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“Oh, but they are.” She stooped and plucked a paper from the chair. Marching to him, she held it in front of his face. The words blurred without his spectacles, which he’d left at his desk.
“What is it?” he said irritably.
“That article. They are referencing me.” She lowered the morning rag. “It’s still the gossip this morning, though there is no more mention of a factory owner. There is simply the implication that I...” Her face blanched. “Behaved inappropriately. They do not go so far as to write something to my complete ruination, but a betrothal is the only option to fix this, for if it continues as a topic of conversation, or widespread rumor, then I could very well be ruined and throw my family into the worst sort of scandal.”
“Did you not say you cared ‘not a whit’ about your family’s standing?”
Elizabeth wrinkled her face. “Empty words. I wish I had not uttered them.” She drew a deep breath, looking down at his feet. “Lord Wrottesley has offered marriage, and my parents would have me accept.”
Miles’s spine went rigid. He held up a hand, stopping her midspeech. “The same man who so cruelly mauled you and caused this fiasco?”
Bitt flushed. “Do not repeat this, please, but I believe he may be the one behind the rumors. They are too expedient. I cannot marry him, Miles. I dare not.”
“After what he did to you? Do your parents know?”
Her blush deepened. “I told Mother, but she feels I brought his behavior upon myself. I will say that he was a gentleman in the library, in the presence of my parents. I told him I could not marry him. That I was not at liberty to do so.”
“At the risk of ruining your family?”
“Not quite.” Her eyes, a startling crystal blue, shone in the morning light streaming through his library windows. “I know you believe me spoiled and selfish and that I care nothing for my family’s standing, but you are mistaken.”
“Bitt.” A lump rose to his throat. “I do not think those things of you.”
She smiled, but it was halfhearted and sent a pang through him. “Nonsense. You said as much the other day. My concern for my family is precisely the reason I am here this morn.”
He waited, knowing her well enough to trust that she’d circle to her purpose at her own leisure.
“I was hoping your proposal still stands,” she said.
Miles couldn’t control the shock that pierced him.
Bitt walked to him and placed a hand on his sleeve. “When Lord Wrottesley arrived today, I knew I would do anything to avoid being joined to that odious toad. So I told him we were betrothed.”
Shocked by her words, he wrenched away from her and glanced out the study door. There were no servants to be seen. “You were adamant you’d never marry me. Yet now, in a moment of desperation, you have changed your mind?” A curious hurt resided in his chest. From whence it came, he knew not, but nevertheless it was there, a heavy pressure beneath his sternum that turned his stomach sour.
Why did he care? He did not want marriage.
Bitt winced. “My hasty words hurt you. I see that now. It is simply that I never thought to find myself in this predicament. I felt that I would never marry in order to appease my family’s need for good standing, but now that the moment has come and I have seen the pain I would cause, I cannot bear to be the author of such scandal.”
Miles walked to the window and peered outside. His view faced the street. A carriage pulled to the curb. He recognized the crest as Dunlop’s. “Your parents have arrived.”
Bitt’s silence weighed on him. He knew she wanted him to renew his offer, to ignore her earlier rejection of him and pretend that they could move forward. They very well could marry. He knew that. He also knew he would fail her, just as he had Anastasia. Then again, a marriage of convenience was different than what he and his deceased wife had shared. Their relationship had begun with him already mired in the pit of love.
Or infatuation.
Whatever it had been, once married, reality had set in for both of them. Perhaps he needn’t worry about that with Bitt. Swiveling, he took in her unkempt hair, her begging eyes and nervous fingers. He remembered her laughter in childhood, followed by somber silences. And that day he’d heard her sobbing...
If he married her, she’d have his protection. No one would dare mock her or make her feel ugly. But she’d told him that she only wanted to marry for love. And that was the one thing he could not give her.
“Miles.” Her voice caught, the tang of guilt residing in her broken syllables. “There is something else you should know.”
He regarded her carefully. Quiet, unobtrusive Bitt. When had she grown into such a stubborn creature? “Yes?”
Her fingers knotted in the folds of her dress. “I did not only tell Wrottesley I’m betrothed to you. My parents believe it, as well.”
“You lied.” His jaw hardened. Every tendon in his neck tightened. This explained her sudden appearance at his door. She’d dug a hole and expected him to rescue her from its trap.
“No, I have simply changed my mind. I hoped your offer might still stand. I—I promise to be a good wife, Miles. If you will only understand that I did not know the repercussions when I rejected your kind offer. Although I hoped to marry for love, that is no longer an option.”
Mouth dry, he said, “Anastasia was unhappy married to me.”
So much so that she took her own life. But he could not utter that terrible truth. Could hardly bear to remember the depths of misery she’d endured in their relationship. Marrying for love, as he’d learned, was a foolhardy reason for what essentially amounted to a contract.
“I do not know the truth of your words,” Bitt said quietly, “but I would rather be unhappy with you, a man who sees past my visage and cares for my soul, than unhappy with one who would empty my pocketbook and treat me with cruelty.” The sounds of her parents’ arrival in the hall filtered to them. She lowered her eyes, knotting her fingers. “They shall be in here in a moment and if you can find it within yourself to marry me, then I will proudly take your name.”
Miles studied her. Surely she lied to herself, whether or not she knew it, but he owed John a great deal, and if he married Bitt, his debt would be paid. No doubt her parents would demand he marry her, as well. Especially since she’d rejected Wrottesley. He blamed her not at all for such a decision.
He could not forget his own part in her situation either. Had he pressured her to take a companion with her, Wrottesley would have not found her vulnerable. What a mess he’d gotten himself into. John was right. There was only one acceptable solution to this situation.
He expelled an uneven breath. “It will be a marriage of convenience. A business contract. No more or less.”
“I understand. I take that to mean that...well...that there will be no wedding kiss?”
He understood her question. He remained silent at the hesitant inquiry. By offering her a marriage of convenience, he would save her reputation and yet steal her chance for the intimate love of a husband and wife. Let alone the experience of a first kiss.
“Forgive me,” she rushed on, before he could respond. “I will not ask such assurances from you. It is enough that my family shall remain in good standing.”
He nodded slowly. “If you recall, I mentioned certain stipulations. I need to be certain that you can be moderately happy married to me.”
Miles did not care for the strain on Bitt’s face, but it had occurred to him that if their marriage was to have any success, he should test their compatibility. Make certain she could fulfill the duties of a gentleman’s wife. Nothing strenuous, just enough to set his mind at ease. After all, he was about to be shackled for life. Not his idea of a happy ending, but he could not leave his childhood friend in distress.
He waited for her to respond, every muscle tight and clenched.
Footsteps pounded down the hall. Bitt’s parents appeared in the doorway. Her father’s face wore somber lines as he advanced into the office. “Is it true, Hawthorne? Are you set to marry my daughter?”
Bitt looked at him, a mix of fear and desperation plastered on her features. She gave him a slow nod, and he knew that she had accepted his terms without even knowing them.
A stiff foreboding crawled down Miles’s spine. He bowed crisply. “Forgive me, Lord Dunlop. I meant to speak with you sooner. If you will allow so, I shall marry your daughter.”
* * *
“Why, Miles, this is positively insulting.” Elizabeth scanned the paper he handed to her. Ensconced in his barouche, they were to discuss the “business” of marriage while taking a trip to Gunter’s for ices.
It was all very tedious and though she did enjoy sweets, she’d much rather be curled up on her bed with a good book than sitting in this rig, looking at a list of tasks she must accomplish in order to be considered suitable for marriage. How like Miles to create a list. So very methodical. She found the entire business humbling, for he was changing his life to accommodate her. She worked hard to squelch the irritation throbbing within.
“You agreed to this arrangement,” he said, his voice unusually hard.
Wincing, Elizabeth dipped her head in concession. “Quite right. I did. Though may I remind you that I was under a great deal of pressure at the time? Is this truly necessary? A house party? To celebrate our betrothal? That is farcical.”
“You and I will have a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.”
A pang hit Elizabeth square in the ribs. Indigestion, no doubt, brought on by the stress of her future being destroyed. She peered at the paper more closely, attempting to decipher his scrawl whilst acknowledging the terrible fact that due to her own irresponsible actions, she had given up her dreams of true love forever. A surreal realization, to be sure.
“Instead of writing what you want from me in overwrought detail, you could have simply told me.” She handed the paper to him, thankful her fingers did not tremble. She had not slept well last night, strange dreams troubling her sleep. “Am I to understand that you ask only three things of me?”
“That is correct.” He steepled his fingers, his face dark and brooding. “Are you certain you can do what I’ve asked?”
“I said that I would.” She drew an unsteady breath. Miles had been backed into a corner. He had done an honorable deed, one she should be thankful for. It was her duty to make this as painless for him as possible. “Visiting your new factory shan’t be an issue, I’m sure. But planning a betrothal ball is a bit excessive. And I confess I fail to see why I should visit Vauxhall Gardens with you, as well. These are odd and unlikely requests. They will not make me a better wife.” The very thought filled her with dread. Her shoulders slumped. She could never measure up to Anastasia.
How could a homely caterpillar ever compare to a fragile, colorful butterfly?
He held up a hand. “Familiarity with my business and associating with others in social settings is something you may be called upon to do. If you can’t handle these situations gracefully, it is better to know now, before we are bound for life.”
Elizabeth didn’t dare look at Miles. When he’d picked her up this morning, she’d felt the darkness of his demeanor. He was in a mood, to be sure, and it did not reassure her of their upcoming nuptials. It was no surprise that marrying her brought him great irritation. If she had any other option, she would not have accepted his reluctant proposal.
The thought sparked her temper. “If marrying me is such a daunting task, why did you ever ask in the first place? I did not compel you to act the honor-bound gentleman.” She dared not go so far as to offer to back out of the nuptials.
“I am still asking myself the same question.”
His words sliced her. She was truly in a mess of her own making. Oh, why had a walk outside seemed like a good idea? That dreadful viscount had ruined everything.
She swallowed hard, summoning the reserve she’d been taught to carry, the fortitude to face unpleasant situations with grace and regal bearing. “You’re avoiding answering me, but the truth is that your response no longer has any bearing on the situation we find ourselves in. There are three things you ask of me. I shall do them regardless of how I feel. And if I do these tasks, you will marry me and not break our betrothal?”
“Yes,” he said.
She found the courage to look at him. His eyes were unreadable, his jaw set in a stubborn line. It reminded her of the time he took the punishment for breaking cook’s favorite bowl when he and John were fighting over the last bit of dough. John had let him take the punishment, too, which she’d deemed quite dishonorable at the time.
Miles would go through with marrying her, no matter how unpalatable he found the union. It was in his nature to fix situations and help others. She lifted her chin and met his troubled gaze.
“This is not ideal for me either. I am giving up the possibility for true love. At least pretend that we are on somewhat good terms. I shall not bother you overly much, Miles. After these first few months, we may go our separate ways.”
His brows lowered and if possible, his glower deepened. “Trust me, madam, I shall not forget that you are only marrying me out of desperation.”
The barouche jolted to a stop just in time, for Elizabeth did not know how to respond. She had assumed he found marriage to her a cumbersome burden, but it almost seemed as though her first rejection had tainted his view of her. But how could that be? He was as resistant to marriage as she, though for quite different reasons.
Befuddled by his response, she waited for the barouche door to be opened. She took the footman’s hand and descended. No matter. They had chosen their course, and there could be no turning back.
She glanced around her. People crowded Gunter’s. It was April, after all. The start of a fabulous Season, and everyone who was anyone knew that ices on a warm day were a perfect opportunity to see and be seen.
She braced herself for the stares and conversation, taking the parasol Miles so kindly handed to her. He had managed to wipe the moodiness from his face and looked the perfect gentleman with his chiseled features and neatly tied cravat. She half expected her skirts to be mussed, but no, as she glanced down, she saw that the silks were in perfect arrangement about her slippered feet.
The purpose of their visit to Gunter’s was twofold. To discuss what Miles expected of her and then let all those who had read that unfortunate gossip see that Mr. Hawthorne was far more to her than an illicit liaison during an overcrowded ball.
Her parents wasted no time in informing her that it was her duty to spread the word that she was betrothed, even if only by action. They were quite unhappy with her betrothal to a man of business but since she’d rejected Wrottesley, they had little choice in the matter. Unless they wanted to bring scandal on the family, her marriage to Miles was the only possible solution.
Mother had refused to speak to her this morning.
Wincing, she forced herself to take in her surroundings. Her windpipe shrank.
Well-dressed ladies milled about the emerald grasses of the park, some carrying their own parasols, others wearing broad-brimmed bonnets. Gentlemen strolled beside them, using stylish canes and carrying ices. Servants darted back and forth, and even the waiters looked pristine in their uniforms as they brought treats to those who’d rather sit in curricles.
Clouds provided the perfect shade for those who chose to walk the paths designed for couples and families. Not everyone wanted to be cloistered on such a lovely spring day. Elizabeth clutched her parasol closer, battling the urge to turn her head at an angle. Why had she agreed to this?
The overwhelming sense of inferiority and failure that accompanied public appearances pounded through her. A duke’s granddaughter should be poised and, if not beautiful, then regal. She supposed she should be thankful she had not been sent to a country house to live out her days, free of the stares of those who had never experienced mottled, discolored skin. She supposed she should be thankful...and yet she was not. How often she wished to live in solitude, with only the company of unseeing books.
This morning’s escape from her parents’ disapproval had seemed a smart choice, but now she wasn’t so sure. Panic edged her throat, circling her thoughts like a vulture feeding upon her sanity.
Pressure on her arm caused her to glance over to see Miles offering her a tender look. “All will be well, dear Bitt. Hold your head up and show these people how the granddaughter of a duke behaves.”
She nodded stiffly. He was right, of course. His confidence bolstered her as she gripped his arm and let him lead her to a pretty little bench situated on the side of the hill. He left her there to get ices, and when he returned, he settled beside her and handed her one.
The treat was as delicious as she remembered. Almost enough to take her mind off the curious glances they received. At last one woman meandered over. Elizabeth knew she should recognize the striking blonde, who was dressed in an outfit that must be eminently fashionable, covered in ruffles and lace and shrieking wealth.
Her lady’s maid followed behind, eyes averted. Oh, yes, certainly a woman Elizabeth should know. A sense of failure threatened to take hold.
“Lady Elizabeth, how good to see you out. And with a suitor, no less.” The woman’s eyebrows twitched, and Elizabeth thought she saw a frown in her smile. She waited, presumably for Elizabeth to introduce them.
Miles had stood in the lady’s presence. Elizabeth forced herself upward, racking her mind for the lady’s name. For something. Anything. But a name failed to form.
“Lady Englewood, is it not?” Miles offered her a crisp bow, to which the lady held out her hand for his perfunctory kiss upon her silken glove. He straightened, offering Elizabeth a twinkling smirk. “We met the other evening, I recall.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Hawthorne. Lord Wrottesley mentioned you in passing, and I do believe you were a part of our little group at Lady Charleston’s. Such a fashionable woman.” The lady turned her sharp words to Elizabeth, who wavered beneath her peer’s scrutiny. “It is good to see you in the fair weather, my dear. Your parents have expressed concern for your health, citing it as the reason you’ve been in the country for so long. Though I do remember you coming out last year, did you not?”
“I have been out for several years now,” Elizabeth said carefully. And now to play her parents’ plan to perfection. “Mr. Hawthorne has graciously extended me an offer of marriage, and so we are celebrating with ices. There will be invitations going out for a celebratory ball. An event you will not want to miss. It’s sure to be a crush of the most gigantic proportions.”
Miles made a noise that sounded like a cough. She quickly patted him on his nicely muscled arm. “My affianced is quite excited to meet my parents’ circle of friends.”
“Is that so?” Lady Englewood’s nose thrust upward and Elizabeth could almost imagine a quizzing glass stuck to her eyeball. “We shall most eagerly await the invitation.” She gave them one last look, her gaze lingering upon the right side of Elizabeth’s face, as though perhaps wondering how any man could possibly want such a marred human being.
Miles was not any man though, as annoying as he could be. Suddenly Elizabeth felt happy to be out with him. They shared a conspiratorial smile as they returned to their seats and watched the loose-lipped lady spread the word that the heiress had found a gentleman.
And for a moment, as Elizabeth tasted the tartness in her ice and inhaled the aroma of Miles’s cologne, she quite felt that all was right with the world, and that perhaps life would not be as horrible as she anticipated.
Chapter Six (#ulink_a99ab15c-b7db-5892-9946-e6cc7fc70e93)
Miles had certainly wasted no time in making Elizabeth’s life miserable.
She scowled at herself in the mirror.
“Be calm, my lady.” Jenna came up behind her. She touched Elizabeth’s hair, which she’d put up earlier that morning. “You look lovely and shall enjoy yourself.”
“Now that I’m betrothed, you won’t need to go with us everywhere.”
“Quite fortuitous for me.” A shy smirk edged Jenna’s lips in the mirror’s reflection. “I have several duties to complete before I meet you at Windermar.” Jenna would be leaving the next morning for the estate. “Your pink chiffon is in need of an update. I was thinking roses and silk stitching.”
Elizabeth waved a hand, her gaze straying to her birthmark. In the glare of morning, the rippled redness appeared remarkably noticeable. “I despise that dress. Destroy it.”
Jenna laughed. “Nonsense. I know of several lower maids who are in want of a fancy dress. Why, Betsy is marrying in two months. She could use the material for something quite lovely.”
