The Heart of a Duke (12 page)

"Ha!" Lord Muir's bark of laughter was amused.
"I've known many a shifty barrister, though it's reassuring you're
not such a one. An' just what are your plans regardin' the
future?"

"I was in the process of establishing a firm
place among my peers, with hopes of an endorsement from the Regent
one day. I wanted a chance to shape the law of the land in the only
way I could as a man without a title."

The earl studied him. "Do you enjoy it, then?
The practicing of the law?"

"Yes. I do. I cannot imagine doing anything
else." Jacob warmed to his subject. "The law is a fascinating and
complex organism, always changing, never staid. I could stand
before the court every day for a hundred years, and there would
always be something new."

"I think that's the first time you've ever
spoken of your passion for the law in my presence," Elle
said.

Jacob looked at her in surprise. "Is
it?"

"Yes." She nodded, her smile widening. Her
gaze sparkled at him with good humor as she cut her food. "Don't
look now, Mr. Farrish, but there appears to be more to you than
witticisms and jest. I believe you just had a brush with
gravity.”

“
I hope it isn't
fatal."

"I doubt it." Elle arched a brow at him "You
seem to be making a rapid recovery."

Her grandfather cleared his throat, and they
stopped grinning at each other. He speared Elle with a scowl, then
directed that steely gaze Jacob's way again. "You have ambition.
This is a good thing. Men must have something to drive them—though
it should be an inspiration, not an obsession."

At this, the earl locked eyes with Elle's
brother, whose mouth tightened as he sat stiffly in his chair.
Jacob didn't have more than a moment to ponder the silent exchange
before the older man's gaze swung back to him.

Jacob lifted one shoulder. "Well, my ambition
stretches to the moon and beyond. However, I may find things have
changed when I return home."

The light of realization that dawned on the
earl's face told him the other man understood what Jacob had given
up by coming to Sleeping Giant Keep.

"Changed? What do you mean, Mr. Farrish?" Elle
set her glass down, her fine brows drawn together as she studied
him. "You would be the perfect addition to the King's Court. From
everything Langley has ever said, you are passionate about justice
and quite brilliant. Why would you give up on that
dream?"

Because he could not bear the idea of choosing
his profession over her happiness. It didn't make him a martyr.
Just a man in love.

"Not all dreams are worth the price that must
be paid."

She shook her head, her gaze troubled. "I
still don't understand."

"Leave th' man alone, Ellie. He did what he
had to. As will I." Lord Muir spoke up, breaking the connection
between them. He straightened in his seat at the head of the table,
his gaze fierce under heavy brows. "I've heard all I need ta about
Mr. Farrish here."

Jacob's stomach flipped at the earl's words.
Was he about to be ejected from the house, now that the lord knew
he was a ruined man? He had wanted to leave, but not in shame. Not
like that.

"My lord—"

"Grandfather—"

The earl stood, scraping back his heavy wooden
chair, and reached for his cane to push to his feet. "Tomorrow we
travel down the valley to the village, where Tomas the blacksmith
will take care of matters. You will be married by noon, come hell
or high water."

Shock held Jacob immobile as he stared at the
earl.

"
What?
" Elle attempted to leap to her
feet but her skirt caught on something, throwing her back into her
seat with a thump. Jacob couldn't gather his thoughts, stunned into
silence by the abrupt turn the conversation had taken. "No,
Grandfather. I just escaped marriage to a man who could never love
me!"

Jacob looked at her sharply.

Did she think him incapable of
love? Or incapable of loving
her
?

If she even understood half of the amount of
need he had bottled up inside for her, she would be shocked. If he
had a chance, he'd gladly forswear all other women until the end of
time, just to be hers.

But he looked across the table at her stricken
face and knew he'd say nothing. She wouldn’t believe him even if he
corrected her mistake. All the years of bedeviling her to keep her
away had worked too well.

Her grandfather shook his head. "I've made up
my mind, Eleanore."

"This is madness."

"No, what is madness is running out on your
betrothal, travelling to another country without an escort, and
thinkin' you could escape the consequences." The earl drew himself
up, one gnarled hand gripping his cane. "I could have devised a
different solution had you written to me, Eleanore. But you did
not. An' now the scandal of your impulsiveness will ruin the
family. I canna allow that."

His gaze was tinged with sadness as her face
crumpled and she drew in a shaky breath, but his voice remained
resolved. "I'm sorry, darling girl, but you've left me with little
choice."

Jacob couldn't stand watching her cry. He
rose, drawing the earl's attention. "My lord, if we could speak on
this in private..."

"Do you have another solution, young Farrish?"
The older man's eyebrows drew together, and he thumped his cane on
the stone floor. "Is there anything but marriage for the girl?
Remember th' honor you so value before you answer."

Jacob was torn. He could not see
another way to save both Elle and her family from scandal.
He
couldn't have even
saved them had he taken her back to Langley. Only the duke could
have done that by marrying her.

As Jacob could do now.

He glanced over to find Elle watching him with
large eyes, her pale lips pressed together. "I don't have another
solution at the moment, but if you could give me a day to think on
it, I'm sure there must be some way to avoid this."

Elle sucked in a breath, and he realized how
badly he had mangled his speech. Hurt flashed over her face but
before Jacob could rephrase, the earl gave a short nod.

"Fine. You have one day, then we
visit the anvil." Lord Muir shot him a suspicious look. "And donna
think to leave. You'll not be finding a horse in
my
stables to carry you
far."

Jacob refrained from rolling his eyes. "Of
course not, my lord."

The earl left, the thump of his cane fading in
the suddenly awkward silence. Jacob turned back to his unexpected
betrothed and opened his mouth, then shut it again. He was very
aware of her brother sitting next to him and wished the other man
to the devil. There were things that needed to be said, and none of
it in front of audience.

With a loud rip of material, Elle stood up
from her seat, tearing her skirt from where it had tangled in the
chair leg.

"Eleanore—"

"I'm tired. I... Good night, Peter." Without
sparing Jacob a glance, she fled the room, her ragged hem trailing
behind her with a whisper of silk.

Her anger and disappointment in him was a
palpable thing, leaving him a bit breathless. He had wanted her for
years, had secretly wished she was his and not his cousin's, but
never like this.

The urge to pound the walls and
howl his fury at the unfairness of it all was startling in its
strength. He had never been one for excess shows of strong emotion,
but around Elle, he was hardly anything
but
emotional.

Having forgotten he was even there, Jacob was
startled when Elle's brother shoved his own chair back abruptly,
throwing his napkin down on the table. Peter looked over at him
with a small, humorless smile.

"That went well, don't you think? Welcome to
the family, brother."

He left swiftly as Jacob stood alone in the
dining room surrounded by the remains of their supper. Flopping
back into his seat, he looked around the now silent room and
reached for his glass of wine, throwing back what was left in it in
one, long swallow.

This was no time for half measures.

Elle muffled her sobs as she threw
the few dresses she had brought to Scotland into her valise. She
had come here to
escape
a loveless marriage. Perhaps to her family it
seemed silly, but it was important to her. Instead of helping,
Grandfather had given her away to the next fellow to come
along.

Jacob Farrish,
barrister extraordinaire
.

Jacob, with the lovely eyes and beautiful
mouth. Jacob, whose honor had pushed him to reluctantly agree to
marry her, as if she was a burden.

‘
If you could give me a day to
think on it, I'm sure there must be some way to avoid
this.’

Pain slashed through her at the memory of his
words, and Elle sank down onto the down-filled coverlet, pressing
one fist into her stomach. It was laughable that she had started to
pack her bags, as if she had somewhere to go. There was nowhere
else to run.

A knock at the door had her hastily drying her
eyes. She cleared her throat and picked up the gowns she had thrown
in her valise, walking to the wardrobe to hang them back up as the
door cracked open.

"Do you have a moment?" Her brother's
sympathetic voice had Elle's eyes welling again, but she forced the
tears away. There was no point in crying over something she
couldn't change.

She turned back with a smile that felt stiff
on her lips. "Of course."

At her gesture, he stepped inside and shut the
door behind him. Dropping into one of the chairs positioned by the
fireplace, he leaned over and patted the seat across from
him.

"I know you've always been closer to Alex, but
he's not here and I am. So tell big brother your sorrows,
darling."

The smile felt a little more natural on her
face after Peter's dramatic drawl. She settled onto the chair next
to him, tucking her feet up under her skirts.

"I cannot believe Grandfather's making Jacob
marry me."

"Truly?" Her brother raised an
eyebrow, but his face was not unkind. "How did you imagine this
would play out, Ellie? Farrish seems honorable, and though he
swears he didn't touch you, we both know the
ton
will never accept his word for
it, or yours."

She threw her hands up in
exasperation. "Grandfather always told me to make my
own
choices, not to
allow others to direct my life. And yet, when it comes down to it,
he is just like Father."

They sat for a moment, the only sound the
crackling of the flames in the fireplace. Their father's implacable
rule had always weighed most heavily on the shoulders of his
younger children.

"Why does the idea of marrying Farrish make
you so unhappy?"

Elle looked at him. "He doesn't love me. In
fact, I don't believe he even likes me very much."

"Do you love him?"

Did she? She was rather afraid she
might. Elle shook her head helplessly, rubbing her palms on the
material stretched over her knees. “He doesn’t love
me
,” she repeated,
trying to make her brother understand.

One side of Peter's mouth lifted in a half
smile. "I've seen the way he looks at you, little sister. If
Grandfather wasn't already insisting you marry the man, I'd feel
honor bound to thrash him."

"No." Elle shook her head, losing her breath
at the idea. "You're only saying that to make me feel
better."

Her brother could not possibly be
right.

The possibility of Jacob's lasting affection
jumbled her thoughts into incoherency.

When she said nothing more, Peter shrugged and
stood. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have a day's reprieve from a forced anvil
wedding." He headed for the door. "Talk to him. Use the time to get
to know your future husband. Because there is no way around the
marriage, I can tell you that. Grandfather won't allow it, no
matter what he said at supper."