Her poise cast aside, Aunt Ginny grabbed Claire in a tight embrace. “I wanted you to fall in love.”
Claire’s eyes stung at the words. “What you and Uncle Sebastian have is rare. I’ll be content if Pembrooke and I are comfortable.”
She drew a deep breath for fortitude and stepped away from her aunt when Pitts, the family butler, announced Lord Pembrooke. A quick sigh of relief escaped her. His appearance this morning proved he was a man who kept his promises.
The room magically narrowed when the marquess entered. His gaze captured hers with a gleam of interest. Keenly aware of his scrutiny, she curled her toes in her slippers and forced herself not to bolt from the room.
After the appropriate greetings, Aunt Ginny announced, “Lord Pembrooke, you and Lady Claire may talk in private. No one will disturb you.”
A slight smile hinted at the corners of his mouth. “Your Grace, if you and the duke would have a moment after Lady Claire and I finish, I’d be grateful.”
Her aunt tilted her head and nodded her assent. “Claire dear, if you need anything, Pitts will find me.” Without waiting for a reply, she glided out of the drawing room.
He continued to stare at her long after her aunt left. Claire’s face grew hot. To show vulnerability before a word was spoken spelled doom. Claire met his gaze even though last night’s wanton memories of their shared imaginary kisses left her on edge. “Won’t you sit down, my lord?”
“Thank you.” The velvet richness of his voice soothed some of her nerves. He waited for her to sit before he took the chair directly across from her. “You look lovely.”
Like a girl in her first Season, her breath quickened at the kind words. Though he appeared to relax in the chair, his eyes were sharp.
Alex lowered his gaze and came right to the point of the day’s visit. “Have you given any more consideration to our circumstances?”
“Some.” Claire swallowed to stop the flutters in her chest. He leaned close. The clean smell of citrus soap and his unique masculine scent encircled her, much like last night when he’d held her in his arms.
“The same for me.” His tone held an unexpected degree of warmth and, with it, concern.
“I am truly sorry about last evening.” Her voice turned wooden, and her throat closed around the forced words. The bevy of earlier flutters had roosted in her stomach. “My actions alone caused you to be in this situation. I appreciate your help, but I—”
“I am not sorry,” he interrupted. His gray eyes held hers with an intensity that reminded her of the sea bashing against a rocky shore on a stormy day. “What happened in the alcove?” His voice turned gentle. “Why were you so frightened?”
She had dreaded this moment. He was the only person outside the family to glimpse her naked fear of storms. If she confided the real reason, he’d think her a loon and leave Langham Hall at a full run, an outcome that might be best for both of them. “I was out of sorts from the whole evening. Please, it was nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes, his doubts clear.
After an eternity, he reached across the space that separated them and took her hand in his long fingers. The warmth of his palm offered comfort, and she desperately needed it. She should pull her hand away, but her arm refused to move.
“Lady Claire, it would be the greatest honor if you became my wife.” His sinfully smooth voice coaxed her to move closer. “Will you marry me?”
Completely captivated, she stared at him. Then reality intruded. As the result of last night, she had to answer another proposal. She should be thankful he’d made the effort to appear this morning instead of wary.
After she croaked out, “Yes,” a balm of relief coursed a path through her until it settled in the center of her chest. There, she had said it. Another added to her collection. Maybe five was her magic number.
His eyes flashed with humor. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
If he only knew.
“I’ve already discussed the major issues with my uncle. If we come to an agreement, his acceptance will be a certainty.”
“We’ll reach an accord.” His mouth eased into a smile that curved like a sinuous cat. “Thank you for accepting my offer. After we parted last night, I wasn’t certain how you would answer.”
She couldn’t stop staring, and he wouldn’t look away. Everything he said was so—so perfect. Didn’t he realize she had no other option?
Taking a deep breath, Claire took the plunge into the unknown. “My dowry is fifty thousand pounds. I haven’t visited Wrenwood in fourteen years and have no objection to giving the land to you. Three families have farms on the land. Their shares are small, but I ask that you allow them to remain.”
He nodded. “They’ll be a great help to my steward as he inspects the property. It’s all very generous.”
“I want the house and all other estates and holdings to remain mine.”
Pembrooke continued to smile but added a single nod of his head, his movement slow and measured.
“I have three hundred thousand pounds. I want the money, without question, for my use at my discretion. At the end of my life, any remainder placed in trust.” She waited, certain a rejection was forthcoming.
Alex gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. “Done.”
Claire found it difficult to determine if he was bored or ready to strike. Nothing seemed to alter his controlled demeanor.
Maybe luck was with her today, as he was so agreeable. “I’m dedicated to my mother’s and the current duchess’s charitable works and will continue to be so. It requires I attend several fund-raising events throughout the year. I’d like to host one after we marry. I’ll expect you to attend and help me at these events.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“There’s something else you must know. I’ve always loved children.” She studied her clasped hands. “Every year I host a yuletide holiday party for orphans associated with those charities. It’s always been at Langham Hall, but I want to host it in my own home.”
“Are you asking for my permission?” He furrowed his brow.
“Not really, my lord. It’s a commitment I keep every year, and I don’t want to continue to rely on Langham Hall’s staff and the duke’s generosity after I’m married.” With a calculated insouciance, she adjusted her smile. “The expression on your face tells me you’d be appalled if there were children running amok at your house.”
“Ah … no. I wasn’t aware of your interests. Of course you can host it at our home. It’ll be yours as much as mine.”
Claire tilted her head at his perfect answer. Interestingly, he didn’t seem the least perturbed with her wishes. Thankfully, he didn’t ask for her reasons. She’d started the tradition when she was eighteen to privately remember she had suffered the same loss as the children she’d entertained. Such a small effort on her part brought immeasurable joy to the children. Equally important, it helped soothe her guilt over surviving the carriage accident that caused her parents’ death.
“Believe it or not, I like children also. How many shall we have? I’ll go first. I’d like at least a boy and a girl.” Humor inched its way into his response.
This was an unexpected topic, but if he wanted to discuss children, that was fine with her. “I want as many as we can have. It makes no difference to me.”
“I want to know which I prefer. That’s why I want a girl and a boy to start.” His gaze appeared thoughtful as he studied her. “I’ve heard if seasoned properly, they’re quite tasty.”
Shocked, she raised her hand to her heart, the pounding beat indicative of her unease at their whole conversation. The smile that tugged at his lips softened his face, and he laughed, the rich sound filling the room. She could easily grow accustomed to such banter, particularly with him. She bowed her head to hide the effect he had on her. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You’re beautiful,” he countered.
“No. I’m adequate.”
He drew closer. “Little liar. The truth
is when you smile or laugh, you take my breath away.”
Aware of his gaze, she tingled all over. His words gave her hope their future marriage might work splendidly.
She started to relax and allowed herself a study of his face—the sharp angles of his cheekbones, his square chin, and the slight indentation at the center. The curve of his lips was nearly perfect. The only flaw, if one could call it that, was the fullness of the lower lip. He was the one who was beautiful.
This was no time to moon over her future husband. She scrambled to break the silence that rose between them. “I want a trust created to hold the rest of my wealth for our children. My father kept my estates separate from the duchy. It was his wish I have something from my mother’s side of the family.”
“Done.” He leaned back in the chair and contemplated her with a lazy grin. “Are you nervous?”
“No.” She tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“Sitting on the edge of the seat, you appear ready to bolt from the chair. Let’s discuss something else besides settlements and trusts, shall we? I’ll tell you something about myself that no one else knows, and you do the same with me.”
“Is this a game?” She bit her lower lip to keep from scowling. His gaze flew to her mouth and lingered. What was he about?
“No. I thought it would help us get to know one another better.”
“Oh,” she whispered. There was no need, as she’d just agreed to marry him, but inside a little of her melted. He’d completely captivated her with the simple gesture.
“I’ll go first.” He tilted up one corner of his mouth. “Now, do I have your solemn promise not to disclose anything we discuss?”
“Absolutely.” She put her fingers to her lips and twisted as if locking away the secret.
His eyes darkened for a moment, turning a steel gray. “I shall test the lock later for safekeeping, you understand.”
A deep heat fell across her cheeks.
He seemed pleased with her response, and his smile returned. “When I was a boy, I wanted a pet, but my mother had a strict rule, no animals in the house. So, I snuck one of the tame barn cats into my room. For two months, I kept Athena hidden.”
“Athena?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Appropriate for a mouser.”
“What happened?” She breathed deeply to keep from laughing.
“My sisters let it slip one evening I had a cat sleeping on my bed. My mother marched into my room and demanded I hand over Athena.”
“Poor kitty and poor you.”
“No need for sympathy. This story has a happy ending. I simply informed my mother that after seeing a mouse, I took matters into my own hands. Athena deserved to stay inside. Shocked at the news of a mouse infestation, my mother readily agreed. From that day forward Athena had free rein at Pemhill.”
“Did she do her job?”
“I have no idea.” He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. “The mouse I saw was in the lower pasture. Athena never ventured beyond the courtyard.”
She put a hand over her mouth and shook her head to hide her mirth. “You didn’t tell anyone?”
“Never,” he whispered. “Only you.”
She shivered, then pulled away to study him. Was he teasing her? Or was the low thrum of his voice something else?
“Your turn.”
She swallowed. With so many secrets, it was hard to settle on just one. “Several years ago, I stole away from Langham Hall without anyone knowing.”
“Scandalous,” he murmured, but his eyes were bright with merriment.
“There was a gypsy camp about an hour away. I visited and bought a witching ball.” The confession proved she believed in the curse. How could she explain her desperation to protect her family after her first fiancé, Archard, had died?
The room grew quiet. Without breaking his gaze, he took her hands in his. “What’s a witching ball?”
“A glass sphere that traps curses and keeps them from harming loved ones.” This was beyond foolish to have disclosed. She stilled but forced herself to push through the answer. “The old gypsy promised it would keep evil spells from a house. It’s in my bedroom to stop the curse—”
Suddenly, he tilted her head with his fingers. His lips gently brushed hers. He drew back and studied her, his eyes liquid pools of silver. “If you like, bring it with you when we marry.”
“Are you scared of my curse?” The words slipped free, as if his kiss had released all her doubts and fears.
“No.” His lips brushed hers again. “My kiss simply locked your secret in me.”
She blinked slowly. What if she was scared of the curse? Scared of getting close to another person again and losing him? She shook her head to clear the momentary weakness. They were discussing marriage settlements, not baring all their secrets.
The next term held little, if any, financial worth but was as important as any dealing with her fortune. Fidelity within marriage fostered respect for the union and each other. She had seen the effect it had on her aunt and uncle.
If Pembrooke acknowledged he kept a mistress and refused to give her up, she could not marry him. Otherwise, his affair would give the ton another excuse to make her life miserable. She brought enough of that to their marriage and didn’t need any additional fodder from him and his mistress.
“I want us to commit to one another completely.” With a complete lack of grace, she blurted, “You must give up your mistress immediately.”
His mercurial gray eyes sharpened, and his show of lighthearted humor lifted instantly. He leaned closer and brought his face level with hers. “How do you know whether I have a mistress or not?”
“People believe you keep Monique LaFontaine.” Claire stayed glued to the chair. If she moved an inch, he would perceive her as weak. “If you have an arrangement, you must break with her. My cousin McCalpin will verify it before we marry.”
He was so close, but she refused to blink. Without moving a muscle, she waited as if she had all the time in the world. Truthfully, her insides jiggled like a blancmange. She might have pushed him too far, far enough for him to walk out the door never to return. Even so, she must present a face that was unwavering in her resolve.
“My God. You’re serious,” he said.
“Yes.” Claire raised her eyebrows and set her jaw. A hint of unbridled panic started to buck within her chest. What if she had made a mistake? She had just insulted him. She couldn’t lose this last chance at marriage. Could this be any more of a bloody blunder on her part?
Pembrooke broke the silence in a tone that, though quiet, held an ominous quality. “I have no such arrangement. I’ve been in mourning for the past year and didn’t leave Pemhill. I’ll not comment any further about my past. It has no impact on our union.”
A modicum of dread tightened in her chest. What about her past? If he had any inkling of the truth, he’d recoil in horror. Every thought and concern she wanted to pursue congealed into a huge pool of muddle in her mind. With a slight shake of her head, she attempted to gather her wits.
How could she have been so cruel, bringing up the subject of mistresses while the man had been at his ancestral seat caring for his family? “I’m sorry. Losing a family member is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to face. I’m sure you still grieve.”
He stared out the window, completely distracted and unaware of her inner turmoil. Finally, his gaze returned to hers, and his face softened. “Thank you. We all miss Alice very much.” He took a deep breath and released it, his pain evident. “Let’s continue. What else would you like to discuss about the settlements? Or is there anything else you’d like to share?”
Taken aback by his question, she relied on her greatest nemesis to save her from floundering anymore. “No, I think we’re done. Might I suggest you call upon the ton’s gossips if you want to know about me? They know more about the past and the curse than I do.” If he pursued this line of questioning, she was going to lose him, too
. Only this time she would be the reason for the loss.
His eyes crinkled, betraying the humor he found in her comment. “Indeed. Probably the same applies to me.”
Claire remained still. If she shared any of her secrets, the remains of her reputation would be in tatters, but more important, her dreams for her own family and the children’s home she was building in her parents’ memory would be shattered. Who would trust innocents to her?
A muscle flickered in his jaw. “This is an extremely delicate subject, one I’m afraid will cause you embarrassment but needs to be discussed.” He spoke softly, his voice deep with a mellifluous timbre. “You may think this is a tit for tat, but I assure you it is not. Nasty rumors have surfaced that you … have a lover. Rest assured, I’ll do whatever is necessary to silence such talk and protect you.”
She studied his face for a sign, any hint he knew the truth about her. Without warning, shame slammed into her chest. She choked with memories of Lord Archard. To show the depth of their commitment, they had made love and given their virtue to each other all those years ago. “Thank you for your concern. I’ve not heard those rumors.”
“I apologize if I’ve caused you distress.” He plowed his hands through his black hair. The long length brought to mind a pirate. For a moment, he appeared to be as lost in the past as she was.
“Who’s spreading that tale?” She struggled to sound nonchalant.
“It’s hard to identify. It’s innuendos and rattles from people who have no—” The pain on his face turned into a rueful smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll put a stop to it.”
“There’s no need. No one can stop the rumors about me.” Desperate to escape the torture, Claire bit her lip to gain control as her pulse raced. Her heart whispered it was time to tell the truth and bare her guilt. For years, she had carefully protected the secret deep inside. But this man and his vow to protect her made her want to confess all.
Oh God, she couldn’t. He’d walk away, and society would waste little time in labeling her a pariah.
He rose from the chair and stood before her. “I should take my leave and see your aunt and uncle.”
The Bad Luck Bride Page 5