Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  The life they all led was ridiculous in so many ways. He and Arabella had been observed together in a dark library doing nothing more than conversing. Yet, she would have been a ruined woman who no gentleman would consider for his wife if he hadn’t agreed to marry her. So foolish, but nonetheless the life they had been born into. And yet, now that they were married, they were still the object of gossip and idle chatter.

  …

  Arabella continued to grip Nash’s arm as they made their way through the crowd, stopping to chat with various people. Most of them were Nash’s friends, since he was a much more social person than she. Although a few ladies she had a passing acquaintance with did offer felicitations on her marriage.

  What bothered her more were the number of young ladies and young matrons who stepped into their path to speak with Nash. For the most part, they ignored her, but more than a few seemed especially friendly with her husband. Not that she cared or was jealous, of course. It just made maneuvering around the room more awkward.

  “Lord Clarendon!” Lady Walthrop, the young widow of the very aged Earl of Walthrop, waved to them as they moved away from a cluster of young ladies who’d spent most of the Season dropping their handkerchiefs at Nash’s feet. Arabella tamped down her annoyance and put what she hoped looked like a smile on her face.

  Lady Walthrop was beautiful. There was simply no other word. Golden-blond hair and the peaches-and-cream complexion so envied by the women of the ton. She’d been the Incomparable the year the Earl snatched her off the marriage mart, and he’d attempted for six months to get her with child before he dropped dead at his club. Rumor had it he’d found a footman in his wife’s bed the night before. “Why, my Lord Clarendon. I hear you are married.”

  My Lord Clarendon?

  Arabella gritted her teeth and smiled at the woman. At least she hoped it looked like a smile.

  “Yes, allow me to present my countess.” He turned to Arabella. “Lady Walthrop is an old friend.”

  Before Arabella could respond, the witch tapped Nash’s arm with her fan. “Oh, please don’t introduce me as an old friend.” She tittered loud enough to draw attention, and Arabella wanted to stamp on her pretty satin slippers.

  “You are right, my lady. Please accept my apologies. No one would consider you old.” He smiled warmly at her, and Arabella wanted to gag. Instead she snorted, loud enough for Nash and the Incomparable to hear. But ignore.

  The orchestra started a waltz, and Nash turned to her. “My dear, would you honor me with a dance?” He held out his hand.

  Her stomach did a tap dance of glee as Lady Walthrop frowned. “Be sure to save a dance for me, my lord.” The forward woman lowered her lashes like the sweet little debutante she no longer was.

  Nash took her into his arms, and she relaxed for the first time since they’d entered the aballroom. “So, Lady Walthrop is an old friend?”

  He studied her, the light from the many candles casting shadows on his strong features. He pulled her closer than what was considered proper and murmured in her ear. “To be perfectly frank, the woman scares me.”

  Arabella smiled. He didn’t need to say any more.

  “Trollop!”

  The word had been whispered, but loud enough that both Nash and Arabella heard it—as well as anyone within ten feet of Lady Grace, standing alongside the edge of the ballroom, fanning her face furiously. Her red cheeks and tightened lips marked her as the accuser.

  Arabella stumbled, and Nash caught her. “Ignore her.” He pulled her even closer and stared into her eyes. “Ignore her, sweeting,” he repeated. “Hold your chin up. No one else here believes that.”

  “I am sure there are more than a few who do.” Her attempt at humor fell flat.

  “It doesn’t count.” He moved them so they were no longer within hearing, but Arabella saw the girl’s mouth moving, her stance and demeanor telling.

  Attempting to distract her, he said, “I found the trip to Suffolk less than satisfactory.” He turned them to maneuver around another couple. “While you were charming my tenants, I had some serious conversations with the men. It is troubling that the elder Jones has gone to his daughter’s home and his son is nowhere to be found, except to collect rents. I feel the need to make a return trip to Suffolk in a few weeks.”

  “Will we both be making the trip again?” What of her animals? She’d barely been able to check on their welfare before she’d had other duties to attend to, including a discussion with Mrs. McGregor. It amazed Arabella that so many issues had arisen in their short absence that had required her attention.

  When Arabella had asked if the housekeeper had consulted her mother on the problems, she’d received a silent rebuke in the form of a sniff and a curt, “Lady Melrose is not my employer. Besides which, her ladyship has kept the staff busy with preparations to take up residence in Bath.”

  That had been news to Arabella. Perhaps it was for the best that Mother had taken Nash’s suggestion that she might be happier in Bath. Having two women in the house could be difficult, and based on Mrs. McGregor’s tone, she already viewed her mother’s presence as problematic.

  The final notes of the waltz came to an end. “Yes, we will both be traveling to Suffolk. I was under the impression you enjoyed your time there.”

  “I did. I was concerned for my animals.”

  His lips tightened, and he took her by the elbow. “I suggest we take a walk in the gardens to clear our heads.”

  Nash guided her toward the French doors leading to the patio. The air was sweet and cool and felt wonderful on her flushed face. They strolled the area, stopping to chat with couples also enjoying the evening air. So far, except for a few whispers when they’d entered, no one seemed to think there was anything untoward about the earl and his new countess.

  Some of the guests had not received word of the marriage—hence they hadn’t known about the potential scandal—but did seem confused seeing the two of them together. No doubt more than a few had been aware he’d been courting Lady Grace and had expected a betrothal announcement with her.

  As they moved past Lord and Lady Mullens, Nash asked, “Would you care for some refreshment? You appear a bit flushed.”

  “Yes, I believe I would. I am rather parched.”

  After Nash left her for the refreshment table, Arabella wandered near the balustrade and gazed out upon the garden, with torches burning to light the pathway through the flowers. She realized her previous worries and anxiety had left her. Nash had been right. After the initial mumblings, smirks, and remarks cast in her direction at their entrance, she and her new husband had been relegated to the “no longer of interest” category. Most of the guests who had stopped them to chat had offered their felicitations and even extended invitations to events Arabella had never been invited to before.

  “Lady Clarendon.” It took Arabella a moment to realize someone was addressing her. She turned to Lady Lovell, who approached on the arm of her husband. The couple had been newly married a few months ago. Arabella and the then Lady Helen had come out the same year. “It is so nice to see you. Lovell and I have been in the country and just now returned to Town. And what is the first thing I hear but Lady Arabella is now Lady Clarendon!” Helen smiled at her. She had always been one of Arabella’s favorite people.

  “Yes. We are married a bare two weeks, in fact.”

  Lord Lowell looked around. “Where is the groom? Surely he has not abandoned you to the card room.”

  Arabella laughed at the condemnation in his tone. “Not at all. He is off to bring me a drink.”

  Helen regarded her. “No wedding trip?” Apparently, her friend had not heard the story of Arabella’s disgrace. “No. But Clarendon and I have just returned from his country estate in Suffolk.” At least that made it appear they’d had some type of wedding trip.

  Lady Lovell’s bright blue eyes lit up. “I intend to have my first dinner party in a few weeks, and I so wanted to include you. And your husband, of course.” She lowered
her voice as if groups of guests were listening to her party plans. “I will be very nervous, as you can imagine, so having you there would do much to calm my nerves.”

  “You will be fine, my dear.” Lord Lovell patted his wife’s arm. “It is not seemly to get yourself all worked up.” Arabella smiled, thinking how lovely for Helen that her husband was so solicitous of her welfare. But then, theirs had been a love match.

  “It seems some of the issues that arose while we visited the tenants have caused Clarendon some concern, and he plans a return trip sometime soon.” Seeing the disappointment on her face, Arabella hurried on. “However, I will see if my husband can make our trip either before or after your dinner party. Just send the date around.”

  “My dear, I believe the next dance has started up.” Lord Lowell addressed his bride then turned to Arabella. “I wish you and Clarendon well.” He smiled and took his wife’s hand, casting Helen a look that brought a smile to Arabella’s face, and a bit of sadness to her heart.

  She told herself she did not want that type of marriage. No feelings like that for her husband. Once that happened, all her freedom would be lost. She would begin following him around like one of her lost puppies, “yes, my lord” and “no, my lord” the only words on her lips.

  As she watched the couple stroll away, Arabella’s attention was caught by the sound of a female’s voice uttering her name from the other side of the stone wall dividing the patio area from the garden.

  “Oh, do not fool yourself, Diana. Lady Arabella and her mother set the entire thing up. I had personally witnessed Lady Arabella eying Lord Clarendon for some time. Apparently, she was unable to bring anyone up to scratch, so she and her devious mother decided to force the poor man into matrimony with her.”

  Arabella was unable to hear the response to Lady Grace’s comments, since the person to whom she had spoken those untrue, vile words apparently faced the other direction. Lady Grace continued, “Not that it matters to me at all, you understand. I have had several offers and am contemplating one at this very moment. I have no regrets, nor had I intended to accept Lord Clarendon’s offer, anyway.”

  Mumbling followed her words once again. Then, very clearly, Lady Grace’s voice rang out. “Perhaps Lord Clarendon had been forced to marry her because she had granted him favors and found herself in a delicate condition? Not that I am saying that, you understand. But there have been rumors…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drink in hand, Nash approached Arabella just as Lady Grace’s hateful words rang out in the darkened garden. Fortunately, no one remained on the patio to hear her vitriol, since the music had resumed. He took deep breaths to calm himself. The chit had gone beyond the bounds of decent behavior.

  “Here you are, sweeting.” He held out a glass of champagne. “I am afraid the ratafia was all gone. Not that I believe you prefer that over champagne,” he joked.

  Arabella accepted the glass with a shaky hand. His attempt to control his anger was less than successful. Her tightened lips fed the beast rising up to roar and strike out at the one who’d hurt someone under his care. It would certainly not be acceptable to tear around the corner and throttle the girl, but had she been a man that was precisely what he would have done.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Arabella avoided his eyes and sipped the drink. She placed the glass on a small table next to them as one lone tear slid down her cheek. She quickly swiped it from her cheek and looked at him, her chin raised. Her face was pale in the moonlight, and she shuddered as if a sudden chill overtook her. His mind made up, he extended his arm. “Do you care for a walk, sweeting?”

  Arabella glanced at the balustrade where Lady Grace and her cohorts stood. Straightening her shoulders, she studied him with narrowed eyes. From what he’d seen thus far, she was a strong woman who did not shy away from problems. Considering how well she’d accepted her mother’s actions that had led to their forced marriage, plus all the animals she’d taken care of and nursed back to health—alone—his countess was no weakling.

  But she was much too honest for the subterfuge of the ton. Cutting words and innuendoes were not her method of dealing with the world. Unfortunately, it was the means that many of the ladies of the ton employed. Curse their black hearts.

  He tilted his head to one side and studied her, challenging her. “Yes?”

  She stared back at him, a slight smile coming to her lips. Very kissable lips. “Yes, I believe I would enjoy a stroll. ’Tis truly a lovely evening, is it not?”

  That’s my girl.

  Holding firmly onto his arm, they took the few steps into the garden. Lady Grace and two other young women stood near the wall, within plain sight of an older woman, a bit of distance from them, obviously one of their chaperones. Lady Grace’s cheeks flushed at their appearance, but she raised her nose in the air as they approached.

  “Good evening, ladies.” Nash bowed slightly and turned his glare toward Lady Grace. “I am sorry, my lady, but I seem to have missed part of what you said about my wife just now. Care to repeat it?”

  Lady Grace flushed a deeper red under the lights shining from the ballroom. “’Twas nothing, my lord.” She curtsied. Her two companions quickly followed suit, their faces also flushing.

  His resilient wife stood by his side, her chin up, her eyes flashing. Nash drew her closer and covered the gloved hand on his arm with his. He had no doubt Arabella could handle herself, but as her husband and protector, it was his duty. “I do hope it was nothing, because I would be most upset if I heard untoward rumors bandied about regarding my countess.” He looked directly at Lady Grace. “Surely you understand?”

  When she did not answer, but continued to stare into the darkened garden, he added, “Lady Grace? Shall I assume you comprehend?”

  Lady Grace glanced at him briefly and mumbled an acknowledgment. Stubborn little minx. And to think he’d almost married her. Her two companions looked decidedly uncomfortable. Nash turned his attention to them. “That goes for you, as well. The only whispers I expect to hear forthcoming about my wife will be complimentary ones.” He paused, then added, “Am I correct in my assumption that there is nothing unclear about that?”

  The two ladies nodded.

  “Thank you, ladies. I wish you a pleasant evening.” He moved away, and he and his wife continued their walk along the garden path, the smell of late spring flowers wafting in the air. Nash leaned in closer. “I believe it is over now.”

  When they were far enough away that she could not be heard by the young ladies, she said, “I am glad you did that.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Why would I not?”

  Arabella shrugged. “You were about to make an offer for Lady Grace.”

  He smirked and patted her hand. “This is perhaps not the best time to remind me of that fact.” Placing his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close to his side when she continued to shiver. He turned them around, and they walked back toward the patio. Either nerves or the cool air was chilling her, and he did not want a reoccurrence of her illness. “Frankly, I was afraid if I did not defend you, that you would find a way to achieve satisfaction yourself.” He grinned at her. “A critter of some sort or another in her carriage, perhaps?”

  Once they reached the patio door, he opened it and escorted her through to the ballroom. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “You read my mind, my lord.”

  His laughter had heads turning in their direction.

  …

  The following week, at the end of a long day of dealing with household matters, Arabella picked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs to the second floor of the townhouse. She reached the corridor and walking briskly, her head down as she thought of the ball that evening, ran directly into Nash as he left his bedchamber. He grabbed her shoulders. “Slow down, sweeting, where are you off to?”

  Startled from the collision, she reared back. “Oh. My apologies. I am going to check on my animals.”

  “You do remember the Kensington ball this ev
ening?”

  She bristled. He had been watching over her shoulder all week. Just yesterday, when he’d heard Quinn announce that Lady Matilda and her daughter, Miss Petunia, had called, Nash had dragged her into her bedchamber and instructed her on how to conduct herself.

  Rounding on him, she’d said, “My lord, although you have very little faith in my ability to conduct myself, please know that I have not lived under a rock these past years. Mother and I oftentimes made and received afternoon calls.”

  Now he wanted to make sure she would not forget an event she’d been reminded of extensively. “I am unlikely to forget, since you’ve repeated the message several times, Sophia has already laid out my gown, and Andrews took it upon himself to order me a bath. Honestly, it is as though no one thinks I have a brain in my head.”

  “I am trying to secure our place in Society. It is important to me, as it should be to you, as well.”

  “Why? No one cares if I attend or not. Lady Grace will be looking for any opportunity to malign me, your old friend, Lady Walthrop will be just breathless with anticipation at your arrival, and I will undoubtedly do something to call attention to myself.”

  “If you behave yourself as a countess should, you will not call attention to yourself.”

  Oh, his arrogance was unequaled. With a curt nod, she swept past him then stopped at the doorway to the room where her recovering animals were. “Please instruct Cook to send a tray to my room. I will be too busy preparing for the ball to dine with you.”

  By the time she closed the door, she was breathing heavily and mad enough to scream. But then, a countess never screamed. Or called attention to herself. Or handled animals.

  It seemed ever since the Kendall ball, Nash had found one thing or another to criticize her for that had left her wanting. The closeness she’d felt after he defended her had been slowly chiseled away over time. Perhaps he felt Lady Grace’s criticism of her was justified, after all.