The Earl's Betrothal

by Tuft, Karen

  Anthony fairly vibrated with rage, and Amelia was afraid he might do something drastic, so strained were his emotions already. It was within his rights to challenge the Duke of Marwood to a duel over the duke’s comments about her. She prayed it would not come to that.

  Oh, this was dreadful, and it was all her fault—her fault! If only she had not gone looking for him this evening, concerned though she had been. She should have sent Mr. Jennings to him instead or even Lord Cantwell, but no, she had gone herself.

  And now this.

  She must make things right. How, she didn’t know, but she must for Anthony’s sake. She turned to Lady Ashworth, a woman who, up until a few moments ago, Amelia had considered a friend as well as employer. “Lady Ashworth, your son honors me with his words, and I am truly humbled.” Amelia made a deep curtsy to her, hoping her deference would go over well with the onlookers.

  “Pathetic,” Marwood sneered. “Only last night the chit was expounding her radical views and spewing defiance toward those of the highest rank. I was appalled.”

  “Marwood,” Anthony said. “You have already been warned. Pray, do not force me in this matter.”

  “Anthony,” his mother murmured. “Have a care. You are addressing the Duke of Marwood.”

  “If your father were standing here, he would disown you,” Marwood spat. “I am sure I would rather have no heir than one who flaunts propriety as easily as you do.”

  Lady Ashworth’s hand flew to her mouth at the remark, and Anthony took a step forward. Amelia’s heart leapt to her throat.

  “Enough. I am leaving,” Marwood said with a slash of his arm. “I will not stay another minute in this house. You will excuse us, Lady Ashworth,” he said, giving her a curt bow. “Come, Lady Marwood, Elizabeth.” He pivoted and exited the room, the duchess and Lady Elizabeth trailing after him. Lady Ashworth followed, her head held high.

  The whispering began again, so Anthony held up his hand again. “My dear guests,” he said in a clear, loud voice. “I regret you were forced to witness that exchange, for this is meant to be a festive occasion, now even more so as we celebrate my betrothal.”

  He raised Amelia’s hand, there in front of everyone, and kissed it. “Miss Clarke, may I lead you out for the next dance?” He smiled, but his eyes were blue ice.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she answered, surprised her voice worked at all. “It would be my honor to dance with you.”

  He led her to the center of the floor, although no other couples followed. Determined, he gestured to the maestro for the orchestra to begin, then turned to face Amelia.

  The first notes began, and Amelia tensed. It was a waltz. She had never had reason or opportunity to perform the dance before. He held out his left hand for her to take and snaked his right hand around her waist.

  “My lord, I cannot—”

  “You can, and you shall. Begin as you mean to go,” he said curtly.

  “I mean, I have never waltzed before,” she said, looking about her. “I shall humiliate myself and embarrass you and your family even further.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll help you. Place your hand on my shoulder.” He drew her closer than was proper, but it gave her some security and allowed her to stare at his neckcloth rather than at all the gawking people in the ballroom. “Are you familiar with the steps?” he asked.

  “Theoretically, yes, but—”

  “Then you will be fine. Ready: one, two, three, one, two, three . . .”

  He kept up the counting, holding her steady while Amelia figured out her footwork. Thankfully it was a slow waltz. Amelia hated to think what would have happened had the music been up-tempo.

  Gradually, other couples began to join them on the dance floor, and Amelia felt like less of a spectacle. It was time for her to make amends. “This is entirely my fault,” she said. “Had I sent Mr. Jennings to you rather than look for you myself, you would not have felt compelled to claim we were betrothed as you did.”

  “Were you actually there, Amelia? On the terrace with me? Because I seem to recall it was not your concern for me that resulted in our betrothal but my impetuous behavior. I believe it was I who kissed you. Now hush. Everyone is watching us.”

  He put her in a gentle spin, and she ended up closer to him still, which would only add to the gossip, she supposed, but for the moment, there was nothing she could do to make things right. She closed her eyes and let herself imagine what it would be like to be truly betrothed to him, to marry him and give him children.

  “What are we to do?” she whispered.

  “We will discuss it tomorrow,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “One thing at a time.”

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be daunting. They could not simply turn from such a public betrothal announcement and say it was all in jest, especially not after Anthony’s encounter with the Duke of Marwood. The betrothal would have to continue for a time. Even then Anthony would never cry off, Amelia was certain. He was too much of a gentleman, with too strong a sense of honor and duty. It would be up to her to end the betrothal.

  She hoped she would be strong enough to do it when the time came.

  Chapter 10

  Anthony’s father summoned him to his room much too early the following morning. He’d had precious little sleep the night before. The ball, as balls were inclined to do, went on into the wee hours of the morning, and Anthony had proceeded to toss and turn the remainder of the night.

  How the devil had he allowed himself to get into such a mess? And not only himself, oh no; he’d had to drag Amelia into it with him. If she had any brains in her head, she would pack her things and run as far away from him as she possibly could.

  “Hold still,” Lucas grumbled as he shaved Anthony’s face. “Or I shall cut you, and it won’t be on accident.”

  Anthony had awakened him despite knowing that Lucas would be lacking sleep as well. But if Anthony was to face his father and declare that, one: he was not betrothed to Lady Elizabeth, two: he had managed to make an enemy of Marwood in the process, and three: he’d gotten himself betrothed to his mother’s companion, to boot, he intended to look every bit the Earl of Halford, and that would require his friend’s assistance, as his own hands were feeling exceptionally unsteady.

  “Your words strike no fear in me whatsoever,” Anthony said as he stared at their bleary-eyed reflections in the mirror. “You have had too many opportunities to let me expire to imagine you would let your previous good efforts on my behalf go to waste.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Lucas said. “I never took you for a fool before last night. What got into you, Tony, that you would take on the Duke of Marwood like that?”

  “What got into me,” Anthony said, “was the fact that he made derogatory remarks about the lady to whom I am betrothed. I had no choice but to return fire.”

  “Yes, and about that betrothal.” Lucas handed Anthony a towel. “What do you intend to do?”

  “Honor it, of course.” He wiped the remaining soap from his face and tossed the towel onto the dressing table and then allowed Lucas to help him into his waistcoat. “I compromised Miss Clarke, and it is my duty to make it right.”

  “You think the entire world is your duty, Tony,” Lucas said. “Now hold still again. I am only willing to tie one neckcloth this morning, so it had better be right the first time. After that, I am returning to my bed and dreaming of dancing with lovely young ladies.”

  “My father asked me to marry quickly. He is getting his wish.”

  Lucas only looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Perhaps he had. “Marwood is a powerful man,” Lucas said, “and you have gotten out of step with him. Your father will not be pleased. He seemed intent on having you wed Lady Elizabeth in your brother’s place.”

  “Only because it was convenient.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “I wish I had seen Alex and Lady Elizabeth together to dete
rmine if it was a love match or not. She isn’t like his usual type of woman.”

  “She seems very nice to me. Do you mean she is too quiet? Too bland, perhaps?”

  “I would never call Lady Elizabeth bland, although Alex did seem to prefer a livelier sort of lady. Perhaps he fell in love with her and was setting aside his wild ways.”

  “Perhaps.” Lucas finished the knot and assisted Anthony into his coat.

  “Why should Marwood care so much about an alliance with Ashworth that he would turn hostile over a broken betrothal? And not even a betrothal, at that,” Anthony continued. “It seems all out of proportion to me. Louisa had several beaus ask for her hand, and my father even began negotiating settlements with one young man’s family until Louisa changed her mind.”

  “It is indeed a mystery.” Lucas studied Anthony’s appearance. “You look as good as you are going to this early in the morning,” he said.

  They were interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and a footman stepped inside. “Your father is ready for you, my lord.”

  “Tell him I will be there shortly,” Anthony replied.

  “I think the sapphire stickpin,” Lucas said. He selected the stickpin from Anthony’s jewel case and deftly slipped it into the folds of his neckcloth. “There. I have done all that I can for you. The rest is up to you. Good luck.” He yawned and returned to his own room.

  Anthony shot his cuffs, tugged at his waistcoat, and went to face his father.

  He discovered upon his arrival at his father’s suite of rooms that both his parents were there to meet with him. His father, fully dressed and looking serious, sat in an overstuffed chair near the fireplace. His mother stood next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder. It was a daunting family portrait, to say the least.

  Anthony bowed formally. There would be no cutting corners on propriety this morning. “Father, Mother. Good morning. I hope you both slept well.”

  “Rather not, I am afraid,” his father said. “I was awakened late last night with the news that some of our more esteemed guests left abruptly. Care to explain?”

  “The Duke of Marwood insulted Miss Clarke,” Anthony said. “And I would not stand for it.”

  “There is more to the story than that, or so I have been told.”

  Anthony looked at his mother.

  “I do not keep secrets from your father, Anthony, and he needed to know as soon as possible,” she said.

  “I am assuming Mother told you I am now betrothed, then, an arrangement that should make you happy.”

  His father closed his eyes. He looked tired, the deep brackets around his mouth making him look older than he was. “Perhaps I should speak to Halford alone, my dear,” he said. “Man to man.”

  “Not on your life, Ashworth,” his mother retorted. She left his side and sank onto the sofa that faced his chair. “Have a seat, Anthony, for pity’s sake.”

  He did, sitting next to his mother on the sofa.

  “I spoke to Lady Elizabeth,” Anthony said. “As I told you I would. I do not know what sort of understanding she and Alex had before his death, only that she was not inclined to accept a proposal from me. I told her I would speak to Marwood, and I did. He was not pleased.”

  “But what of the betrothal to Amelia, Anthony?” his mother asked.

  What to say? How to protect Amelia, even from the judgment of his parents? “I have gotten to know Miss Clarke over the past few weeks, and I have an affection for her. Proposing to her saves a great deal of time and allows me to focus on my new responsibilities.”

  “I should have held firm on the matter with Lady Elizabeth,” his father said. “In your rashness, you have exchanged the daughter of a duke for the daughter of a mere vicar. As much as I admire Miss Clarke, it is nonsensical.”

  “It may seem so to you, Father. But what makes no sense to me is the Duke of Marwood’s reaction to the entire business. He was incensed that I would not hold to the marriage contracts between Alex and Lady Elizabeth, all out of proportion to the situation, if you were to ask me.”

  “Yes, well,” his father said, looking grumpily at his wife and clearing his throat. “We were quite determined to have your brother marry and settle down. I wanted Halford to have a bride of the finest quality, and I was willing to be generous to secure Lady Elizabeth. We worked out a very detailed arrangement. Marwood and I both got what we wanted from it.”

  “Apparently the Duke of Marwood cared more about the union than his daughter did,” Anthony observed wryly.

  “Your brother courted the girl properly, and she agreed to the match, whatever you may think,” his father snapped.

  “He really was fond of her, Anthony, and she of him,” his mother added. “We would never have wanted their marriage to be an indifferent one.”

  “Enough of that now. I want to know more about this business with Miss Clarke,” his father said impatiently. “I truly cannot fathom it.”

  “I do not see why not, Father. Miss Clarke is clever, and her manners are without exception.”

  “That may be true, and we are certainly indebted to her,” the marquess said. “She was a great support to your mother during Halford’s death and with my own indisposition. But I needn’t remind you that she is a hired companion, with no family to speak of. She will be looked down upon, viewed as your inferior. Tongues will wag, and people will assume the worst. From what your mother has told me, they already are. What do you intend to do about it?”

  “I have already begun making plans,” Anthony said. “I spent part of the night drafting a letter to our solicitor in London, outlining amendments to my will reflecting my change in marital status.” He did not add that he had also asked the solicitor to look into Miss Clarke’s family background. He found it odd that she had never been told anything about her grandparents or aunts and uncles, for that matter, and he wanted to find family members who could be with her at the wedding.

  “Additionally,” he said, “in three days’ time, I will take Miss Clarke to London. She needs a wardrobe fit for a countess—”

  “Oh, yes, Anthony, of course,” his mother interrupted. “But who will take her to see the modiste? Who will be her chaperone? You must behave with the utmost propriety in Town, especially after the scene last night. But I cannot leave your father, and I am sure Farleigh will not allow Louisa to gallivant all over Town, tiring herself in her condition. Perhaps I can write to one of my friends.”

  “We will sort it out, Mother,” Anthony said. “Also, while I am there, I plan to arrange for a special license.”

  “That is wise,” his father said. “The sooner the deed is done, the better, and the tongues will eventually begin to wag over something else. But now I am for my bed.” He reached for his cane, and Anthony stood. “Send that letter, and start making the arrangements.”

  “I shall. But before I go,” Anthony said, “I want you both to know I will do everything in my power to make things right and minimize any scandal that may occur from this.”

  “Do not make promises you cannot keep, Halford,” his father said.

  “I never do,” Anthony assured him.

  He hoped he wasn’t this time.

  * * *

  Amelia slept until noon, so exhausted she was from the events of the day and night before. How she had managed to keep her head up and a smile on her face while ladies whispered behind their fans and gentlemen looked at her with raised eyebrows, she didn’t know.

  Anthony had led her out for the supper dance and had gotten her a plate of delicacies. Mrs. Deal had exceeded herself with her cooking, by all accounts. But Amelia had barely tasted anything she had put in her mouth.

  Eventually the ball had concluded, and Anthony had escorted her to her room.

  “I cannot be sorry for what happened,” he had whispered in her ear. “Even though I should be. Good night, my dear.”

/>   He had kissed her then, a chaste kiss on the cheek, and had vanished down the hallway. Considering what had resulted from their previous kiss, Amelia had not been surprised. What had surprised her was how much she had wanted a repeat of the passion they had shared on the terrace.

  Perhaps she had wished for reassurance that he had real feelings for her, that the kiss had not been merely the result of the emotional tumult he had been in. Perhaps then she would feel less guilty that he had leg-shackled himself to a woman so clearly beneath him in status.

  They had joked about being leg-shackled earlier in the day. He had thought it amusing at the time. It definitely was not amusing now.

  She washed and chose her most somber day dress to wear, then rang for toast and tea to be sent to her room. She was not ready to face anyone quite yet.

  What could they possibly be thinking?

  There was a quiet knock at her door, and then Jane entered bearing Amelia’s morning tray. “Oh, there you are, miss,” she said, standing awkwardly inside the door. “Where would you like your tray, miss?”

  Amelia sighed. “On the same table where you have put my morning tray every time I have requested one since I arrived here at Ashworth Park.”

  “Of course, miss. Is there anything else you need?” She set the tray down and returned to the door, looking as if she needed to escape.

  “Yes, Jane, there is.” Last evening, Anthony had said she must begin as she meant to go, and so she would. Whether a countess or companion, she was the same person today as she had been yesterday. “My betrothal is going to be an adjustment for everyone, including me. What I need most, therefore, is help I am unaccustomed to receiving.”

  She crossed to her dressing table and sat down. “I have been having trouble with my hair this morning.” On the occasions when she wasn’t wearing her mobcap, Jane’s hair always looked lovely, and Amelia had long been impressed with the girl’s skill. “Today is going to be a challenging one, I am afraid, and I would feel more confident if I thought my hair looked just right. Perhaps you would be willing to help me.”