Naughty Earls Need Love Too (That Wicked O'Shea Family Book 7)

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Naughty Earls Need Love Too (That Wicked O'Shea Family Book 7) Page 10

by Merry Farmer

Avery downed the rest of his beer—which was, perhaps, a bit too sudden of him—and slammed the glass on the table. “I’ll go speak with Mr. O’Donnell at once.” He stood, and even though the effects of the beer were still moderate, he swayed a little. “Gentlemen, I thank you for your wise council. You see? Men do not need the interference of women to solve our women’s problems for them. And I am certain that they will be grateful that we have come to their rescue.”

  He wondered if it was fate or some sort of sign from the universe that he caught his hip on the edge of the table and stumbled as he started to walk away from his kinsmen. But no, they’d come up with a solid plan. Everything would work out, and by the end of the week, he’d be happily married and well on his way to living a peaceful and domestic life.

  Chapter 10

  Something wasn’t as it should be. With her wedding to a wonderful, generous, handsome, and ever so slightly naughty earl on the morrow, Maeve should have felt ecstatically happy and eager to get on with her new life. Instead, as she and Alice, along with several of Avery’s female relatives, decorated Ballymena’s church in preparation for the ceremony, she was racked with anxiety.

  “Maeve, darling,” Angeline, or rather, Lady Rothbury—Avery’s truly lovely sister, who was round with child—said, approaching Maeve as she stood facing the chancel with a bouquet of hothouse roses in one hand and one of October wildflowers in the other, “is everything alright?”

  “Hmm?” Maeve snapped herself out of her swirling thoughts—they weren’t even full thoughts, more like emotions that couldn’t quite grasp onto anything—and turned to face Lady Rothbury. “Oh,” she gasped. “Yes, I am perfectly alright.”

  “You look a bit distressed,” Lady Rothbury said, taking the bouquets from Maeve’s hands. “Perhaps you should sit for a bit.”

  Maeve laughed guiltily. “It is I who should be counseling you to sit, Lady Rothbury,” she said.

  “It’s Angeline, please,” she said, handing the flowers off to one of the church helpers and escorting Maeve to the first pew. “Especially since we are to be sisters as of tomorrow.”

  Maeve smiled. She liked the idea of being sisters with Angeline. Though no one would ever replace Alice in her heart.

  As if she could hear Maeve thinking about her, Alice dropped the ribbon she’d been cutting at a table that had been set up near the front of the sanctuary and crossed to stand beside Maeve’s pew.

  “Is everything alright?” she, too, asked.

  “I’m fine,” Maeve said with a sigh. “I’m more worried about you, if I’m honest.”

  Alice looked down at her hands with a guilty dip of her head. Alice had looked guilty all week long whenever the two of them had been together. And they’d been together nearly every day. Now that their fight was over, they’d spent every spare second they could together, planning for Maeve’s future as a countess and speculating on what Alice would do when the moment came that she would need to defy her parents and leave their house.

  That moment hadn’t come yet, but twice while Maeve had been at Alice’s house for tea and preparations that week, Mrs. Woodmont had brought Mr. Kilpatrick and his offer of marriage up in conversation. Along with that, she had hinted without any subtlety at all that the consequence of Alice refusing the match would be banishment. Maeve found the fact that Mrs. Woodmont would bring the matter up while she was there to be insensitive and worrying.

  “You’ve no need to worry about me,” Alice insisted, glancing up and meeting Maeve’s eyes at last. “I will face whatever comes next in my life with bravery and determination.”

  Maeve’s heart clenched and she shot to her feet, embracing Alice. “I said it before and I’ll say it once more. I will stand by you through thick and thin. Just say the word, and I will call this entire wedding off.”

  Alice laughed aloud. “The wedding is tomorrow. You cannot call it off. I won’t let you.”

  “But I said I would run off and help you to start a new life,” Maeve insisted. “And since Avery hasn’t come through with his promise to find a husband for you, I feel as though I must.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain Avery has failed in his task,” Angeline said, shifting in the pew to glance to the back of the room.

  Sure enough, when Maeve and Alice turned, Avery had just entered the sanctuary. Not only that, he had another man with him. The two of them had a quiet word together while staring down the aisle at Maeve and Alice, and when Avery raised a hand to gesture to Alice, Maeve knew that he’d found a groom after all.

  The only problem with that was his choice. Maeve wanted to groan out loud when she saw the avaricious smile that came to Mr. O’Donnell’s eyes.

  “Oh, no,” she sighed, reaching for Alice’s hand. “That cannot be who he’s come up with after having nearly a week to search.”

  “It appears as though it is,” Alice said with an equally wary sigh.

  “I feel as though I’ve missed something,” Angeline whispered, scooting to the end of the pew. “Do you know that gentleman?”

  “It’s Mr. O’Donnell, the apothecary,” Maeve told her, unable to hide the groan in her tone.

  “An apothecary isn’t a bad profession,” Angeline said, though Maeve had the feeling she was trying to make the best of what she could see wasn’t an ideal situation. “He’s not particularly handsome, but I suppose he’s a good man. Otherwise, my brother would never have chosen him for you.”

  Maeve and Alice exchanged a look. Although, to be fair, there wasn’t anything truly wrong with Mr. O’Donnell. Other than the fact that he was a dull bore, he constantly smelled of chemicals from his apothecary shop, and his hygiene needed a bit of improvement. As Lady Coyle was always insisting whenever she attempted to foist the man off on some unsuspecting young lady, those things could always be remedied.

  “They’re coming this way,” Maeve whispered to Alice as the two men walked down the aisle. “Try to smile, and we’ll figure out a way to gently let Avery know he’s made a terrible choice. We’ll come up with something else.”

  But Alice didn’t glance back at Maeve as Avery and Mr. O’Donnell approached. Instead, she smiled with an alarming amount of geniality at Mr. O’Donnell.

  “You look lovely today, my dear,” Avery said, stepping closer to Maeve. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, flickering one eyebrow as he did. The dear man looked so proud of himself, as though he’d pulled off the impossible instead of bringing a disappointing man to the church as a solution to Alice’s problems that would never do.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Maeve replied formally, as she was expected to do in mixed company. “Who have you brought to us today?” she asked, hoping Avery would interpret her tight smile as the disapproval it was meant to be.

  “I would like to introduce you to Mr. Barry O’Donnell, one of Ballymena’s leading apothecaries,” Avery said, making the introduction in grand style.

  “Ballymena’s only apothecary,” Mr. O’Donnell said in a rather nasal voice, bowing slightly to both Maeve and Alice. “All the others fancy themselves ‘chemists’ now, but I hold fast to the old ways. These newfangled chemical medicines and remedies will never last, you know. The old, herbal cures are always the best. And it is a shame that bleeding has gone out of style.”

  “Oh?” Maeve’s voice wavered on the one syllable. She glanced desperately to Avery.

  Avery’s confident smile faltered. He cleared his throat. “Mr. O’Donnell, this is Miss Alice Woodmont.”

  “How do you do?” Alice said with an ingratiating smile that set Maeve’s teeth on edge.

  “Quite well, quite well,” Mr. O’Donnell said. He tilted his head back and looked down his nose at Alice, humming as he did. “I’m pleased to say that you are as comely as Lord Carnlough promised you were,” he went on. “When he said he had a matchmaking prospect for me, I was skeptical, of course. I have entrusted Lady Coyle with the task of finding me a suitable bride throughout this last year, though her efforts have born little fruit. I a
m impressed by what I have before me now, though.”

  “How kind of you, Mr. O’Donnell,” Alice said, smiling. “I trust that Lord Carnlough explained the situation and my reasons for wishing to find a husband as soon as possible?”

  “That your parents think it’s past time you married, they want you out of the house, and you are displeased with their choice for you?” Mr. O’Donnell said bluntly.

  Alice’s cheeks went pink, and she lowered her head. “That is correct, sir.”

  “Well,” Mr. O’Donnell said with a self-satisfied sniff, “any opportunity I’m given to pip old Jeffrey Kilpatrick at the post is a good one. That bastard will be green with envy when he sees I’ve stolen a beautiful woman right out from under him, so to speak.” He reached out and thumped Avery’s shoulder before snorting with laughter.

  Maeve was mortified. She was certain her face had lost all color, but as much as she stared at Avery, willing him to glance to her and see how distressed she was, no one seemed to mind her. Not even Alice.

  “I am grateful that you would consider me as a bride,” Alice said with a sort of sorrowful resignation that made Maeve want to scream. “And as you understand the need for haste, if you ask for my hand, I can assure you I will give it to you.”

  “Capital,” O’Donnell said, clapping his hands together. “Consider it a done deal. I will look into having the banns read and preparing to accept you into my home as soon as possible.” He raked Alice with a look that made Maeve’s skin crawl and went on with, “The sooner the better, if you understand my meaning.”

  Maeve certainly did, and she was disgusted. After all the care and concern she’d shown for her friend, she could not believe it was all about to come to this.

  As soon as Mr. O’Donnell said his goodbyes and Avery walked him out of the church, Maeve whipped to face Alice and said, “You cannot marry that boor.”

  Alice pressed her lips together and stared at the doorway Mr. O’Donnell and Avery had just departed through. “I don’t see as I have much choice,” she said.

  “There is always a choice,” Maeve insisted. “And that is certainly not it.”

  Alice let out an irritated breath and turned to her. “Is Mr. O’Donnell the man I would have chosen for myself?” she asked. “No, he is most certainly not. Is he as handsome and noble as your earl? Far from it. But he is a well-placed tradesman in Ballymena. We might not like him, but I have never heard a single story of him drinking too much and causing a scene, or of him behaving ignominiously with the ladies in town.”

  “The fact that he is not married as of yet could be some indication that he is not worthy of a woman’s attention,” Maeve insisted.

  Alice’s stare flattened. “Beggars cannot be choosers, my dear,” she said. “If I marry Mr. O’Donnell, I’ll have a comfortable life. I’ll have safety and security, even if I don’t have love or luxury. And if he’s willing to give Ryan a place in our house, I don’t see how I can say no.”

  Maeve let out a breath of disappointment. As much as she hated to admit it, Alice had a point. Everything came down to Ryan. The fact that Avery had found a man willing to marry Alice even though she had a child should have been good enough for them all.

  Her thoughts caught for a moment. He had mentioned Ryan to Mr. O’Donnell, hadn’t he?

  But of course he would. It would have been foolish and deceptive of him to fail to mention Ryan, and Avery was neither. He wouldn’t have kept the boy a secret.

  A moment later, Avery strode back into the sanctuary, looking deeply satisfied with himself. Maeve didn’t have a chance to inquire about what Mr. O’Donnell had been told before he said, “Ladies, I believe congratulations are in order for all of us,” clapping his hands together.

  “Thank you so much for your efforts on my behalf, Lord Carnlough,” Alice said, then shot a look to Maeve. “Not everyone would have been willing to go to such lengths for me, but you and Maeve have proven yourselves to be the very best of friends.”

  Maeve couldn’t help but feel as though she’d let her friend down somehow. “There will be someone else,” she insisted. “Someone far more suitable.”

  Avery looked shocked by her comment. “And what is wrong with Mr. O’Donnell?” he asked. “He is well-established, young, he lives in a good neighborhood, and he is willing to marry Miss Woodmont on short notice.”

  They were all the reasons Alice had just listed that she was willing to consider the man. Maeve remained unconvinced, though.

  “There has to be someone else,” she sighed. “Perhaps someone in London.” She sucked in a breath as the thought struck her. “Yes, that’s it. You should come to London with us.”

  “I—” Alice said, uncertainty pinching her face. “It seems as though matters are already settled, though.”

  Maeve wasn’t satisfied with that answer. She wasn’t the least bit satisfied with Alice’s tacit acceptance of the terrible situation. “Avery,” she pleaded, turning to grasp the sleeve of Avery’s jacket.

  “Miss Woodmont, perhaps you would assist me in locating a suitable lavatory,” Angeline said, lifting her heavy body from the pew, where she’d sat to observe the entire scene. “One of the most vexing things about being in this condition is the constant need of a lavatory or chamber pot.”

  “Certainly, Lady Rothbury,” Alice said. She stepped over to help Angeline, sending Maeve a wistful look as she did.

  Everything about the situation, especially Alice’s acceptance of a less than satisfactory fate, felt wrong. As soon as she and Avery were more or less alone, Maeve turned to face him fully, grasping the lapels of his jacket.

  “This will never do,” she said, hoping every bit of her worry for her friend shone in her eyes as she glanced up at Avery. “We can do better than Mr. O’Donnell. He will never be enough for Alice. I couldn’t bear knowing that my dearest friend was unhappy in her marriage.”

  “But who is to say she would be?” Avery asked, seemingly baffled by Maeve’s hesitation. “She will have a solid place in Ballymena society, which, you must admit,” he leaned closer to lower his voice to whisper, “is something she never could have achieved on her own, all things considered.”

  Maeve pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “It doesn’t feel right. I sense some sort of a disaster about to happen.”

  “But why should it?” Avery asked. “Miss Woodmont seems well-pleased with this arrangement. She is a clever and resourceful woman. I have full confidence that she will find happiness in her situation, given time.”

  Maeve hated the idea of contradicting Avery, but she was beginning to see that he knew nothing about the way a woman’s heart worked. Then again, could any man ever truly know the inner workings of a woman’s heart?

  “I can see you are distressed,” he said, seeming to prove that he had at least a tiny bit of understanding. “I promise you, my darling.” He took her hands and clasped them to his chest, where she could hear the steady, confident beat of his heart. “If Miss Woodmont expresses even a little unhappiness with her new situation, we will not forsake her. If she needs a champion in the future, I know that champion will be you. And if something should happen and her hopes in this regard are dashed, I swear to you that we will stand by her and make certain she does not end up alone and friendless.”

  “Do you mean that?” Maeve glanced up at him, her heart brimming with love for Avery all over again.

  “I absolutely do, my darling,” he said. “As long as you and I have breath in our lungs and strength in our hands, Miss Woodmont will have friends to help her through even the darkest of nights.”

  “Oh, Avery,” Maeve sighed, blinking back tears. “That is all I needed to hear.”

  “Good.” Avery peeked around, and when it was clear no one was watching them, he leaned in and stole a kiss.

  It turned out to be a far fierier kiss than was appropriate for a church on the day before one’s wedding. Maeve gave herself over to it all the same, loving the way Avery’s mouth felt over hers
, the way his lips pressed her so demandingly, and the way he boldly swiped his tongue against the seam of her mouth to coax her to open for him. She did so gladly, letting his tongue invade her. She even reached up to clasp the back of his neck and pulled him down so that she could take the aggressive role for a moment.

  Avery laughed deep in his throat before he let her go. His eyes were alight with desire as the two of them stood there, panting and gazing amorously at each other.

  “So help me, nothing is going to stand in the way of this wedding now,” Avery said. “And nothing is going to stop me from making you my wife, or from enjoying every last one of the things that are only supposed to be enjoyed by a married couple.”

  Maeve burst into giggles at the naughty suggestion, but in her heart—and other parts of her anatomy—she knew she wanted that as much as he did. No matter what happened, tomorrow the two of them would be married, and woe to anyone who tried to stop that.

  Chapter 11

  The more Avery thought about it, the more he thought he’d come up with a terrible idea.

  The wedding was an hour away, and he sat in the vestry off of the chancel at the front of the church, knitting as fast as his shaking hands would move and dropping what felt like every other stitch. He’d had it in mind to knit a lovely muffler for Maeve as a wedding gift, and although he’d picked a complex design, the accessory was almost finished. However, he wasn’t certain he would ever be able to finish it at the rate he was going.

  “Dammit,” he muttered as he dropped a stitch that unraveled across several rows. His tension had been so high for the last half dozen rows that he feared he would have to pull them out and redo the whole thing.

  Just as he was beginning to think he really should pull out the terrible mistake he’d just made and figure out a way to redo it.

  He’d put his needles on the vicar’s changing table and started tugging at the loose end of his yarn when there was a soft knock at the door. Immediately, he whipped the unfinished scarf behind his back, his face heating, and called, “Who is it?”

 

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