Seducing Mr. Knightly (24 page)

“He is encouraging the match! He covets Knightly’s fortune and influence, you see. I am so vexed that I can’t publish a word of all this drama,” Julianna said, scowling and wringing her hands. “And of course, one can’t avoid the conclusion that Knightly certainly stands to gain protection for the paper if he makes this match.”

She no longer liked Lord Marsden very much. There were not enough pink roses in the world to console her if he forced his sister to marry her own true love . . . lest Knightly risk losing everything he valued most.

But wait . . .

Annabelle frowned, puzzling over these two contradictory pieces of information. Lady Lydia loved one man and was pressured to marry another . . . She had just assumed she loved Knightly because . . . well, of course she did. She found him extremely deserving of that fine emotion.

But Lady Lydia also said she was pressured to marry a man she didn’t love. If her brother was pressuring her to marry Knightly . . . it meant that she didn’t love Knightly.

Which mattered because . . .

“Who is her lover, then?” Annabelle asked. If her hunch was correct, Knightly was about to shackle himself in a loveless marriage. This struck her as terribly sad.

“What do you mean?” Julianna queried, tilting her slightly.

“She loves someone. But not Knightly. Who?” Annabelle questioned.

“How do you know that?” Julianna asked.

“Never mind how,” Annabelle said, waving off the question. “I suppose it doesn’t change anything, really. He is still courting her. Lord Marsden is approving of the match. Knightly shall marry her and they’ll be so very posh and fashionable and aristocratic and I shall slog out the rest of my days helping Blanche and everyone else.”

“Here is what you must know, Annabelle,” Julianna said earnestly, leaning forward and clasping Annabelle’s hands in hers. “ If you love him you must fight for him.”

“But what if I want him to fight for me?”

And then she understood why she couldn’t derive supreme satisfaction from the kiss or her progress thus far. She had teased and tugged him along. She stalked and hunted, when she wanted him to chase her.

“Why all the talk of fighting when we are speaking of love? You must admit, Annabelle, that you have waited and waited and nothing came of it. And now you’ve set your cap for him, pursued him, and he has kissed you. Frankly, I do not see why you are wavering.”

“I am chasing him and he is chasing Lady Lydia,” Annabelle stated plainly.

“And may the best woman win,” Julianna urged. “You have a duty to your readers, Annabelle, to see this through, if nothing else. Now tomorrow evening is the charity ball for the Society to Benefit Unfortunate Women. Knightly will be there.”

“How do you know that? How do you know
everything
?” Annabelle asked.

“Because I know that he gives a sizable contribution. Secretly he’s charitable, that Mr. Knightly. Also, I assisted the hostess, Lady Wroth, with the invitations, so I knew he was invited. And then I may have peeked at Bryson’s calendar that he keeps for Knightly, so I confirmed he would be attending.”

“Julianna!”

“Can I help it if he left it unattended to investigate the smell of smoke?” Julianna asked with feigned innocence and a delicate shrug. Obviously one could not help it at all.

“There was no smoke, was there?” Annabelle questioned; Julianna’s reply was an impish grin, and Annabelle supplied the words: “Of course there wasn’t. How do you manage these things, Julianna? If I had half the gumption you did—”

“You are writing about your own trials and tribulations in love for all of London to read. I’d say that’s gumption in spades. The whole city is cheering for you to succeed, Annabelle.”

Tears stung at Annabelle’s eyes. It wouldn’t do to disappoint the entire population of London by giving up when she had gotten so far. If Knightly was going to marry Lady Lydia, she vowed that he would at least know how she felt before he did so.

Chapter 29

Lady Lydia’s Secret, Revealed

T
HE
M
AN
A
BOUT
T
OWN

While society on the whole has accepted Lady Lydia after her prolonged absence from London, the rumors still dog her graceful steps.

The London Times

K
NIGHTLY
thought of Annabelle as he traveled to the Marsden residence. To be more specific, he thought about how he wished to be traveling to the Swift residence. More to the point, he really wanted Annabelle here, in this carriage, with him.

Why the devil did she think he would apologize for that kiss?

What kind of man did she think he was, anyway? Whatever she thought, he was not the kind that apologized for pleasuring them both.

In the far recesses of his mind—the part devoted to decency, which was currently largely overruled by the part devoted to thoughts of lust—it occurred to him that he was planning a seduction of one woman while on his way to court another. It also occurred to him that this wasn’t the best example of decent, gentlemanly behavior.

Rather caddish of him, really.

But the facts were thus:

Fact: The London Weekly
was the most important thing to him.

Fact:
Lady Lydia’s hand in marriage would ensure that Marsden didn’t crack down on the nefarious reporting tactics of his reporters. Another one had been arrested—this time a reporter from
The Daily Register.

Fact:
Lady Lydia’s hand in marriage would also assure his prominent place in high society. Like his father before him. The New Earl would not be able to ignore him.

Fact:
Annabelle’s kiss made him want to throw thirty-five years worth of facts aside and ravish her thoroughly, completely, utterly.

Fact:
He was not going to throw away thirty-five years worth of facts, truths, and plans for a kiss. That was the rash action of madmen. He was the epitome of a sane, logical, practical man.

Or he used to be. Knightly exited the carriage, strolled up to the Marsden’s residence, and generally made an effort to ignore the sense of dread in his gut.

“My brother is not at home,” Lady Lydia declared when she received him in the drawing room. It was a fair enough slight, for he’d often combined his calls to her with visits with Marsden.

“Actually, I have come to visit with you, Lady Lydia,” he replied.

“Of course you have,” she said with a sigh. “Would you care for a walk, Mr. Knightly? I’ve been sitting here all day, chattering and drinking tea. I fear I shall go mad if I don’t get a breath of fresh air. I first must fetch my shawl.”

Women and their blasted shawls, he thought. He knew Annabelle had left hers behind as some sort of ploy. But had it been for Owens . . . or another? He did not dare entertain that thought. Not with Lady Lydia present.

“Lord Marsden is with Parliament,” she began as they strolled along the streets of Mayfair in the direction of the park. “I suppose you shall wish for an update.”

It irked him, that. While their courtship and relationship was never based upon affection, she didn’t need to be so obvious about it. Though any romantic streak he possessed was buried deep, Knightly was the product of a love match (if not a marriage), and this cool detachment was uneasy to him. How he planned to endure it for a lifetime of holy matrimony had not been considered in great depth. He thought only of immediate threats, not long-term happiness.

Status, he reminded himself. His peers. He’d be a damned earl if it weren’t for a few twists of fate.
Throw the bastard out. He doesn’t belong here.

He did belong, though. Knightly gritted his teeth. He would prove it.

“Would you believe it if my intentions to you went beyond digging for gossip?” he asked Lady Lydia. “I’ll ask Marsden myself. Just to confirm if his reports matched those of my reporters.”

That was the other thing. Marsden wasn’t the only one with information. Owens was on the case, and Grenville, too. The details they unearthed were . . . intriguing. Incriminating. Hints of blackmail and bribery. It seems Marsden had been paying enormous suppression fees . . . until the money started running out.

Those explosive, expensive secrets that consistently eluded him.

Lady Lydia treated Knightly to a long look with those large brown eyes that put him in mind of a startled doe.

“You are not afraid of him. Most people are,” she said, and it was clear he had impressed her.

“Most people don’t have something that he wants,” Knightly replied easily.

“And what might that be?” Lady Lydia inquired. What could the tradesman possibly possess that a peer of the realm could want? He could hear the derision in her voice, and it only made him want to marry her more so he might prove to her, and everyone, that he was not any less than they.

“I have a fortune,” Knightly answered. “And influence.”

There was a pause, in which undoubtedly they both thought of the rumors that plagued the Marsdens, from her missing season to their evaporating funds, and the ability to stop it.

“Most of the newspapers are terrified of him,” she replied, but did not correct his presumption that his wealth was appealing. So much so that his lower status could perhaps be overlooked.

“No one of any sense reads that rubbish,” he replied, and Lady Lydia laughed.

“So if you are not here to talk about newspapers and my brother and his mad schemes, then what brings you?” she asked. She paused under a tree and pulled her shawl close around her shoulders. “I know my brother wants me to marry you. But what of my wishes on the matter?” she asked. And there was something desperate in her voice:
What about me?

“What are they?” he asked.

Lady Lydia paused. Her jaw dropped open. She remembered she was a lady and closed it. Obviously he was the first man to inquire about her wishes.

“My wishes would not be supported by society,” she said stiffly.

“Does this have anything to do with your extended stay in the country?” he asked. The reporter in him didn’t shy away from questions, even the insensitive ones. Besides, Lady Lydia seemed to respond well to direct and open conversation. He liked that about her.

“Perhaps. You do know, of course, that
The Times
reporter was after me,” she told him. He did not know that . . . but he stitched that fact together with what he had learned from Brinsley. Rumors of a pregnancy. An extended stay in the country. A missing season. It was now clear to him what her secret was.

Knightly said none of that. Instead he asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Do not play obtuse, Knightly. It doesn’t suit you. There were rumors about me, being with child. What better way to confirm them than by disguising oneself as a physician?”

“Other than time?”

“Time will tell, usually. But that is not as lucrative. The rumors were bad enough, but it was the blackmail and suppression fees that have nearly bankrupted us. And still, in spite of that . . . the gossip has been horrendous. I had to go away.” She shuddered, and Knightly actually felt a strong stab of guilt for all the gossip peddling he’d done in his day. It had earned him a fortune, which might be the Marsdens’ salvation. Funny, that.

“You’re intriguing, Lady Marsden,” he said. And wasn’t that the truth. The web of secrets and gossip was woven thick around him. He imagined Julianna would be beside herself to have this conversation.

“You might as well call me Lydia. Though it will certainly set tongues a-wagging,” she replied with a wry smile.

“You never did answer about your wishes on the matter of my courtship,” Knightly replied.

“I’m agog that you would mention it again after what I just confessed to you.”

“I’ll be frank with you, Lady Lydia. There is no pretense that it is a love match. You and your brother would benefit from my fortune, and your brother’s political career particularly would benefit from my influence. I want an entrée into the ton. This would be a marriage of convenience, but we could get along.”

As far as proposals went, it was certainly a contender for “least romantic” or “the worst.” But it was the truth.

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

Lady Lydia blinked and asked, “What if I want a love match?”

Chapter 30