Michael performed the introductions. Eversleigh took her hand. ‘I have looked forward to this moment, Lady Jeffreys.’
‘Thank you, your Grace.’ Her voice held the faintest tremor but Michael saw she kept her gaze steady.
The Duke released her hand. ‘I hope to see you soon at Eversleigh.’
She looked startled. Michael moved closer to her. ‘Perhaps I can persuade her to come for a visit.’ It might be the perfect place to continue his courtship. Without too many picnics. The very thought made his mouth go dry.
He jerked his thoughts away from the images and realised his father was speaking. ‘A visit is not quite what I meant. I hope to see Lady Jeffreys there on a more permanent basis.’ This time Michael started. His father fixed him with a piercing stare. ‘As your wife. That is why I am here. I see no reason to delay your marriage any further. When we return to London, we will proceed with the arrangements.’
Michael felt as much as heard Rosalyn’s faint gasp. He turned and saw she had gone white. She looked as if she had been sentenced to death.
A cold pit formed in his stomach. It was obvious she had no desire to marry him, not even after their passionate lovemaking earlier. Now with his father’s precipitate announcement, he had little time for the courtship he’d planned.
And no matter how much he desired Rosalyn, he had no intention of having his father force her to the altar.
Rosalyn had no idea how she made it through dinner. She sat between Michael and Philip, hardly tasting the food, hardly knowing what she said. She had never been prone to hysterics or swooning, but when Eversleigh announced that plans for their wedding should be made immediately, she had thought she might faint for the first time in her life.
Now she sat in the drawing room, anxiously waiting for the men to finish with their brandy and conversation. She hoped they were not planning to stay up half the night in the dining room. She must speak with Michael.
She rose from the chair, too agitated to sit. Michael had been silent and distracted at dinner, barely touching his food. He slanted no teasing glances her way, said nothing more than what was required for polite conversation. It was as if he already wished to put distance between them. Did he fear that after this afternoon she would take advantage of his father’s words and insist he marry her?
Another hour passed before the men entered the drawing room. To her dismay, Michael was not among them. She excused herself from the others, and hurried from the room. He was not in the library, nor in the dining room. Finally, she saw a light in Giles’s study. She pushed open the door, and stepped inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
He sat behind Giles’s desk, slumped back in the chair, contemplating a glass of brandy in front of him. From the scowl on his face, he seemed to be in no good mood. Rosalyn hesitated.
He looked up, surprise registering on his face. Then he rose to his feet a little awkwardly. ‘My dear Rosalyn, I am quite amazed to see you here. I would have thought after my father’s surprising announcement you’d wish to avoid me like the plague.’
‘I…I had wished to speak with you, but perhaps later.’ He was leaning rather heavily against the desk, his dark hair disordered. ‘Michael, I think you should return to the drawing room. You do not look at all well.’
He laughed. ‘I am quite well. What is it you wish to talk to me about? Shall I hazard a guess? Our forthcoming nuptials.’
‘I assure you, my lord, I have no intention of marrying you. There is no need to drink yourself into oblivion over it.’
His eyes glinted. ‘Is that what you think? The possibility of marriage to you is pushing me to the bottle?’
‘What else am I to think? I have never seen you in this mood before.’
He laughed again, but there was little amusement. ‘The notion of marrying me brings you little pleasure, I take it.’
‘I do not want a loveless marriage. No more than you do.’
‘How do you know what I want?’ He stepped closer to her. She could smell the brandy on his breath.
‘I suppose I don’t really know. I…I think you’ve had more than enough to drink.’
He advanced a step closer. ‘Do you? Since you are not my wife, I cannot imagine why you would care.’
Her hand crept to her locket. She had no idea how to reason with him in such a strange, wild mood. She moistened her dry lips and tried to speak in a rational tone. ‘I should not like you to wake up with a headache, particularly since we are to leave tomorrow.’
‘Always so practical.’ He seemed to swoop down upon her. He crushed her against him, his arms bands of iron around her. ‘So you don’t wish to marry me?’
‘No!’ She struggled, truly frightened of him for the first time.
‘No?’ His face hovered before hers, dark and angry and passionate, and then his lips crashed down on hers, demanding her surrender. She tried to break away, then sank against him as his kiss ravished her senses, sending her into a void where there was nothing but him.
He lifted his head, his triumphant eyes glinted down at her. ‘What do you say now?’
‘I think you are quite drunk! Let go of me!’ She struggled against his iron grip.
He abruptly released her. ‘Go, Rosalyn.’
She looked at him for an instant, hurt and anger warring in her breast, and then she left him, quietly closing the door behind her.
‘Very well, I will be blunt: she doesn’t want to marry me,’ Michael said. He slumped back in his chair and observed his father grimly. His head felt like hell after last night’s drinking, he’d had little sleep, and several cups of strong coffee had done little to abate the dryness in his mouth. The morning sun streaming through the windows of the study made a mockery of his black mood.
‘Indeed. Then how did she come to be betrothed to you?’ The Duke’s voice held little surprise.
‘I forced her.’
His father raised a brow. ‘How?’
‘Her brother lost his estate to me at Fallingham’s. She came to me to ask me to return the estate to him—she offered to pay his debts. I refused, of course, and then, based on a passing comment of Charles’s decided to return her brother’s estate in exchange for a temporary betrothal. I wanted to avoid marriage with Miss Randall. I was in no danger from Rosalyn expecting the engagement to end in marriage; she had made it clear she held me in dislike.’
‘I see.’
‘You do not seem surprised.’
‘Not at all. Margaret had already suspected as much, particularly when she met Lady Jeffreys. Your fiancée’s rather peculiar lack of enthusiasm over your charms, and reluctance to accompany you to the altar, aroused her suspicions. My only question had been what you held over her head.’
Michael laughed shortly. ‘Now you know. I plan to release her from the damned betrothal as soon as possible.’
The Duke gave him a considering look. ‘I suggest you marry her instead.’
‘I have told you, she wishes me to the devil.’ Particularly after last night.
‘I rather doubt that. How long was this betrothal to go on?’
‘Until September. Then she was to have the pleasure of jilting me.’
The Duke smiled dryly. ‘You assumed Miss Randall would be safely married by then. However, what was to prevent me from attempting to arrange another match for you?’
‘Nothing.’ He scowled. ‘I suppose you have someone else in mind.’
‘Not at all. I think you and Lady Jeffreys are admirably suited. I see no reason why you cannot use your reputed charm to convince her to marry you. I will give you until the end of this month. After that I will take matters into my own hands.’
Michael gaped at him. Less than three weeks? He shot to his feet. ‘I won’t have her coerced into marriage with me.’
‘I have no intention of coercing her.’ The Duke also rose, signalling the interview was at an end. ‘I will leave you to plot your strategy.’ He strode to the door and then turned, his hand on th
e knob. ‘By the way, there was no need for this elaborate scheme to avoid marriage with Miss Randall. If you had indicated you had such a strong aversion to the idea in the first place, I would not have forced you.’ He left, gently closing the door behind him.
Michael sunk back down in the chair with a groan. His father had the most interesting ways of accomplishing his goals. If he’d decided Rosalyn was to be the next Marchioness, she would be. Unless she managed to disappear from England. Even then his father would undoubtedly find her. The thought of her joining him at the altar with that white, stricken look on her face made his throat tighten.
But if his father did have his way…afterwards Michael would take her in his arms and assure her marriage to him wouldn’t be a living death, that he would protect her and care for her. Then he’d gently kiss her, and she would respond…The hardness in his loins recalled him to his senses.
What the devil was he thinking of? He rubbed his aching head and stood, then paced to the window. He had to come up with something. Only the hell of it was, he had no idea whether he wanted to persuade Rosalyn she must marry him or to spirit her away, safe from his father’s reaches.
Chapter Sixteen
‘I don’t care if she is still abed! I will see her now!’
Rosalyn stiffened. Oh, no! What was her grandmother doing here so early? She turned over and sat up just as the door burst opened.
Lady Carlyn looked livid. In her hand was a newspaper which she brandished about. ‘How could you hide this from me? Your own grandmother! Tell me it is nothing but a pack of wicked lies!’
‘What is?’
‘This!’ With a furious finger she jabbed at a point on the paper. ‘It says that your brother lost Meryton to Stamford, who is forcing you to marry him as payment! Tell me this is not true!’
‘I…I haven’t married Stamford yet,’ Rosalyn said in a faint voice.
‘So it is true! And you never told me! How could you deceive me so!’
‘I did not wish to worry you. At any rate, James has Meryton back so there is no need to overset yourself.’
‘But to sell yourself into a loveless marriage! And to a rake who would take such advantage! My dear child, there was no need for such a sacrifice! You should have come to me!’
‘Lord Stamford has never taken advantage of me,’ Rosalyn said stiffly, offended by hearing Michael spoken of in such terms, although a mere month ago she would have said the same thing herself. ‘Besides, I…I am not going to marry him.’
‘Not marry him?’ Lady Carlyn asked incredulously. ‘You have no choice now. If you jilt him, it will only prove the story is true. I won’t have it bandied about that my granddaughter had to marry as…as payment for a debt. No, you must marry as soon as possible. I will see Lady Spence about it the first thing.’
A dull throb was beginning in Rosalyn’s right temple. ‘I would think a marriage would only confirm the story.’
‘Nonsense. It will show you don’t care a fig for such gossip.’ Lady Carlyn eyed Rosalyn sternly. ‘I hope you do not plan to stay in bed the entire day with a fit of the vapours. We have several calls to make and a wedding to plan. St James’s, I think. You cannot wear white since you are a widow, but perhaps a grey would look becoming.’
‘Grandmama! No! I am not going to marry Mi—Lord Stamford. I…I don’t want to marry him, and he does not want to marry me. The whole betrothal was a…a farce! He only needed a temporary fiancée and said he would give the estate back if I would agree.’ There! She had finally admitted it, but somehow the words gave her little comfort.
Lady Carlyn’s mouth fell open, then she snapped it shut. ‘Ridiculous!’
‘But it is true. So you see, we cannot marry.’ Oh, no! Surely she wasn’t about cry in front of her grandmother.
Lady Carlyn sighed loudly. ‘It is quite obvious that he is in love with you and I dare say, if you weren’t so stubborn, you would admit you are in love with him.’
Rosalyn stared at her. ‘But, did you not say you thought I was being forced into a…a loveless marriage?’
Lady Carlyn smiled blandly. ‘I was merely overset by the shock of reading such a thing in the paper. But, of course, I have known for an age he is in love with you, as does the whole of London. I haven’t been quite so certain about you, but now I see how it is.’ She patted Rosalyn’s hand. ‘So there is no need to worry, I shall handle all the arrangements. Perhaps it would be best for you to stay in bed. You shall need all your strength for your wedding, and,’ she added with a coy smile, ‘your wedding trip.’
‘Grandmama, no!’ But Lady Carlyn had already risen from the bed and, with a bright smile, bustled out of the room, undoubtedly to arrange the rest of Rosalyn’s life.
Rosalyn slumped back on her pillows. Could this whole situation get much worse? They had returned from Longbourne yesterday. She’d had no opportunity to speak to Michael since two nights ago, when he’d kissed her so ruthlessly in Giles’s study.
She felt cold every time she thought of that night. His behaviour had been unfathomable to her; she could only think he feared he would somehow be trapped into marriage with her. Yet, he’d seemed so angry when she said she wouldn’t marry him.
But her grandmother’s supposition that he was in love with her was ridiculous! He could not be! Lady Carlyn always saw what she wanted.
And now the article in the paper! Who would do such a thing? A trap seemed to be closing around her, and around Michael. She must do something.
She had to break off their betrothal.
Watkins showed her into the drawing room, the same one where she’d been shown the very first time she’d ever met him. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
Sitting proved impossible. She rose and went to stare at the portrait above the mantelpiece. Now that she knew Michael so well, she could see the resemblance in the same dark, intelligent eyes, the arrogant tilt to the head, the shape of the sensuous mouth.
Then her stomach churned in a sickening manner as she heard his familiar, firm tread. She turned as he came into the room.
He observed her with an unsmiling countenance before coming forward. ‘Rosalyn, I had planned to call on you.’
‘Did you?’ He looked tired, almost as tired as she felt. ‘I didn’t know, otherwise I…I would not have called on you in such a manner.’
‘Since you had no idea of my intentions, I can hardly fault you for that.’ His mouth lifted slightly and then he sobered as he observed her face. ‘I suppose you saw the piece in the Morning Post.’
She nodded and tried to keep her voice from shaking. ‘My grandmother called before I had even risen. She was not very pleased.’
‘I imagine not. Nor was my father.’ He looked at her more closely. ‘What is it, Rosalyn?’
She took a deep breath, clutching her reticule in white fingers. ‘I want to break off our…our betrothal.’
‘Why?’
She stared at him, taken aback by the coldness in his voice. ‘Why?’
‘Yes, why?’ His eyes were cool and wary and he’d folded his arms across his chest in a stance she knew only too well. ‘You gave your word until September.’
‘I know, but everything has changed. Your father seems to think we…we should marry as soon as possible, and my grandmother…’
‘Yes?’
Rosalyn took a deep breath. ‘Thinks the same thing after she saw the Morning Post. I am afraid that if we do not stop this we…we will find ourselves married.’ She twisted her hands in her locket and looked away. ‘So I am releasing you from our betrothal. I plan to leave London as soon as possible.’
‘If you do that I will bring you back.’ There was no denying the threat in his voice. ‘Make no mistake, I have no intention of releasing you from our agreement.’
‘But…’
‘And furthermore, you are going to marry me.’
She gaped at him, feeling as if she’d been struck. Was he drunk again? No, he looked perfectly sober and deadly determined, hi
s eyes cool and impassioned. ‘I…I beg your pardon?’
‘You are going to marry me.’
Marry him? Bewilderment, outrage and hurt flooded through her. And then pure fury. How dare he dictate to her as if she had no say in the matter! ‘Marry you? I think not, my lord. I have told you I have no intention of ever marrying again, and certainly not you.’
He stepped towards her. It took every ounce of courage she possessed not to quail at the look on his face. ‘Oh, yes, you are,’ he said softly. ‘Even if I have to force you to the altar.’
‘But why? You can’t possibly want to marry me!’ she blurted out.
‘Because after this damned article we have no choice, unless you want a scandal attached to our association. Because my father insists I do so, and moreover—’ his eyes ran over her face and deliberately down her body in a way that made her go hot all over as if he had stripped her naked ‘—because I want you.’
She stepped back, coming up against a side table. The colour drained from her face, leaving her dizzy. ‘No.’
‘I promise you marriage to me won’t be the hell you seem to think,’ he went on ruthlessly. ‘You will have my title, and you will have my fortune at your disposal. You may come and go as you please.’
‘Those things mean nothing to me,’ she whispered.
‘There will be money to do as you wish with Meryton, then.’
‘No, it…it is not worth this.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He came to stand in front of her, almost touching her. She stared at him, helplessly trapped by the table boring into her back. Then he bent his head towards her.
‘Michael, please! Don’t!’ she whispered. He wasn’t going to kiss her again. Not in that angry, ruthless way he had last time as if he meant to force her to his will. She had no idea what was wrong with him. She could only think he was angry that he was somehow trapped. And that he felt a physical desire for her.
He jerked back at her whispered words and stared at her face. Then stepped back, his own face pale. ‘Rosalyn, damn it! Don’t look at me like that. I won’t ravish you.’ He moved away from her, running a hand through his hair, then looked back at her. ‘I promise I won’t touch you after we’re married. Except for what is necessary to satisfy society, we need not see each other.’
A Bargain With Fate Page 19