CAD'S WISH

by Cheryl Holt

“I suppose to Parkhurst.”

  “If we were in London, it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to continue on like this, and I’d have to begin a marital search in earnest. After the debacle at Parkhurst, I told my father that I wouldn’t consider other candidates, but I was being a brat. I’ve never cared much about my position, but I can’t imperil an earldom by never siring any children. It’s probably a step too reckless—even for me.”

  “I can’t see you strolling through drawing rooms and chasing debutantes.”

  “Perish the thought.” He gave a mock shudder. “But if you and I married…”

  The prospect dangled between them, and apparently, she was a very greedy person. She yearned to latch onto him, but he came with some very heavy baggage that was too weighty for her to carry.

  At the moment, he was suffering a bout of melancholia, so he’d tossed matrimony onto the table, but she wasn’t convinced he was sincere. She struggled to envision what it would be like to be his wife, but she couldn’t fathom it.

  She’d like to assume it would be like the period they’d spent at Marston, but he had an entire life in town that he enjoyed very much, and he’d never abandon it for her. Oh, he might tarry in the country with her for some weeks or months, but he would swiftly be chomping at the bit, eager to be in the city where he could wallow in the vices that had always enticed him.

  If he returned to London, she wouldn’t accompany him. Would she dawdle at Marston alone? Would she worry and wonder how he was staying busy?

  Well, she knew how he’d occupy his time, and she’d be driven insane from pondering the beautiful trollops who would be a temptation he couldn’t resist.

  Yet if she didn’t wed him, what was her plan? Her only option was to slither to Parkhurst. Once she arrived, she’d have to seize control of the estate from Winston, but even if she could win the battle, he’d sneakily undermine her orders and decisions.

  In the end, she’d have to grow a spine and evict him and Amelia, but she simply couldn’t bear to contemplate the difficulty involved.

  A stronger woman might have marched home and taken the gloves off to wrestle over the issues that plagued her, but she wasn’t a fighter. Wouldn’t it be a relief to have Hunter handle it? If he was her husband, she could shuck off her responsibilities and let them fall to him. She suspected he’d revel in the brawls that would ensue.

  Ooh, how she wished she had an older, wiser female to advise her. If she’d been in London, she’d have visited Sybil Jones. Miss Jones was friendly with him, and no doubt, she could shed light on what kind of man he was deep down.

  If he offered promises, if he spoke vows, was there even the tiniest chance he would keep any of them?

  “You’re thinking too hard,” he said, “and when you do, you make ridiculous choices.”

  “I’m trying to figure out how our life would unfold if I was your wife.”

  “If we’ve come that far, then I’m definitely persuading you. You’re aware that I deem you to be a complete milksop, so I should have this settled in the next minute or so.”

  She jabbed him with her elbow. “You shouldn’t insult me when you’re proposing marriage. It won’t help to get you what you want.”

  “I always get what I want.”

  “This is where I find myself hesitating. I’ve never understood this fascination you have for me. Why would I be the one you pick?”

  “You’ve already deduced why: It would save me from chasing debutantes.”

  She clucked her tongue with offense. “You have to provide me with a better reason. Aren’t you the great Romeo who constantly charms women? Why would I feel special in even the slightest way? You have to make me think I’m marvelous and unique and that you absolutely must have me as your bride.”

  He traced a finger across her face, her nose, her lips, then he cupped her chin in his palm. The moon was shining in, casting magical shadows around the room, and his blue eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t name.

  “If I wed you,” he eventually said, “I’m betting I’d be happy forever.”

  The comment was so dear that her heart pounded under her ribs. She shook her head and drew away from him. “Don’t tell me things like that. It has me anxious to throw myself into your arms and beg you to have me.”

  “From the moment we met, it seemed as if Fate was pulling us together, so how can I let you go? Should I return to town without you? Could you bear to never see me again?”

  “No, I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Neither could I, so where does that leave us? We should wed, and we should do it right away. We’ll unravel the details later on.”

  “What if you hated being a husband?” she asked.

  “What if I loved it?” he countered. “What if I was the best husband in history?”

  She chuckled. “What if I hated being a wife?”

  “You wouldn’t hate it. You’re exactly the kind of female who should have a home and husband of her own. Why not have it be me and Marston?”

  “Would we live here?”

  As she posed the question, she blanched. Was she truly considering the notion? After all the years she’d shunned matrimony, was she prepared to toss off her reservations and forge ahead?

  It appeared she was.

  She wasn’t sure what was different. Perhaps it was the dark parlor and quiet conversation. Or perhaps it was his talking about the pain of their separating. Could she stand to never be with him like this in the future?

  No. He’d become important to her, and she couldn’t envision her world without him in it.

  “You’d have to promise me one thing,” she said. “You’d have to promise, and you’d have to mean it. This is the problem I’m having. You’ve been swept away by the crazed idea that you should swiftly proceed, but you can’t have fully assessed the ramifications.”

  “It’s not swift or crazed. When did we discuss it at Parkhurst? A month ago? More than that? And I’m thirty. I’m not a green boy who doesn’t know his own mind. I must choose a bride very soon. Why shouldn’t it be you?”

  “But me? Are you certain? I’m so afraid you haven’t thought this through. What if I agree, then you stumble on a dozen girls who are prettier and richer than me? If you ever regretted picking me, I’d be crushed.”

  He gazed at her and said, “I could never regret marrying you. I’ve never met a woman with whom I was so compatible, and I’ve met a lot of women. I’m a good judge about these issues.”

  “You just mentioned the dilemma that’s vexing me. It’s your doxies and you being an unrepentant cad. You’ve told me several times that you relish being a bachelor.”

  “You’re correct, but I’m not a child anymore. I need to begin acting like an adult.”

  “Yes, but I would expect the marriage vows to matter, and I’d demand you abide by them. You couldn’t have mistresses. You couldn’t dabble with slatterns. You couldn’t carouse with your friends, like that odious Mr. Carew, where loose tarts were constantly available to tempt you.”

  She’d leveled numerous ultimatums, and his response had her laughing.

  “You think Nate Carew is odious?”

  “Yes, and don’t change the subject. Marriage to me would involve such a huge alteration of your circumstances. It’s why I’m wary. I can’t picture you being able to behave yourself. It’s easy to promise, but it’s quite a bit harder to follow through.”

  “I understand that.”

  “If you had affairs and paramours, I’d be devastated, and it would destroy the affection I feel for you.”

  “You’re feeling some affection? It’s a start, I guess. I don’t suppose it will take much more effort on my part to wear you down.”

  He stood and went back to the window, and for an eternity, he stared outside. She couldn’t imagine what he was pondering, and she figured, by pointing out the obvious, he’d have recognized his folly and would retract his words, and she couldn’t decide how she viewed that prospect.

 
She might have been two separate people. One half of her realized she was mad to consider it. The other half was sure, if she was his wife, she’d be glad every minute. Which half would win out in the end?

  Finally, he walked over to the liquor tray, and he poured himself a whiskey. He downed the contents in a quick swallow, as if bolstering his courage. Then he came over and dropped to a knee, and it was thrilling and terrifying to observe. There was only one reason a man put himself in that position: to propose.

  He clasped her hand in his and said, “I swear to you, Hannah Graves, that I will give up my bachelor ways. I will forsake my wild habits and my disgusting friends and my debauched trollops. I swear about the trollops most of all. I will speak the vows, and I will stick to them. I will never betray you and I will never stray. I will never disgrace or shame you, and I will try my best to be the husband you deserve. Will you marry me?”

  It was a remarkable speech, and it brought a sting of tears to her eyes. “How could I possibly say no?”

  “You shouldn’t say it. This is the perfect conclusion for both of us. Take a chance on me, Hannah. Take a chance and see what happens.”

  If she hadn’t been so overwhelmed, she’d have shoved him away and declined, but she couldn’t. She was just Hannah Graves from Parkhurst. She had no parent to guide her, and she was struggling on her own out in the world. The road had been rocky and rough, and she’d made some dreadful blunders.

  It wouldn’t kill her to be a bride. It was the common path for nearly every female. And it wasn’t as if it would be a heavy burden to have handsome, dashing Hunter Stone as her spouse. In fact, she was wondering if it might not be incredibly grand.

  “Yes, I will marry you,” she said.

  He’d been holding his breath, and he exhaled so violently that he seemed to deflate. “I can’t believe I persuaded you. I boasted that I could, but I was lying. You are so stubborn, and I’m stunned.”

  “You will have to keep your promises. No women. No more vices or dissolute living.”

  “I will turn myself into a saint—just for you.”

  “I don’t need a saint. I simply need a normal, sensible husband.”

  “I’ve never been normal or sensible, so I’ll have to work on that situation.”

  “When and where should we accomplish it?” she asked. “How about at Marston? It might be a good idea. If you hosted a large celebration, it would ingratiate you to the servants and the neighbors.”

  “I don’t really know anyone here.”

  “How about London then? I attend a church there. We could have the vicar call the banns and be wed in a month.”

  “We shouldn’t wait.”

  “Are you getting cold feet already?”

  “No, but if I have four weeks to fret and stew, I might panic. You might back out too, and I’m not about to let you. How about if we elope to Scotland?”

  “That sounds positively scandalous.”

  “I’ve never done anything the proper way,” he said. “Haven’t you figured that out?”

  “What would people think?”

  “I don’t care two figs for idiots. We could ride like the wind, tie the knot in a hurry, then race home to England as man and wife. Our acquaintances could whine until they were blue in the face, but it would be over.”

  “Shouldn’t I meet your father first? Shouldn’t he have the opportunity to render an opinion about me?”

  “You are most especially not meeting my father in advance. I’m afraid you’d flee in horror.”

  “You haven’t convinced me that there’s much of a benefit to be joining your family.”

  “Once you’re shackled to my side, then I’ll introduce you to my relatives.”

  She laughed. “Well, you’ve met mine, and you’re still willing to proceed, so I can’t complain. When should we go?”

  “What’s tomorrow? Wednesday?”

  “Yes, Wednesday.”

  “How about Saturday? I have to send some letters and arrange our travel. It will give me three days to organize my schedule.”

  She studied him, wondering if she was insane, but she might have been on a sled and careening down a steep hill. She couldn’t slow or alter her course, so evidently, she was about to be Mrs. Hunter Stone, was about to be Viscountess Marston. How did she feel about it?

  As she searched through a pile of conflicting emotions, she recognized the main one to be excitement.

  “Let’s ride for Scotland on Saturday,” she said. “Let’s marry without delay.”

  “Are you sure? If you try to renege, I’ll kidnap you and drag you there.”

  “I’m not fickle, so you’re stuck with me.”

  “I hadn’t realized I was about to engage myself, so I don’t have a betrothal ring to slip onto your finger. Can you forgive me for my hideous lack of planning?”

  “I don’t need a ring tonight, but you should probably find one before we reach Gretna Green.”

  “I will find the prettiest gold band in the kingdom. Just for you.”

  He sat on the sofa, and he kissed her long and hard, sealing the deal, boxing her in with what they’d decided. She was more eager than she’d ever been, and suddenly, Saturday seemed very far away.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Hunter tiptoed toward Hannah’s bedchamber. It was very late, and he’d had too much to drink, so it was highly likely he was making a bad decision, but he would proceed anyway.

  It was Thursday night, and they’d enjoyed another perfect day at Marston, where they’d toured the estate and met more of the neighbors. With their finally agreeing to marry, they’d been able to tell people their wedding was imminent, so the frowns directed at Hannah had disappeared.

  They’d been repeatedly congratulated, and he’d walked through it all in a daze. Was this really happening to him? It seemed as if he was dreaming.

  He hadn’t written to his father to explain that he was about to elope. Nor had he written to Isabella, and he would deal with her once he returned. He hadn’t talked to Nate Carew either. His friend was a terrible gossip who would have rapidly spread the word that Hunter was about to be leg-shackled, and Hunter would rather have the news spread slowly and quietly.

  So far, Jackson was the only person with whom they’d discussed the announcement to any significant degree. Hannah had informed him at breakfast, and he hadn’t been particularly surprised.

  He’d been courteously chatty about it, asking questions as to when they’d wed and where. He’d waited until she left the room, then he’d glared at Hunter and said, I’ll be glad about this for now, but if you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you. I swear I will, and you shouldn’t ever think I don’t mean it.

  Hunter had firmly vowed that he would always cherish her. Jackson remained skeptical that he’d behave honorably, so Hunter would have to prove him wrong.

  He never dithered and second-guessed, so shortly, he would ride to Scotland and become a married man. His bachelorhood was about to end, and he couldn’t determine how he felt about that fact. He was numb on the inside, as if the whole notion of being a husband had frozen him.

  The pathetic reality was that he’d never been so happy. He and Hannah were completely compatible, and they were destined to be together. If he’d tried to part from her, he had no doubt Fate would have intervened to stop him.

  The emotions she generated were thrilling, and he wondered what sort of man he’d grow to be with her as his wife. She’d demanded he give up his disgusting habits and scurrilous acquaintances, and he’d promised he would.

  Would he truly change his ways?

  He couldn’t imagine it. He’d had three decades to wallow in iniquity, and he reveled with rogues and trollops because he liked rogues and trollops. If he worked to be more respectable, if he settled down to be a gentleman farmer, could he maintain the ruse?

  Well, he’d roll the dice and see where they landed. Even if he had a few good years with her before she realized he was a cur whom she couldn’t abide, he w
ould have those years to tuck into his box of experiences.

  He took a deep breath, ordered himself to quit being an idiot, then he entered her suite.

  The sitting room was dark, and in the bedroom, a candle burned on the nightstand. She hadn’t crawled under the covers, and he could hear her humming in the dressing room beyond.

  An unusual and potent rush of affection swept over him. He loved having her in his home, and the thought that she would always be present was soothing and delightful.

  Why was he being so silly about her? He wasn’t a fellow who ever waxed poetic, but he was suffering from the strongest perception that, if he didn’t shackle himself to her, he’d regret it forever. It felt exactly right to wed her, and he’d never be sorry.

  He crossed to the dressing room, and he leaned against the doorframe and quietly studied her. She was ready for bed, wearing a robe, her hair down. She’d finished brushing the pretty chestnut strands, and she put down the brush, then spun around.

  On observing him, precisely where he shouldn’t have been, she smiled with exasperation.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” she said, but she didn’t shoo him out.

  “I couldn’t stay away, not with you being just down the hall. You’re too much of an enticement.”

  “What if someone saw you?”

  “The entire household is fast asleep, and even if there was a footman wandering about, we’re leaving for Scotland on Saturday. We’re allowed to break the rules.”

  “You would say that.”

  “I’ll never act as you’re expecting. How long will it be before it drives you batty?”

  “I’m betting you’ll drive me batty from the very first minute. You’re vexing me right now. I ought to push you out and lock the door behind you.”

  “But you won’t.”

  Her smile widened. “No.”

  She came over to him, and he pulled her close so her body was pressed to his all the way down. With her cloaked in just her robe, she might have been naked. Lust shot through him, a wave so powerful he was amazed his knees didn’t buckle.

  For weeks, he’d been sniffing around her, but ignoring the desire she stirred, and with their racing toward an elopement, he didn’t have to continue ignoring it.