Jemima shook her head. “Father, no. I will not marry him!”
“You will do as you are told,” Andrew shot back. “After your incessant displays of willfulness, your choices are extremely thin on the ground. Your behavior does not become you, and everyone is talking unfavorably of your character. Do you honestly believe that I can sit here, as your father, and allow the ton to look down upon you? I will not. A husband will fix this unruliness in you.”
Jemima gripped her fork. “If it involves marrying that vile little man, I will not do as I am told!”
“The Marquess will return you to the respectful young lady that you ought to be. He will calm all of these peculiar whims of yours. Once you are a wife, you will find your place in this world, and you will no longer have time for these outlandish dreams of yours. Romance is one thing, as I know you young ladies are fixated upon the idea of love, but being seen in improper environs will not be tolerated any longer.”
“So, you would rather see me wed to a gentleman that I openly detest—that I am telling you I despise, and do not trust?” Jemima was shaking now, her eyes wide in horror.
Andrew ignored her obvious aversion. “I cannot understand why you would feel such a way. Clearly, you are the one who has taken leave of your senses. He is a good, sturdy, stoic gentleman, with a remarkable estate and a healthy yearly income. He will do very nicely as your husband.”
“Mother, will you not say something?” Jemima asked in desperation.
“I happen to agree with your father, Jemima. The Marquess seemed very keen on you indeed, and he spoke rather poetically of you. I found him to be charming, with a romanticism about him that most young ladies would be grateful for.”
Jemima shook her head. “Then you have only seen what you wish to see. You did not see him stalking through the hallways in pursuit of me. You did not hear his incessant words in my ear, and how he attempted to encourage me to walk with him outside.”
“Do not make up stories, Jemima,” Andrew snapped.
“I would never tell tales to you! I am speaking the truth. I swear it upon my life.”
“And now you are simply being dramatic.” Andrew heaved out an exasperated sigh. “I have already agreed to the betrothal, and you will come around to the idea in time. As I have said, once you become a wife, you will feel settled within your position. Isn’t that right, Leonora?”
“Quite right, Darling,” she replied.
“This is absurd,” Jemima muttered. “This is entirely absurd.”
“It is the way of things, Jemima,” Leonora said. “Your father knows what is best for you and, given the current circumstances, the Marquess may well be your only chance at future security. I do so hate to say it, but you have brought this upon yourself. Had you behaved with more decorum, things might have been different. However, as your father has said, the Marquess is likely to be the only gentleman brave enough to offer a proposal.”
“When did independence become a crime, for which I must be punished?” Jemima gaped at them both. “When did my life stop being my own, to do with as I please?”
“Do you hear yourself, Jemima? You have buried your nose in one too many of those foul romance novels. Duty ought to be your sole purpose—duty to the mother and father who have raised you, and given you everything you could ever have wanted,” Andrew replied sourly. “Perhaps, in a way, we are to blame for your willfulness. But, no longer. This must be resolved, Jemima. And marriage is the perfect solution.”
“I cannot listen to this a moment longer!” Jemima scraped back her chair and strode from the room, her hands balled into tight fists.
“Get back here this instant!” Andrew shouted after her, but Leonora reached out and placed her hand upon his forearm.
“Give her a moment to let the news sink in, Darling. She is an obedient girl, deep down in her heart. She just needs some time to think about what you have said, that is all. It will have come as a shock to her.”
“You think I should allow her to speak to me like that, in my own home?” Andrew growled.
Leonora smiled. “I think you should allow her one last breath of that rebelliousness, before she marries the Marquess. She will be well again soon enough, once she sees that we are right about this. You know what she is like, Darling. Just give her time. I have been in her position, and I remember railing at my own father in the way that she has just done. And yet, I found a happiness that I could never have expected. So will she.”
Andrew frowned. “She had better come around to the idea. Otherwise, I shall have to take matters into my own hands. And she will like that far less, I guarantee it.”
Chapter 4
Jemima paced the rose gardens at the back of the house, swiping at the dried-up blooms of autumn. Her body bristled with absolute rage, a lump thick in her throat. She had never known anger like it, nor had she thought herself capable of such ire.
How could they arrange a marriage for me, behind my back? How could they do this to me? How could they possibly think that this will lead to my happiness?
Her lungs burned as she dragged in sharp breaths, thinking of the obnoxious voice of Lord Beaurgant. Of all the gentlemen, in all the world, why had they settled on that weasel? She could not fathom it. How had he ingratiated himself into her father’s trust?
Although she and her father did not always see eye to eye, she had thought him more perceptive than that. Normally, he did not suffer fools, and had an excellent gauge of people he met. It seemed as though that gauge had suddenly become broken, when faced with the prospect of a spinster daughter.
She knew that she had been somewhat unruly of late, and had overstepped the mark by attending some literary meetings and being a little too vocal about matters that were important to her, but she could not believe that he would punish her for it. And punish her with a husband she would surely detest, of all things.
What does he think this will resolve?
To her mind, it could only lead to further trouble. Lord Beaurgant was only interested in the thrill of the chase, and in gaining what he wanted. She knew gentlemen like him. She knew of their intentions. The moment he had everything he desired, he would become cruel, and would reveal his true nature. The one that her father seemed to be blind to. She had heard enough sad tales at soirees to understand the trials of an arranged marriage.
I will not become a cautionary tale. I refuse.
And yet, she could not think of a way to get out of this web that had been formed around her. She was the wrapped-up fly in the center, awaiting the spider who would devour her whole. The more she struggled, the more stuck she would become. She knew that much.
Her father was a gentleman of his word—if she tried to defy him, he would only make things more difficult for her. Indeed, he would go to the lengths of marching her down the aisle himself, by force, if he had to. When he had a notion fixed in his mind, there was nothing to be done to shift it. He had always been stubborn. Her mother always said that was where Jemima got her stubborn streak from, but it no longer felt like an attribute she wished to share with him.
How can I escape this?
She looked up towards the bright, autumn sunlight with tears in her eyes. She did not know how she had ended up in this situation. Surely, her mother and father ought to have some concern for her feelings in the matter? Only, that did not seem to be the case. They saw only the benefits it would provide them, with no thought for her.
What of love? Am I never to have it?
All her life, it had been all she could think about. She had hoped to be fortunate enough to find a husband she adored, who respected her and admired her somewhat rebellious thoughts. With that unknown gentleman, she knew she would be blissfully happy for the rest of her days. Now, that was to be stolen from her, without her consent.
“What a pleasant surprise.” A voice made her freeze. She turned very slowly, to find Lord Beaurgant standing by the wall of the rose garden, a smug smile upon his face. She had not even seen him appro
ach the house, nor heard the telltale beat of hooves upon the drive to announce a visitor. She realized he must have come through the woods. He was as sneaky in his actions as he was in his manner.
“You should not be here,” she said coldly.
“Whyever not? You are to be my wife. I am sure we might be forgiven an outing in the garden together, unchaperoned.”
“You are mistaken,” she replied.
“About which part?” He chuckled, his eyes fixed hungrily upon her.
You see, he thinks of me only as prey. He does not really care for me, nor would I alter my thoughts, even if he did. This man will not be my husband. I will not allow it.
She had put too many of her hopes and dreams into the prospect of love, to simply throw all of that away for the sake of keeping her mother and father happy. Duty only went so far, and respect had to go both ways. They had not respected her, and so she felt no inclination to reciprocate.
“That you and I can walk alone and not be chaperoned, and that I do not think that you and I will ever be wed,” she said firmly.
A momentary bemusement passed across Lord Beaurgant’s face. “But I had it on your father’s assurance that the betrothal would be made official today. Has he not informed you of our plans?”
“Yours and my father’s, or mine and yours? You see, I do not believe that you and I have ever made any plans. Not that I can recall.” She held her ground. “And I would hate to think that you had been deceptive and gone to my father before speaking with me about something as important as marriage.”
She sensed that he did not know what to say, for the arrogant façade appeared to have slipped from his features. He looked puzzled and annoyed, his brow furrowed.
“Are you lost for words, Lord Beaurgant? You had plenty to say last night, or so it would seem.”
A smirk crept back onto his lips. “So, your father has informed you of our betrothal?”
“So, you have been deceptive?”
“Touché.”
“If you have misunderstood me, Lord Beaurgant, I am sorry for that. If I showed you any undue affection, I am also sorry for that. It was not my intention. And I apologize that your proposal has been misplaced, for you and I will not be married.”
“That is not what your father seems to think,” Lord Beaurgant replied.
“He does not know what he thinks.”
“He seemed very certain of our betrothal last night, and I received word this morning that he was to tell you of it. Not only that, but I have it on good authority that he has already arranged for the banns to be announced and the betrothal to be published. It would seem that you are the one who is mistaken, in this current arrangement.” He smiled. “You and I will be wed.”
Jemima’s heart pounded in her chest. “You would have an unwilling bride?”
“You would not be unwilling forever, I assure you.”
“How dare you speak to me so uncouthly,” Jemima snapped, her words dripping venom. “How dare you go against my wishes and speak with my father, without my consent. How dare you think yourself above my own feelings.”
He laughed coldly. “I know what young ladies are like, Lady Jemima. I know how free-spirited you can be, and I admire that in you. But we cannot all do as we please in this life. We all have duties to obey, and responsibilities to consider. Mine is to find a suitable bride, and yours is to find a suitable husband. How fortunate that we have found one another with such ease.”
“You are despicable.”
“Now, now, let us not resort to name-calling.” He took a step forward. “You will come to realize that I am the best you can hope for. You have forged quite the reputation for yourself, and I do not see any other suitors asking for your hand in marriage. Fear not, I will treat you well, and I will honor you as my vows command. And you will do the same, in time.”
Jemima shook her head. “I will do no such thing. Now, I suggest you leave before I call my father out, to see what sort of wretch he plans to make me marry. If he saw you here, trying to speak with me alone, he would know that you are dishonorable.”
Lord Beaurgant visibly jolted. “Fortunately for you, I was just about to go in to speak with your father. I will not tell him how curt you have been, for I would hate for him to think badly of you.” His features relaxed. “Although, I must assure you that your behavior will not dissuade me. I rather like your tenacity. I look forward to experiencing more of it, when you stand at my side, as my wife.”
He turned without another word and strode through the gardens towards the house, leaving Jemima in a state of abject horror and disgust. He had been troublesome enough at last night’s ball, but this was beyond anything she had ever expected. The gentleman had no regard for her, whatsoever. He saw her as a prize, not a person. And if she did not think fast, she knew she would end up bound to him for the rest of her life.
But how am I to evade this?
She turned at the sound of trees being cut in the distance, her eyes peering through the morning mist at the workers who were trimming the branches of the forest ahead. One paused to wipe his brow, removing his flat cap to brush the perspiration away with his forearm. He was a young man, dressed in a burgundy flannel shirt and woolen trousers. He could not have been much older than herself, though he was broader and taller.
Still, she had seen plenty of young men in the nearby town who were of a much slimmer build and shorter in stature. Besides, she was tall for her sex, which she hoped might work in her favor.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as a plan began to form in her mind. It will be an enormous risk, but if I wish to escape this betrothal, it is my only choice.
Now, all she needed to do was decipher the finer details and find the nerve to execute such a plan of escape. She would only have one chance to make it happen, and if she failed…she would be destined for a future as a prisoner of Lord Beaurgant. And she did not care to think about what he might have in store for her.
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Also by Olivia Bennet
Thank you for reading A Sinful Duke she can’t Refuse!
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Some other stories of mine:
A Ravishing Night with the Mysterious Earl
Secret Confessions of the Enticing Duchess
Wicked Temptations for the Seduced Duchess
Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady
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Olivia Bennet
About the Author
Having obtained a degree in Journalism, but with an affinity for literature and creative writing, Olivia Bennet knew from a young age that her future lay in the romantic ideals of the past. With a fascination for the Regency era and a good romance, she started her career as a historical romance author the old-fashioned way: with pen and paper.
Born in rural Devon, Olivia draws inspiration from the vast farmlands of the British countryside and the people living in the surrounding villages. An avid artist, she takes her sketchbook everywhere with her and captures the beauty of nature, which she then incorporates into her books.
Allow your conscious to be carried away on a wind made of letters and words, of love, mystery and the magic of the Regency era. Start your journey and allow Olivia’s pen to guide you!
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A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 31
