of her expression turned to anger. ‘So...she has been laughing at me all this time! Pretending to be polite, all the while sniggering behind her hand, knowing of the humiliation that awaits me!’
Alarmed, Giff quickly replied, ‘Not at all, Miss Avery! Though she reveres Mr Tawny, given her own...difficult circumstances, I’m sure she would have nothing but understanding for how...distressing the situation has to be for you. I assure you, mockery, or delighting in the misfortune of others, is not in her character.’
‘She is female, isn’t she?’
Giff was trying to think of some placating response when she shook her head, seeming to master some of the anger and chagrin. ‘But then, Miss Lattimar is a most unusual female, isn’t she? Are you sure you don’t have ambitions in that direction?’
The last thing he wanted was for Miss Avery to circulate that rumour. ‘Certainly not! Miss Lattimar is my best friend’s little sister, which is why I was asked to look after her. Somewhat of a hoyden, I have to admit,’ he added, silently begging Temper’s pardon for disparaging her to this girl who’d already gone to some lengths to present Temper in the worst possible light. ‘And most decidedly not the sort of wife a politician would seek, even if he were ready to marry.’
‘I don’t doubt she would lead you a merry chase,’ Miss Avery agreed sweetly. ‘Although I’ve heard she, too, claims to have no interest in marrying.’
Hoping that reinforcing that truth might make a girl who was desperate to marry less inclined to see Temper as a rival—or a target for her malice—Giff replied, ‘Unusual as that is, I can confirm the truth of that rumour. Miss Lattimar has always had a desire to travel the world—a dream she believes a husband might not view kindly.’
The Earl's Inconvenient Wife Page 15
