Marrying the Rebellious Miss

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘He’s smart and desperate,’ Preston put in, eyeing the group: Dimitri and Evie, Beatrice and her parents. Everyone was sombre, suitably horrified by the note’s contents. He explained, ‘Special licences are expensive. Why make the investment? Usually those who do are after the immediacy such a licence provides.’ There were all sorts of reasons people needed to wed quickly. Very seldom was it because of love. One could wait for love and have the banns read.

  ‘Perhaps he feels sure of himself,’ Dimitri argued for the sake of presenting both sides. ‘He didn’t know about the child until yesterday, so that can’t be it. That only leaves Beatrice’s affections.’ He glanced towards Bea. ‘Maybe he felt secure in the knowledge that Beatrice would forgive him and take him back, especially if he was promising marriage as part of his absolution.’

  ‘No,’ Preston countered. ‘If he was that sure of himself, waiting for the banns to be read would make more sense. Why would he pay for something he was certain he’d attain without spending the money?’

  He paused, waiting for the idea to take root in the others’ minds, his eyes on Beatrice, watching her reaction. Alton was a cagey-minded fellow. Dimitri wasn’t wrong about that. The man had not sent his blackmail until today on purpose. He’d wanted to give Beatrice time to change her mind about her refusal, time perhaps to ponder the sight of him knelt beside her with his son and to translate such an image into an image of the family they could be together. Only when she hadn’t begged for his attendance at Maidenstone the next day had he sent the note.

  ‘What are you suggesting, then?’ Beatrice asked from the sofa where she sat, her hand tightly squeezed in Evie’s for support. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes from a sleepless night. Preston’s heart went out to her. She would be feeling enormously guilty about all of this, seeing it as her fault. He knew. He felt much the same way. This was all his fault. He’d been the one to make her come home. Beatrice had wanted to stay in Scotland, had wanted to fade into anonymity and safety.

  What had he brought her home to but the same lie she’d been living in Scotland, only with more risk of exposure? The lie hadn’t even lasted a month. Now, they had the father of the child on their doorstep, demanding marriage, and Preston’s instincts to defend were at full force. This blackguard had come after people under his protection.

  ‘I am suggesting that Alton is a very dangerous man.’ He knelt in front of her, taking her hands to soften the blow. ‘He is after you, Beatrice, and all that you represent. He’s not just after money. He would have said so in his note. If he was after money, he would have named a price. Instead he named marriage. That tells me he needs money, large sums. He wants a dowry and access to a family that has more and he needs it fast. Hence the special licence. We won’t know more about why until we hear from Liam.’

  ‘Well, she’s not going to marry him,’ Evie put in staunchly.

  ‘Evie,’ Bea said quietly, ‘he’ll tell everyone the truth and you will all be ruined, called out as liars along with me.’ The room was silent. That was the sticking point. Although Alton couldn’t know it, everyone had a stake in this. Everyone’s reputation was on the line. If Alton knew, it would give him even more power.

  ‘Will he tell?’ Preston posed the question, a bold idea coming to mind. ‘Maybe. But do we fear his telling? He thinks we will cower, afraid. I say, let’s call his bluff. It will be Alton’s word against ours.’ The only way to counter the threats of a man like Alton was to go on the offensive with threats of one’s own.

  ‘Let him tell everyone the truth?’ Bea’s mother look aghast.

  ‘It’s his word against ours.’ Preston’s gaze landed on Penrose. ‘You have papers, a death certificate and a wedding certificate, with another man’s name on them. Those papers prove Malvern Alton couldn’t be Matthew’s father.’

  ‘Those papers are forgeries, Preston,’ Bea warned, concern for the others involved surging to the fore of her conscience. ‘To blatantly flaunt them...’

  Preston was not daunted. ‘Is exactly what they were bought for,’ he finished her sentence. ‘Why have them if you aren’t going to use them? The papers will show Alton as the liar, a trait probably in keeping with his overall character. I’m sure Liam will uncover something unsavoury about Alton in London and we can use it to go on the offensive with him. Blackmailers seldom like being the victims of their own plots.’

  ‘Ah, a stalemate, like in chess.’ Dimitri smiled knowingly. ‘Neither side can move. Very good.’

  Only it wouldn’t be enough, nothing more than a finger in the dyke. But it was a solution for now. He had a larger solution in mind, one that had kept him up late last night as he reviewed all of its angles, triggered by circumstances and by something Beatrice had said in the garden. But in order to move forward with phase two, he needed to clear the room and get Beatrice alone. He’d already made the mistake once of not consulting her in decisions that required her approval. ‘Dimitri, perhaps you and Evie could help the Penroses write an appropriately worded refusal to Alton while I speak with Beatrice?’ He was already moving towards her, extending his hand, signalling that he wanted her to step outside with him.

  * * *

  Her senses were on high alert as Preston escorted her to the garden. There was something more he wanted to talk about and he wanted privacy to do it. She was braced for it. Whatever ‘it’ was, it was going to be serious.

  ‘I’ve proposed a bold plan to stalemate Alton. However, it won’t be enough,’ Preston began, and Bea nodded. She had thought about that inside. Once stalemated, what next? Stalemates couldn’t last for ever. ‘We need to think about Alton’s responses.’ Preston ticked the options off on his long fingers. ‘First, he might choose to scare. He’ll see that this is a game that is quickly getting over his head and it will turn in on him. Or...’ Preston held up a second finger ‘...he’ll escalate the game because he has no other choice. At this point, we don’t know how desperate he is. If he can’t get what he wants by manipulation, he may try to take it by force.’

  She felt his eyes on her, an intense warrior’s gaze. ‘That means you, dear girl, are at risk. Your father’s forgeries protect the rest of us, but they don’t protect you. Those papers might prevent a scandal, but there is nothing currently in place that prevents Alton from marrying you.’

  ‘You mean kidnapping, the risk of a forced elopement, becoming the victim of a marriage that could not be annulled.’ Beatrice did not mince words. Those were frightening concepts indeed, to be compelled into marriage against her will. It was horrible to contemplate.

  ‘I am afraid it must be considered. Alton will do it if he’s desperate enough and I think he is.’ Preston took her hand, turning it over in his, his warm touch sending a comforting ripple up her arm as he delivered his verdict. ‘As long as you’re unmarried, you’re fair game for the altar. I didn’t want to discuss this inside in front of the others, not just yet.’ He paused. ‘Do you suppose Thomas has any champagne to hand for a toast?’

  His question took her unawares. They were talking about kidnappings and now suddenly there was a need for toasting. ‘What do we need champagne for?’

  ‘I want to announce our engagement,’ Preston said solemnly.

  ‘Our engagement? Are we even courting?’ Beatrice burst out in incredulous shock. ‘What new mad scheme is this?’ Had she even heard him right?

  ‘I wanted to ask you first,’ Preston went on in those same calm, even tones, proving it was no laughing matter. ‘As for the point of this scheme, it should be obvious. It’s the only way to keep you safe.’

  Bea shook her head, pulling her hand free, and walked away from him, wishing she could walk away from her thoughts as easily, but they chased her down the garden path. This was exactly what she’d feared, trapping Preston in a marriage of obligation. Only, she’d not seen it coming about under these circumstances. She’d th
ought only of familial pressure, a marriage of convenience. But this certainly wasn’t that. There was absolutely nothing convenient about it for him or for her. For him, it meant giving up his ambitions. Those in power would not offer plum positions to a man who married so far beneath himself and under scandalous circumstances. She would be the ruining of him.

  As for herself, she didn’t want to marry. She couldn’t face the guilt that would come living with Preston’s gracious sacrifice daily. Most of all, she didn’t want to fall in love again, to be hurt again when Preston came to regret his impetuous offer. It would leave her in a one-way relationship where all the love was on her side. She’d been swept off her feet by Alton, only to realise he hadn’t wanted her, hadn’t cared for her, not even in the beginning. It would be far worse to go through that a second time with Preston, knowing he’d rather live in his own private hell than to admit it and hurt her, even if it meant hurting himself in the process.

  Boots on the gravelled path signalled Preston had followed her. Would a simple refusal be enough? She turned to face him. ‘I can’t marry you.’

  ‘I thought you might say that.’ Preston’s eyes glinted. ‘Who said anything about marriage, Bea? I only wanted to announce our engagement.’

  ‘Oh.’ Guns spiked. She could feel a blush creep up her cheeks. Of course, he was smart enough to know he couldn’t marry her. She shouldn’t have worried. But she was still wary as she felt her way through the maze of his plan. That had been too easy. ‘It’s to be a temporary engagement, then?’ She knit her brow. That would certainly solve her misgivings. ‘But our families, and others, people will expect a wedding.’

  ‘Yes, people will expect. Alton will expect. That is the whole point, why this has to be just between us. I don’t want anyone else to know it’s a fraud. Not Evie, not Dimitri, not even May.’ That explained his desire for privacy. ‘I think it will be enough. We can have our engagement formally announced at Liam’s knighthood ball in London. The sooner we can have betrothal papers drawn up and signed, the better. They can stand as legal proof of our intention to wed. If Alton chooses to breach that agreement with a kidnapping attempt, I have grounds to sue him in court for a broken betrothal. I doubt he’ll want to risk that.’

  ‘London?’ Her brain had stopped on that one detail. London was the one place she’d wanted to avoid, but it seemed her reasons for avoiding it were slipping away.

  ‘London would be best. It’s where Alton thinks his rumours can do the most damage. But how much damage can he do if we’re there, dancing every night and looking entirely happy?’

  There was too much merit to that to argue. If Preston Worth was dancing with her at London’s fine entertainments, in the homes of the wealthy, she couldn’t be a disgraced debutante. It was the kind of social syllogism society thrived on: Preston Worth was an honourable man. She was dancing with Preston Worth, therefore she was honourable, too.

  ‘When I’m safe, we will cry off?’ She needed that assurance, for his sake. This was a ploy that could get wildly out of hand, especially with the pressures of London.

  ‘Yes. I will take the blame when the time comes, you needn’t worry.’ It seemed Preston had thought of everything. As usual.

  She eyed the house in the distance, thinking of the people inside, people she didn’t want to lie to. What would she say if Evie asked her about the engagement? She nodded towards the house. ‘Do you think they’ll believe us? The engagement is awfully coincidental.’

  ‘It makes perfect sense. Weren’t you saying the other day that my visits might be seen as representing certain intentions? That seems a good place to start. We can tell everyone I fell head over heels in love on our journey home from Scotland. It’s the kind of story people adore and it’s plausible.’ Preston had an answer for everything. Many of them untrue, however, and that bothered her. Her protection had been built on nothing but lies.

  ‘Your father will disapprove.’

  Preston shrugged. ‘Perhaps. For a while.’ Until the engagement was broken, Bea thought. Still, she disliked the idea of becoming a source of tension for the Worths. ‘Your parents will hate my parents over this. They’ll think my father put you up to it.’

  ‘We can hope not. This was our choice, no one else’s. No one will question the engagement if we don’t. We have to show everyone we want this and they will follow our lead.’ Preston leaned close, his mouth at her ear, suggestive in its proximity, sending a tremor through her. ‘Can we do that, Beatrice? Can we show them how much we want this?’ It was a wicked dare if ever there was one. He nipped at her ear and her pulse started to race.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Bea breathed.

  ‘Creating verisimilitude.’ Preston laughed under his breath, his mouth at her jawline, sprinkling it with kisses. ‘Everyone will think this is why we went outside, not to plot. A newly engaged woman should look a little...mussed...I think. Don’t you?’ He drew her against him then, his mouth claiming hers in a long, slow kiss designed to leave her breathless and it did, his kisses always did. They did more than leave her breathless. They left her wondering where the line between reality and pretence existed and how it was being erased, at least for her. How would she ever survive this with her rules intact?

  Preston stepped back and grinned as he assessed his handiwork. ‘There, now you look ready to do it for the audience.’ Preston squeezed her hand, leading her back to the house with enviable confidence. She’d only thought stolen kisses were madness. She’d been entirely wrong. This was true madness; faking an engagement and running off to London to prove to everyone how real it was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Just out of curiosity, Bea. Why wouldn’t you marry me? I mean, I am a good kisser.’ They’d been under way for an hour. The excitement of the impromptu engagement ‘party’ and the flurry of packing behind had left them tired. Even Matthew was asleep in the basket on the coach floor between them, a reminder they’d done this before.

  Beatrice gave him a wry smile. ‘Probably for that very reason.’

  ‘So, if I was a lousy kisser, you’d consider it?’ Preston turned the thought around in his mind. ‘Hmm. That seems backwards to me. I wouldn’t want to marry someone who hadn’t any skill in that direction and be stuck with them for ever.’ Preston couldn’t resist even when she shot him a scolding look. But he was starting to understand. It was the temptation that worried her.

  ‘It hardly matters, since we aren’t getting married,’ she reminded him, making a point of picking up her book and opening it to end the conversation.

  Well, he probably shouldn’t have teased her. It was indeed a sensitive subject, one that brought home the reality that they’d somehow slipped from being friends into being something else more intimate, which had nothing to do with the fraud engagement or the wedding that would never occur. He wondered if she understood that yet. Even if Alton had never shown up, even without the trappings of a created engagement, they would still be in this limbo. He’d kissed her long before Alton was a threat.

  Preston stretched his legs out, thinking about her conditions. She wouldn’t marry him. She wanted the engagement to be temporary. She wanted to make sure they’d cry off. Not the best circumstances under which to begin life as an engaged couple. But he knew Beatrice well enough to know agreeing to them was the only way in which he’d get her to London and into safety.

  In London they could combat Alton’s rumours if he tried to spread any. They would dance at the balls and parties, carrying on like any happily engaged couple, making those rumours hard to believe. If it came to that. Preston remained hopeful that their refusal would stall Alton—that he’d have to think about what to do next. But why the hell wouldn’t she marry him? He kept coming back to that as they jounced along.

  A few answers came to mind. Duty or desire? Was she concerned he was acting out of duty only? Yet, how could she think that after
their kisses? Surely they both recognised the desire. Or was it the desire she feared—not because she was frigid. Beatrice was anything but frigid. It was the loss of control. She’d made a mistake with Alton, let her desire lead her. Now, she was holding every man accountable for Alton’s error. Damn him. Damn Alton for turning Beatrice Penrose, one of the bravest people he knew, into a coward.

  Preston nudged her toe with his boot, making her look up. ‘I know why you don’t want to marry me.’

  ‘Not you,’ Bea corrected. ‘Anyone. I don’t want to marry anyone.’

  Preston shrugged. ‘Fine. Anyone. I know the answer to that, too.’ He waited a moment as she set her book aside and fixed him with her full attention. ‘You’re scared.’

  ‘Am not.’

  ‘Are, too.’ He couldn’t stifle the little grin that toyed with his mouth.

  ‘What exactly am I afraid of?’ Bea was rigid in her challenge, a sure sign he was on to something.

  ‘Intimacy. No, not physical intimacy, Bea.’ He stalled her protest with a shake of his head. ‘Emotional intimacy. You don’t want to trust.’

  ‘I don’t want to trust another man again, is that it?’ Bea’s chin went up in her customary defiance. ‘Then why I am here with you?’

  ‘You don’t want to trust yourself.’ Preston met her eyes. ‘You’re afraid to trust yourself again. You’re afraid of making another mistake. But you won’t, Bea. Not with me.’ He smiled once and picked up his own book.

  * * *

  Had he meant for her to find the line seductive? Because it was. Seductive as hell. Bea tried to focus on her book and couldn’t. All she could do was stare at the pages and pretend. She was starting to understand why Eve ate the apple. Bea would wager her allowance the serpent hadn’t slithered out and said, ‘I’m evil, eat my evil fruit.’ Oh, no, the serpent had most likely convinced Eve he was something else entirely: a friend, a confidant who was trusted for himself long before he started to mouth statements that had Eve questioning her conventional wisdom. It was one thing when a rake said, ‘You’ll be safe with me.’ No one expected him to mean it. It was another entirely when Preston Worth said it. She did expect him to mean it. She wanted to believe it. Therein lay the seduction.