A Hasty Betrothal (4 page)

The footman disappeared.

Miles held out his arm. “A ride, then?”

Suddenly the thought of fresh air and sunshine seemed smart, indeed. She took his arm, noticing how much taller he stood than she. His arm felt exceedingly strong.

Which was neither here nor there, she told herself firmly.

It did not take long to leave.

Miles helped her into his rig. His fingers lingered on her knuckles, and she sent him a sharp look. Did he realize the small impropriety? Still feeling warm, she withdrew her hand and found her seat. Once they were settled, and Jenna had handed in her bonnet and taken her own seat, they were off.

“Hyde Park is beautiful this time of year,” Elizabeth said inanely.

“We've never taken a turn by ourselves, have we?” Sunlight lit the chiseled planes of his profile.

She glanced at her lap, fiddling with the ribbons of her bonnet.

“You do not need a cap to hide your face, Bitt.”

“It is for shade, sir.”

“I see.” His tone suggested he thought otherwise.

She cared not a whit what his tone said, though her hands were clammy.

They left the tree-lined road as Miles turned the rig into Hyde Park. Sunlight bloomed immediately upon their faces, warm and inviting in the still-cool spring air.

She situated the bonnet upon her head, but as she pulled the ribbons forward, Miles touched her hand.

“Allow me, my lady.” His eyes darkened. Some tempestuous emotion spiraled through them, though Elizabeth had no idea why. She dropped her hands to her lap.

Miles parked the rig to the side of the pathway. Setting the reins on his lap, he pulled the ribbons of her bonnet gently, tying them neatly beneath her chin, the skin of his knuckles the briefest whisper of a caress against her skin.

“I had wondered...” He paused, his face only inches from hers, his gaze earnest. “If you might consider a betrothal.”

Chapter Four

E
lizabeth stiffened. The bonnet hid most of her face but the sudden frown turning her pretty lips downward remained visible. “I shall not be marrying Lord Wrottesley, no matter what occurred last night. I do hope my parents have not sent you to persuade me otherwise.”

Miles wanted to take her hand, but the knowledge that they were riding in a public place and bound to encounter peers stayed him. He tapped his fingers against his knee instead, debating the best way to phrase his question.

Perhaps a simple business proposition?

That might be best, as it most described the purpose of the proposal. He picked up the reins, guiding the horses back onto the path.

“Nay, Bitt, your parents know nothing of my actions. The thing is...” He gathered his courage, which seemed to have deserted him. “I have come to see if you would consider a betrothal to me.”

Her mouth rounded. Miles took a curve in Rotten Row, passing an early rider he did not recognize. He felt compelled to fill the silence of Bitt's shock, to assure her of his honorable intentions. And perhaps to convince himself that such an offer was in both of their best interests. Hard to imagine; nevertheless, he felt honor bound to offer.

“John came to my house this morning. He is concerned.”

“Yes, yes, you told me he saw the papers.”

Miles's mouth tightened. “He worries for your family's reputation.”

“He should have expressed his worries to me.” She pulled out a fan and began waving it vigorously against her face. “I truly feel that the gossip shall pass. After all, the column was quite vague, merely mentioning an heiress. That could be a number of people, including debutantes. It is known that I shall inherit, of course, but the amount has been kept quiet to discourage fortune hunters.”

“Do you speak of an inheritance or a dowry?”

“Both, really. My grandmother has settled a dowry upon me, but I am also to receive an inheritance from my grandfather. It was in his will. We were very close. He made me feel loved for myself, and in fact, it was he who introduced me to the wonder of novels.” Her eyes briefly closed as though she remembered a sweetness Miles himself had never known.

His own experiences with reading encompassed contracts, bills and legal papers. He took a quiet moment to study her. She sat to his right and the birthmark did not extend to the left side of her face. Her high cheekbones hinted at aristocracy, at a regal breeding that did not enrich his own blood.

“Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.”

“His life was too short.” Elizabeth opened her eyes, training their brightness upon him. “Tell me, Miles—why propose to me? I had believed you to be firmly settled in your widowerhood.”

He dragged in a breath. “It is true. Marriage is the last thing I want. But you are an old friend, Bitt, and I do not wish to see you ruined. A betrothal seems a smart proposition. The article did mention a factory owner. Not only will the rumors subside and your reputation remain pristine, but you will be able to continue with the life you have known. With me, you might reside in the manner to which you're accustomed. We are comfortable together, having known each other since childhood. I wished to discuss the idea with you before going to your parents.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, you make marriage sound cold and heartless, a calculated business decision rather than a joining of hearts.” She edged away from him.

The morning sun felt unbearably hot. He tugged at his cravat. “Because that is what it would be, Elizabeth. A proposition.” He cleared his throat. “Do not mistake me. I do not want to ever marry again, but should the rumors increase, I want you to know that I am here to assist you by whatever means necessary. I do have a few requests, of course. Requests that would assure me you could be a suitable partner.”

“Such as?”

“If forced to marry, I would want a wife who is not a ninny, one who might keep my home warm but not interfere with my social and political activities, promising a beneficial arrangement. You would have the protection of my name and the comfort of my acceptance.”

“Forced to marry? And this is what you think I want?” The high pitch of her voice indicated that he'd upset her, but he could not fathom how or why. “I have not been ruined yet, sir, and if I were, it is doubtful I would accept such a proposal. Even from an old friend. How very distasteful.”

“It's practical, Bitt. We get along well enough.”

“That is an exaggeration if I've ever heard one.”

His cravat grew tighter by the second. His head pounded. “You are a woman of excellent taste, refined but timid, one whose biddable nature would do well in housewifery. If it is acceptable to you, I would ask your parents for your hand in marriage—”

She reared back. “Have you lost your senses, Miles? We have nothing in common. Nothing at all. And I shall never marry unless for love. The matter is as simple as that. There is nothing that could induce me to marry you. Nothing at all.”

“Not even scandal?”

Her face flushed but she did not respond.

He shifted on the seat, wondering if Bitt's lady's maid had heard her exclamation. “Your vehemence is unnecessary, my lady. A simple
no
will do. This is not my idea of fun. I simply thought to help.”

Beneath the brim of her hat, her eyes flashed. “If I have wounded your ego or offended your pride, I do apologize, but for you to take me on this ride and hold out marriage as some kind of business offering...it is uncomfortable, Miles. What would Anastasia think of such a proposal?”

“Anastasia is gone,” he bit out, “and has no place in this conversation.”

Elizabeth's arms crossed her middle. He would like to imagine she was sorry for her harsh words, but he began to think he'd assigned to Elizabeth a heart that perhaps she did not truly possess. All for the better that she found marriage as abhorrent as he did. Her family could deal with her. He was done.

She sounded strained as she said, “I am merely pointing out that I want to marry only for love. Rumors abound in the ton. Let the gossip run its course. My parents and John shall be fine. They shall not suffer for my actions.”

“And if the rumors don't subside?”

“I cannot marry someone who feels forced into the deed.”

“You are being naive, Elizabeth.” He felt unruly inside, unsettled by her unexpected irritation, her complete lack of faith in his husbandly virtues. Not that he had faith in them himself. This was all for the best, he told himself. He turned the horses for Bitt's home.

“Better to hope for the best than settle for the worst,” she said.

“Indeed,” he muttered. The worst meaning him, of course. “It was merely an idea to keep you from ruin, but since you feel it unnecessary, then we shall not discuss this again.”

“I do so appreciate your putting aside your distaste for marriage in order to help me, but fear not. All shall be fine.” The hopeful lilt of her tone did not comfort him.

John could still pressure them into marrying, citing honor, but at least Miles had offered before the request became a demand. He had fulfilled his obligation, but where he should have felt relief, he merely felt a deep emptiness, a wrenching certainty that things had not turned out how they were supposed to.

Elizabeth wished to face life on her own terms. He could understand such a goal, and yet, watching her proud posture as they rode back, he could not shake the nagging feeling that this Season was bound to interfere with his life in a most uncomfortable way.

* * *

Life did not unfold as Elizabeth hoped. Neither did the rumors abate.

She was sitting in the library the following day, congratulating herself on her newest find from Hookham's Library, when her mother blasted into the room.

Or so it felt.

Mother snatched the book from Elizabeth's hands, prompting a startled gasp and immediate irritation. She straightened, eyeing her mother carefully. The older woman paced the library. The calm she usually carefully exuded was gone, replaced by a tenseness that permeated the room and ruined any vestige of comfort Elizabeth had felt.

“Is something the matter, Mother?” She played with the lace on her dress, dreading the answer.

Mother swung around, slapping the book down on the nearby desk. “As a matter of fact, Elizabeth, there is. I was denied a voucher to Almack's today. Denied. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? To be told my family does not have the prestige to enter? We have never been denied entrance. Never.”

Elizabeth's hopes imploded. “Was a reason provided?”

“I know what the reason is. You are still in the gossips' line of fire. There is only one way to remedy this.” Elizabeth did not miss the imperceptible tightening of her mother's lips.

The coiffing of Venetia's hair must have taken her lady's maid at least an hour to fix. She wore her favorite emeralds, as well, handed down to all the wives in Father's family. His affluent earldom more than made up for Mother's step down from being the daughter of a duke.

She quietly waited for the woman who birthed her to speak. There had been a time Elizabeth longed to know the mother whom she resembled so closely, but that desire no longer existed. Not for many years, not since the evening she'd overheard a conversation that revealed her parents' true feelings toward her.

“Your father and I are in agreement that Lord Wrottesley might be willing to marry you.”

Venetia's eyes, the same shade of ice blue as Elizabeth's, implored her to listen.

“He is a viscount who has already shown an interest in you. There is no reason to believe that has changed.” Her mother paused, but not in a dramatic way. No, Mother did not put on airs. Her calmness quite made Elizabeth want to stomp a foot. “If Lord Wrottesley offers for your hand, your father and I are prepared to accept the proposal.”

Elizabeth gasped. She'd suspected her parents' plans, but for mother to speak them in such a way, with such finality... She clenched her skirts, readying to retort, but Mother held up a hand.

“This Season, to my utter dismay, is proving more disastrous than your first one. An intervention is in order. Due to your unique situation, finding a husband is nigh impossible. Thankfully, Lord Wrottesley is in need of funds to bolster his estate, and you are in need of a husband to provide for your future and save you from ruin. This is a solution that will prevent further harm to the family's reputation.” Mother bent her head, looking at Elizabeth in a not unkind way. “We worry about what will become of you, our only daughter.”

How was it possible to wear such an air of concern while shattering Elizabeth's world into a million unalterable pieces? A looking glass dropped to the floor could not be more broken than she felt at this moment. Her skin tingled, from temper or hurt, she was not sure. Her mother's insinuations bristled every ounce of pride Elizabeth contained.

“The reason I have no suitors,” she said in a tight, emotionless voice, “is due to a lack of desire for them. Should I want a man to secure my future, there are plenty of impoverished earls to choose from. There is no reason for you and Father to concern yourself with me.”

Had she said such a thing to her mother? Yes, those words issued from her mouth, daring and bold and perhaps a very big mistake, for Mother drew herself to her full height, a scant inch above Elizabeth's, and eyed her forcefully.

“It is time for you to marry. Not only is it what is expected, but your actions have left us no choice in the matter. What of our reputations, Elizabeth? Your brother can not afford to be ill spoken of at this time in his career. A good name is pivotal to his success.”

“What about Grandmother? Who will take care of her?” The fight was leaving her body, seeping away like morning mist. “And have I no say in who is to court me?”

“If Lord Wrottesley offers, and we have reason to believe he will, then we shall accept on your behalf. A thanks would not be too much to ask.”

“I should be thankful that you are forcing me into marriage with a cad?” Her cheeks flamed as she struggled to keep indignation from her voice. “He is the reason I find myself in this dilemma.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

A hot flush of shame spiraled through Elizabeth. “He forced a kiss on me. At Lady Charleston's ball. Mr. Hawthorne interrupted Lord Wrottesley's ungentlemanly behavior, but it is because of him that I returned to the ball disheveled.” The admission cost Elizabeth her composure. Her fingers trembled. “Please do not encourage the viscount. He is dishonorable. I wish to marry for love, and love only.”

Mother's brows lifted. “I am dismayed. Why would you be alone? That is what a companion is for. To protect you from the likes of overly zealous gentlemen.”

“He is no gentleman,” Elizabeth said darkly.

“Regardless, you shall not marry a man of business. Mr. Hawthorne is an unsuitable candidate. Wrottesley is a viscount, heir to an earldom. There is no adequate reason to reject his courtship.” Mother waved a hand, dismissing further argument on the matter. “And what is this talk of love? That has nothing to do with a marital contract. Have you been reading that ridiculous poet again? Byron, is it?”

“No, I simply long for a love like Jacob and Rachel's in the Bible. Or perhaps Hermia and Lysander...”

“Shakespeare? Really, Elizabeth, there is much more to the world than books.”

And yet books had been her dearest friends. She felt drawn to Hermia from
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. A girl kept beneath the thumb of her father. They held even more in common now that Elizabeth's parents wanted her to marry Lord Wrottesley.

Only she had no Lysander waiting to rescue her.

She looked away from her mother, counting the seconds until she could leave this house. Even walking in a park full of people would be more bearable than this wretchedness.