When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal)

by Stacy Reid

  He saw the tension lifted from her shoulders, and the soft sigh which escaped her lips did the most unexpected thing. It traveled to somewhere inside of him and stayed. That could be the only reason to explain the decidedly odd weakness assailing him.

  She dipped the quill in the inkwell, blotted, and then wrote. I wondered if I arrived before my letter. The reason for my presence is very clear to you, then.

  Well, he hoped that was what the awful scribble said. Their gaze collided, and he quickly looked at the paper again and then back at her. Hugh scrubbed a hand over his face, and then one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard reached him. She’d giggled before quickly slapping a hand over her mouth. She lowered that hand to softly say, “I can see that you are horrified with my script. Growing up my tutors and governess were equally appalled. I shall speak, then.”

  He pressed a hand over his heart and wilted against the sofa to communicate his relief. Her smile widened, and her eyes…they peered at him as if she didn’t know what to make of him. Hugh understood. He didn’t know what the hell to make of his own actions. Brushing aside the uncharacteristic need to lessen her worry, he reached for the paper and wrote. Why do you wish for us to marry?

  Her cheeks turned a darker shade of red, but she still lifted her chin and met his curious stare. “I require a husband most urgently.”

  Her quiet, solemn tone settled into the chamber. Another quick scrawl on the paper and her gaze lowered to the table.

  You were compromised.

  Her chest rose and fell on an unsteady breath. “Yes.”

  You are the daughter of the duke of Salop.

  “Yes.”

  Does he know you are here, Lady Phoebe?

  She stared at him for a long moment. “No.”

  Your family has considerable influence in Society.

  “Yes.”

  I am desirous of a wife with your background. I intend to move to England soon, where I will spend several months there out of each year. As it were, this will be a come out of sorts, but for my entire family.

  Her lips parted, and her throat worked on a swallow. “I did travel here because I hoped we could be of mutual benefit to each other.”

  He canted his head. A marriage of convenience?

  “Precisely, my lord.”

  I overheard some of your remarks to your maidservant. I gather you doubt such mutual benefit is possible. Why have you changed your thoughts?

  She sent him a look of cool caution. “Eavesdropping is not the mark of a gentleman, Viscount Huxley.”

  I am admonished.

  Her lips twitched imperceptibly.

  Why are you here, what do you want, and why did you risk your reputation to flee to me? Those questions had been swirling through his thoughts since he realized his unexpected visitor was her. He reached for another sheaf of paper and wrote, What did you hope from this arrangement when you made your way here?

  Her lashes swept down across her cheekbones, hiding her expression from him. It took a few beats before she fixed her eyes on his face again. Her expression was a fierce mix of vulnerability, hope, fear, and pride. A breath shuddered from her as she evidently worked to master the emotions that battered her.

  “Safety…security…” Her lips smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, which held a sheen of tears. “And, dare I hope, to live my life happily.”

  And in that softly echoed statement, he’d felt a moment of affinity…a connection of sorts.

  A deep desire that had been embedded into his heart after his mother left. For months, it had hurt to feel so unwanted by his mother. Seeing her walk away from their country home, mount the steps into her elegant carriage, and drive away without looking back once had been agonizing. He’d spent several months praying that one day she would return…for him and his sister and brother and his father’s sake. With the end of each day, he’d loathed himself when she never returned, though the very next day, he would resume his vigil on the lawns with his binoculars.

  His mother had been like the sun, and with her departure, she had left behind darkness and such sorrow. Hugh hadn’t been able to imagine that his father would ever smile again. It had hurt so much, he dropped to his knees and screamed his pains and fear. Still, she hadn’t returned. That excessive display of emotions and regret had only revealed a weakness in him.

  “What do you want from life, my boy?” his father had demanded once.

  “I would like to live happily, Father.” He’d been eleven years of age when he’d made that vow while staring at the stars.

  For so long, everything had been somber, until a deep need to stop being morose and be happy permeated his entire being.

  His father had replied, “Happiness lies in your wealth, position, and power within society. Do not forget it.”

  I believe a connection between us could be mutually advantageous, Lady Phoebe.

  A flare of hope brightened her eyes, yet she hesitated. “I…regrettably, that is no longer possible.”

  Why?

  “I never expected you to be a future earl.”

  How curious. The teachings from his father indicated that every young lady in society desired to marry a man of rank and fortune. Hugh wondered with some amusement if she realized her error upon discovering his muteness. The very notion of this had a strange pain pinching in his heart, visceral enough where he rubbed his chest as if it were a physical ache. The anomaly of feeling such discomfort when he learned years ago to be uncaring of others’ opinions had him carefully choosing his next words.

  You do not wish to enter a marriage with a man with a title?

  She raised a hand to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. He noted that her fingers still trembled despite his earlier efforts to make her relax. The lady was very frightened indeed and was doing her utmost best to appear unflappable.

  “I believed a man with little connections would be more willing to marry me. From the tone of your letters, what seemed important was a wife with influential connections, not her beauty, her wealth, and certainly not sentiments. Knowing that, I thought…I hoped my current circumstances could be accepted, even when I knew in my heart it was unlikely any gentleman could overlook it.”

  And yet she was here. She’d either acted with foolhardiness or bravery, but her actions surely revealed the depth of her desperation.

  I gather you no longer believe love to be an important matter in a marriage.

  Her eyes darkened, and her chin tilted even higher. “Love is for fools.”

  I am pleased to see in that we are like-minded.

  Lady Phoebe took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, then said, “I truly believed that when I met you, you would reveal to be a rich merchant with social aspirations like many in society. Your advertising for a wife was unnecessary, as your consequences are so elevated you can pick any female from the marriage mart and make an offer. How can I then dare to think you could overlook my situation, my lord?”

  And what situation is that, Lady Phoebe?

  She stared at him, and he returned her regard unflinchingly. The lady was quite pretty, beautiful really, and a beguiling mix of vulnerability and courage. It was evident that she fought tears with impressive willpower.

  “It is a matter of some delicacy.”

  Do you fear for my sensibilities?

  “If you do not agree to marriage after, I would ask upon your honor that you keep my confidence.”

  A silence fell, throbbing with undertones of tension.

  You have my word.

  Hugh lifted a hand to encourage her to speak. She stood and went some distance from him. Instinct urged him to stand, so he did. With fingers that trembled, she untied the strings that held her cloak together and allowed it to fall from her shoulders to the carpet. Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of rose, but her eyes shone with fierce pri
de and a bit of defiance. Yet behind it all, he still saw the fear. He had spent too much of his life observing others to miss that expression. An unexpectedly odd and fierce surge of protectiveness went through him.

  You have nothing to fear from me, he thought but did not sign.

  The cut of her traveling gown accented all her generous curves. She lifted her chin, which pushed her delightful bosom out more, and it was then he noted the high roundedness of her belly. For a moment, Hugh could not breathe. The shock was an icy blast to his heart. Now he understood why she wanted to leave despite the desperate air that surrounded her.

  “You are with child,” he signed before he could stop himself. Foolish, of course, as she would not understand. But she had perceived some of his signs, especially the one that created the shape of a baby being cradled.

  Her throat worked on a swallow. “Yes. I am five and a half months with child.”

  Hugh faltered into remarkable stillness. And for all intent and purpose, I am an earl…who will need his heir.

  At his silence, she lifted a hand to cradle her stomach tenderly and glanced down briefly. When she looked up, her eyes revealed so much hurt and fear, he flinched. He felt something tearing in his chest, a rush of emotion that was almost as frightening as it was inexplicable.

  He took a few steps toward her before he turned around, marched over to the table, and with quick, almost violent motions scrawled, Is there someone who needs to be killed?

  Then he spun around and thrust the paper toward her.

  Shock widened her eyes. “No!”

  He spun back to the table and scratched the quill over the paper. Hugh felt her moving closer, and when he turned around, she was right there… If he wished it, one step would have him in touching distance. Hugh could smell the faint scent of her perfume, a whiff of jasmine and roses. He could see the wild flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the wetness on her lips.

  She was too close. Yet he did not retreat.

  He lifted the paper. Given the influence of your parents, why did your father not force this bounder to marry you?

  She was blushing furiously now, and for the first time, he saw a dark wash of shame in her beautiful eyes. The rawness of that emotion strangled his breath.

  “I…I was not forced or seduced by a rake!”

  She was not forced. Ah…so this was the folly of believing herself to be in love. Do you love this man still? Something elusive whispered through Hugh, but it was gone too quickly for him to intercept or even begin to understand its nature. But it felt dark and turbulent, something different from the icy indifference that had served him well for so many years.

  Her entire body trembled. “I…I wanted to escape a marriage my parents were trying to force me into, and I acted with reckless disregard, and now…now I am ruined. The man I thought I could build a life with…he is beneath my parents, and when he asked to marry me, they offered him twenty thousand pounds instead. And he took it.”

  She swiped furiously at the tears that finally ran down her cheeks. “When I found out my circumstance, I was so confused and uncertain as to my future path, I informed my mother.” Lady Phoebe’s voice cracked, and she pressed a hand over her mouth. Her entire body shuddered as she regained her composure.

  “The duchess made arrangements for me to be taken to the country and held in a remote location under guard until the child…until my child was born, and then it was to be taken from me and given away to an orphanage or a baby farm. I…I could not bear it, so I ran.”

  To me.

  “I ran to you,” she whispered as if she had read his thoughts.

  Suddenly aware that every emotion of his might be revealed on his face, he schooled his expression into an indifferent mask.

  “I know our union is improbable; I only ask that you keep my confidence and do not alert my family that I am here.”

  She glanced longingly at the bed, and when she stepped away, she swayed. He lunged and grasped her elbows gently, causing her to lean against him slightly. Unexpected desire skittered across Hugh’s nerve endings, and he released her immediately but hovered close. She sucked in a sharp breath and glanced up at him. The beauty of her eyes stole his reasoning for precious moments. Hugh scowled, and with a soft gasp, she stepped further away.

  “I’ll only need a few days to rest before I leave your home. Once again, I am dreadfully sorry to have importuned upon your household.”

  He nodded once. A yawn seemed to catch her by surprise, and she flushed. Her lovely face was then suffused with exhaustion, and another wide yawn escaped from her. Hugh waved toward the bed. A pulse of tenderness swept through him, and he frowned at the oddity of it. He wanted to give her some words of reassurance, but he could not.

  He sketched a bow and made his way from the room. Hugh could not dismiss Lady Phoebe’s fear and hurt from his mind. Somehow her desperation and pain clawed its way deep inside him and hooked itself.

  What am I to do about you, Lady Phoebe, what am I to do?

  Chapter Five

  Late into the darkest hours of the night, Phoebe lay on the bed, unable to sleep. All she could hear was the rain beating against the windows, the howl of the wind, and the sharp crackle from the roaring fireplace. Surrounded by warmth and luxurious elegance, yet she felt so alone and out of place. She was exhausted from trying to find another solution to save her baby. Now that she was in Scotland, it would take a few weeks of traveling to reach her aunt in Cornwall. She was also certain her mother would expect Phoebe to attempt to travel there.

  When she’d overheard her mother planning to transport her away from society to a remote area in Lincolnshire, the duchess’s tone had been icy and emotionless. Phoebe suspected her mother had not informed Papa of his daughter’s circumstances, for surely, she would have endured his wrath if so. No, the duchess had planned to deal with Phoebe on her own. The memory of how cruel her mother sounded as she informed whomever she had met with in the study still had the power to make Phoebe nauseated.

  “Take her to the countryside and ensure she is guarded stringently. She is not to be allowed any letters, nor should any be posted for her. There must be no visitors, and under no circumstances must the neighbors know with which family she is connected. I will trust her in your care, and when the child is born, you must take it away immediately, and only then I am to be notified this sorry mess is over with.”

  It was very fortunate that Sarah and the young coachman had a tendre for each other. It was her maidservant who had arranged for her beau to take one of the family’s carriages in the dead of night so they could make their escape. The duke and duchess had been at a ball, and she had left letters for them, hoping they could accept her determination to protect the life of her child. She had implied in her letters that she would assume widowhood in France. It was only to Richard she had hinted that she would reside in Scotland without imparting any specifics.

  The dread she had felt then settled over her now like a smothering blanket. Her throat clogged, and with a scowl, she pushed aside the feelings. Grasping the heavy sheets, she flung them aside in one swift movement and took her time in rising from the bed. She rested a hand on her rounded stomach. “What am I to do now?”

  Phoebe hadn’t even dared think to inform George of the consequences of her recklessness. It had been four months since he accepted his twenty thousand pounds from her father and departed her life. During those months, any possibility of their reconciliation was irrecoverably lost forever. Not that she could bring herself to forgive him for that treachery.

  He had taken the twenty thousand pounds and had become engaged to a Miss Lavinia Dawkins, the third daughter of a Baron, only a few weeks after they had parted. Phoebe had heard that the happy couple and the Baron were painting their engagement as a romantic love match, with a wedding to be held in a few weeks. Phoebe had wondered at the possibility that George might h
ave already been courting the girl in secret and that possibly their dalliance had wandered into the more physical realms as well. Her father might then have wanted to make sure they were quickly wed, and the large windfall George had taken from the Duke would sweeten the bitter medicine. Phoebe did not want to believe that George had been seducing Miss Lavinia while also making promises of undying love to her, but she could neither prove nor disprove her miserable suspicions.

  Phoebe had to turn to her brother. Richard would fight for her, which would make the already tumultuous relationship with his parents more bitter, even dangerous. The duke was powerful, and he would not hesitate to make his son an enemy. She already knew that he had wielded his power to shut Richard out of investments and had influenced all the notable clubs to deny him membership. There had been no justification for his being blackballed except that Richard had acknowledged his bastard child and accepted responsibility for the child’s upbringing and welfare. How much further would the duke go if Richard was to help and encourage her to bring another illegitimate child into the world? How could she do that to him when it was her reckless heart that had left her ruined?

  But how can I not also do everything to protect my child?

  She had carried off all her pieces of jewelry, and they should be able to fetch a handsome price. She could indeed travel to France and assume widowhood. But how long would that money serve her and the baby? Although she had heard it was cheaper to live well in France than in England, so it might not be so very dreadful. Once she settled in France, she could write to Richard and ask him for money.

  Phoebe swallowed back a rising swell of panic. It felt as if she attempted to climb a mountain in trying to find a remedy that would not damage her family’s reputation and protect the life and well-being of her baby.

  I promise I’ll not be rash again, and I’ll protect you at all cost. As if her baby heard her silent vow, her stomach rippled several times. Phoebe gave a watery laugh.