A Regency Christmas Pact Collection (45 page)

A soft sigh escaped her as she sat. “Might I speak frankly?”

“How novel.” Damn, he hated how jaded he was. Her blue gaze found his, disconcerting and refreshing in its openness. A little of his usual guardedness fled him. “Sorry. I’m not used to women who prefer to be direct.”

She nodded, her black hair falling to obscure her face. In one fluid motion, she tucked the thick strands behind her ear. “I understand. But I find I have no choice but to be blunt. Time and my situation demand it.”

Nick frowned. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

“New at what? Approaching a man and asking him if I can sit and proposition him?” Her eyebrows rose in twin arches of amusement. “Certainly.”

Laughter tugged at his lips. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d truly enjoyed conversing with a female. “I meant you’re new at the whole trade.”

The slight frown between her brows became a deep crease. “What trade?” Bafflement filled her voice.

Was this some sort of game? He’d willingly play any game she wanted if it put her at ease. “The trade of being a paramour.” He wasn’t expecting a ripple of surprised laughter as her response. Uncertain, he shifted in his seat. “Am I wrong?”

“Quite.” Her words dripped with mirth.

“What, then?” He felt a fool, a situation he detested.

She hesitated before speaking. “I sought you out Lord―”

“Edgeworth.”

A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face “Yes, I already knew your name. You need a wife, and I’m in the most unfortunate, definitely unwanted position of needing a husband. A titled one to be exact. Immediately.”

Despite years of avoiding this exact sort of situation, her unusual choice of words and the obvious displeasure she found in uttering them kept Nick planted in his seat. He studied her for one second, weighing his options―leave now or listen to what she had to say.

Hearing her out wouldn’t bind him to anything. A gentleman would stay. If he was anything with the ladies, he was always a consummate gentleman. And utterly honest. “I’m listening, but I must warn you, I’ve no wish to marry.”

She smiled and the beauty of it caused his breath to hitch. “Neither do I, Lord Edgeworth, which is why I think we might be perfect for each other.”

He wanted to ravish her, not marry her. Watching her speak, her luscious lips move, made his blood boil. He stared at her, unblinking. “I’ll never marry. Make no mistake.”

“We’ll see.”

“Careful, my dear.” He allowed his gaze to travel slowly down her body, then back to her face. “You tempt me to try and corrupt you.”

Her innocent flush made his heart flip. She inhaled then spoke. “
If
you marry me you may corrupt me all the ways you can imagine.”

He didn’t like that his mind actually leaped to the possibility of all the ways he’d bed her if she was his wife, nor did he care for the fact that he was still sitting there, but he didn’t move. She’d offered a challenge of sorts and he’d never been one to walk away from a challenge.

Lillian Lancaster was sweating profusely. Not too much of a surprise considering she’d just proposed to a man she only knew from careful research and not actual face-to-face contact. A wave of dizziness gripped her. She reached for the bar as she swayed in her seat, but the little spots of twinkling silver lights that appeared in her vision made it hard to find the edge of the counter. Good heavens. The last thing she had time to do was fall off her stool in a swoon.

She inhaled a deep breath of smoky air filled with the aroma of recently cooked meat. Her stomach protested the smells with a flip. “Water,” she managed through tingling lips. A steadying hand pressed against her back and a glass was raised to her mouth.

“Sip this.” Lord Edgeworth’s soothing voice chased away the last of her dizziness. Or maybe it was the cool water sliding down her throat. She gripped the glass and focused her gaze on her possible future husband. Her stomach rolled in nasty dips at the thought. Certainly not because of the way the man looked. He was beautiful.

Oh dear! She set her glass down and pretended to situate it. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d scoffed at Charlotte when her dear friend had used the word beautiful to describe Lord Edgeworth. But Charlotte had been correct―her husband’s cousin was too pretty by half. No man should have cheekbones as sculpted as his, or eyes as green as moss or hair so thick and dark it made her want to plunge her fingers through it. She didn’t want to marry a man she would ever desire. Longing would lead to her letting down her guard, and she could never afford to do that. Perhaps he was not the right candidate after all.

She stood so quickly her stool teetered backwards and would have fallen except Lord Edgeworth stopped it with the tip of his boot. Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I believe I’ve made a mistake.” She wished her tone sounded more self-assured like she’d planned.

He smiled lazily at her, not moving save the right eyebrow he raised.
Fascinating
. What would it take to ruffle such a man?

“You probably
have
made a grievous error, Miss…”

“Lancaster. Lillian Lancaster.”

“Lovely. Miss Lancaster. Mistake or not, my attention’s captured. Such a rare thing. So why don’t you indulge me and explain what drove you to propose marriage?”

Lillian resisted the urge to fan her face. She’d already made herself appear a half-wit. She nodded, pulled off her gloves as well as her overcoat, then sat. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation.” Gripping her coat in her hands, she tried to hide the tattered edges from view.

Lord Edgeworth’s gaze flicked to her lap and then back to her face. She prayed he hadn’t taken note of the haggard quality of her overcoat. Pity always raised her hackles, and she’d hate to be nasty to a man she really didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure where to begin. When she entered the pub, she’d been certain of what she would say. She even managed to start the conversation as she had rehearsed for the past three days, but once the blood rush of what she was doing had lessened, fear and indecision set in. She locked gazes with Lord Edgeworth, expecting to find him impatient. Instead, he reclined against the counter as if he had all the time in the world.

She cleared her throat. “My father was Robert Lancaster, the owner of The Westminster Royal Theatre. I don’t suppose you knew him?”

Lord Edgeworth leaned close, surprising her. She jerked and inhaled sharply while forcing herself not to give in to her instinct to move out of his reach. Old habits were such a nuisance when one wanted to appear unflappable.

His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed to slits that made her shiver. Given the man’s very fit physique, she didn’t doubt he’d make a dangerous enemy. Nervousness caused her to nibble at her lip. “I take it your silence means you weren’t acquainted with my father.”

“I wasn’t, luckily for the man. I’m not one to sit idly when a woman is mistreated, be it my business or not.”

His angry tone stunned her. Lillian sat still for a moment, lest she give anything else away. She’d spent her life hiding the fact that her father mistreated her. Not only was she ashamed, she’d feared what he might do if anyone ever found out and caused him trouble for it. He’d carried out enough explicit threats that she hadn’t doubted his sincerity.

Her heart raced as if he would walk through the door any minute. Swallowing, she reminded herself that Father was dead and could never hurt her again―well, physically anyway. She blinked away the sting of unwelcome, angry tears that burned behind her eyelids. “I never said my father mistreated me.” Her tone was steady, thank goodness.

“You didn’t need to say it, Miss Lancaster. Growing up, we had a servant who beat his daughters. We didn’t know it at first, of course. They recoiled when you moved too suddenly and they always had a hooded look in their eyes. You’ve got that look and you cringed when I moved towards you.”

Lillian swallowed the lump in her throat. “What happened to the girls?”

Lord Edgeworth’s brows drew together in an agonized expression. “The youngest died from one of the beatings.”

“Is that how your family found out?” Lillian could barely control the trembling of her voice.

Lord Edgeworth shook his head. “I became friends with the eldest daughter, Beth. One day, shortly after her sister’s funeral, I saw terrible bruises on Beth’s arms and she confided in me about her father.”

“Did you tell your father?”

“Not at first. I’d promised I wouldn’t, but when her father broke her leg, I told my father everything. I should’ve known better than to keep such a secret. Beth still walks with a limp.” Lord Edgeworth jerked a hand through his hair.

Lillian gulped. Charlotte hadn’t lied. Lord Edgeworth did seem to blame himself for his friend’s misfortune.

Lord Edgeworth stilled and studied her. “If I’m mistaken and it wasn’t your father who mistreated you, then tell me the name of the bastard, and I’ll make damn sure he never lays a finger on you again.”

His growled promise made her smile and eased away the last of her lingering doubt. He seemed the perfect solution to her problems. Charlotte insisted he had a fierce protective side. If Charlotte was correct, that part of him would be the thing that swayed him to her cause. Lillian rarely allowed herself the luxury of being honest with anyone, yet as she eyed Lord Edgeworth she decided tonight was a night for indulgences. “Given your threatening tone, I suppose it’s a good thing for my father he passed away several weeks ago.”

Lord Edgeworth gaped. “Dear God. I’m sorry. Though I must admit, I feel less sorry than I might have moments ago, considering what I now know.”

Lillian shrugged. Offering truths in exchange for what she desperately needed was one thing, but it was quite another to become too personal with this man. She didn’t need his friendship. All she required was his title and willingness to marry her. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. My father was a despicable man who spent his life―” She froze. She’d been about to spill the whole nasty truth of her life with her father.

The shock of everything must finally be getting to her. The concern tinged with what appeared to be pity in Lord Edgeworth’s eyes made her heart pound anew. She had to hurry through this explanation and be done with it. “My father left me a good deal of money in his will and also named me the inheritor of his theatre.” She could still hardly believe it. Her father had never done anything nice for her when he was living. She’d acquired her love of the theatre from the actors and actresses around him. He’d never lived for the stage, the costumes or the excitement as she did.

Lord Edgeworth studied her as if he was trying to decide exactly what to say. “I’m glad to hear he obviously recognized the error of his ways and strove to make amends.”

Resting her arms on the bar, Lillian let out a disgruntled sigh. They’d be here all night if the conversation stayed as polite as this. She needed to get back to the theatre. Tomorrow was opening day for
Macbeth
. “He wasn’t trying to make amends, as you so civilly suggested.”

Lord Edgeworth’s eyebrows shot up. “Forgive me. I forgot we were speaking bluntly. I’m used to conversing with women who like to dance around the truth, so I automatically begin the waltz.” He surprised her by touching his fingertips to her hand. The contact of his warm skin against hers sent a tremor through her body. Not caring what he would think, she jerked away.

A sardonic smile tilted his lips, which pushed away her unease and riled her temper. “Are you laughing at me?” Her tone was sharp.

“No, my dear.” His words held self-recrimination. “I’m laughing at myself. I’m normally the one retreating from women and it’s unusual to find myself in a reversed position. Please forgive me.
Again
.”

Her anger dissipated under his pleading gaze. She hadn’t expected to like Lord Edgeworth, but in truth she found him friendly.
And fascinating.
The realization disturbed her. “You’re forgiven,” she said tartly, hoping to steer them back to topic. When Lord Edgeworth smiled wolfishly, her heart gave a funny little jerk that concerned her even more She folded her hands in her lap and willed herself to concentrate. “My father kept the theatre because it put him in the position of controlling people, and he loved nothing better than control. So you see, he wasn’t making some grand gesture of restitution from his grave. He left me the money and the theatre to control me, from beyond.”

Lord Edgeworth frowned. “How can he control you now?”

“The only way I can inherit the money and the theatre is if I marry a lord.”

Lord Edgeworth’s gaze moved across her face, slipped lower to her chest for the briefest of seconds―but not so quick her face didn’t heat―and then his mocking gaze met hers once again. “I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding a lord who wishes to marry you. You appear to have a great many attributes to recommend you.”

Lillian pressed her lips together. Charlotte had said he’d resist. That he not only blamed himself for his friend’s injury but also for the death of some woman and had therefore decided he was unworthy to ever be any woman’s husband. How a man who looked like he did and came from the powerful family he hailed from could feel anything but superior baffled her. Lillian leaned towards him, desiring as much privacy as possible. “The problem is not an offer of marriage from a lord. I’ve already received one, but he’s known for a penchant towards abusing women.”

Lord Edgeworth’s face set in an expression of fury, and then his lips pressed together in a hard line. “I could have the same proclivity.”

She snorted, thinking of the story of his friend he’d just told her, and the pain in his voice. “I feel sure you don’t.”

He frowned. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re not a stranger to me, in the strictest meaning,” she admitted with reluctance.

“Explain yourself.” Animosity tinged his voice.

Lillian took a deep breath and prayed her words did not anger him. “Your cousin’s wife, Charlotte, told me about you and your past when I confessed my dilemma to her.”

“You don’t say.” His gaze turned chilly, his tone even cooler. “Apparently, Lady Hardwick needs to be reminded how much I value my privacy.”

This was not an auspicious start. Not at all. “She only told me of you because she thought we might be able to help each other. She knows neither of us wants to marry, yet we are both being forced to submit to the detestable state. Charlotte believes we could settle on a marriage of convenience.” She paused and studied him to make sure he still listened. He’d turned his gaze to his glass and was sloshing the liquid around the rim. After a moment, he glanced up, his eyes devoid of emotion.

“Unless you can promise you won’t expect any sort of emotional attachment from your husband, then I’m sorry to tell you Charlotte is wrong. There can be no arrangement between us.”

He thought he was so clever. Lillian smiled and was rewarded by a brief look of astonishment from Lord Edgeworth. She patted his arm to further unsettle him. “I’m glad to hear we can come to an arrangement.”

“What?” The man’s jaw dropped open.

Somehow she managed to suppress her laugher. “It’s simple. I have one week left to marry a titled gentleman or my money and theatre go to Mr. Scotsby, the owner of The Royal Theatre, who was and is our biggest competition. I’m sure my father did this to force my hand. He always wanted me to marry a rich, decrepit, easily manipulated, childless, titled lord who was on his deathbed, so we could get all the lord’s money when he died. I refused to do it. Father never forgave me, and he never forgot to punish me for being disobedient. This was his last and final punishment. He thought I’d not marry in a month’s time, therefore Mr. Scotsby would get the theatre and disperse me and my father’s small but loyal staff. Mr. Scotsby won’t want us to stay, because he hated my father and therefore all of us.”