Wallflower (Old Maids' Club, Book 1)

by Catherine Gayle

  When Shelton returned to Noah’s side, he reached out to offer one of the glasses. The memory of the other night was still too fresh in Noah’s mind. He couldn’t bring himself to even smell the liquor. Nausea inundated his system from the memory alone; he knew his face must be a terrific shade of green. With one hand held out, Noah shook his head.

  “More for me.” Shelton shrugged his shoulders and then downed the extra glass in a single swill. “So how bad a time of it did my father give you?”

  “Not as bad as I expected. He wanted to know all the details of my current situation and how I intend to support Tabitha. I let him know about the shipping enterprise I looked into yesterday. That seemed to satisfy him.” Whether it would satisfy Tabitha or not remained to be seen. “We agreed that the bulk of her dowry will be held in trust for her and for our children. Only a small portion will be used for our living expenses, and that only until such time as my investment begins to pay dividends.”

  Shelton nodded. “And the rest? Did you tell him about yesterday afternoon?”

  “Every last damning detail.” The look on Newcastle’s face when he learned what Shelton and Raynesford had encountered was not something Noah would soon forget. He counted himself lucky that all three of the men in Tabitha’s life seemed content to settle the matter through marriage instead of drawing pistols at dawn.

  Shelton let out a bark of laughter. “You could have just told him we caught you kissing her. You didn’t need to tell him everything.”

  “I didn’t know how much he had already been told. I couldn’t take the risk that he knew more than I wished to divulge.” That was not the way Noah wanted to begin this new stage in their relationship. His future father-in-law deserved the truth, despite how exceedingly uncomfortable it was to deliver.

  “So how soon will the blessed event take place? Should I plan a visit to Doctor’s Commons?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Noah replied. “Newcastle agreed that rushing through things with a special license would only raise speculation when no one knows what happened outside of family and Lord Leith. He believes Leith will keep our confidence. Also, Mother and Glastonbury’s wedding will take place in only three days’ time. As long as Tabitha consents to the timing, we’ll have the banns called on Sunday, and then have a formal announcement to the ton at the wedding breakfast.”

  “As long as Tabitha consents?” Shelton repeated in a disdainful tone. “You have to convince her to consent. I like you, Devonport, I truly do. You’re a good man. You’ll be very good for Tabitha—I’ve thought that all along. You see her for herself. I’d hazard a guess that you’ve even come to love her. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t force me to. Convince her.”

  “Point taken.” Noah glanced over to the clock on the opposite wall. Newcastle had left to speak to Tabitha more than an hour ago, and still neither of them had returned. He was growing more and more restless by the moment.

  Shelton followed Noah’s gaze. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer. There are only so many ways Father can say ‘Do it or else.’ Which should help your cause in convincing her.”

  This was torture—unadulterated, unmitigated, and unqualified torture. He’d wanted to persuade Tabitha to marry him of his own merits, not have her hand forced in the matter. Of all the manners in which to start out his marriage, Noah could think of none he would have preferred less than the one he was currently facing.

  Finally, a soft tick sounded as the door opened. Noah rose abruptly as Tabitha stood hesitant at the threshold.

  “I’ll just leave you two to it then.” Shelton slipped out of the room, stopping for a moment to kiss his sister on her forehead. When he scooted her along until she was inside the library, she passed him a deathly glare. Shelton winked at Noah and then pulled the doors closed behind him.

  Late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows and landed upon Tabitha, bathing her in a warm, ethereal glow that only enhanced the peachy tone of both her gown and her skin. The image of her naked in a pool of the sun’s rays formed unbidden in his mind, her perfect, rounded breasts awash in a golden aura. Noah’s breath hitched; his pulse made a mad dash through his veins, like the galloping clop of Perceval’s hooves when given his head.

  For the first time in his life, he understood what Shakespeare had been thinking and seeing when he wrote about his beloved being more lovely and temperate than a summer’s day.

  Noah started to cross the room to her, but Tabitha stayed him with a brief shake of the head. “Have a seat, Lord Devonport.” She situated herself in a leather armchair positioned off on its own, eliminating his chance to seat her beside him on the sofa.

  Perhaps he could convince her to join him in a moment. He took up that station in the hope that he’d have just such an opportunity. “Tabitha—”

  “Lady Tabitha, my lord.”

  Surely they’d come far past such formalities by now. She would be his wife before the month was out, by which time she’d be Lady Devonport, anyway, and not Lady Tabitha. Still, now was not the time to split hairs. He started again with, “Lady Tabitha—”

  “I see no reason to beat around the bush,” she interrupted him again.

  Tabitha folded her hands together on her lap in the manner of an overly prim and proper governess, much like Miss Stroud who had instructed his sisters. He’d always thought of her as Miss Stout, however—stout and stalwart. The only thing Tabitha lacked was the dismal gray worsted gown and starchy white mobcap atop her head. Thank God she’d neglected to don such terrible garments. He might never have removed the image from his mind, otherwise.

  “Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? You’re here to propose.”

  Very well. Two could play her game. “Indeed. As you’re here to accept.”

  “That remains to be seen. I want to know how you intend to support me.”

  By gad. “I’ve already discussed all of the arrangements with your father. We’ve agreed on the terms of the marriage contract. I can assure you, everything is in order.”

  Tabitha arched an eyebrow at him in the same manner her brothers seemed to have refined—somehow both dubious and authoritative at the same time. “That is all very well and good, sir. But my father is not the one who may or may not be standing before an altar next to you and promising to love and obey. Perhaps it would behoove you to share such details with the lady in question.”

  Noah shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He’d never discussed financial matters with a lady before. It was a gentleman’s responsibility to the ladies in his life to manage such things. His father had stressed the importance of never allowing the women in the family to know if there were monetary concerns, as it was nothing they should ever be forced to worry about.

  But Tabitha was not his mother or one of his sisters. She was the lady he intended to marry. She deserved to know everything, and clearly she would settle for no less.

  He took a breath and started. “I’ve made arrangements with my man of business to invest in a shipping enterprise. Most of the funds left to the Devonport marquessate will be tied up in this endeavor. As such, we—you and I—will use a small portion of your dowry for our day-to-day needs until the time that my investment can provide for those expenses.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest and pushing up that glorious bosom, she asked, “How much?”

  “Pardon?” Noah was having difficulty taking his eyes from the lovely display she had just enhanced and focusing on the conversation. Gradually, he forced his gaze to return to her face.

  She frowned. “If I do agree to marry you, how much of my dowry will be used for this purpose?”

  “Oh. Right. Twenty percent.” Swallowing had become rather difficult, after thinking of all the things he wanted to do with her breasts.

  “And the remainder?” Tabitha licked her lips, an unconscious gesture, and Noah thought he might have to sit on his hands to keep them from her person.

  “Thirty percent will be placed in a trust for y
ou. The other fifty percent will be placed in trust for our future children. Once the dividends from my investment can support us, I will return that twenty percent to the children’s trust.”

  “And if your investment fares poorly?”

  He hadn’t wanted to think of such a prospect. Indeed, Lord Newcastle had not even troubled to ask such a question. He couldn’t just make up an answer on the spot. He couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know,” he answered.

  Tabitha’s lovely silver eyes widened nearly to the size of a teacup. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I mean I haven’t thought that far ahead. You’re right in that it could happen. If it comes to pass, then I suppose we’ll just have to figure things out from there.”

  “Am I to interpret this ‘we’ to mean yourself and my father? Or perhaps my brothers?” Her tone had gone from imperious to sardonic.

  “No. By ‘we,’ I meant you and me. Because, as you were so kind as to mention earlier, you are the one who will be standing across from me at the altar, promising to love and obey me, not your father or brothers.”

  “Might,” she insisted.

  “Will,” he corrected.

  Tabitha narrowed her eyes shrewdly at him, but refrained from countering him again. “You would allow me to assist in making such decisions? That is hardly conventional.”

  “I suppose it isn’t. But yes, I think you should play a role in determining our future.”

  “So if I were to suggest that forty percent of my dowry ought to be held out instead of twenty, and half of it should be used to increase the profits drawn from your current properties, how would you respond?” She held out her hands and pretended to inspect her fingernails in a nonchalant manner. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. This would all be dependent upon my acceptance of your proposal. Which, I might remind you, is not a foregone conclusion. Particularly since you’ve yet to actually propose.”

  Noah couldn’t hold back his smile. Her demeanor—previously akin to an arctic frost—was beginning to thaw. Perhaps discussing these matters with her, as an equal, was just what she needed in order to go along with the marriage willingly. “If you were to suggest such a thing—hypothetically—I would gladly go to your father to negotiate a change to the marriage contract. Right away, in fact.” He started to rise to prove his willingness.

  “Don’t go scampering off to my father just yet,” Tabitha warned. The imperious tone had returned. He was beginning to find it peculiarly alluring. “I have more questions.”

  What more could she possibly want to know? But he would have to satisfy her inquisitiveness or she would never agree. “Go on. I’m all yours.” In more ways than she was willing to concede.

  Edging forward on her chair, she asked, “How did you come to be in such a poor financial state? Why should I believe we will not end up in the poorhouse, with creditors knocking down our door, in a few months’ time?”

  Here was yet another question her father had not deigned to ask. That fact rankled, actually. Not that Tabitha would be so impertinent as to ask such a question, but that Newcastle had neglected to do so. Was the man so blasé about his daughter and her prospects that he would allow her to marry any man, even if the union would be to her detriment? Or was it merely that he already knew and trusted Noah?

  “My father inherited the marquessate from a distant uncle,” Noah said. “Until the day he learned of his uncle’s death, Father had owned a small plot of land—small according to the aristocracy—that he worked in order to support our family. Suddenly, he owned vast holdings and no longer needed to work so hard. He was able to spend his time and energy in taking care of all of us and our needs, and he did so perhaps to the exclusion of looking after his properties. He wasn’t intentionally a spendthrift—not at all. But the previous marquess had been, and a gambler to boot. Father neglected to notice how dire the situation had become until he was nearly on his deathbed. At that point, it was too late.

  “So when I inherited from him, I also inherited the massive pile of debts. I made sure I had enough set aside to secure my sisters their marriages. I sold everything I could, and I cut back the staffs at all of the entailed estates, to avoid any unnecessary expense. Looking back, I ought to have invested my depleting funds sooner than I have done, so I would not be in such a dire situation now. But I didn’t.”

  “Why not?” Tabitha asked. Her tone was one of curiosity, not of accusation. She had been sitting and listening without interruption far longer than he’d expected she would.

  “I suppose because I wanted to see all of my sisters happily married before I worried about such things. Perhaps I was merely trying to delay the inevitable, and put it off until it was all but too late. Does that sufficiently answer your questions?”

  A brisk nod was his answer. Her expression did not betray her decision, whether he had answered her well enough that she would betroth herself to him. He couldn’t delay any longer.

  Noah crossed the room to her and dropped to his knee, taking her hand into his. “Tabitha, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  She looked down at him. A virtual war appeared to be taking place within her eyes as they flashed and flickered before him. Several long moments passed and still she had not responded. Finally, when he thought she must not have heard his question, that maybe he had only asked her in his mind but not aloud, she spoke.

  “Perhaps.”

  Perhaps? What in God’s name did that mean? He gawked at her, unable to lift his jaw from where it had imbedded itself somewhere near the tassels of his Hessians.

  “I need more time,” Tabitha continued after a few moments. “I want time to get to know you better, as a man, and for you to know me better as a woman. I want for you to court me, and only me, for the next fortnight. If, after that time, I am sufficiently persuaded that your affections are indeed for me and not merely for my dowry, then I’ll accept your proposal. If however, I believe you want my portion more than you want me, then I will decline.”

  It was Noah’s turn to arch a brow in her direction. “And you’ll allow only me to court you during this period as well? You’ll eschew all other suitors?”

  A thin line set in over her nose between her eyebrows. “Very well.”

  This wasn’t precisely what he’d hoped to be the outcome, but things were looking far more cheerful than he feared they might. “I’ll agree to your terms on one condition.” He waited for her nod to continue. “We’ll have the banns called tomorrow.”

  Tabitha shot out of her chair and made for the door. “Absolutely not!”

  Noah rushed to catch her, grabbing hold of her elbow to stop her from leaving. “Wait. I wasn’t finished. We’ll have the banns called tomorrow, and we’ll announce our betrothal at my mother’s wedding—which you’ll attend at my side.” Her eyes could burn holes through him they were so fiery, but he pressed on. “When the fortnight has come to a close one of two things will happen: we will marry right away, if I have proven myself to you, or I will cry off if you deem me unworthy to be your husband.”

  She sucked in a gasp of surprise. “Cry off? But you would be shunned by the ton for such a thing. You’d never find another lady to accept you. It just isn’t done.”

  He nodded. “I am well aware of that. Do you accept my terms?”

  “Yes, my lord,” she whispered, sliding her tongue along her lips again.

  “Good,” Noah replied. God, he wanted to taste her again. He couldn’t stop looking at her luscious lips. She would drive him to distraction with her tongue if she didn’t stop that soon. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in for a brief, possessive kiss. “I have one more requirement. Call me Noah.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Cheers,” Tabitha called out along with the rest of the wedding guests, holding her glass aloft as Noah resumed his seat by her side. She took a sip when he turned to her, an expectant smile on his lips. Champagne bubbled and fizzed in her mouth and she held
it there longer than necessary, allowing the sweet decadence to envelop her senses.

  He gestured to his mother and Lord Glastonbury. “That will be us in a couple of weeks.”

  Tabitha gave him a solid frown. “Might,” she amended quietly. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. Particularly not Owen or Elaine, who sat just to her left. Or, for that matter, any of Noah’s other sisters and their husbands, who filled out the rest of the table.

  Noah leaned in, allowing his breath to feather over her ear. “Will,” he whispered.

  Blast him for always needing to have the last word.

  “Have you tried the strawberries?” he asked. “They’re delicious with a bit of that clotted cream. They’re so good they should be illegal.”

  “Illegal?” Tabitha scoffed.

  Noah reached across and selected a berry from the dish. “Of course, illegal. Anything this good is bound to be debauched.” He dipped the berry in the clotted cream and then put it in Tabitha’s mouth.

  A blush scorched the back of her neck at his intimacy and turned to hide her face from the crowd. When she had swallowed the bite and found her voice again, she shot him her frostiest glare. “That was highly inappropriate. Behave yourself.”

  He flashed a roguish grin. “Since when is it inappropriate for a gentleman to offer his fiancée a bite to eat?”

  “The offer was hardly the problem, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Tabitha reached for a napkin and dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

  His eyes twinkled at her in mischievous merriment, and he waggled his brows. She purposefully turned away from him and looked at the plate before her.

  “I suppose it would be even more unseemly of me to kiss you right now, then, would it not? You’re the most ravishing thing I’ve ever seen, with the way you color so easily.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Tabitha ventured a glance in his direction and laughed. “You would dare. Oh, good heavens, you are utterly incorrigible.”