Not the Kind of Earl You Marry

by Kate Pembrooke

  She spoke of an engagement to him with about as much excitement as one might use when mentioning a visit to the tooth-drawer, though he could hardly fault the absence of enthusiasm on her part. He didn’t deserve her approbation, given the way he’d confronted her so rudely and with such an appalling lack of tact and diplomacy. Which was all the more ironic, given that he routinely relied on both to win over his political opponents.

  “I must respectfully disagree,” he said. “There is every need to protect you from nasty gossip. And believe me, simply inserting a retraction wouldn’t prevent the sort of tongue wagging that could ruin your reputation, and by extension, your marital prospects.”

  “I hope my marital prospects, as you put it, aren’t so delicate that they can’t weather the storm.”

  William didn’t miss the sarcastic inflection she gave to his words, and recognized it as a subtle rebuke for using such a sterile phrase to sum up her value on the marriage mart. Still, they couldn’t ignore reality. “In a perfect world perhaps, but society can be an unforgiving place, especially toward an unmarried female. I can’t let you risk your future.”

  “But it’s my future, is it not?”

  “It is, but you see, it’s not only your future that’s at risk.”

  “Ahh, yes,” she said. “I assume you refer to the aforementioned plot because the title of earl ensures your marital prospects are ever safe from the potential taint of scandal. Unlike mine, being merely a female of little consequence.” Her gaze sparked with a martial light, as if she dared him to contradict the truth of her statement.

  An admiring smile tugged at his lips, but he wasn’t fool enough to take her bait. “You know I’m just stating a fact when I refer to the precarious state of a lady’s reputation when gossip begins to work its mischief.”

  “If I may interrupt,” Phillip Hurst cut in. “This may take a while, Norwood, and I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you standing there. Have a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast, if you wish. I’m going to get a fresh plate myself.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll decline the offer,” William replied, though he did take a seat. He’d begun to feel awkward carrying on the conversation standing over the Hursts while they remained seated. Furthermore, Miss Hurst wasn’t likely to adopt a cooperative attitude if she felt he towered over her.

  “Honestly, Phillip, how you can you still have an appetite?” Hurst’s sister remarked, eyeing him as he heaped food onto a plate.

  “I can’t accomplish anything on an empty stomach.”

  “What else is there to accomplish?” she asked, her gaze resting on William though ostensibly she was responding to her brother’s last remark. “I still say we insert a retraction and hope it blows over quickly.”

  “You’re very willing to sacrifice your interests if it means you needn’t endure a temporary betrothal with me,” William said.

  “If I am, haven’t you given me ample reason to be?”

  “To my abundant regret I have, but surely that shouldn’t trump your good sense, which would argue that a temporary betrothal is the best way to protect your reputation.”

  “That might persuade me if I were currently interested in making a match, but I didn’t come to London because I’m looking for a husband, nor am I in any hurry to do so. When I am, I trust my character will speak for itself and I won’t suffer any ill effects from whatever gossip arises from this.”

  “All right, since that line of argument isn’t persuading you, let me offer another. You wouldn’t be the only one of us adversely affected by this. That false announcement may be a device to discredit me by a political rival. A scandal could destroy my chances of obtaining an important chairmanship on a commission the prime minister is forming. While this may not sound terribly important to you, it is to me, and possibly to the people of England.” There. He’d laid his cards on the table.

  “My, my,” she said, tilting her head to one side. “It sounds as if we’ve circled back around to that plot you spoke of earlier. Do explain how our engagement, or lack thereof, could affect the people of England.”

  He ran a hand through his hair impatiently. “It’s…complicated.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “Very well,” he said, hoping a brief summation would convince her. “The prime minister is creating this commission to address a number of issues, including the pain the Corn Laws are inflicting upon the general populace. Rising food prices have led to unrest, and several riots have broken out across the country. Former soldiers are struggling to find work, now that Napoleon is no longer a threat. The prime minister believes these issues should be addressed before things take a turn for the worse. He wants this new commission to study the problems facing England in these postwar years and to suggest ways to alleviate people’s suffering. Unfortunately, not every candidate being considered for the chairmanship is interested in effecting change. Some support the status quo, while some, I suspect, see it as a means to reject real reforms, and instead use it as a way to line their own pockets. Needless to say, I’ll do everything I can to prevent that from happening.”

  “Including, so it would seem, becoming engaged to me,” she murmured.

  “Yes, because to do otherwise could cost us both dearly. It need only last long enough for the prime minister to name a chairman and for us to become yesterday’s news. Society’s attention is fickle. Once it’s turned elsewhere, we can quietly and discreetly end our engagement.”

  She remained silent for several moments. Hurst was busy consuming his new plate of food and William didn’t speak either, giving her an opportunity to think about what he’d said.

  “Even if I agree to go along with your plan,” she said, “and I’m not saying I will—but if I did, I don’t see how it could possibly succeed. Nobody is going to believe it. There’s been no courtship, or any other connection between us.”

  “None of which truly matters. If we behave like an engaged couple, people will believe we’re an engaged couple.”

  She lofted a skeptical brow. “Don’t you think it stretches credulity that an earl who most often escorts the crème de la crème of fashionable society is suddenly enamored with the unexceptional daughter of a mere baron?”

  “I think you rate yourself much too lightly, Miss Hurst.” She might not be a diamond of the first water, but she was quite pretty, with those lovely blue eyes of hers, and a rosebud mouth that looked soft and inviting when it wasn’t pinched into a frown of disapproval.

  She blinked and drew in a quick breath. “Be that as it may, there’s still the fact that we’ve never spoken to each other before today. I don’t think the ton is so gullible as to believe that two strangers would suddenly decide they should marry.”

  “Nonsense, Charlotte,” Phillip Hurst said. “Put aside such romantic notions. Slight acquaintance has never been a hurdle to an aristocratic marriage.”

  She didn’t look pleased with her brother’s observation, but she didn’t challenge it either. Instead, she turned her attention back to William. “Wouldn’t it bother you to perpetuate such an out-and-out lie?”

  “Yes, to be honest, it would, since I’m not in the habit of telling them. On the other hand, it seems the best solution to a problem that has landed in our laps and needs to be dealt with quickly.”

  “Don’t try to make mountains out of molehills, Charlotte,” Phillip Hurst said. “Norwood’s generously offering the protection of his name and position until this blows over. At a more auspicious time, you can have the pleasure of jilting him.” He paused, frowning. “Unless, of course, you don’t jilt him. Then he’d have to marry you. You have considered that, haven’t you, Norwood?”

  “It didn’t escape me that your sister would hold all the power,” William said dryly. “However, I’m confident she’ll cry off when the time comes, seeing as I’m…how did you put it?” he asked, turning to Miss Hurst. “Not a man you’d ever choose to marry. I believe that declaration followed an unflattering comparison
between the quantity of my fortune versus the quality of my character.” Her mouth twisted slightly, though whether this indicated amusement or chagrin, he couldn’t tell.

  “That does capture the gist of what I said,” she affirmed.

  “Then I have no hesitation in considering us betrothed for the time being.”

  She appeared to mull this over. “So how long would this betrothal need to last before I could cry off?”

  He honestly had no idea how to answer that. Much depended on Liverpool, and how soon he made his decision. And then there was her reputation to consider. “That’s difficult to predict. As long as it takes for the right moment to arrive so that’s it safe for you to cry off.”

  She looked alarmed, and he hastened to add, “Perhaps not that long at all. I promise we’ll keep it as short as possible.”

  She let out a long exhale. “I suppose I could agree to a very temporary, very brief betrothal.” Again, she had that going-to-the-tooth-drawer intonation.

  “Excellent. Then I’ll call on you this afternoon. We’ll take a carriage ride in the park, and let London get a look at us as a newly engaged couple.”

  She frowned. “A carriage ride together? Is that really necessary?”

  “Yes. I can’t think of a better way to kick off our charade than to ride through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. We’ll be seen by dozens of people who will then have no reason to doubt the veracity of our betrothal. That is, provided you can manage to look appropriately infatuated with me.”

  “When I agreed to this plan, I didn’t realize it would include flirtatious carriage rides. I’m not confident I’m that good of an actress.” She pursed her lips and gazed at him thoughtfully. “Although, if you let me drive, I think I could manage to look reasonably happy.”

  “That, Miss Hurst, sounds suspiciously like blackmail.”

  She gave a saucy little shrug. “In acting, I believe it’s known as motivation. And it’s the price you must pay to have a flirtatious fiancée by your side this afternoon.”

  Her brother choked back a laugh. “Capitulate, Norwood. She can be stubborn when she gets her heart set on something.”

  “Imagine that,” William murmured. He decided he might as well accept this defeat with good grace. “Have you ever driven a curricle before, Miss Hurst?”

  “No, but under your tutelage, I’m confident I’ll do quite splendidly.” She gave him a bright smile.

  “I’m not sure I’m that good of a tutor.”

  She looked amused. “We’ll find out then, won’t we?”

  “I’ll expect a performance worthy of Covent Garden if I’m to let you handle the reins,” he warned.

  She dipped her chin and looked at him coquettishly through her lashes. They were dark and long and perfect for throwing flirtatious glances at a man. He was astonished by this transformation. She could be a stunner if she wished to.

  “Will this do?” she asked, before dropping the pose and replacing the come-hither look with a faintly challenging one.

  “Er, yes,” William replied after a beat of silence. “Send those looks my way during our drive, and we’ll have no trouble succeeding with our charade.”

  “Good Lord, Charlotte, where have you been hiding those feminine wiles?” her brother asked in amazement.

  “I haven’t been hiding them.” She directed an exasperated look at her brother. “I just haven’t had any reason to use them.”

  Phillip Hurst grinned. “I guess the opportunity to drive Norwood’s bang-up equipage gives you sufficient reason to trot them out.”

  “And that, dear brother, just proves my point about motivation.”

  William pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. He had other business requiring his attention this morning and now that he’d secured her cooperation, it might be wise to depart before she could reconsider. “I see the day is getting on, so I’ll bid you adieu now that we’ve settled things between us.” Since neither of the Hursts offered any objection, he rose to his feet and bowed. “Until this afternoon.”

  He’d reached the doorway before something prompted him to turn and look back at Miss Hurst. “You won’t renege on your promise, will you?”

  “About being engaged, or about driving your curricle?” she asked, an arch smile playing about her mouth.

  Her reply caught him off guard. He’d meant his question to refer to the planned drive this afternoon, but he could see how it could be taken both ways. “Either. Both,” he said.

  “I won’t change my mind about this afternoon with a chance to drive your curricle on the line, and I suppose that commits me to the other, doesn’t it?” She spoke flippantly, but her expression was one of…of something hard to describe actually. A mixture of uncertainty, caution, doubt, defiance even, and somewhere in all those layers of emotion, he thought he detected a small gleam of something else. Not anticipation, exactly, more like a stirring of interest.

  Whatever it was, he didn’t have all day to stand there and figure it out. But it was encouraging, given the intense dislike he’d seen in her eyes earlier.

  “Until this afternoon then,” he said again, giving the Hursts a brief nod of farewell.

  Miss Hurst’s voice followed him into the hallway. “I’ll see you later, Lord Norwood,” she called after him. “In the meantime, don’t forget your promise to let me drive.”

  He smiled to himself. As if he could. Despite their short acquaintance, Miss Hurst was proving to be a surprisingly unforgettable girl.

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte spent the rest of the morning in a fever of indecision. She’d agreed to go along with Lord Norwood’s plan even though, despite his assurances to the contrary, she thought it a mad—and quite probably doomed—scheme. How did they hope to make people believe that a quiet, ordinary girl like herself had caught the attention of one of London’s most eligible bachelors? Just because they acted as if something were true, would society actually believe it was true? That’s where her doubts crept in.

  She could well imagine what people must be saying about their sudden engagement:

  “Hurst? I’m not acquainted with the family.”

  “Nor am I. She must be no one of consequence.”

  “Her brother’s a baron. They lead a quiet social life from what I understand.”

  “I heard she’s a bluestocking. Pretty enough, but really, what’s the attraction on his part? Especially when he’s so far above her touch.” Here she imagined an exchange of raised eyebrows and sly looks.

  And so it would go.

  Unfortunately, she knew all too well how deeply words could wound. A familiar churning began in the pit of her stomach.

  It wasn’t too late to call it off. She could send a note to Lord Norwood informing him she’d changed her mind. But then what of her reputation and his chances for that political appointment? Would either emerge unscathed if she broke her promise?

  Maybe. But then again, maybe not. Was she willing to make that choice? Live with those consequences?

  Her thoughts circled back and forth, unable to arrive at a satisfactory decision.

  Despite this inner turmoil—or perhaps because of it—when it came time to dress for the outing, she donned her prettiest gown suitable for a drive in the park. Her dress, a deep blue lutestring with a matching spencer, nicely emphasized her eyes, arguably her best feature. With it, she would wear her favorite bonnet, a smart little number trimmed with a spray of silk flowers and a few jaunty feathers.

  If she had to participate in this charade, she’d do it looking her best. She wouldn’t give the gossips any reason to make unfavorable comparisons between her and the handsome earl.

  By half-past two, she and Phillip were in the drawing room awaiting the earl’s arrival. Phillip was engrossed in reading an agricultural journal and her attempts at conversation had gone nowhere. She chewed her lower lip as she flipped through the pages of a recent issue of Ackermann’s Repository, trying to find an article of interest, but none see
med capable of capturing her attention enough to prevent her thoughts from wandering back to her bargain with Lord Norwood.

  Her gaze repeatedly flitted to the front window, which was opened to admit the mild afternoon breeze, tempting her to watch for the approach of the earl’s carriage, even though the last thing she wanted was to appear anxious. With a sigh she turned back to the magazine lying across her lap and tried once again to concentrate on the improbable, but true, account of a cook’s daughter who became one of Italy’s most celebrated singers.

  “For heaven’s sake, Charlotte. Stop fidgeting,” her brother said, not taking his eyes off the page he was reading. “You’ve never been the nervous type of female.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  He raised his gaze just enough to give her a dubious look.

  “Well, I’m not. I’m…” She paused, searching for a word that would adequately sum up the stew of emotions that simmered within her. “…Disgruntled.” She waved a hand in a circular motion. “I’m thoroughly disgruntled by this whole scheme, and I regret that I agreed to it.”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t fret over that if I were you.” He laid his periodical aside and clasped his hands, resting them against his waistcoat, the pads of his thumbs bouncing against each other. “Have fun while Norwood squires you about town. The man commands entrée to the kind of functions we’re rarely invited to, so you might as well enjoy yourself.”

  She stared at him, amazed that he was missing the point entirely. “You know very well I’ve no desire to become a social gadfly, and especially not on the arm of some idle aristocrat.” Nor did she wish to subject herself to the whispers and conjectures of London society as to just how she’d come to be upon said aristocrat’s arm. She remembered what it was like to be the social outsider during her years at finishing school, and it wasn’t an ordeal she was eager to repeat. She’d arrived at Portney’s School for Young Ladies eager to make friends with girls her own age, since much of her childhood had been spent in the relative isolation of Chartwell, her family’s estate in the countryside of Berkshire, with Phillip as her closest companion.