Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  “Ah, sounds as though the man is besotted and fears someone snatching up his lady love before he has a chance to speak his piece.”

  “Is not there someone else you can plague, Mullens? I’m sure there are several ladies here tonight who would enjoy your attention. I, on the other hand, do not, so I will leave you to your conquests.” Nash strolled away, wishing Lady Grace would appear. She’d assured him at his last afternoon call that she and her mother would be attending.

  His lady love, indeed. He was selecting a bride, not a mistress. Love was for besotted fools like Devon, not him. Although he did not intend to maintain a mistress once wed, he still preferred a marriage of respect and affection. Once love entered into it, emotions ran rampant and things got messy.

  If anything proved that point, all he had to do was remember Lord Wentworth, whom he’d gone to University with. The poor sap had fallen madly in love with Lady Maryann Wesley, and had pursued the woman until she accepted his offer. Within months of their wedding, she had taken a lover, and Wentworth had continued to make a fool of himself before the ton.

  The entire debacle had ended in disgrace when he took a gun to his head. No. No love and volatile emotions for him. A good, solid marriage with no romantic entanglements was all he needed.

  He rubbed his head as he proceeded to the refreshment table for a lemonade.

  He’d been fighting a headache since his encounter with Lady Arabella’s cat that afternoon. As the hours passed, his head had hurt more and more, and the glass of champagne had made it worse. This was one of those headaches that would only go away with quiet and sleep.

  Since he and Ashbourne’s middle son had been friends at Eton, Nash had spent time at the family’s townhouse and he was familiar with the layout. He would retire to the library for ten or fifteen minutes and surely by then, Lady Grace would have arrived. He would have a dance with her, take her to the garden, offer his proposal, and then leave for home.

  Nash exited the ballroom through the French doors. He went down the patio steps and turned right, following the path to another set of steps that reached the French doors leading to Lady Ashbourne’s sitting room. He carefully crossed the room in the darkness and exited, accessing the corridor. Candles burning in sconces along the walls cast a dim light, but enough for him to make his way several doors down and enter the library. Once the heavy wooden door closed, noise from the ballroom receded, and peace descended on him like a welcoming shroud.

  The smell of the books greeted him, reminding him of his own library. The one in town was adequate but his library in Suffolk was immense, and he’d spent many a day there, reading all the books his father, and the Lords Clarendon before him, had amassed.

  He strolled to the window and looked out at the darkness. Gas lights flickered along the winding garden path, illuminating Lady Ashbourne’s spring flower gardens. He turned when the sound of the door opening drew his attention.

  A young woman entered. From the dim light he could barely make out her countenance. As she walked farther into the room, the moonlight from the window caught her and he sucked in a surprised breath.

  Lady Arabella.

  Bloody hell. What the devil was she doing here? Finding another way to torment him?

  She closed the door behind her and moved forward. “I am sorry to disturb you, my lord but I received a note to meet my mother here.”

  “Ah, perhaps she has more animals for you to rescue?” He raised one eyebrow, delighting in the look of annoyance on her face. Why he enjoyed irritating her was a puzzle. But he did like to watch her lips tighten and her cheeks flush a lovely red. Although she pretended to be a lady, there was a lot of fire and passion in the young woman.

  Lady Arabella drew herself up. “I do not know why she wanted to meet me. In fact, the entire thing seems suspicious, now that I think about it.” She waved a paper in his face. “Did you write this note?”

  “What?” He reared back. “Why in heaven’s name would I ask you, of all people, to meet me here? Mayhaps you saw me enter and want me to climb the library selves to rescue another creature?”

  “Oh, you.” She stamped her foot. “I almost wish I had left Miss Aphrodite in the tree rather than ask anything of you.”

  “I, too, wish you had decided on that course of action. Then I would have been able to enjoy my stroll in the park.”

  They glared at each other. “Well, I see no reason to stay here. I must have misunderstood her note.” She sniffed. “I am sorry to have caused you any bother, my lord.”

  Chagrined at appearing to be an ogre, he said, “Are you able to find your way back to the door? It is quite dark in here.”

  “I shall be fine. Thank you.” She turned her back to him and moved only a few steps when she stumbled. Always the gentleman, Nash rushed forward and caught her in his arms just as she would have fallen to the floor.

  The door to the library flew open and several people stood at the entrance. “What is the meaning of this?” Her chin raised, a woman stormed into the room, a contingent of cohorts right behind her.

  “Bloody hell,” Nash mumbled as he stood before the crowd, in a darkened room, with Lady Arabella Danvers in his arms.

  Chapter Three

  Black dots danced before Arabella’s eyes right before she shook her head, refusing to allow herself the luxury of swooning. She had no idea what was going on, but knew she needed her full faculties to avoid the pending disaster.

  “Mother!” She moved away from Lord Clarendon and took a few steps. She raised her fingertips to her forehead, as once again, dizziness overcame her. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her from tumbling to the floor. “I received a note—”

  “Say no more!” Her mother raised her hand in the air. She turned to Lord Clarendon. “My lord, unhand my daughter.”

  “I would be most happy to accommodate your request, madam, but if I do so, I can guarantee she will slip to the floor.” Arabella felt his voice vibrate right through their clothing. His scent of sandalwood drifted to her where their bodies touched. With his arm still around her waist, he led her to the settee. She sat, still confused as to what was going on. Clarendon remained standing, his feet apart, hands loosely fisted at his side, facing the crowd.

  He glanced at her and bent to whisper into her ear. “Perhaps you should lower your head, my lady.”

  “Do not whisper in my daughter’s ear.” Mother’s eyes snapped.

  Arabella tried to make sense out of what was happening. Mother was supposed to meet her here, which she did, but only after she’d been caught with Lord Clarendon. Was he supposed to be here as well? Had Mother done something to arrange all of this? But why Lord Clarendon, of all people? As far as Mother knew, they were barely acquainted.

  Lord Ashbourne made his way through the crowd and circled the room, lighting candles and bringing into focus what Arabella desperately wished to block from her vision. Mother stood at the forefront, with Ladies Beauchamp and Dickinson, along with Mrs. Humphries, next to her. They all stared at her and Lord Clarendon in horror.

  Another woman and a young girl joined them. The two came into view and Arabella let out a groan, wishing it were possible to close off one’s ears.

  “My lord!” A wail erupted from Lady Grace. Her hand covered her mouth while she took in the scene. Closing her eyes, Lady Grace leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. Lord Clarendon mumbled to himself, but Arabella didn’t hear the comment. However, given the rumors of the expectations Lady Grace had where Lord Clarendon was concerned, he’d probably uttered words she did not want to hear.

  Lady Grace’s mother speared Clarendon with a look that Arabella was most grateful hadn’t been cast in her direction.

  Then it was.

  She gulped.

  “Lady Melrose, I received a note—” A nasally voice joined the group.

  Mother spun on her heel and faced Lord Pembroke, who was breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from his forehead while he pushed his way through
the crowd. “I wasn’t sure which room was the library—”

  “Not now, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Lord Pembroke? Mother had sent notes to both her and Lord Pembroke? Most likely to have them caught in a compromising situation. She never would have thought Mother would do such a thing, but there seemed no other explanation for the events that had just taken place.

  Except Clarendon had been here—for whatever reason—and now this was a mess, and she was ruined.

  “Since this is my library, can someone please explain to me what is going on?” Lord Ashbourne glared in Clarendon’s direction.

  Clarendon looked down at Arabella as she watched him. Visions of her life as a ruined woman, with nowhere to go to avoid censure and no hope of the life she’d always dreamed of, flashed in her mind. She and Mother would have no home, and the disgrace would most likely send the woman into a decline.

  She held her breath as he continued to study her. A slight kernel of absolute terror settled in her stomach. Certainly, the man would not make this situation worse by offering for her? There must be other, more palatable solutions to this catastrophe. They just needed to keep their heads and think it through.

  Seeming to reach a decision, he extended his hand. Not knowing what he was up to, but hoping he had a way to get them out of this without creating a disaster, she reached for his hand and stood on shaky legs. Her heart pounded so hard she swore they heard it out in the ballroom. She was aware of the stillness of the guests who watched them, and the whimpering of Lady Grace.

  His lordship continued to stare at her as he took her other hand in his and spoke, “I apologize to all of you for the interruption in your evening’s entertainment. I believe you have found us just as Lady Arabella made me the happiest of men by accepting my offer of marriage.”

  Lady Grace wailed and tumbled to the floor. The blackness Arabella had been fighting finally took control, and with a soft sigh she slumped against her newly betrothed’s body.

  …

  Nash looked aghast at the two women. One lying on the floor at her mother’s feet, the other in his arms. Since he’d already offered for Lady Arabella in order to avoid her ruination, he bent, and sliding his hands under her knees, picked her up.

  She was light as a feather, and the simple scent of lemons and lavender drifted from her. Her soft curves nestled against his body, but all he wanted to do was drop her on the nearest settee and run for his life. The marriage he had planned with Lady Grace—whose mother was reviving her by waving a vinaigrette under her nose—was no longer to be.

  Damn it all to hell! Here he’d been, moments away from offering for Lady Grace, and now he found himself betrothed to Lady Arabella, of all people! A woman who rescued cats! Cats! He would be sneezing for the rest of his life.

  Unless he was arguing with her.

  Based on the look of longing on Pembroke’s face, Lady Melrose had set this up for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Arabella had been involved as well, although given her response thus far, it was unlikely she’d been a part of the scheme.

  No doubt Pembroke had been the desired target of Lady Melrose’s ploy. The man looked dumbfounded at Lady Arabella, disappointment plainly written on his fleshy, sweating face. Nash surmised the man had been the mother’s choice, but given the setup, Pembroke had apparently not been Lady Arabella’s choice. Then, again, he hadn’t been her choice, either. Nevertheless, now they were engaged.

  He laid her on the settee and tapped her gently on her cheek.

  “It appears there is nothing further to deal with tonight,” Lord Ashbourne spoke with authority as he began to usher the crowd from the room.

  “I will not leave my defenseless, unconscious daughter here with this man.” Lady Melrose sniffed.

  Just then Lady Arabella began to move and her eyelids fluttered open. She took a look around the room and with a slight moan, closed her eyes again.

  “Madam, your daughter is now in the hands of her betrothed. I suggest we all leave and allow her to recover.” Ashbourne studied Nash. “I assume you are prepared to meet with Lady Melrose’s representatives in the morning?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Nash turned to Lady Melrose. “With whom must I speak?” Nash knew Lord Melrose had passed some time ago. Rumor had it that his heir was out of the country and would soon be taking up residence at the Melrose estate.

  “Since there is no guardian, you may contact my solicitors.” She eyed her daughter, who was attempting to gain her feet. “I will send for my carriage so I can take her home.”

  Nash took Lady Arabella’s arm and steadied her as she stood. “No, my lady. I would prefer to accompany my betrothed home.” He gritted his teeth at those words, cursing his upbringing that refused to allow him to be part of a woman’s ruination. “I will send for my carriage.”

  “But—” Lady Melrose looked alarmed. Did she believe he would actually harm Lady Arabella? But then, how well did she know him? Still very much annoyed at the woman’s machinations, he felt a need to punish her a bit.

  “You may return in your carriage, madam. I will see Lady Arabella home.” His voice gave no quarter.

  The woman blew out a deep breath of air. “As you wish, my lord.” She turned, and giving Lady Arabella one last glance, left the room.

  As the last of the witnesses passed thorough the doorway, Lord Ashbourne followed them. He stopped for a moment and studied Nash and Lady Arabella. “I have no idea what went on here tonight, but I commend you for doing the right thing, young man. I have a feeling you are as befuddled as I am.”

  Nash gave his host a slight bow. “Thank you, sir. Would you be so kind as to have my carriage brought around? I would like to give Lady Arabella a bit more time to compose herself.”

  “I will do that, but please leave the door open. We don’t need things to get any worse than they are right now.” Once he walked away, Nash turned to Lady Arabella, his voice lowered. “The only thing keeping me from wringing your neck is a slight belief that you had no part in the debacle this evening.”

  She shook her head furiously. “Absolutely not. I would never put myself in this positon on purpose. However, please be aware that your gallant overture will be for naught. I have no intention of marrying you.”

  He placed his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Excuse me? Do you think I wish to marry you? A woman who chases animals in public?”

  She sniffed. “Good, then we are in agreement. We will go our separate ways, since I don’t give a tinker’s damn for Society’s opinions.” Lady Arabella licked her lips. Kissable lips, he noted for the first time. Soft, plump, and red. She continued, “’Tis an easy problem to solve. We can wait a while to keep all the gossip lovers happy, then I will cry off.”

  …

  Arabella still felt a bit lightheaded, but she wanted more than anything to escape this horrid room and go home. Lock herself in her bedchamber and not emerge until she was as old as the Widow Johnson. What a mess this had become!

  “You little fool.” Lord Clarendon snapped. “Do you honestly believe crying off an engagement would restore your reputation? Especially after being caught in my arms in a dark room? By ourselves? Do you think it can get any worse than that? Well, it can. If you call off, your reputation will be in shreds.”

  Despite her flip words, she was no half-wit about Society’s condemnation. But she had never wanted to have Polite Society dictate how she lived. However, she would not concede this point to him. “I don’t care one whit about my reputation.”

  Another raised eyebrow. “Obviously not, given your behavior thus far.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you truly wish to resume our discussion from before? Your behavior in the park was beyond the pale for a young lady. Racing around, your skirts hiked above your ankles, chasing a cat.”

  She pointed her finger at his chest. “This is precisely why I do not want you to rescue me by pretending we are engaged. You disappr
ove of me, I find you arrogant, and a marriage between us would likely lead to one of us swinging from the end of a rope.”

  As she stared into his surprised eyes, she had another thought. Had he planned an assignation with Lady Grace? An ill-timed meet-up that had gone awry by her own mother’s maneuvers? “What were you doing in here, Clarendon?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I am suffering from the residue of a megrim due to an encounter in the park this afternoon with a feline.” Apparently pausing to allow that comment to take hold, he added, “I merely came in here to gather my thoughts and have a few minutes of peace and quiet. And we now know how that turned out.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What brought you here? Were you following me?”

  “Following you? I can assure you I would have no reason to follow you anywhere.” She held up the note Cynthia had handed her. “I received a note from my mother asking me to attend her here. It now appears to me she planned for Lord Pembroke to find me, alone, with perhaps the same ending in mind in which we now find ourselves.”

  “Had you wanted to marry Pembroke?”

  Her head snapped back, and her eyes grew wide. “Lord, no.”

  For the first time all evening, Lord Clarendon smiled. Which, in turn, brought a smile to her face, as well.

  “Come. It is time I escorted you home.” He took her elbow and walked toward the door.

  She stopped as they reached the portal. “No doubt everyone beyond that door will be leaping for joy at my supposed disgrace.”

  “Buck up, Lady Arabella,” he whispered as he tightened his grip and moved her forward. “This is only the beginning.”

  With his words echoing in her ears, he escorted her out of the library, down the corridor, and to the front door. Whispers floated from behind cupped hands, eyes peered over the tops of fans, and knowing smirks covered the faces of many of the men.

  Arabella had never been so embarrassed in her life. Although, due to her odd propensities, she’d never been a favorite of the ton, she had at least enjoyed a somewhat respectable reputation. Oftentimes she thought, were she not an earl’s daughter, she would not be welcomed into some homes. After all, dignified ladies of the ton did not rescue animals.