‘Aunt Susan!’ she gasped. Hadn’t she always said he had come here to pick a brood mare to his stud?
For once, her aunt interpreted her horrified response with complete accuracy. She glanced at the bed. ‘I am sure he will be a perfect gentleman in that respect.’ She flushed, and got to her feet. ‘Perhaps you should keep to your room for another day. You are not in looks yet. When your face has got some colour back, your nose will not look quite so red in contrast.’ Before Hester could utter another word, her aunt had left the room.
It was all very well for her aunt to presume he would be a gentleman. She had not seen the murderous light in his eyes before he had floored Lionel with a single, deadly accurate punch. She hadn’t been hefted into those powerful arms as if she weighed no more than a feather.
She curled up as small as she could under the quilt, grinding her forehead into the rug. She could not go through with it. Not even to secure her family’s future. She had decided years ago not to marry, and her physical reaction now to the prospect of it only went to prove she had made the right decision. She must refuse him. Politely but firmly. That was all she had to do. Say no.
She sat up as a great weight seemed to roll off her shoulders. Once she had refused him, she would have to weather her family’s disappointment. It would be uncomfortable, but not impossible.
As for Lord Lensborough, he would simply…She frowned. What would he do when she spurned him? A smile crooked one corner of her mouth. It would not occur to him that any woman would be crazy enough to turn him down. He regarded himself as such a catch.
Her smile faded. How stupid Julia and Phoebe were not to see his finer qualities just because he was a little gruff at times. If they had only seen him in action, the way he had flown across the room to her defence.
But, if she turned him down, and then he asked them, it would be a terrible blow to his pride to be refused three times in a row. She twirled a tendril of hair round and round her finger.
She could not expose him to such shabby treatment, not when she was so deeply in his debt. It was not an exaggeration to say she owed him her life. If he had not rescued her, Lionel would have hauled her up the stairs and raped her. And she would not have survived the ordeal. Lionel had said that afterwards she would have no choice but to marry him, but he did not know her as well as he thought he did. She could not have lived with the shame of such utter defeat. Nor would she have allowed him to get his hands on her money by tamely taking vows. She would have found a way.
She got to her knees, then her feet, and forced herself to look at the bed. She owed Lord Lensborough so much. Could she really be base enough to refuse the one thing he asked of her? Could she strike such a blow to his pride after he had gone to such lengths to preserve hers?
She clung to the bedpost for support. It was not as if he would require all that much of her. All she had to do was appear content. And provide him with children.
She sprang from the bed as if it had burned her, strode across to the window and looked out into the stable yard. Once she was pregnant, she could tell him to take a mistress. He must have had one before. Probably scores of them. She was sure he would be understanding, and discreet. He would leave her alone, and go to another woman when he wanted that sort of sport.
The certainty that he would agree to such an arrangement perversely caused her to burst into tears.
* * *
The next morning, although she did not feel any happier about getting engaged to Lord Lensborough, she felt desperate to face him and get the thing settled. Her first strategy, of avoiding the moment as long as she could, was only stringing her nerves into ever tighter knots. Several times, she got as far as walking across the sitting room and placing her hand on the door knob.
It was mid-morning when Em came in, carrying a tray of tea and scones. She had gone home to the vicarage when it had become clear Hester was not seriously ill, and Hester felt as if she had not seen her for years.
‘Em. How glad I am to see you,’ she breathed as her friend put the tray down on a low table.
Em eyed her coldly. ‘Really?’ She leaned forward to pour the tea. ‘I believe I must congratulate you.’
‘Oh.’ Hester realised that her marriage would scotch all the plans they had made for living together once she came into her fortune. ‘I suppose you are very disappointed.’
‘No. Hurt. I thought we were friends. I had thought you would have confided in me. To hear of your engagement from Phoebe, and not your own lips, was such a shock.’
‘It was rather a shock when I heard of my engagement from Julia, let me tell you.’
Em looked at Hester keenly. ‘Never tell me the marquis offered for you, and your uncle accepted on your behalf?’
‘That is about the size of it. And I cannot in all conscience wriggle out of the match. But, oh, Em, this means we will never be able to set up home together, as we planned.’
With a sniff, Em handed Hester a cup of tea. ‘Don’t give that another thought. They were only foolish dreams of girls who considered themselves too poor, or too awkward, to ever get a husband. It is high time we grew up, and faced reality.’
‘Then you are not disappointed in me, for not making a stand against this marriage? I did think of it.’
‘Of course not. If I were to get an offer from a man with half Lord Lensborough’s looks, or the tithe of his wealth, I would accept without a thought for how it would affect you. It is all very well to fool ourselves that we could have devoted ourselves to good works, rather than pandering to the whims of some selfish tyrannical male, but the truth is, marriage is the only option a girl has if she is to remain respectable.’
She slammed her cup down into its saucer. ‘Oh, how I wish we did not have to be dependent on men for everything.’ She frowned. ‘Well, it is no use repining. Life is the way it is, and we must make the best of it. You must make the best of it. Just think, once you are married to your marquis, you will have many opportunities to do good. He is a man of influence, and you will mix with the sort of people who can make the changes we have always yearned for. You can be a force for good in this land.’
‘I don’t think I could. I don’t have your courage. Living quietly, and being involved in charitable works in my own neighbourhood, is one thing, expressing my opinions to a government minister, or a peer of the realm, quite another.’
Em gave a knowing smile. ‘Not at first, perhaps. But once you gained confidence, or even if you lost your temper with one of ’em…’
Hester groaned. ‘Oh, and I would too. Why does the wretched man think I would be a suitable wife for him? He just wants a woman who will stay in the background and dutifully breed heirs. Oh, Em, I find the prospect so demeaning. Aunt says motherhood is the natural state for a woman, but when I think of the way he picked me, simply because of my pedigree, like some brood mare.’
‘I think we should take a walk down to the stables, then.’
‘What? Why?’
‘You are very pale. You have been cooped up indoors for too long. And if you think he would treat you like he treats his horses, we really should go and take a look at them.’
For a moment Hester stared at her friend open mouthed, then, at the sight of the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she began to laugh. ‘Em! You are incorrigible.’
‘No, quite practical really.’ She smiled. ‘You can tell much about a man from the way he treats his cattle and his servants. Grooms are notorious for speaking their minds. If you find any cause to fear he is truly a cruel man, you must cry off.’
‘Not cry off. He has not actually spoken to me yet.’
‘Then you are not legally bound. Your family may regard it as a foregone conclusion, but you have the right to refuse him.’
Hester shifted guiltily in her chair. Having considered the matter carefully, Hester did not feel she had any rights at all. Only a whole string of obligations.
They decided Em ought to be the one to pump Pattison for information. Si
nce Hester had come to blows with him the last time they had met, she would be unlikely to glean anything helpful from him herself.
Nor did Em, apart from an impression that the man served his master with doglike devotion.
Hester plucked up considerably on discovering Strawberry back in her stall. She was beginning to feel almost like her normal self, when Em tugged urgently at her coat sleeve and nodded meaningfully in the direction of the house. She turned to see Lord Lensborough striding across the yard towards her, Mr Farrar strolling languidly some paces behind.
This was it. His intent frown could only indicate he meant to speak to her now. In a panic, she groped for Em’s hand, only to find her friend had melted away into the shadows.
She stared wide eyed at the tall, muscular figure that bore down on her, while she sagged against a half-open stable door. He was wealthy enough, handsome enough, to have any woman he wanted. How disappointed he must be that Lionel had forced him into a situation so awkward that his only recourse was to take on this skinny, awkward, bad-tempered little nobody with red hair and a strong desire to remain single. Although…Her head drooped in misery. He had been planning a loveless marriage. She would serve his purposes as well as another.
He did not stop till he stood right in front of her, so close she could see the toe tips of his immaculately glossed boots only inches from her own.
‘I am glad to see you so much recovered, Lady Hester.’ The rich warmth of his voice reverberated through her spine. ‘I might have known the first thing you would do would be to come down to the stables and welcome your mare back from her exile. She’s a fine animal.’ He reached round her to pat Strawberry’s neck.
Hester cringed. Was he now, for the first time in their acquaintance, going to make small talk?
‘Can’t you stop beating about the bush and just get on with it,’ she snapped.
She felt him go still. ‘You are aware that I wish to speak to you on a personal matter?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake—’she kicked her heel against the stable door ‘—it could hardly be more impersonal. You and my uncle have decided everything between you. I only wonder you bother dragging me into it now, as if I had a choice.’
‘Of course you have a choice. If the idea of marrying me is so repugnant to you, I shall naturally withdraw my suit.’
‘No.’ She seized his coat sleeve as he made to withdraw. ‘You mustn’t do that.’ She turned her pale face up to his. She could not expose him to the humiliation of three rejections. ‘It would be dreadful. They…’ She dropped her head. She could not bear to think how hurt he would be. ‘Of course I am going to marry you.’
Lord Lensborough raised his hand to stroke the bowed head, but she jerked it away before he could make contact. ‘I’m going back to my room now,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t feel very well again, all of a sudden.’
‘Hester, no.’ He seized her by the shoulders as she turned away, spinning her back to face him. ‘This is not how I wanted it to be. Please.’
Angrily she shook herself free. Of course this was not how he wanted it to be. Did he think she didn’t know he did not wish to marry her any more than she wished to marry him? ‘Look, let’s just agree not to see any more of each other than we have to. You and my uncle and the lawyers can do all the talking that needs doing. I…’ She risked a glance up at him. He looked furious. She supposed this reaction could hardly be more acceptable to a man of his pride than an outright refusal. She had to try to make things easier for him.
‘I just need some time to adjust,’ she said as gently as she could. ‘The notion of marrying you came as a complete surprise. And after the last few days…’ She felt her cheeks growing hot. ‘It has all been a bit much.’
Lord Lensborough ground his teeth as she fled back to the house. It was too much, she was right. He should never have allowed Sir Thomas to interfere. He should have gone to her himself and laid his heart at her feet. Told her he would do his utmost to make her happy. Instead, somebody else had backed her into a corner with heaven alone knew what threats. No wonder she had lashed out at him.
He strode to the man’s study and burst straight in without knocking.
‘Well?’ Sir Thomas looked up from his snuff jar expectantly. ‘Have you asked her? What did she say?’
‘I did not get the chance to propose in form, sir.’ His voice was laced with bitterness. ‘She seemed to feel she had been presented with a fait accompli.’
‘But did she say she would marry you?’
‘I’ve already told you, she said she had no choice.’
‘Well, there you go, my boy. Congratulations!’ Sir Thomas rounded his desk and seized Lord Lensborough’s hand. ‘Surely you know Hester well enough by now to realise that if she really did not wish to marry you, she would have told you to your face? Nobody can make her do anything she does not want to.’
A memory of a wild-eyed hoyden with a bloodied hat pin clutched in her fist came to Lord Lensborough’s mind. She would certainly have resisted Snelgrove to the death. He looked down into Sir Thomas’s smiling face and realised the man was shaking his hand.
He was right. Hester had the spirit to defy anyone. Even him. With a slow smile he returned the pressure of Sir Thomas’s hand.
Breaking Hester to bridle, as her uncle put it, was going to cost him blood, sweat and probably tears. But even if she never grew to return the half of what he felt for her, it would still be worth it. For whether she acknowledged it or not, she needed him. Needed him to protect her from fortune-hunting villains like Snelgrove, and her own harebrained scheme of living with Miss Dean, which could only bring her the sort of notoriety she would surely come to detest.
His smile took on an intensity that was almost cruel. He’d given her one chance to slip the halter and she had not taken it. He was not going to give her another. She belonged to him.
Chapter Thirteen
Hester stared blankly at the ornate emerald-and-topaz ring that Lord Lensborough had just slipped on to her finger, while her family cheered and clapped.
‘It is a Challinor heirloom,’ he murmured, still clasping her hand. ‘But if you do not care for it, I can have the stones reset to a more modern design.’
She pulled her hand free and looked away. He sounded as though he was bestowing a great honour on her, but she could only see this ring as a symbol of her imminent subjugation.
Sir Thomas began pouring everyone the champagne he had laid in for the occasion. Even Phoebe was given half a glass, since he had expected it might have been her own engagement they were celebrating.
And they were celebrating. Everyone at whom she darted a glance was smiling. Telling herself she had done the right thing by them all, Hester threw back her champagne and held out her glass for a refill.
‘I should like it very much if we could all ride out together at least once before we leave for London,’ she heard Lord Lensborough say from his position slightly behind her.
‘Capital plan,’ Sir Thomas answered, when all Hester could do was gaze into her glass at the bubbles rising to the surface and disappearing in a salvo of silent little explosions.
‘When do you plan to leave?’ her aunt Susan asked.
‘Within the next day or so. My mother is expecting me to bring my fiancée to her in Brook Street, as you know, in plenty of time to shop for her trousseau before the wedding.’ He turned to Hester. ‘Will it take you very long to ready yourself for the journey?’
She was too busy getting Owen to refill her glass to realise a question had been asked her.
‘And the wedding will still be held at St George’s Chapel?’ Aunt Susan hastened to fill the awkward silence while Lord Lensborough watched Hester through narrowed eyes.
‘If that is what Lady Hester wishes.’
‘I take it,’ she ploughed on, ‘you will extend the same terms in regard to purchasing the trousseau?’
‘Absolutely. My wife will have a position to fill in society. It is essential that sh
e look the part. She will need a complete new wardrobe. Not,’ he added hastily, recalling Sir Thomas’s warning about Hester’s attitude to clothes, ‘that I expect her to look like a fashion plate, but there is a certain standard that provincial dressmakers never quite seem to reach.’
Hester made a sound that was rather like a strangled cough. When she thought of all the time her cousins had spent on shopping trips to Harrogate, only for the object of all the effort to sneer at the skills of provincial dressmakers. Giggles began to fizz through her bloodstream and burst from her parted lips.
Lord Lensborough removed the empty champagne glass from her hand and said, in a frigidly polite voice, ‘Perhaps you would like to retire to your rooms now.’
He might as well have said, ‘Madam, you have had too much to drink.’ Perhaps she had. She had lost count of the number of refills the obliging Owen had supplied. But since all she wanted to do was escape this farcical celebration of her sale into a lifetime of bondage, she ignored his domineering tone, and simply flounced out of the room.
* * *
She wished she had discovered the benefits of champagne earlier in her life, she thought muzzily when she woke next morning. She had fallen quickly into a deep sleep, even though, as she raised herself on her elbows and looked about the room, the door to her suite of attic rooms still lay in splinters across the landing.
A glass of water dealt with her parched throat and rather thick tongue, and she went into her sitting room to warm some clothes before her fire.
Her fire. She halted in front of it, remembering now how, only a few minutes after she gained her rooms the night before, Mary had come puffing up the stairs with a bucket of coal to make it up. On Lord Lensborough’s instructions.
She dipped a flannel into her washbasin and rubbed it over her face. How had he known she would seek out her place of refuge, fearing the time when she would have to quit it for ever, when she hadn’t known she meant to herself?
His Cinderella Bride Page 18
