Читать книгу A Hasty Betrothal - Jessica Nelson - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Wrottesley was not home.

Annoyed beyond reason, Miles rode back to his house with the urge to box the cad itching his knuckles. When he arrived home, he saw John’s carriage.

He had barely gotten in the door when John appeared in his hall. “I suppose you’ve heard the news?”

Miles handed his coat to his valet. “News?”

“Regarding Elizabeth.” Her brother pivoted, disappearing into Miles’s study.

Biting back exasperation, he followed John. This was not how he’d intended his morning to go. He hadn’t intended to tell John of Wrottesley’s perfidy against Bitt either, but since he was here, perhaps he already knew.

Did he want Miles’s assistance? He rubbed his palms together, anticipating the moment Wrottesley learned the consequences of assaulting Elizabeth. He entered the study. As he made his way inside, his mahogany desk greeted him like an old friend, staid and reliable in the familiar room. He’d inherited this office from his late father. Sighing, he sank into the plush chair accompanying the desk.

John watched him steadily from his own perch on a less comfortable chaise at the side of the room.

“What’s this about Bitt?”

His old friend leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Expression serious. “She has been compromised. But I suppose you know that already.”

Miles felt his brows lift. “She has been in London only a month. What happened?” His mind raced. Last night, the cut direct he’d received, Elizabeth’s disheveled state...still, that should not be enough to get tongues wagging so quickly.

Unless someone started the gossip. Someone intent on making her look bad.

“It’s in all the papers. Not her name, specifically, but it might only take a few days for the ton to realize who this heiress is, and once that happens, she will be ruined. She was seen in the company of a factory owner.” John’s mouth tightened. “You were at that ball last night.”

“What are you saying?” Miles asked flatly. But he knew. How foolish he had been.

“No one knows that I am whatever man was described in the papers. And you say her name is not mentioned? There is no reason for you to be here, John. You’re distraught. Give it a day or so. The gossip will die down.” Though they had been good friends since childhood, they rarely saw each other now that John stayed busy with his estates and his work with the House of Lords.

“I am here to demand honor for my sister.”

“You believe I dishonored her?” Miles straightened in his seat. Shock curled through him. “I would never treat her in such a way.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” John’s laugh was dry. “But according to that article, the ton believes you have.”

“My name is not mentioned. I fail to understand how Elizabeth’s predicament is my concern.” And yet, even as Miles spoke, he realized that he did indeed see the part he had played. For if she really was on the verge of ruination, then his actions last night had partially caused the problem. He should have insisted she straighten herself. Or perhaps he should have returned to the ballroom by a different way.

It had been so long since he’d attended a ball or paid any attention to society’s strictures. Not since Anastasia...and he would not have gone last night if it were not for the personal invitation.

John dragged in a deep sigh. “I have come to insist you marry Elizabeth, should the need arise.”

Panic, sharp and visceral, sliced through Miles.

“Politics have turned you daft,” he said in a casual tone, hiding the terror rushing through him. He knew he owed John a great deal. He had been a bastion of support for Miles years ago when Anastasia died. As the powerful son of an earl, John had made sure the circumstances of Anastasia’s death were kept quiet and out of the gossip rags.

But he could never marry again. He simply could not.

“I know that your marriage was less than ideal,” John continued. “I would not demand this of you if I did not think it necessary.” He shoved a hand through hair a shade lighter than Bitt’s. “There is a chance the gossip shall pass. I have not spoken to my sister as of yet, but from what I’ve garnered, there is little to support the accusations.”

“Speak to Elizabeth. It could be that she will happily retire to Windermar with the dowager duchess.”

“Grandmother left for her estate this morning. She doesn’t stay in London long. I can’t imagine the uproar that would occur if she heard of this. Things are not so simple as you imply. There are other factors to consider.”

“Your reputation?” he asked drily.

“Yes, my reputation.” John narrowed his eyes. “I’ve worked hard for the latest bills that have passed the House. There is so much to accomplish and something like this...well, it tarnishes credibility. My parents come from a pristine lineage. Impeccable bloodlines. This is something that would drag our name through the muck for years to come.”

Miles studied his friend. He cared little for reputations or the idle gossip of the ton, but would Elizabeth be able to live with disparaging her family? Would they ever let her forget what her lapse in judgment had caused?

Not that he truly blamed her for her nighttime excursion. Wrottesley was the culprit, and the urge to soundly thrash him still ran through Miles. Revealing how Elizabeth left the ballroom and went outside alone would be indiscreet, though. And what would it accomplish to tell the full story? Then John would demand honor from Wrottesley, and Miles absolutely would never allow her to be joined to such a man.

He owed John, though. His friend had shielded Miles and Anastasia’s family from gossip. He had used his influence to hide the truth of Anastasia’s death. Miles swallowed hard, hating what was to come, and yet knowing it to be necessary.

Mouth dry, he said, “I shall speak to Elizabeth. I make no promises.”

John left quickly after that. Miles called for his rig. The sooner he spoke to her, the sooner he could rid himself of this terrible sense of duty.

Marriage.

The very word turned him squeamish.

He was shown into the Dunlops’ residence with little fanfare. He found Elizabeth in the library, surveying a shelf of books. He acknowledged that her lustrous hair and unique eye color were not so difficult to gaze upon. Her lips were delicately shaped and rosebud pink. John’s demand echoed in his mind.

Miles enjoyed Bitt’s company. Felt a measure of affection for her.

Perhaps a marriage of convenience was not so preposterous, after all.

But he greatly hoped she rejected the notion. For all he knew, she had an admirer in the wings, waiting to rescue her.

“Good morning, Bitt.”

She heaved a sigh much too big for her tiny frame. “Miles Hawthorne. You are up early today.”

“I went to take care of Wrottesley.”

“And?” She turned to him, eyes questioning, wary.

“He was not home.” He cleared his throat. “Another matter has been brought to my attention.”

“I daresay it has to do with this morning’s gossip?”

“John came to see me.”

“He is overly worried about many things. It shall blow over. This talk of ruination—” she fluttered her fingers as though waving off a bothersome bug “—is nothing. I have no desire to be married. Surely, being a widower, you understand.”

Miles blinked, gathering his wits, trying to rein in his reeling thoughts. It was a smidge hard with Bitt staring up at him so wide-eyed and upset. She’d always had enormous and expressive eyes. Such a pale blue they were almost crystalline.

Unfortunately, he doubted any suitors ever saw Elizabeth’s eyes as, more often than not, she kept her face trapped in novels.

“What I don’t understand,” he said slowly, “is your flippancy. You are not worried?”

“Certainly I’m a tad concerned. This gossip will bring out desperate fortune hunters.” She planted her hand on a shapely hip. “It is paramount I find a way to fix this. I will find a way. I must.” A trace of panic edged her words. “No man shall want me for myself, Miles, and you know that is the truth.”

“I did not think you so vain.” Miles spoke slowly, knowing his words would incite her. Better to face her irritation than to hear that panicked note in her voice. “Assuming no man will want you based on your appearance is presumptuous.”

She whipped a hand acrobatically through the air. “Presumptuous? Vain? How dare you criticize me when the woman you married was always called a diamond of the first water. I may have been in the schoolroom, but Anastasia’s attributes were often remarked upon in my family. One could hardly travel through London without hearing of her beauty.”

Miles’s jaw clenched. “Anastasia’s looks had nothing to do with our marriage.”

“Nothing?” Her hand fell and she gave him a glare that turned his stomach queasy. It was as though she saw through to his inner depths and found him wanting. Her accusation was a slap to his conscience.

“I fell in love with Anastasia because of her laugh,” he said tightly. It was true. She’d giggled infectiously during their courtship and loved to tease. If only he’d known that her heights of happiness were often followed by depths of sadness he had no power to rouse her from.

Bitt’s head bent, as though she regretted her harsh words. “I recall her laugh and it was quite lovely. I apologize for my impetuous words. Of course you loved her for more than her beauty. It was unkind of me to suggest otherwise. Perhaps my own insecurities have blinded me to what a man desires in a wife.”

“Any man would be fortunate to have you as his bride.” Miles tapped his fingers against his thigh. “This situation you find yourself in... John and I are concerned.”

“He is overprotective. He need not worry though, because I have no intention of marrying anyone, and if my parents try to force me into it, I shall simply run away.”

Miles did his best not to scoff. “That would hardly solve anything. Besides, how would you support yourself?”

“I have been saving money for several years. If the need arises, I shall use that to find a post somewhere. A companion position, I suppose.” Perhaps she saw the doubt on his face, for her brows furrowed.

“No legitimate family will hire a ruined woman.”

“I am not ruined yet. Gossip has a way of trickling off. I simply must wait for a juicier tittle-tattle to occur.”

Miles could not stop incredulity from barreling through him. Perhaps the reaction showed, for Bitt scowled deeply.

He returned her look with a glower of his own. “You hate attending society events, you shun the outdoors and you deny an audience to anyone who is not family because of a mere birthmark. I do not believe for one second that you will become a companion or a governess. Marriage is a position every lady of gentle breeding has been groomed for since birth. Will you really subject your family to great reputational harm rather than marry?”

A dark flush suffused her cheeks, creeping around the large birthmark that covered the right side of her face and coloring the rest of her fair skin an angry scarlet.

She gave him an arch look, completely belying every notion he’d ever entertained about her timidity. “Unless it be for love, I shall never marry. No matter the consequences.”

* * *

“Even at the expense of your family?” Miles asked.

Elizabeth winced. Tearing her gaze from the books, she looked at him. She’d spent all morning in this library, hoping and praying the gossip would die down. And then he appeared, reminding her of the entire predicament.

It was unfair how handsome he looked when she found him so bothersome. His crisp waist jacket lay becomingly over dark breeches that were paired with shiny Hessians. She didn’t know why, but suddenly the lack of his dreadful mustache struck her anew. A little shiver coursed through her at his appearance.

From his full lips to the dimple in his cheek, formerly hidden by the mustache... She shook away the awareness that rippled through her at his changed looks. This was Miles. Childhood nemesis and annoying man who most unfortunately turned out to be her hero last night.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

He returned her look, unblinking. She patted her hair, certain it must be in place. Jenna had been dressing it for years. Why else did he stare at her so? Was he terribly disappointed in her?

“Since you are here, I feel I must thank you for rescuing me,” she said to fill the silence.

“By all means, do not force your thanks.”

Did she hear mockery in those words? “It is not forced at all. I am sincerely thankful you arrived when you did. Wrottesley was out of line, and I believe he also partook of too much punch. You will see—the gossip will die down, and my family will be fine.”

She prayed it to be so, for she did not truly wish for their reputations to be harmed because of her. If the rumors affected only herself, she would have been happy to live at Windermar for the rest of her days.

But this could affect her family for years to come.

Marriage.

Bah! She likened the institution to a velvet cage. An image from the tribal book she’d read filled her mind. The young women carried baskets on their heads. Of all things! Every culture had its societal expectations and dictates, she supposed.

A footman appeared in the doorway. “My lady, Lord Wrottesley is here to call on you.”

She suddenly felt faint. She had no desire to see the man. Words refused to form. Miles’s gaze was on her. She blinked.

“I had hoped to take the lady for a ride in Hyde Park,” he said, never removing his eyes from her.

She nodded faintly, catching her breath. “Yes, that would be lovely. Please tell him I am indisposed, or out.” She waved a hand dismissively. Thank goodness Mother had gone out shopping or else she would not have allowed Elizabeth to go with Miles.

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.”