Shocking her, he rode close, reached out and grasped her arm. “Don’t be a fool. You’re allowing emotion to override good sense. Only think for a moment, and consider if anyone saw you go into the library. Your reputation will be in tatters.”
Jerking free of him, she urged the mare away. “You grow tiresome, Blixford, and I grow hungry. I wish you a good day and every happiness.” She pressed her heel against the mare’s flank and set her into a canter, gratified when Blixford made no move to follow.
***
Michael watched her ride away and clenched the reins in frustration, as angry with himself as he was with her. What had come over him in the library? He was not a debaucher of young ladies. He was not a particularly amorous sort, content to keep a sedate mistress to mollify the physical side to his nature. A wife was for procreation. His wife would be a duchess, responsible for overseeing five different houses, managing whatever minuscule social engagements he was required to hold or attend, and raising their offspring competently. He didn’t want a wife he lusted after.
Regardless of what he wanted, that was precisely what he was about to have. She was all he never sought in a wife; courageous, beautiful, desirable, intriguing and passionate. He didn’t want her for his wife, but he couldn’t deny he wanted her. After last night, he wanted her with something that bordered on obsession. He’d not slept. Instead, he sat in the chair beside the fire in his bedchamber and considered how he might convince her to accept his hand. Close to dawn, he hit upon the notion of going for a ride on the off chance she would be out early again.
She had. He proposed. She refused.
Now what? He continued toward the house, deciding just as he reached the stable yard, he would tell Sherbourne she was compromised. Her father wouldn’t allow her to refuse him. They would be married by tomorrow morning. He’d bed her by tomorrow night. By the time she was with child, hopefully sooner than later, he would be done with this insanity-inducing desire. He would keep his distance, except when they shared a bed, and he would not know her beyond that. He couldn’t allow it, for he was absolutely certain, just as Lucy believed, he would grow attached. Already, he liked Lady Jane. Rather a lot. His horrible words in the library had shocked her, but she couldn’t know he’d been equally shocked. It was unlike him to be cruel, but he’d been desperate to gain some distance, to kill her desire, for he’d been dangerously close to hauling her over to the sofa and taking her, right there, damn the consequences or the possibility of someone walking in on them. She’d have allowed it, not because she hoped to force his hand, but because she wanted it.
Incredible. She was simply incredible. And she would be his wife.
It would be difficult in the extreme not to become attached, even to fall in love with her. And then where would he be? If she died in childbed, as his own mother had, he might perhaps lose his mind, become a madman, like his poor, demented papa. He would lose all he’d gained, would further disgrace the family name, the ducal title. Hundreds of people would suffer, as they had when his father went mad, all because he lost the wife he loved so much, and subsequently, his handle on reality.
No matter what, he could not love Lady Jane. He would allow himself to enjoy their marriage bed, but out of it, in the light of day, he would stay far away from her. When she became pregnant, he would leave her at Eastchase Hall until she was delivered. He would return, see the babe, perhaps get her pregnant again, to ensure an heir in case the first succumbed to death in childhood, then leave again. If she died in childbed, he would feel terrible, of course, and he would mourn the passing of one so young and full of life. But he would not go mad.
He thought of Annabel and flinched. He had not loved her, but he’d felt a certain amount of affection for her, and her death had been a blight on his soul. In point of fact, he was not yet fully recovered. Thinking of Annabel brought on dull pain and a gloomy outlook.
He tried not to think of her and, as a general rule, was successful. Of late, he was able not to think of Annabel at all, unless he was in his cups. Regrettably, he’d been close last night. He’d made his way to the library and overindulged his brandy, feeling morose after a decidedly tedious evening of entertainment. He’d suffered through Lady Letitia’s recital, Miss Harriet Sutcliffe’s monologue of a scene from Hamlet, and a game of charades, the best performance, of course, by Lady Jane. He’d not joined in because it was beneath his dignity, electing to remain in the corner, conversing with Sherbourne about crop rotation and an interesting investment opportunity. Otherwise, he found the evening irksome, the culmination of almost two weeks of constant companionship with a group of people he’d ordinarily avoid at all costs.
Tomorrow would be an end to it. He’d thought to offer for Lady Letitia, but no more. He would have Lady Jane. Perhaps she was a hoyden, but she would make an adequate duchess. She was well acquainted with running Sherbourne’s household, and with the guidance of her aunt she’d not be hard pressed to provide entertainments in his home. She had a great amount of health and vitality. She would, no doubt, produce an heir without too much trouble.
Set upon his course, he’d only just stepped into the house through the garden door when Lucy rushed toward him and dragged him into the conservatory. “Blix, did you meet Lady Jane in the library last night?”
Gazing at his sister’s bright eyes, her flushed cheeks, he could see she was rather excited at the prospect. “It was accidental, but yes, I did see her in the library when all the house was asleep.”
“Oh, Blix, how marvelous!”
“Not precisely how I’d phrase it, Luce. How did you know?”
Her brows rose. “Mrs. Sutcliffe, of course. She’s a horrid woman, but I do adore her daughter, Harriet, so I had to suffer inviting her in order to have Harriet.”
Michael blessed the horrid Mrs. Sutcliffe. She’d inadvertently made all of this much easier for him. “Did she happen to mention why she was up and about at two in the morning?”
“Claims she suffered dyspepsia and couldn’t get an answer to her ring. She went to the kitchen for a bromide and on her return, saw Jane leaving the library. Directly afterward, you opened the door and looked after her, and Mrs. Sutcliffe reached her own conclusion.” Lucy’s eyes, if possible, became brighter. “Was she correct?”
“Really, sister, do you expect me to kiss and tell?”
“Oh, Blix, how lovely. You will offer for her, of course?”
“Immediately.” He stepped back, sketched a slight bow and left her, headed for the front of the house to enquire whether Sherbourne had descended as yet.
Lucy’s butler met him and spoke before he could ask. “Your Grace, the earl has requested you meet him in the library.”
Ah, so Sherbourne was already aware. Michael stepped to the door and opened it without pausing.
Tomorrow night. He’d have to keep that in mind while he faced her irate papa. And Jane herself, who would undoubtedly make him more than uncomfortable before it was said and done. He wouldn’t mind. His discomfort now would be made up for tomorrow night.
Chapter 2
She’d be gone from Margrave Park within two hours, and if Blixford kept to his usual antisocial behavior and avoided society engagements, she might never see him again.
That would be a relief. Even now, as angry and hurt as she was, she could not forget how he had made her feel for only those few moments. It would be embarrassing to see him in the company of others, knowing he’d had his hands and lips on her in such a shockingly intimate fashion. She ruefully admitted her embarrassment would be as much for his obvious dislike of her as for his physical attraction to her. It was humbling and degrading to realize he thought her a dreadful person, even while he lusted after her.
She left the stable and walked to the house, deciding to take breakfast before she went up to change into a morning gown. This time, she went through the front door, into the open, airy hall. The clock was chiming eight as she stepped inside.
Sherbourne was there, lying in
wait, it appeared, his normally smiling face a thundercloud of fury. “Daughter, I will see you in the library this instant.”
Doom impended. Her parent was rarely angry with her, and she could only conclude that someone had witnessed her library visit.
He closed the door behind her and instantly verified her fear. “Mrs. Sutcliffe has just informed me that you came to the library in the wee hours of this morning in your dressing gown, and Blixford was here. You will tell me what transpired.”
She didn’t like to lie, particularly to her father, but she could see no reason to tell the truth. The consequences were too horrible, and what was one small lie, after all? “I was unable to sleep, so I came down in search of a book. I was on my way out when I realized the duke was here, in that chair close to the fire. He’d evidently nodded off and I woke him when I opened the door to leave.” She kept her expression bland. “It was nothing, sir. I bade him good night and left.” How had Mrs. Sutcliffe been aware? Was the wretched woman lurking in the shadows out in the hall?
Her papa looked distressed. “Jane, I’ve done my best by you, but perhaps I erred in failing to take another wife, to provide you a feminine hand in your upbringing.”
“There is Aunt Northern, sir. She sponsored my coming out and has always been helpful to me. You mustn’t chastise yourself. I’ve not turned out so badly, have I? There are some who would say I’m a bit mannish in my interests, but I’m certain I can find a gentleman who won’t mind.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Please don’t allow my library visit to concern you. It was entirely innocent, and you should recall who made it her business to tell you. Mrs. Sutcliffe is a terrible gossip and frequently driven by whatever bee she has in her bonnet. To be frank, she’s a mean-spirited woman.”
He actually looked more grieved. “Don’t you see? It’s her nature to gossip, and by the time the rest of the party has risen and come downstairs, everyone will know what happened. Innocent, or not, your reputation is damaged and the only course of action is to demand Blixford offer for you.”
Seeing her world turn upside down, she hastened to save herself. “Please don’t do that. I have no wish to marry him.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s this? You’ve clearly set your cap for him, insisted we accept Lady Bonderant’s invitation to this house party for the sole purpose of pursuing him. Events have made it so you may have what you wished. When and why have you changed your mind?”
She turned and paced to the fireplace, tapping the skirts of her habit with the head of her crop. “Last night, actually. I came to the conclusion that he is, indeed, a stick, and I would be miserable married to him.”
“Ah, Jane, surely you can see it doesn’t matter now? I’ve no choice but to insist you marry him.”
Wheeling around, she met his gaze. “I don’t like to cross you, sir, but I will not marry Blixford.”
The hateful man made an appearance then, stepping inside the door and closing it behind him with a soft click.
“Your Grace, we are in the midst of a private conversation,” she said with righteous indignation. “I’d ask that you leave us to continue.”
He ignored her and focused on her father. “Sherbourne, will you do me the honor of granting me Lady Jane’s hand in marriage?”
Her papa shot her a harsh glance before facing Blixford again. “Is she compromised?”
Without so much as a blink, the duke said, “She is. I will travel to London this afternoon and obtain a special license. We will be married tomorrow morning.”
Blixford looked like a man en route to the gallows. Her pride stung. Her feelings were bruised and bleeding. She was accustomed to acceptance, even admiration from her friends and suitors. That this arrogant man could make her feel like so much dirt beneath his boots made her want to hit something. And cry. She never cried, and his ability to make her want to infuriated her.
Alarmed, she moved forward and stood between them, turning her back on Blixford to face her father. “Sir, I implore you not to force me into what will surely be a life of misery.”
“I can’t allow you to ruin yourself and become a pariah. Only think of your brothers. They’ve yet to find brides, and what lady will have any one of them if their sister is ruined?”
“How grossly unfair of you to use guilt.”
His anger returned and she saw her future grow exceedingly dim. “You should have considered the consequences of visiting the library in the middle of the blasted night, half dressed. God’s blood, daughter, what were you thinking?” Suddenly, his eyes widened and he jerked his gaze to Blixford. “Was there an assignation?” He grew another inch, his back straight, his hands balling into fists. “Did you ask her to meet you here, Blixford?”
“Papa, you’re overset. There was no assignation. It happened just as I said. I came down to get a book, Blixford was here, and that’s all there is to it.”
“I had not yet retired when Lady Jane arrived, and she did, indeed search for a book. She hastened to leave and I detained her. I took liberties, Sherbourne. Afterward, I was less than kind and Lady Jane was deeply offended. Rightly so. I have apologized and assured her in future I will treat her with the utmost respect and deference.”
His honesty spurred her into action. “He dislikes me dreadfully, Papa. He said I am mannish. Would you have me married to a man who thinks so little of me? I will be miserable.”
“Nonsense, Jane.” He cut her a look. “A man does not take liberties with a woman he dislikes, dreadfully or no. You have no choice, child. If you refuse to marry him, I will have to kill him.”
He said it calmly, rationally, much the same as he might say he’d have to invite Blixford for dinner. “Sir, do not jest.”
Sherbourne moved to the fireplace and stood with his back to them, his hands folded behind him. “I do not jest, Jane.”
She did not like her father to be unhappy with her. Devil take the rest of the world, but Sherbourne frowning at her, disappointed in her to this extent, made her feel ill.
Turning toward Blixford, her rage surged forth. “Arrogant, meddlesome clod. I told you not to speak to him, or suffer the consequences. Why are you doing this? You don’t wish to marry me, and for all that, I’d rather marry my father’s poorest tenant farmer than shackle myself to the likes of you. Withdraw your offer, this instant.”
“Jane, be quiet,” her father said. “You will marry him, and say no more on the matter.”
Wheeling about, she looked to the only parent she’d ever known. “I warn you, sir, this will end very badly. For his sake, don’t make me do it.”
“This has nothing to do with him.” Papa turned and scowled at Blixford. “Were it not my own child’s reputation on the line and his life necessary to make reparations, I’d kill him with my bare hands.”
“Understandable,” Blixford said dryly. “Were I not the only thing standing between my title and the crown, I believe I might welcome it.”
“Death is preferable to marrying my daughter?” Sherbourne’s blue eyes, exactly like her own, were cold and hard. “It will be a joyless day when I’m forced to call you kin.” He cast a look at Jane. “You’ve broken my heart, daughter. I can only thank merciful God your mother isn’t here to witness your disgrace.” He stalked to the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “We’re leaving. Immediately. Have your bags brought to the front hall. Blixford, I will expect you at Hornsby Grange tomorrow morning. We will discuss the marriage settlement at that time.” Then he was gone.
Turning to face the duke, Jane noted he looked very tired. Had he slept at all? “The travesty of this only becomes worse. My father loves me and I have broken his heart.”
“He’ll get past it in time, Lady Jane. We shall make the best of things.”
She moved toward the door. “You may do as you wish, Your Grace. I certainly intend to.”
“Have a care, Lady Jane. I am not a man to be trifled with.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You really think I’
m filled with false objections and missish aggravation, don’t you?”
“Yes. You’ve made it clear you wish to marry me. You now have your wish. I apologize for speaking harshly to you last night and assure you, it will not happen again. I believe my sensibilities were dulled a bit by too much brandy.”
“Is this also how you excuse ravishing me?”
“I’m not ordinarily a slave to passionate emotions, Lady Jane. It would seem your fair charms were my undoing.”
How had she ever considered that she loved him?
“No doubt you despise coming undone, because it necessitates a show of emotion, and God forbid you reveal an ounce of humanity, for it is surely beneath your dignity. Good day, Your Grace.” She walked out, certain she would never see him again. And never, most assuredly, would be too soon.
***
As promised, Michael presented himself at Hornsby Grange in Oxfordshire the following morning, well before ten o’clock. As his carriage rolled up the drive to the house, he noted the grounds were immaculate, the fountain out front in good working order, and the house itself was an attractive Palladian style. An attentive groom rushed forward to assist his driver with the horses and as soon as Michael alighted, the front doors opened. Sherbourne stepped out, flanked by his eldest son and heir, James, and the next in line, Jack. The resemblance between all three men was striking. Michael recalled all the Lennoxes were similar, dark haired and blue eyed.
“Good morning,” he said, refusing to feel the slightest bit awkward.
“Welcome, Blixford,” James said, extending his hand.
Sherbourne didn’t smile. “I trust your journey was comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you. I traveled to Glendon last night, to the Blue Hound.”
“Excellent steak and kidney pie at the Blue Hound,” Jack said as he shook Michael’s hand.
Sherbourne turned and waved toward the door. “Please come inside. I’ve something to say to you.”
The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series) Page 4