Season For Surrender (A Danby Family Novella Book 2)

by Julie Johnstone

  She inhaled a deep breath of smoky air filled with the aroma of recently cooked meat. Her stomach protested the smells with a flip. “Water,” she managed through tingling lips. A steadying hand pressed against her back and a glass was raised to her mouth.

  “Sip this.” Lord Edgeworth’s soothing voice chased away the last of her dizziness. Or maybe it was the cool water sliding down her throat. She gripped the glass and focused her gaze on her possible future husband. Her stomach rolled in nasty dips at the thought. Certainly not because of the way the man looked. He was beautiful.

  Oh dear! She set her glass down and pretended to situate it. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d scoffed at Charlotte when her dear friend had used the word beautiful to describe Lord Edgeworth. But Charlotte had been correct―her husband’s cousin was too pretty by half. No man should have cheekbones as sculpted as his, or eyes as green as moss or hair so thick and dark it made her want to plunge her fingers through it. She didn’t want to marry a man she would ever desire. Longing would lead to her letting down her guard, and she could never afford to do that. Perhaps he was not the right candidate after all.

  She stood so quickly her stool teetered backwards and would have fallen except Lord Edgeworth stopped it with the tip of his boot. Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I believe I’ve made a mistake.” She wished her tone sounded more self-assured like she’d planned.

  He smiled lazily at her, not moving save the right eyebrow he raised. Fascinating. What would it take to ruffle such a man?

  “You probably have made a grievous error, Miss…”

  “Lancaster. Lillian Lancaster.”

  “Lovely. Miss Lancaster. Mistake or not, my attention’s captured. Such a rare thing. So why don’t you indulge me and explain what drove you to propose marriage?”

  Lillian resisted the urge to fan her face. She’d already made herself appear a half-wit. She nodded, pulled off her gloves as well as her overcoat, then sat. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation.” Gripping her coat in her hands, she tried to hide the tattered edges from view.

  Lord Edgeworth’s gaze flicked to her lap and then back to her face. She prayed he hadn’t taken note of the haggard quality of her overcoat. Pity always raised her hackles, and she’d hate to be nasty to a man she really didn’t know.

  She wasn’t sure where to begin. When she entered the pub, she’d been certain of what she would say. She even managed to start the conversation as she had rehearsed for the past three days, but once the blood rush of what she was doing had lessened, fear and indecision set in. She locked gazes with Lord Edgeworth, expecting to find him impatient. Instead, he reclined against the counter as if he had all the time in the world.

  She cleared her throat. “My father was Robert Lancaster, the owner of The Westminster Royal Theatre. I don’t suppose you knew him?”

  Lord Edgeworth leaned close, surprising her. She jerked and inhaled sharply while forcing herself not to give in to her instinct to move out of his reach. Old habits were such a nuisance when one wanted to appear unflappable.

  His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed to slits that made her shiver. Given the man’s very fit physique, she didn’t doubt he’d make a dangerous enemy. Nervousness caused her to nibble at her lip. “I take it your silence means you weren’t acquainted with my father.”

  “I wasn’t, luckily for the man. I’m not one to sit idly when a woman is mistreated, be it my business or not.”

  His angry tone stunned her. Lillian sat still for a moment, lest she give anything else away. She’d spent her life hiding the fact that her father mistreated her. Not only was she ashamed, she’d feared what he might do if anyone ever found out and caused him trouble for it. He’d carried out enough explicit threats that she hadn’t doubted his sincerity.

  Her heart raced as if he would walk through the door any minute. Swallowing, she reminded herself that Father was dead and could never hurt her again―well, physically anyway. She blinked away the sting of unwelcome, angry tears that burned behind her eyelids. “I never said my father mistreated me.” Her tone was steady, thank goodness.

  “You didn’t need to say it, Miss Lancaster. Growing up, we had a servant who beat his daughters. We didn’t know it at first, of course. They recoiled when you moved too suddenly and they always had a hooded look in their eyes. You’ve got that look and you cringed when I moved towards you.”

  Lillian swallowed the lump in her throat. “What happened to the girls?”

  Lord Edgeworth’s brows drew together in an agonized expression. “The youngest died from one of the beatings.”

  “Is that how your family found out?” Lillian could barely control the trembling of her voice.

  Lord Edgeworth shook his head. “I became friends with the eldest daughter, Beth. One day, shortly after her sister’s funeral, I saw terrible bruises on Beth’s arms and she confided in me about her father.”

  “Did you tell your father?”

  “Not at first. I’d promised I wouldn’t, but when her father broke her leg, I told my father everything. I should’ve known better than to keep such a secret. Beth still walks with a limp.” Lord Edgeworth jerked a hand through his hair.

  Lillian gulped. Charlotte hadn’t lied. Lord Edgeworth did seem to blame himself for his friend’s misfortune.

  Lord Edgeworth stilled and studied her. “If I’m mistaken and it wasn’t your father who mistreated you, then tell me the name of the bastard, and I’ll make damn sure he never lays a finger on you again.”

  His growled promise made her smile and eased away the last of her lingering doubt. He seemed the perfect solution to her problems. Charlotte insisted he had a fierce protective side. If Charlotte was correct, that part of him would be the thing that swayed him to her cause. Lillian rarely allowed herself the luxury of being honest with anyone, yet as she eyed Lord Edgeworth she decided tonight was a night for indulgences. “Given your threatening tone, I suppose it’s a good thing for my father he passed away several weeks ago.”

  Lord Edgeworth gaped. “Dear God. I’m sorry. Though I must admit, I feel less sorry than I might have moments ago, considering what I now know.”

  Lillian shrugged. Offering truths in exchange for what she desperately needed was one thing, but it was quite another to become too personal with this man. She didn’t need his friendship. All she required was his title and willingness to marry her. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. My father was a despicable man who spent his life―” She froze. She’d been about to spill the whole nasty truth of her life with her father.

  The shock of everything must finally be getting to her. The concern tinged with what appeared to be pity in Lord Edgeworth’s eyes made her heart pound anew. She had to hurry through this explanation and be done with it. “My father left me a good deal of money in his will and also named me the inheritor of his theatre.” She could still hardly believe it. Her father had never done anything nice for her when he was living. She’d acquired her love of the theatre from the actors and actresses around him. He’d never lived for the stage, the costumes or the excitement as she did.

  Lord Edgeworth studied her as if he was trying to decide exactly what to say. “I’m glad to hear he obviously recognized the error of his ways and strove to make amends.”

  Resting her arms on the bar, Lillian let out a disgruntled sigh. They’d be here all night if the conversation stayed as polite as this. She needed to get back to the theatre. Tomorrow was opening day for Macbeth. “He wasn’t trying to make amends, as you so civilly suggested.”

  Lord Edgeworth’s eyebrows shot up. “Forgive me. I forgot we were speaking bluntly. I’m used to conversing with women who like to dance around the truth, so I automatically begin the waltz.” He surprised her by touching his fingertips to her hand. The contact of his warm skin against hers sent a tremor through her body. Not caring what he would think, she jerked away.

  A sardonic smile tilted his lips, which pushed away her unease and riled her temper. “Ar
e you laughing at me?” Her tone was sharp.

  “No, my dear.” His words held self-recrimination. “I’m laughing at myself. I’m normally the one retreating from women and it’s unusual to find myself in a reversed position. Please forgive me. Again.”

  Her anger dissipated under his pleading gaze. She hadn’t expected to like Lord Edgeworth, but in truth she found him friendly. And fascinating. The realization disturbed her. “You’re forgiven,” she said tartly, hoping to steer them back to topic. When Lord Edgeworth smiled wolfishly, her heart gave a funny little jerk that concerned her even more She folded her hands in her lap and willed herself to concentrate. “My father kept the theatre because it put him in the position of controlling people, and he loved nothing better than control. So you see, he wasn’t making some grand gesture of restitution from his grave. He left me the money and the theatre to control me, from beyond.”

  Lord Edgeworth frowned. “How can he control you now?”

  “The only way I can inherit the money and the theatre is if I marry a lord.”

  Lord Edgeworth’s gaze moved across her face, slipped lower to her chest for the briefest of seconds―but not so quick her face didn’t heat―and then his mocking gaze met hers once again. “I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding a lord who wishes to marry you. You appear to have a great many attributes to recommend you.”

  Lillian pressed her lips together. Charlotte had said he’d resist. That he not only blamed himself for his friend’s injury but also for the death of some woman and had therefore decided he was unworthy to ever be any woman’s husband. How a man who looked like he did and came from the powerful family he hailed from could feel anything but superior baffled her. Lillian leaned towards him, desiring as much privacy as possible. “The problem is not an offer of marriage from a lord. I’ve already received one, but he’s known for a penchant towards abusing women.”

  Lord Edgeworth’s face set in an expression of fury, and then his lips pressed together in a hard line. “I could have the same proclivity.”

  She snorted, thinking of the story of his friend he’d just told her, and the pain in his voice. “I feel sure you don’t.”

  He frowned. “You don’t even know me.”

  “You’re not a stranger to me, in the strictest meaning,” she admitted with reluctance.

  “Explain yourself.” Animosity tinged his voice.

  Lillian took a deep breath and prayed her words did not anger him. “Your cousin’s wife, Charlotte, told me about you and your past when I confessed my dilemma to her.”

  “You don’t say.” His gaze turned chilly, his tone even cooler. “Apparently, Lady Hardwick needs to be reminded how much I value my privacy.”

  This was not an auspicious start. Not at all. “She only told me of you because she thought we might be able to help each other. She knows neither of us wants to marry, yet we are both being forced to submit to the detestable state. Charlotte believes we could settle on a marriage of convenience.” She paused and studied him to make sure he still listened. He’d turned his gaze to his glass and was sloshing the liquid around the rim. After a moment, he glanced up, his eyes devoid of emotion.

  “Unless you can promise you won’t expect any sort of emotional attachment from your husband, then I’m sorry to tell you Charlotte is wrong. There can be no arrangement between us.”

  He thought he was so clever. Lillian smiled and was rewarded by a brief look of astonishment from Lord Edgeworth. She patted his arm to further unsettle him. “I’m glad to hear we can come to an arrangement.”

  “What?” The man’s jaw dropped open.

  Somehow she managed to suppress her laugher. “It’s simple. I have one week left to marry a titled gentleman or my money and theatre go to Mr. Scotsby, the owner of The Royal Theatre, who was and is our biggest competition. I’m sure my father did this to force my hand. He always wanted me to marry a rich, decrepit, easily manipulated, childless, titled lord who was on his deathbed, so we could get all the lord’s money when he died. I refused to do it. Father never forgave me, and he never forgot to punish me for being disobedient. This was his last and final punishment. He thought I’d not marry in a month’s time, therefore Mr. Scotsby would get the theatre and disperse me and my father’s small but loyal staff. Mr. Scotsby won’t want us to stay, because he hated my father and therefore all of us.”

  Tension knotted her shoulders and her head pounded. She rubbed her temples with a sigh. “I grew up in the theatre. It’s my home. I have no family now that my father is gone and the people at the theatre are like my family. They count on me. Many of them are old and will never be offered another position. They could become homeless. I cannot let them down.”

  “That’s awful.”

  His shocked tone swelled her heart with hope. “If worse comes to worse I’ll marry the lord who offered for me.” She couldn’t repress the small shudder that ran though her. Embarrassed to appear weak, she glanced down and forced herself to continue. “I’d rather marry you. Charlotte says you’re kind.”

  “Many lords are kind.”

  His emotionless tone didn’t surprise her, given what Charlotte had confided. She ran a finger back and forth over the dented, dull wood. “Yes, but I require a husband who will let me go my separate way, as if we were never married. Someone who would only wed me in order to avoid being forced by their family to align themselves with a woman who’d likely desire love and affection. If you marry me, all I desire is your name.”

  His strong grip on her arms startled her. Fear tried to take hold, but she fought against it. She looked up as he slowly turned her on the stool to face him.

  “What if I desire more from you?” The question slid like silk from his lips.

  No doubt he meant to scare her. She’d thought he might say such a thing. Staring, she forced herself to speak. “I’ll submit to you in bed. But I don’t want a child. You’d have to vow to use preventative measures.”

  He tightened his grip. Not painfully, but she hated being clutched by any man. “Please let me go.” She tried to unclench her teeth, but as long as he held her so, it was useless.

  He released her at once with a hiss of breath and yanked his hands through his hair. “I take it you’ve been with other men to know that there are ways to avoid conceiving a child.”

  She nodded, feeling very much dead inside, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled. She’d hoped not to reveal the nastiest parts of her life, but it appeared she had no choice. “My father, as I said, was cruel. The theatre was bankrupt when I was eighteen. He told me we were all going to be homeless unless I slept with a wealthy older patron who wanted my favors in exchange for saving the theatre.” Her lips trembled as she spoke, from humiliation brought on by the memory. “I resisted at first, but then Father started dismissing people and not paying the actors and actresses. An older seamstress there was like a mother to me, and one night I heard her crying because she didn’t have the money to pay her rent. It was December and snowing. I couldn’t allow her to be put out on the streets.”

  Lillian swallowed hard, her stomach twisting with the painful memory of her father’s cruelty. “That night and for seven nights after, I slept with the man and collected enough money to pay all the people my father owed, save the theatre and give Beatrice, the seamstress, enough money to retire on. Father, thank God, hired a reputable accountant to manage the money. I vowed to him no matter how much it would pain me to leave the theatre I would do so before ever playing whore again.”

  Lord Edgeworth stared at her without speaking. His face had gone white and sweat ran down his brow. Worry turned her stomach. After a moment, he blinked and cupped her face.

  “Lord Edgeworth?” She shot a gaze around the room, but no one paid them any mind.

  “Two things.” He spoke softly, a steely thread beneath his noble accent.

  Did he mean two things and he’d agree? His warm hands against her cheeks were oddly comforting and did not make her feel th
reatened as she usually felt when a man touched her. Her heart nearly burst from her chest. “Yes?”

  “No one could ever force me to marry anyone. Do you understand?”

  She did, and she liked him even more for it. He was a man who would rather be penniless than submit to the demands of others. If she only had herself to consider, she’d be the sort of woman who had uncompromising principles like he did. “I understand perfectly.”

  “Good.” His tone had gentled. “I’ll marry you on the condition you tell me the name of the patron who bought your favors.”

  She would have pulled away, but Lord Edgeworth moved swiftly and gripped her arms. He brought his face mere inches from hers. His right temple beat furiously. “It’s my right to know who had my wife before I did.”

  Lillian frowned. He had a point, but he sounded too angry. She didn’t want him doing anything stupid, such as calling Lord Derwent out.

  Lord Edgeworth’s gaze bored into hers. “It’s about honor. I simply would rather know and be aware of who he is.” His tone was steady, the anger seemingly gone.

  “You’re sure you just want to know his name?” She was almost afraid to hope this marriage was going to work out.

  He nodded as he released her. “Positive. I’d rather not lose all my money, and you’ve just offered me the perfect solution. A wife who wants separate lives but is willing to offer conjugal relations so long as I take steps to ensure I don’t get you with child. It’s the best luck I’ve had in years.” He sounded chipper. “My mother, and more importantly my grandfather, will be satisfied and unable to complain. I’ll keep my money and you and I can live separately. Many a bachelor’s fantasy, I assure you. Thank you for seeking me out.”

  Her heart raced. “I forgot to mention I’d need you to stipulate in the marriage settlement that the money from my father and the theatre are mine to do with as I wish. Not yours. I know the law.”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “Absolutely not a problem, my dear. I’ll have my solicitor draw up the paperwork immediately, so you can view it before we’re married.” He smiled slowly. “Do we have an agreement?”