Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7)

by Heather Boyd

He tugged her along until they reached the horses then helped her mount. He was gentle and sweet and not at all like the man who’d thrown her over his shoulder and carried her off like a barbarian intent on ravishing her.

  She’d enjoyed his ravishment, actually.

  They rode in silence again but she couldn’t stop looking at him. He was different somehow.

  His smile widened suddenly and she grew alarmed. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  “It seems Oswin couldn’t keep his mouth shut after all.” He pointed ahead. Lanterns had been placed at regular intervals from the stables leading toward the manor house. “You’re being directed home, my lady.”

  “Home?”

  He nodded. “In my family, every woman a Hill takes into the woods, to the high clearing, becomes a bride that morning. It’s tradition to take the woman you want to marry to the wishing tree to ask for the blessing of offspring and prosperity.”

  Her stomach dropped. “I’m not a bride. You are certainly not my husband.”

  “Not in a legal sense, no.” He smiled without concern for her protest. “Not yet.”

  “Not ever.” She reined in her mount. “I will not marry you.”

  “You already did. I gave you my heart, my soul, in those woods. I am in love with you, and that only happens once for a Hill.”

  “You did not mean it,” she protested. “No man or woman ever means what is said during intimacy. You cannot love me.”

  “I do. I will always love you.”

  She peered ahead and noticed shapes moving in the shadows. “Dear God, there’s a welcoming party?”

  “You were a popular choice. My butler even pulled me aside and demanded to know what my intentions were. I didn’t have any that day, but I do now.”

  Esme covered her face. “Stop this nonsense, Richard. I cannot and will not marry you.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  She kicked her feet clear of the stirrup and dismounted recklessly without help. She staggered away from the horses, horrified that he’d not understood. Darkness was better than facing up to an impossible situation.

  Richard must have dismounted too because he grabbed her and tried to embrace her. “You love me. I know you must.”

  “Love doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  Esme pushed hard against him, seeking solitude. “Love won’t matter one bit when I deny you the son you need. I told you I was barren. I cannot have children.”

  “We will in time,” he protested. “Esme, I cannot marry someone else and feel this way about you.”

  “Of course you can, and you must. Your happiness matters a great deal to me, but it will matter even more to the people who look up to you, depend on you. You need a son and I cannot ever give you one. I will not go through a second marriage like that.”

  “Surely—” he started but when she held up her hand for silence, he held his tongue.

  “You and your people deserve better than me. I am, as my husband so succinctly put it once, as barren as a brick. I will never give you a child, much less an heir.”

  He was silent a moment.

  “I know my limitations, Richard. I have never conceived. Not once with the dozen or so lovers I’ve had since becoming a widow.” She held out her arms. “Why do you think my affairs are short-lived? They must be. Too much is riding on your succession for me to be so selfish as to allow this. I will not permit the title to pass to Adrian Hill’s offspring if I can help it. You must marry someone else and have a child with them.”

  “I had hoped you were simply trying to reassure me you had no expectations beyond being my lover.” He dragged her into his arms. “I’d thought you put on a brave face so you couldn’t be hurt if we fought again.”

  “The bravest face I possessed to hide my disappointment in myself. I told you our first night together that there was no need to worry because it’s the painful truth.”

  “But I need you,” he whispered as he kissed her brow. “I couldn’t have gone through with the ritual with anyone but you. I’ve never wanted to do that to any woman.”

  She stilled. “Ah, so it was not your fantasy but a duty.”

  “Yes,” he hissed. “I like your hands on me too.”

  “Then you must remember your duty to your family. Find yourself another woman to wed. I am sure she will easily love you.” Her voice caught on the last word and she shook her head as she discovered her claim was all too real. She had fallen in love with him, and now she had even more incentive to give him up than ever. “We had a wonderful dalliance and it must end.”

  “No. We can be together until I find a bride.”

  “And risk hurting yourself even more.” She evaded his embrace. “Be reasonable.”

  He took a step in her direction and teased her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “Tell me I didn’t imagine how good it was between us?”

  She wanted to turn into his embrace for comfort, but it would be a mistake and might make him think there was hope.

  “It was good.” She smiled that he could still need her reassurance. “You are the best lover I’ve ever had.”

  He bit his lip. “So the sex is all that counts with you.”

  “Telling you I fell in love with you too would change nothing.” She stroked her fingers down his face one last time. “Be at peace, Richard, and take my dreams with you. I’ll hope they come true for you soon.”

  “Don’t go,” he whispered when she eased back.

  “I have no choice. I can’t stay.” She strode toward the house but without intending to encounter any of the Hill family servants who sought to welcome the new bride home. Her heart ached as she quickened her steps, almost running away from Richard and all he’d blindly offered. As she went, she wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d marry Richard in a heartbeat if only she wouldn’t ruin his life in the process.

  Desperate for comfort from one who would understand her pain, she made her way to Harriet’s bedchamber and knocked on the heavy door. “It’s Esme.”

  The door opened quickly and instead of Harriet, she faced Miles Hammond in a state of undress. She forced her emotions away, along with her shock at seeing him there after midnight.

  He blinked. “Sweetheart?”

  “I need Harriet,” she whispered.

  He ushered her inside and closed the door behind them.

  Harriet was sitting up in bed in a demure nightgown. She spared Esme a fleeting glance and then grimaced. “Windermere took you to that damn wishing tree too, didn’t he? Perverse bastard.”

  Harriet threw herself out of bed and rushed to embrace her.

  “He’s not like Avery,” Esme promised. She winced at the broken quality of her voice and straightened her spine. “He imagines us married.”

  Harriet spat out a bark of bitter laughter. “Marriage? That’s new. They never talk about it openly but it’s actually a fertility ritual dating back hundreds of years, and particular to this locality.” Harriet urged her toward a chair and wiped her tears away with the cuff of her sleeve. “Carolyn Hill explained the significance to me recently. Avery uses it for his own twisted purpose, but I had thought Windermere was above such nonsense.”

  “Wasted on me,” Esme sobbed. “There’s nothing that can make me pregnant. I’ve long given up on that dream.”

  “Oh my darling,” Harriet whispered as she rocked Esme like a babe in arms. “I am so sorry he’s hurt you with this. What can I do?”

  Esme sniffed. He’d hurt them both, and there was nothing to be done but make a graceful exit as soon as possible. “Can I go with you both when you leave? I need to get away from this place.”

  “Of course you can.” Hammond agreed, pouring drinks at the sideboard. “We can even leave today; the sun will be up in a few hours. I was thinking another month spent in the country would be just the shot before winter sets in. We can make merry together and forget these blasted Hills ever existed.”

  “I’d like that,
” Esme whispered, but feared forgetting Richard might just be impossible. She’d like to try though. “I don’t think I can face him or London for a long time.”

  Hammond handed her a glass. “I’ll make you both smile again, I swear it.”

  Sixteen

  The drawing room chatter was strangely subdued as Richard rejoined his guests for a late breakfast or early luncheon. He’d overslept unfortunately by a wide margin, so this was his first chance to begin his campaign to get back into Esme’s good graces. Having her smile warmly in his direction again was a priority.

  Getting her to talk about their marriage was next, and her insistence she couldn’t give him children. She’d never delivered a child, but for the first time last night, he’d understood how that lack hurt her. What could it hurt to try for a child together? He was certainly interested in bedding her as often as she’d allow to make a good try of it.

  He glanced around but couldn’t see her at first, so he helped himself to a plate of cakes and chose to mingle with the ladies who’d gathered around Mrs. Hill, offering well-meaning advice on her impending motherhood. As one, they brushed aside his attempts to converse. Even Carolyn wouldn’t look at him, and he puzzled over that new development.

  Esme would tell him what he’d missed and undoubtedly tell him what to do. He pursed his lips to hide a smile. God, she never could stop, and he didn’t ever want her to.

  What he’d found in Esme was the one person who made him happier than he’d ever been—both in bed and out of it. They had always been honest, especially about the things that mattered. If she believed herself barren he’d accept it, but that did not mean they couldn’t be together as man and wife.

  He took a tour of the room again, noticing by the end that Esme was not present. It was hard to miss that most guests appeared openly hostile toward him and didn’t want to talk even while they sipped his best champagne. In desperation for a friendly face, he found Jillian and pulled her aside. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, nothing beyond the usual. The ladies have had a fine day. We set up our easels in the conservatory and painted each other. Some of the results were amusing.”

  “Some?” He couldn’t wait to see Esme’s efforts. She wasn’t particularly fond of creating art as far as he could tell, but she never let Jillian down and always encouraged the other women to participate. “Can I look forward to a display?”

  “Later today, I think it should be, before the guests start departing tomorrow. Oswin will set everything up in the library. I had considered the long gallery as a venue but perhaps that wouldn’t be very kind to force comparisons to the greater painters hung there on us all.”

  “A wise decision.” He bit his lip as Lord Hogan glanced their way. Esme’s warning prodded his memory. In the excitement of his budding relationship with her, he’d neglected to pass along her message to his sister, but he could remedy that now, hoping he wasn’t about to blunder. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Might we speak in private?”

  Jillian took his arm and he led her farther away to a quiet corner.

  He didn’t waste any time. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about your future.”

  “Oh?”

  She appeared startled and he rushed on so she didn’t get the wrong idea. “I wanted to be sure you knew I am happy to have you home and reassure you there is no reason to rush into another relationship if you’d rather not.”

  His sister’s shoulders relaxed. “For a moment, I wasn’t sure you were going to give me your blessing or marching orders.”

  He glanced toward Hogan again. “The gentleman’s not spoken to me. Is it serious between you two?”

  She smiled softly. “No. Well, maybe once I entertained a notion, but my eyes are opened now.”

  Richard folded his arms across his chest. “Esme spoke to you already, didn’t she? I told her I would do it. That woman will be the death of me.”

  “Not soon enough, brother dear.” Jillian smiled a touch sadly. “But yes, Esme spoke to me several days ago. Said I should make up my own mind and I have taken my time forming my own opinions during the house party.”

  Curiosity burned when she didn’t elaborate immediately. “And?”

  “She was right about Lord Hogan.” Jillian fidgeted. “There is nothing he likes more than an idea he put forward himself and to subtly ridicule others so I might think less of them. He hasn’t a kind word to say about Esme and suggested we shouldn’t even be friends already, if you can imagine. She warned me he’d try to subvert my friendships first, and she was right.”

  Richard’s hackles rose. “You keep your friendship with Esme, with anyone you choose.”

  “I will.” Jillian shrugged. “I just hope recent events will not prevent her from being friends with me. I do like her more than any other female acquaintances you’ve had.”

  He shuffled his feet. He shouldn’t have delayed seeking out Esme a moment longer than necessary. “I cannot imagine Esme would ever snub you.”

  “She might.” Jillian stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Did you have to be such a scoundrel with no thought to her feelings?”

  Richard glanced around quickly, realizing everyone must know they’d argued last night. How they could know he wasn’t sure but he would fix everything soon. “You know how hot her temper can be. It’s just a misunderstanding. By tomorrow all will be settled between us.”

  “That would be difficult.”

  “Esme can be entirely sensible when she wants to be. I can be very persuasive.”

  Jillian gripped his arm and stared into his face until he grew uncomfortable. “How did I get so unlucky in my brothers? You are both so entirely witless it breaks my heart. Someone should have told you by now.”

  “Don’t ever lump me in with Avery’s follies.” Richard scowled. “If he’d just settle on one woman, he wouldn’t be so bloody miserable. I’ll talk Esme round, never fear.”

  Jillian shook her head. “Since I’ve just come from having the same conversation with Avery, I guess I’ll have to be as blunt with you too.”

  He glanced around the room quickly. “Do spit it out. I need to speak with her.”

  Jillian scowled. “She left this morning in Mr. Hammond’s carriage at daybreak, without a word of farewell to anyone but Oswin. The poor man cried, I think.”

  He searched for one particular face among the far crowd. He swallowed when he didn’t find Hammond seated among his guests. “Alone?”

  His sister huffed. “Lady Ames and Mr. Hammond went with her. Avery didn’t take the news well. I would suggest you don’t venture into the morning room until repairs have been made.”

  He swallowed hard. “She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye,” he insisted. But a hollow feeling filled the pit of his stomach. She had insisted she had to leave last night. He’d not believed her then. He’d certainly not imagined she’d leave without speaking to him again.

  Richard noticed again all the disappointed looks aimed his way. “That explains my reception this afternoon.”

  He took a drink from a servant and sipped, trying to accept he’d already lost Esme.

  “Everyone—and I mean everyone but Avery and Lord Hogan—liked Esme for you. I have heard more whispers about the two of you making a match than I have of anyone this Season. Why did you have to follow family tradition and ruin everything by taking her out into the woods?”

  “She wasn’t upset about the abduction,” he told her. “But what it signified for our relationship alarmed her.”

  “It is customary in our society to allow a woman beyond their first season the luxury of some choice in whom they wed, rather than forcing it on her.”

  “It wasn’t my presumption exactly that upset her.” It was worse. She couldn’t give him a son and denied them both any happiness. Without a child, she believed there was no reason to wed him.

  “Doubly a fool.” With that, Jillian rushed off, leaving Richard uncertain of what to do next. He
dropped the glass to a nearby table.

  A footman with a tray of drinks stared, eyeing him warily from a distance. Richard waved him over. Now that was what he really needed while he formulated a plan to get her back. No doubt she was miles away by now so he had better come up with a compelling reason why the succession wasn’t important before he followed.

  There was no point rushing Esme to change her mind anyway. He’d never win her over that way. She believed they had no future and only time would prove his devotion sincere. “Another whiskey, Pip. Better make it a dozen. I have some scheming to do.”

  The footman came close, but then simply shoved the tray toward him. “Have the lot.”

  Too stunned for words by the servant’s surly attitude, he caught the tray before the footman stalked off.

  Tucked between the glasses was a folded sheet of paper. He flicked it open one-handed and read.

  The paper contained six names, all women. The note was signed with an E and contained a postscript: don’t argue with me.

  He grimaced at her obvious intent—marry one of them, but not her.

  “Damn that stubborn woman!” He crumpled the note and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. Even when she wasn’t here she drove him crazy. How could he choose anyone else after Esme had made him love her?

  He’d have to prove her wrong about those other women first and then he’d claim his proper bride at last.

  Seventeen

  Three months later…

  Esme’s knees would have given out had she been standing instead of lying flat on her back while a doctor examined her nether regions. Her hands began to shake and she clutched the sheet beneath her tightly to hide her reaction. “I cannot be,” she whispered.

  Her doctor, a stranger Mr. Hammond had brought to see her against her better judgment, regarded her over his spectacles as he sank into the chair beside her bed, where she’d rested for the last few weeks since her sickness had begun. “Assuredly, you are.”

  Her head spun, her stomach churned anew. Where was her own doctor when she needed him most, to tell her the real truth? Swooning was definitely a possibility and if she’d been standing, she might forgive herself for indulging in such theatrics given the news that had just been delivered to her. “How can I have a child?”