The Earl's Inconvenient Wife

by Julia Justiss

  Turning back to Giff and Temper, she made an imperious gesture. ‘You will both leave my house this instant!’

  A figure wriggled through the goggling spectators to halt by the doorway. ‘Miss Lattimar!’ Mrs Moorsby cried. ‘Are you quite all right?’

  ‘Very well pleasured, probably,’ someone in the crowd muttered, eliciting an outburst of laughter.

  ‘This is all a terrible mistake,’ Giff felt compelled to say, although he knew explanations would likely prove useless. He and Temper had been found alone together in a bedchamber. No one in society would care how or why they had ended up there.

  Temper was completely and irretrievably ruined. And there was only one thing to be done about it.

  ‘I am not interested in excuses, young man,’ Lady Arnold snapped. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, too. Such rakish behaviour! Now, I believe I ordered you both to leave.’

  ‘We’re finished here, Giff,’ Temper murmured. Stepping past him to the doorway, she scanned the crowd, meeting the expressions of curiosity, horror and condemnation with a defiant gaze before addressing herself to her chaperon, her voice level and controlled.

  ‘I’m quite ready to leave, Mrs Moorsby. Mr Newell, it’s probably best that Mrs Moorsby and I return without you. Thank you for your escort and we will see you later.’

  ‘None the less, I’ll see you both to your carriage.’

  Though he was almost spitting with fury, he had to admire the magnificence that was Temper. Facing the censorious crowd like an imperious goddess, refusing to offer any explanation, daring with splendid indifference for them to think the worst of her. She let nothing of the chagrin and outrage she must be feeling show on her face or in her manner.

  If he could have found Miss Avery—conspicuously absent from the onlookers—he’d have been hard pressed not to seize her by the throat and throttle the life out of her devious body.

  Moving into the hallway, she halted to make Lady Arnold a curtsy. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Arnold. What a shame you possess so despicable a niece.’

  ‘You haven’t even the decency to look embarrassed,’ Lady Arnold cried after her as the crowd parted to let them through.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two days later, Giff paced the parlour in Vraux House, having just asked, and received, Lord Vraux’s permission to ask for Temper’s hand. Resigned to the necessity of proposing to her, though angry and regretful that he’d been manoeuvred into it, he was still conscious that repressed deep within was a wild stir of excitement at the notion of marrying Temper.

  His nervousness increased as the door opened and Temper walked in—looking beautiful, defiant and as nervous as he was.

  ‘Well, Jane Avery’s spite has landed us in a fine pickle,’ she said gruffly. ‘I am so sorry, Giff.’

  ‘None of your doing. Unfortunately, she’s as damnably clever as she is malicious.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel obligated to offer for me,’ she said, looking up at him earnestly. ‘There are many who would consider you prudent rather than irresponsible for refusing to marry a lady of my chequered reputation. Especially after we’ve both tried so hard to circulate a more accurate version of the events.’

  Giff laughed shortly. ‘Telling everyone we’d been summoned to Miss Henley’s aide, with the footmen mistaking the chamber? It was kind of Miss Henley to offer to play along with that fiction.’

  ‘Yes, after discovering Miss Avery had kept her chatting in the ballroom until she was sure her scheme achieved its result, Emma was happy to try to help. Granted, few in society want to believe the truth, not when Lady Arnold’s version is so much more salacious.’

  For a moment, Temper’s sombre face cleared, and she laughed. ‘Although it is almost worth dealing with this imbroglio, to have witnessed the horrified expression on her face when she opened that door.’

  ‘“Indulging in behaviour so licentious she wouldn’t have believed it, had she not seen it with her own eyes,”’ Giff quoted, not nearly so amused.

  ‘Despite her distraught niece having warned her what was taking place,’ Temper added drily.

  ‘Oh, yes, her niece. Who later said, Lady Sayleford reported to me, that she knew you were capable of such wickedness—’ damn the witch, getting in that last jab ‘—but was shocked and appalled that she’d been so mistaken about my character.’

  ‘She did manage to smear both of us quite effectively,’ Temper agreed. ‘Once again, knowing that most of society also believe I’m “capable of such wickedness” removes any obligation a gentleman might normally feel to propose.’

  ‘I don’t much care what society thinks. But what of Geoffrey, or Christopher? How could I look your brothers in the eye, knowing the ton believes I compromised you and that I’d evaded responsibility for my actions? To say nothing of my colleagues in the House. No matter how wild your reputation, you are still gently born. It’s unthinkable for anyone who calls himself a gentleman to compromise such a lady and refuse to marry her.’

  ‘You feel that your personal honour is at stake.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  She sighed. ‘I was afraid of that. Miss Avery chose her revenge well, thinking to punish us both by trapping us in a marriage neither of us wanted. You’re sure I cannot persuade you not to let yourself be trapped?’

  For a moment, he felt a brief flare of hope that he might avoid a union about which he had such wildly conflicted feelings—resentment, anger, trepidation, resignation and that sneaky little flare of excitement.

  But about one thing he felt no conflict at all. Regardless of what either of them wanted, marriage was the only way to salvage her honour—and his.

  He shook his head. ‘No, Temper, I cannot. Having obtained your father’s approval,’ he said, slipping to one knee before her, ‘I must ask if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife.’

  She gave him a wry smile. ‘I suppose I should be gratified that you are doing the asking this time. After you turned me down so definitely. I have to admit, that did sting a little.’

  Regret needled him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to slight you, but—’

  She waved him to silence. ‘I know you didn’t. Although a marriage of convenience would serve us both, I’m hardly the sort of wife you’d have chosen.’

  ‘Perhaps not in everything, but I couldn’t find a stronger, braver lady.’

  ‘Because I didn’t crumble under society’s disapproval? Why should I? I’ve lived with it most of my life.’ She sighed. ‘Do get up. If you simply can’t persuade yourself not to offer for me, we can at least turn our union into a fitting counterstrike to Jane Avery’s triumph. She thinks she’s forcing us into a marriage neither of us want, having no idea I’ve already proposed to you once.’

  ‘The best way to thwart someone who wishes you ill is to appear delighted by the situation they engineered to confound you?’

  ‘Exactly. I imagine she thinks my husband will take over my fortune and try to force me to become a conventional, obedient wife. And that you will be vexed and bedevilled for ever by wedding the one woman in London least likely to become the skilful political hostess you need. Well, I do apologise for that! But...if you can agree to the terms I offered when I proposed to you earlier, we might both end up with most of what we want.’

  ‘For you, control over part of your fortune so you may travel the world as you wish?’

  ‘Yes. With you welcome to use the rest to support your efforts in Parliament. While you are also free to...pursue pleasure wherever you please.’

  Since the infuriating moment when he realised how Jane Avery had tricked them, he had thought of little else but the terms Temper had offered before—and still hadn’t been able to decide one way or the other how he felt about them.

  ‘I can’t deny that having an influx of funds to finally put an end to my financial difficulties will be
welcome. I also know you’ve always dreamed of travelling. But, much as I’d like you to be happy, I... I’m not comfortable with the idea of you journeying to the wilds of India and the Orient with only hired guides and a small entourage to protect you. I suppose I could give up my work in Parliament to accompany you, but I know I’d resent—’

  ‘Goodness, no, Giff, you can’t even think of doing such a thing!’ she exclaimed, looking appalled. ‘You’ve found your calling and a vital and important one it is! I could never allow you to abandon Parliament to chase after me to foreign lands, places you’ve never had any interest in visiting.’

  ‘Could you agree to not go running off until more extensive preparations can be made? So we may equip a support party large and well armed enough that I won’t have to lie awake every night, worrying that you’ve been attacked by bandits or worse?’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I suppose there’s no way to guarantee against shipwreck or disease.’

  Her expression softened. ‘Dear Giff. I can’t think of any other man who would trouble himself about my happiness, especially as what I must do to secure it is so outlandish. If you promise to let me travel, eventually, then I agree to wait until we can arrange the “extensive” preparations you think necessary.’

  ‘Thank you.’ That concession would relieve some of his worries. About the rest—

  Before he could decide how to word the more delicate part of his concern, Temper, being Temper, came straight to the point. ‘You aren’t particularly interested in...having heirs, are you? When you talked of marriage earlier, you said you’d give a wife children if she wanted them. Meaning, you are...indifferent to the idea?’

  ‘I don’t need heirs, having no property or estate to pass down,’ he confirmed. ‘Are you saying that you’d want the marriage to be...in name only?’

  ‘I don’t want to deny you pleasure,’ she said quickly, not meeting his gaze. ‘I know how much you enjoy the ladies and would be perfectly happy to allow you to continue amusing yourself with them as you please.’

  For a man being forced into a marriage he didn’t want, having his prospective wife offer him free rein to pursue other women would normally be a welcome concession—he supposed. But would being able to experience passion with other women make him any more able to resist the desire he felt for Temper?

  He wasn’t at all sure it would. And if he were honest, the prospect of luring Temper into making their marriage complete excited him far more than the idea of pursuing mindless pleasure. And if he couldn’t convince her...maybe he’d better equip her to travel as speedy as possible so he might send the temptation she represented far, far away.

  Though life would seem much...duller without the zest of wondering what outrageous thing she would do next.

  As if reading his thoughts, she said, ‘You’ll have your work in Parliament to occupy you—meetings and consultations and persuading the recalcitrant to your point of view. It will be so time-consuming and exhausting, you’ll have no time to miss your undutiful, wandering wife.’

  ‘Will my undutiful wife miss me?’

  Pinking a little, she looked away. ‘I shall always miss the friend who gave up so much to give me my heart’s desire. The first man ever to treat my dream as a serious intent, rather than a little girl’s foolish imaginings.’

  ‘I hardly think of you as a little girl. Nor have I for some time.’

  She looked at him and that potent, wordless sensual connection hummed between them again. He still couldn’t understand her reluctance to act on it—on an attraction he knew, with absolute certainty, to be mutual.

  If he’d pulled her down on to the bed that night at Lady Arnold’s, she wouldn’t have resisted him. He was almost sure she would have responded with all the passion he could wish for.

  Almost sure.

  When he focused from those thoughts to look back at her, the fraught moment had passed. She was once again tense, guarded, as if poised to flee.

  Maybe not quite so sure.

  ‘Would you accept my proposal if I want more than a marriage blanc?’

  She shook her head. ‘I... I don’t think I could.’

  As puzzled as he was frustrated by that affirmation, Giff wanted to demand some further explanation. But her averted gaze and wary stance made it patently clear she had no wish to discuss the matter. Indeed, she looked so unexpectedly...fragile, he couldn’t press her.

  In time, he hoped, she would trust him enough to reveal the reasons for her reluctance to embrace the passion between them. Maybe then he’d get the chance to persuade her into changing her mind.

  Time they would have, for marry they must. And if swearing not to touch her was the price for winning her acceptance, he had no choice but to pay it.

  Gently, he took her chin, raising her face so she had to look into his eyes. ‘Then a marriage blanc it shall be. Never doubt that I want you, Temper. But never worry that I will ask of you anything you are not willing to give.’

  She gave him a little nod, a fine glaze of tears sheening her eyes. ‘Thank you for being so...understanding, Giff. Though I apologise again that you’re not getting the skilled political wife you deserve, if you can accept those terms for our marriage, then, yes, I accept your proposal.’

  A bargain of wedlock meant to last a lifetime should be sealed with a kiss—even if it had to be a chaste one. Never breaking her gaze, he slowly lowered his head. Looking at the same time both wary—and wanting—she didn’t try to avoid his lips.

  Ah, how soft hers were! Restraining the immediate surge of desire that demanded he press harder, deeper, probe with his tongue to explore the taste of her, he made himself remain motionless, his hands the barest touch at her shoulders, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of caresses.

  With a little sigh, she let his mouth linger.

  Fortunately for his rapidly unravelling self-control, after a few moments of sweet torture, she broke the kiss and stepped away. But the fact that she had permitted that touch—that he could sense she was holding herself under as strict a control as he was not to respond any further—gave him hope.

  Maybe he just needed to convince her that passion could uplift and delight as well as shame and degrade.

  And he’d have a lifetime to persuade her of that.

  ‘Shall we go announce the engagement to your family?’

  She nodded, her cheeks still a little pink—and the pulse at her throat still beating erratically. ‘Before we do, I have one other request. I received a letter from Pru this morning. It seems she has met the gentleman she wants to marry! That soldier I told you about.’

  Giff searched his memory. ‘Captain Johnnie Trethwell—late of Her Majesty’s Second Foot, invalided home from India?’ At her nod, he continued, ‘Gregory mentioned she’s written him about the man, as well. Not exactly the landed gentleman I thought she was seeking.’

  Temper laughed wryly. ‘It seems neither of us will end up as we envisioned. Me, who never intended to wed, getting married, while instead of a sober country squire, Pru’s giving her hand to the scapegrace youngest son of the late Marquess of Barkeley. Though she did say in her letter that his aunt, Lady Woodlings, intends to settle some money on him, so he won’t be coming to her completely pockets-to-let. In any event, they’re on their way to London now with Aunt Gussie, to secure Papa’s permission and to arrange for a special licence, so they may be wed as quickly as possible. Would...would you be willing to obtain a special licence, too, that we might be wed at the same time?’

  He hadn’t expected she would want the marriage being forced on them celebrated with a calling of banns followed by a public wedding at St George’s, Hanover Square. ‘You’d prefer a small private ceremony, with just immediate family and friends?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll write to inform my father of our intentions—not that I need his permission to marry, though he’d hav
e no reason to withhold it. I doubt he’ll wish to leave Fensworth long enough to attend the wedding. Though Mama may celebrate the loss of my expense by arranging a trip here so she may use that quarterly allowance I’ll no longer need to have new gowns made up,’ he added, trying to keep his voice light and disguise with humour the bitter truth that his parents had only ever seen him as a drain on their resources. ‘Enough of that. I can’t think of anything more appropriate, than having two sisters who have rarely been apart stand up together on their wedding day.’

  She smiled and pressed his hand. ‘Thank you, Giff. I will so appreciate having her beside me when I take...take this step into the unknown.’

  He brought her fingers to his lips for a brief kiss before releasing them. ‘Remember, you may be losing Pru as friend and confidante, but you will always have me.’

  She nodded quickly. ‘Yes. I’ll always have you...as my greatest friend. If you’ll wait here, I’ll go find Mama and Gregory.’

  At that, she walked out, leaving him staring after her.

  Her greatest friend. Much as he wanted to protect her and let her be happy, could he marry her and live with being only that?

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Goodness!’ Johnnie Trethwell exclaimed, looking from Temperance to her mother back to a beaming Prudence, whom he had just ushered into the parlour at Vraux House on a sunny afternoon two days later. ‘One of you alone is dazzling, but the three of you together is almost more than a man can take in!’

  He was certainly charming, this rogue who was to be her brother-in-law, Temperance thought as she and her mother made their curtsies, while Captain Trethwell went on to shake Gregory’s hand.

  ‘We’re trying not to overwhelm you, Captain,’ Temperance said. ‘It’s just the three of us now, but Christopher and Ellie will be joining us for dinner, along with Gifford Newell.’