The Traitor's Club_Hugh

by Laura Landon

  Hugh pushed himself away from the mantel. Was there no sacrifice she wouldn’t entertain where her family was concerned?

  Hugh paced the room, eating the space from one wall to the other. When had his opinion of her changed so? How had he so quickly come to feel comfortable in her presence? And to look forward to the possibility that he might have a few moments more with her?

  It seemed preposterous how easily he’d come to enjoy congenial banter with Lady Annalise. When had she ceased being the plain-looking spinster he’d first met and turned into the gentle-spoken woman whose cheerful nature and formidable compassion were far more engaging than Society’s simpering females?

  Practicality dictated that he couldn’t turn down her request. But beyond that, she deserved what she’d asked for and so much more. She’d offered him everything he desired. She’d promised him the lifestyle he was in danger of losing. She’d provided him the perfect solution.

  Yet, he knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted.

  Chapter 7

  The Wendley ballroom was stuffy to the point that Nellie could barely breathe. Or perhaps it wasn’t so much the heat in the ballroom as it was her nerves that made the atmosphere unbearable. Lord Wythers had sent a note earlier in the day asking what function she would be attending. He told her he would meet her later in the evening and would give her his decision.

  Nellie prayed he’d realize how beneficial it would be to have her manage Red Oaks instead of letting it go to ruin. She prayed he’d have enough faith in her that he’d give her the opportunity to prove she was capable of keeping Red Oaks profitable.

  Nellie looked from where Frannie spun on the dance floor to the groups of guests gathered about the large hall. He was there, in the same spot where he’d been for the past several minutes, talking to his friends. The same friends who’d been with him when he fell from the terrace.

  He turned his head, and their eyes locked across the room. Nellie’s heart raced. To say that he was handsome was an understatement. He was devilishly good-looking, but even more, he was utterly comfortable in his imposing physique. Each time he moved, it was as if he’d struck a calculated pose, ready for some artist to capture him on canvas. And yet, the result was completely natural and nonchalant.

  She couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t married. She couldn’t understand how he’d avoided being snared by one of the many beautiful females in Society whose purpose was to find a husband. Nellie knew if she were as pretty as any one of her sisters, she would have done everything in her power to get him to notice her.

  But such thoughts were folly. Having someone as handsome as Lord Wythers show an interest in her was a dream that would never come true.

  Her heart seemed to jump to her throat, and she couldn’t stand it any longer. She needed to get this over with. She needed to know what he’d decided.

  Nellie watched him until she was certain he saw her, then she turned to the closest set of double doors and stepped out onto the terrace.

  Cool air swirled around her, and she welcomed its calming effect. She stepped to the far side of the terrace and waited. It didn’t take long and he was there. She turned.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  “Lady Annalise.”

  He came near her, and she was forced to lift her gaze when he stopped before her. He was that tall.

  “Would you care to stroll in the garden?” He extended his arm, and Nellie placed her fingers atop his sleeve.

  She hoped he couldn’t feel the trembling of her hand but knew he probably could. She was that nervous.

  “I know you’re anxious to hear my decision,” he said when they were far enough from the house that they wouldn’t be overheard. A lovely pavilion stood near a small pond, and he led her there. They stepped up the two steps to a wooden bench that rimmed the perimeter of the whitewashed railing. He sat beside her. “Are you sure you wish to do this?” he asked when they were settled.

  “Quite, my lord.”

  “Then I will accept your proposition,” he answered.

  Nellie was so relieved she thought she might not be able to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. She brought her hands up to her mouth to stifle her cry of joy.

  “Thank you, my lord. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  Nellie watched as Wythers rose to his feet and stood with his back to her. He faced the small pond with his hands clasped behind him. He stood with his legs braced wide and his shoulders rigid. To Nellie he looked like a battle-ready warrior.

  “I have one stipulation to my agreement, however,” he said.

  His voice was harsh, his words firm. It was obvious that his stipulation was extremely difficult for him to make. She surmised it would be equally difficult for her to agree to it.

  “Very well,” she said. “What is your stipulation?”

  He turned. “I feel it’s essential that we come to an understanding of all the details concerning our agreement. We must both understand what we’re getting into.”

  “That seems wise,” Nellie answered.

  “These are the basic details I agree to,” he said, taking his place beside her. “I give you complete control of Red Oaks Estate to do with as you see fit. This includes the land, the livestock, the manor house, and everything else included on the grounds of the estate.”

  The air left Nellie’s lungs. “But I—”

  “Please, hear me out.” He paused for several moments. “As I made clear to you before, I have no intention of ever retiring to the country. The house will be yours forever. Or for as long as you want it. It’s not such a far distance from your father’s estate that you cannot regularly visit.”

  “Do be careful, Lord Wythers. You make it sound as if you’re giving me the estate”

  “I am.”

  Nellie was in shock. He was giving her the estate? Why would he do something so irresponsible? “That was not what I intended when I offered to manage it.”

  “I know it’s not what you intended, but it’s what I want. It’s important that I make it clear that I will never reside at Red Oaks. Since you will make all decisions concerning the estate, it is best that Red Oaks be in your name. Once you take up residence, I will seldom visit. If ever.”

  Nellie lowered her gaze to her lap. Did he think she was hoping she might have opportunities to occasionally see him if his name were affixed to the deed of the estate? “I understand, my lord. You will never be required to visit Red Oaks after I move there. And ownership of the estate will revert to you upon my dismissal, or when I leave.”

  He nodded. “Now, about your payment.”

  “I require little other than the manor house to live in and the staff that is already there to take care of the stable and the gardens. I would require no more than one hundred pounds per annum.”

  “Surely, you expect more, Lady Annalise.”

  “I shouldn’t think so, but if something unforeseen comes up, I will send word, and we can discuss it then.” She paused. “I’m sure you will want to know the previous year’s profits so you will have an approximation of how much you will have to spend while in London. I will have that amount for you as soon as I peruse the ledgers. I would assume though, by the size of the estate and the condition of the grounds, that your worth will be extensive.”

  “My father indicated as much,” he said, then rose to his feet.

  Nellie missed his nearness. There was something very reassuring when he was close. Something comforting. Having him close allowed her a glimpse of what it might be like to have someone on whom she could rely. But such thoughts were foolish, and she shook her head to erase them.

  “Is there anything else you can think of that we need to discuss, Lady Annalise?”

  “No, my lord. Other than I don’t know how I can ever repay you for the trust you’re placing in me.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted to form a small smile. “I don’t know why, my lady, but I have no doubts as to your competence. You
seem to be the kind of person who can do whatever you set your mind to.”

  Her heart swelled with the unexpected accolade. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “When would you like to begin?” he asked.

  “I think immediately,” Nellie answered. The sooner she could assure Franklin that he was needed to manage the Earl of Lyman’s estate, the sooner Colette could rest easy. “Yes, immediately. Within the next week.”

  “Very well,” he said in a tone that sounded strangely serious. As if he was resigned to something he didn’t want to do.

  He turned.

  “I will get a special license then, and we will be married within the week.”

  Chapter 8

  Nellie bolted from the wooden bench. “What did you say?”

  “Surely you realize it would be impossible for me to install you in my home in the country without causing irreparable damage to your reputation?”

  “You think Society would believe I was . . . was . . .”

  “A kept woman, Lady Annalise. Yes, Society would believe you were my mistress.”

  “No. Society wouldn’t for a moment believe that.”

  “Wouldn’t they?” he asked as if he knew something she didn’t. “What makes you think that?”

  Nellie had been embarrassed by her looks several times in her life, but never had she been so completely mortified. Never had she been forced to point out what everyone except Hugh Wythers seemed to see. Never had she been forced to put into words that she understood how Society saw her, how even Lord Wythers had seen her the night he fell from the terrace. As a woman so plain and ordinary that most considered her . . . ugly.

  “I cannot marry you, my lord,” she said past the lump in her throat. She knew what her refusal meant to not only herself but to Colette and Franklin. Yet, agreeing to his proposal would be the most degrading action she could take. She would live to regret taking his name as much as he would live to regret offering it.

  “May I ask your reason?”

  “Not one reason, my lord. But many.”

  He hesitated several moments. “I see,” he answered on a drawl. “Then, may I ask your reasons?”

  Nellie clutched her hands together in a viselike grip. “The first reason is that . . . you don’t want to marry me. No one in Society would understand how you could be forced to marry me. And you and I know they would think less of you for it.”

  “Do you think I care one whit what Society thinks of me?”

  “Perhaps you don’t, but I’m sure your mother and father do.”

  Lord Wythers slashed his hand through the air. The action seemed so appropriate for him. Such an indication of his disregard for what anyone thought of his behavior. Even his family. Then he turned his focus on her.

  “And what makes you so certain that I don’t want to marry you?”

  Nellie was speechless. “How many reasons would you like?” she asked when she could find her voice.

  “Three.”

  His answer almost made her laugh. “Three?”

  “Yes, three. I’ll wager you cannot come up with three reasons I don’t want to marry you.”

  “Very well.” This was getting serious now. He was actually forcing her to convince him he couldn’t marry her. How ridiculous! “You don’t love me.”

  “That’s not a credible answer,” he argued. “Few Society marriages begin with love.”

  “Well, I would prefer mine did.”

  “We don’t oft get what we prefer. If we did, my father wouldn’t have demanded I manage an estate to earn a living. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. And I wouldn’t be forced to convince you that marriage is the only solution to our problems. Besides,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows. “We don’t have to love each other. You’ll live in the country at Red Oaks, and I’ll remain in the City. It’s not as if we’ll have any contact with each other.”

  He was correct. She’d known that from the start. So why did it hurt so much to hear it spoken so bluntly?

  “Go on,” he said. “You still haven’t come up with one reason.”

  Nellie thought. “Other than your friends, no one in Society knows we’re even acquainted. There’s no way they will ever believe you want to marry me.”

  “Ha. That can be remedied right now.”

  He held out his hand. He intended to escort her inside. “We’ll return to the ballroom, and I’ll parade around the room with you on my arm. Then, when the next waltz is played, I’ll ask you to dance and hold you scandalously close. Tongues will wag before the last strain of the waltz is finished, and we’ll be an item before the ball is over.”

  “No!” Nellie refused to take his arm. “You are impossible.”

  “Of course I am,” he admitted with a heart-stopping smile that stole her breath. “That’s what landed me in this situation.”

  “Which is where I intend to leave you.”

  “No, you don’t, Anna—” He stopped and looked at her. “Annalise is entirely too formal a name. What does your family call you?”

  “They call me Nellie. But you may call me Anna—”

  “Perfect. As I was saying, Nellie.” He smiled. “No, you don’t. You don’t intend to turn me down, because you can’t. It would destroy your family. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you thought only of yourself.”

  Nellie walked to the furthest spot away from Lord Wythers. When she reached the opposite side of the pavilion, she braced her hands on the smoothly painted railing and looked out into the darkness. They were both silent for several long, tense moments. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  She knew the one reason she could give him to get this foolish notion out of his head, although she was loath to have to say it. But he’d given her no choice.

  Without turning, she stiffened her back and squared her shoulders. “There is one reason for us not to marry that you cannot argue against.”

  “Name it.”

  “Your future heir.” Nellie swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You may not think you want a son to pass on your name, but the day will come when that will be something you desire.”

  “Are you saying you refuse to have a child with me?”

  That did shock her. She turned to face him as if he’d turned into a ball of fire and singed the hair from her body. “What?”

  “I asked if you would refuse to have a child with me.”

  Nellie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She couldn’t believe he would go so far as to . . . that he would want to make her his wife in the true sense of the word. Surely, he didn’t.

  “Do you want children, Nellie?”

  “Of course, my lord, but I—”

  “Then I will give you a child.”

  Nellie stepped to the nearest bench and dropped down when her legs gave out from beneath her. Her body trembled uncontrollably. She’d never received such a shock in her life.

  “We will consummate our marriage, Nellie. Our vows may be exchanged over a special license and our living conditions an enigma to Society, but our marriage will be legal and binding in every sense of the word. We will consummate our marriage, and I will continue to bed you until you are certain you are with child. If you wish, I will return to you often enough to give you a second child.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked up to the rafters to keep them from spilling down her cheeks.

  “Why?” she said when she was able. “Why would you think to give me children?”

  He laughed.

  His laughter was deep and rich, as if he’d just heard the end line of a marvelous witticism. “What? Do you think I’m such a bastard that I would take you for my wife, haul you off to the country, and force you to do all the work so I can live a life of comfort in London, without offering you anything in return? Do you think that little of me?”

  “It’s not that I think little of you. That isn’t what we agreed upon,” she said hesitantly. “What I wanted when I came to you
was a business arrangement. That I would manage Red Oaks for you so my sister and her husband would not have to leave us. I knew when we made the agreement that you intended to remain in London. I didn’t expect more.”

  “I know you didn’t. You never expect more. It’s what makes you so special.”

  Special. He’d called her special.

  Nellie embraced the word in a way that startled her. She’d never experienced a compliment of that magnitude. At least not from a man. And certainly not from a man the likes of Hugh Wythers. It warmed her to her soul and set her smiling from somewhere deep inside.

  They remained where they were for several moments. Nellie seated on the bench, Lord Wythers standing near her.

  “Do you have an answer for me now?”

  Nellie lifted her gaze. “Will you allow me a day to make a decision?”

  “Of course,” he answered, then held out his hand for her to take.

  Nellie placed her hand in his and rose. He didn’t move, and neither did she. She tipped her chin upward to look at him, and he locked his gaze with hers and held it.

  “There’s something else I thought of that we’ve not shared.”

  His gaze lowered to her mouth and for a moment Nellie thought he might kiss her. But of course he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t expect one of the most handsome men in London to kiss her. Not when he wasn’t completely foxed.

  Then, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

  His lips touched hers with a tentative warmth that was strangely satisfying. His touch was gentle at first, as if he knew she was inexperienced at kissing and wanted to give her time to accustom herself to his touch.

  Without words, he lifted his mouth and brought her arms up around his neck. Then he brought his lips back to hers.