скачать книгу бесплатно
“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.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_6b79c451-0358-5f94-a9d2-111cd16a402c)
Elizabeth 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.”
