Chapter Four
It was all a bit underwhelming, really, to Jed’s way of thinking. Three days on the road and nary an incident of which to speak. Though the journey so far had been rushed with no stopping other than to change horses that first night, and an all too brief stay at an inn last night, all in all the trip had been remarkably…efficient. Perhaps not surprisingly, Eliza had thought of everything when planning this little adventure, so while they hurried, there was no hint of panic, no shouts or chases as an angry father stormed in to find them together at the inn.
In summary, it was not at all what one would expect when running off with a forbidden fiancée.
Jed studied his traveling companion—who could also be referred to as his soon-to-be wife. She was placidly gazing out the window as he was, taking in the scenery as if they were merely out for a ride and not about to make the biggest decision of both their lives.
The biggest mistake, most likely.
Jed watched as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her demeanor had grown markedly more relaxed, one might even say pleasant, the closer they drew to Gretna Green. Her smiles had become more frequent, her attitude more teasing and lighthearted, and the effect was bewitching. Even though she’d forsaken the artful coif and the flattering gowns for a more serviceable style, it seemed to him she grew more beautiful with each passing hour. At this particular moment she looked decidedly at ease.
She looked pretty when she was at ease.
He rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. It had been this way ever since she’d arrived at the house party. He had the most ridiculously sentimental notions about this utterly unsentimental woman.
He studied her now in the daylight that streamed in through the windows. Her gown was simple, appropriately so for a full day of travel. Her hairstyle back to the severe chignon he’d long remembered. Little about this woman had altered; it had just seemed so that first night thanks to her maid’s efforts.
Or possibly her sister’s.
Yes, Mary likely had a hand in it.
But later that night it had become clear she hadn’t changed at all. Not really. At least, not where he was concerned.
She still disliked him, and rightfully so.
Then why did you kiss her?
To get a response out of her, he supposed. Her coldness had been unbearable in that intimate setting while discussing marriage like it was a game of cards.
So he’d kissed her. To rattle her, that was all. To catch her off guard like she’d done to him. To make her look at him with something other than that bland businesslike demeanor or worse, that revulsion—a remnant from their morning meeting that would haunt him forever, it seemed.
To say that she’d shocked him with her offer would have been an understatement. He’d been stunned into silence at first as his mind had tried to keep up with what he was hearing.
Eliza proposing. Eliza asking him to marry her.
His first guess, he’d admit, had been an unkind one, assuming that she was calling in a favor for her silence. But he would not have blamed her. He’d chafed at the idea of marrying under the weight of such a threat, but he would not have blamed her for using that secret to her own gains. He deserved nothing less.
Besides, he’d already decided he would do it. He might not have a history of making sound financial decisions, but the ramifications of what she was offering were easy enough to consider.
He would be out of debt. If they obtained her dowry, he could once and for all pay off his debts and start anew, without the heavy yoke of shame he wore whenever he spoke with Davenport, the man who’d saved his siblings when Jed had brought them to ruin.
It had been almost absurdly easy to make such a life altering decision. But it was not as though he had plans to marry for love or children or any of the other things men in his position might wed for. He had no title to pass down, and what sort of woman would want to shackle herself to an impoverished gentleman like him?
A desperate one. He watched her now as she stared out the window, but even as he stared as her placid expression he remembered the look he’d seen in her eyes when she’d spoken of her father and this match which she found ‘untenable.’
Untenable? By the fear he saw flash across her eyes and the tightness in her body, he would have been more than willing to wager that she was terrified of her father’s plans for her.
Terrified and desperate. For it could only be desperation that had her turning to him as the better alternative.
So yes, he could agree to her plan without the usual guilt that clung to him like mud these days. For who would be hurt by such a plan? It was not as though he would be taking advantage of an innocent—in fact, he could very well be saving her.
And if he could save himself in the bargain, why on earth would he not say yes?
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
A business arrangement, as she’d soon made clear.
He ignored the uncomfortable sensation in his gut when he thought of how calmly she had detailed that aspect of their arrangement. And after he had kissed her, no less.
Talk about wounding a man’s ego.
But then, he had not really planned on kissing her, and he certainly had not meant for it to turn so heated. He’d merely wanted to shock her out of that cold, businesslike demeanor. He’d wanted to make her see him as a man and not an unfeeling, greedy rogue.
She’d taken him by surprise with the proposal and he supposed some reckless, mischievous part of him wanted to shock her in turn. To see some glimmer of feeling from her other than hatred and anger, or even worse, that sterile businesslike manner of hers, as though proposing marriage were merely a financial arrangement and nothing more.
Which was exactly how she thought of it, he’d come to learn.
But while he had most certainly surprised her with that kiss, her response had shocked him even more. Her heated, untutored, passionate kiss had upended his entire world. Despite her dazed eyes and her labored breathing, he was fairly certain that kiss had affected him even more than her. For what he discovered changed the way he viewed her far more than the change of hairstyle ever could.
She wasn’t cold. Not entirely. Perhaps not at all.
Eliza’s gaze darted in his direction suddenly as the coach jolted over a rut in the road.
Oh, bloody hell. He’d been caught staring. Leering, most likely, since his mind had once again wandered back to the kiss, reliving it for the millionth time.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
Once upon a time that sort of blunt question with her flat tone would have made him hold back a sigh. But now he either knew her better or he had changed. Something had altered, because these days he found her blunt questions refreshing and her honest responses charming.
“I was thinking how underwhelming this is,” he said. In his defense, he had been thinking about that…prior to thinking about the kiss.
She quirked one brow, a hint of laughter in her eyes. “The countryside?”
He grinned. “No, this.” He gestured broadly to the carriage, to her, to himself. “I suppose I’d always imagined that running away to Gretna Green would be a bit more dramatic.”
He felt a surge of satisfaction when her lips twitched upward slightly as she shifted to better face him. “Did you expect a grand chase?”
He shrugged. “Something like that. You must admit, this is hardly the passion-filled adventure one imagines when one thinks of a young couple running away to elope.”
She did smile then and the effect was so much more transformative than any new gowns or coiffure. It softened her in a way that was real. He’d been seeing this side of her more and more often over the past few days, ever since they’d embarked on this grand adventure, and it never failed to give him a thrill.
There was a warm woman beneath that harsh façade and knowing he was one of few to see her was oddly exciting. He was the great explorer of the previously undiscovered Eliza. The
thought had him smiling in turn so now they were grinning at one another—possibly, he suspected, looking very much like a happily engaged couple.
“Tell me, have you often imagined running away to Gretna Green?” she asked.
For a moment he stilled, wondering if she was bringing up the incident that they hadn’t touched on since the night she proposed. But then he caught a hint of a hint of laughter in her eyes and he relaxed.
She was teasing. Eliza’s version of teasing was not like other women’s—she was subtle to the extreme and almost always too serious.
And he loved it. Mainly because he suspected she was not comfortable enough around most to attempt to tease. He was one of the lucky few. And yes, it was likely due to the fact that they’d been trapped in a carriage together for days. But still…he liked it.
He matched her teasing with narrowed eyes and a hand thrown across his chest. “Here lies the heart of a romantic,” he said with flourish. “I’ve long since dreamed of the day a woman would propose to me with the flowery words you used.”
She laughed softly and the sound made him grin. There was nothing forced or silly about her laughter—it was genuine and warm, and ever so slightly awkward.
Just like Eliza.
“You know very well there is nothing romantic about this proposal,” she chided. But there was no heat there.
These past few days of weary traveling, they’d become quite comfortable around one another and this oddly weighted topic. Every time their impending marriage came up in conversation, she reminded him that it was a business arrangement. But honestly, it did not come up all that often. Or at least, not as often as one might imagine, considering they were running headlong into the fire.
No, for the most part their conversations had been about the weather and travel arrangements and books—they were both avid readers, they’d discovered. About their childhood homes, about the exotic places they both wished to visit one day as a result of their avid reading, about their food preferences, etc. Their conversations were quite mundane but absurdly easy.
Oddly easy. He found himself speaking with her as though she were one of his close friends or siblings and not a gently bred lady with whom he’d shared the lowest moment of his existence…
His mind flashed on that kiss.
And one of the highest. Yes, he would definitely categorize that kiss as a highlight in his life. It had been so surprisingly passionate, so beautifully intimate and sweet. Like getting a glimpse into this woman’s soul.
He let out a little snort of rueful amusement. Here he’d been teasing about being a romantic and just listen to him. His mind was going to rot around this woman.
She shifted and studied him closely. “What did you imagine a trip to Gretna Green to be like?”
He grinned. “I didn’t so much imagine as have nightmares about it.”
She gave a small smile, but she was not to be distracted. She was waiting for an answer.
He arched a brow. “I would think most couples, trapped together in all sorts of weather, with nothing to do…” He let his voice trail off before he thoroughly shocked her.
Wasn’t it obvious what most couples would be doing when they were passionately in love and practically already wed?
“I suppose you’re right.” Judging by the flush creeping up her cheeks, she knew where that was heading and she altered the course of the conversation neatly. She repeated his words with a thoughtful tone. “Being trapped together in all sorts of weather…it seems an apt metaphor for marriage, does it not?”
She was teasing, but her discomfort made it sound bitter and jaded. Or maybe she really was that bitter.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Trapped sounds about right when discussing marriage.”
“But not our marriage,” she pointed out.
He thought he saw her take a deep breath and he wondered if she said that to reassure him or herself. “No, not ours,” he said. “Ours will bring freedom.”
“For both of us,” she added.
The silence threatened to grow heavy. He was beginning to know her well enough to know how much she desired freedom, and just how badly she feared the alternative if this plan did not work. Being trapped with a man of her father’s choosing. But what man? And what sort of cruel father forced his daughter to marry a man she so clearly despised?
“I wonder how many couples have had a change of heart by the time they arrive.” Eliza’s theoretical tone jarred him from his thoughts. He watched her eyes grow thoughtful.
“Why do you say that?”
She gave a small shrug. “The journey is a sort of microcosm for marriage, is it not? Trapped together through the ordeals of travel, through all sorts of weather and unexpected impediments. Aside from the—” She licked her lips and his gaze followed. “Aside from the passion, as you mentioned, the reality of being together in such cramped quarters and in such unfamiliar conditions…”
He had an idea of where she was heading with this and he grinned at the thought. “You mean, trapped together like this most couples might grow tired of one another.”
She nodded. “Precisely. I imagine these sorts of conditions, combined with the stress of being chased for some…well, it would be only natural for it to bring out the worst in both parties.”
He laughed softly. “You are right. I imagine there are any number of couples who regret their decision before they even arrive in Scotland.”
Her small smile was a mix of rueful amusement and pity.
“But not us,” he felt compelled to add.
“No, of course not,” she said. “Ours is an entirely different circumstance.”
Nodding, he told himself that he should let it go. He really ought to let the conversation stop there.
He did not.
“Even with our different circumstances, I’d say you and I have been getting on quite well these past few days.” He tried to add a note of levity to his tone. “We might even survive this long journey without killing one another.”
Her amusement was tempered by wariness. “I suppose.”
“We’ve passed the time with perfectly amicable conversations, wouldn’t you say?”
Her brows drew together in confusion. “We’ve merely discussed the weather and made other idle small talk. Hardly deep and meaningful conversations.”
Was that a challenge? No. Probably not. Still, the part of him that came alive at the thought of a wager or a dare was stirring now. This lady had that effect on him, though he suspected it was unintentional. She challenged him. She faced him head on with those honest, all-seeing eyes that cut through everyday banalities and went straight to the heart of a matter.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, enjoying the way she shifted slightly.
She was aware of his body just as he was of hers, he would bet on it.
He wouldn’t literally, of course. He no longer did that sort of thing.
Still, the urge to tease her, to bring about that hesitant, reluctant smile—it was as close as he’d come in years to satiating that part of himself that lived for the next bet. It was another form of intoxication, another way to get that rush of adrenaline that made life come into sharp focus and his heart pound with excitement.
“You do not honestly believe that most happily married couples sit around discussing the great mysteries of the universe, do you?” he teased. “No. My guess is that more often than not their conversations are of the sort of benign day-to-day variety that we’ve been indulging in.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is your point?”
Indeed. What was his point? He shrugged. “I suppose I just wanted to point out that we might not be so improbably matched after all.”
The words slipped out without much thought. But that was not quite true. He might not have intended to say it aloud, but it was something he’d been pondering ever since that moment in the library when she’d given him a blow to the gut by spelling it out that she wanted nothing from him
but his name.
It hadn’t set right then, moments after a kiss that had shaken his world, and it continued to needle him with each passing hour.
It was his pride that had stung, he was sure of it. Still, even knowing that, he felt compelled to convince her otherwise.
Which was utterly ridiculous and he well knew it. This woman—a woman he hadn’t even liked until very recently and who despised him in return—had given him what most men of his acquaintance dreamed of. A marriage of convenience. She was offering him her dowry, assuming they could convince her father to accept this match, and his freedom.
And all she wanted in return was freedom of her own. How could any man not be pleased with this situation?
Well, he supposed there were some romantics out there who wished for love, and still others who were eager to procreate. But he had neither the personality of the former nor the instincts of the latter.
“How do you feel about children?” he asked. Quite suddenly, he’d admit, and it wasn’t altogether surprising that her response was to recoil in shock.
Nay, horror.
“Why, do you want children?” Wary didn’t begin to describe her tone.
He let the silence linger a moment longer, oddly enjoying her unease. “I am merely attempting to take this conversation to deeper depths.”
She was very clearly unamused, her brows pulling together until she resembled a stern headmistress. “Mr. Cleveland, if you are thinking of having children out of wedlock then it is most definitely something we ought to discuss.” Her frown deepened. “It is not that I am firmly opposed to you siring children, of course, but we need to account for the finances that would--”
“I have no such plans,” he interrupted quickly. But not quickly enough. Good Lord but this woman was an odd creature. He couldn’t imagine many ladies so casually and callously discussing her soon-to-be husband’s illegitimate children—hypothetical or otherwise.
But of course she would leap to that conclusion. His family had been whispered about for so long it would be foolish to think she had not heard. Still, he hated the fact that she assumed he shared his father’s low morals, though again, he could not fault her for assuming the worst.
A Gentleman's Gamble (Devilish Lords Book 3) Page 7