Beside her, Avery shifted uneasily.
Oh, no. Westram was not going to do this. ‘How dare you, Westram?’ Carrie cried. ‘What I do is none of your business. I am an independent—’
‘You live under my roof, madam. I feed you and clothe you and you are my brother’s widow. Therefore you are my responsibility. If I had gleaned any idea you planned to drag my sisters down to the level of—’
‘Enough, sir,’ Avery thundered. ‘Mrs Greystoke has done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife and if you say one more disparaging word about her, I shall be forced to thrust them down your throat where they belong.’
Carrie froze. At the words. At the fury in Avery’s voice. At the longing filling her heart.
Westram’s demeanour changed in a moment. ‘Your wife, you say?’
‘I do,’ Avery bit out, putting a hand over hers to still her protest.
Westram scanned her living quarters and his lip curled. ‘I hope you intend to keep her in better circumstances than this?’
‘Now look here, Westram,’ Carrie said. ‘There is no need to ridicule what we have done here. Our shop—’
‘We, madam?’ Westram said. ‘You turned my sisters into shopkeepers?’ He shook his head. ‘And I thought you were the sensible one.’ His gaze returned to Avery and spoke harshly. ‘You, sir, will be expected at my lodgings tomorrow morning to speak of the settlements. I assume eleven of the clock will suit you? In the meantime, allow me to use my carriage to deposit you at your lodgings, forthwith.’
‘No need,’ Avery said, equally tersely. ‘I will walk.’
‘Then I will see you off the premises.’ Westram turned his gaze on Carrie and there was a coldness in his eyes Carrie had never seen there before. ‘I will send my carriage round in the morning to return you, madam, to Kent. When you arrive, you may inform my sisters that I will be calling on them in a day or so. You may also inform them that you are to be married within the fortnight.’ He smiled at Avery. ‘I assume that will suit, Lord Avery.’
It was not a question.
Avery inclined his head.
‘Very well. I will wait outside for you, my lord.’ He turned and stalked out.
As he left, Carrie got a glimpse of Mr Thrumby hopping from foot to foot. She buried her face in her hands. ‘Everything is ruined.’
She should never have let herself be entranced by Avery. Never let the desires of her heart overcome the sense of her mind. Her sisters-in-law were going to be so unhappy at this outcome.
The moment the door closed, Avery shot out of bed and, grim-faced, began dressing. Despite everything, she could not stop admiring his lean narrow flanks and firm buttocks or the breadth of his shoulders, or the feeling of disappointment when all that glorious male disappeared beneath his clothes.
‘Avery,’ she said her voice catching, ‘I am so sorry.’
He left off buttoning his falls to give her a hard smile. ‘Never mind. We shall manage, my dear.’
She didn’t want to manage. ‘Surely you don’t intend to go through with this plan of Westram’s? Let me talk to him in the morning. I am sure I can smooth things over.’
He shot her a look of such incredulity, she recoiled. ‘Are you sure this is not exactly what you wanted?’ he asked.
‘I—I beg your pardon?’
He let go a breath. ‘Never mind.’ He shrugged into his coat and picked up his hat.
‘I do mind.’
‘Let it go, Carrie. We will discuss this some other time, when Westram isn’t pacing the hallway outside the door. It isn’t the first time I have been thrown out of somewhere and I’ll wager it likely it won’t be the last.’ His chuckle sounded hollow. ‘Care to bet on the odds?’
Carrie froze. Here they were in the direst of circumstances and he was making one of his awful bets. Exactly the sort of bet her husband had made before departing for the Peninsula.
‘I don’t care to bet,’ she said stiffly.
‘Good thing, too. You would lose.’
He walked out of the door and closed it behind him.
Carrie leaped out of bed and turned the key. She gazed around her, seeking some sort of divine inspiration. The only thing that occurred to her was that she had messed it all up. Dash it all. The shop she might have been able to explain to Westram, but Avery had added a whole level of complication she could not explain away. If only... If only she hadn’t been so curious.
It was all Jonathan’s fault. If he had done his husbandly duty... Argh. She could not place the blame anywhere else. It was her fault. She had ruined everything.
Westram was right, she was not good enough to remain with his sisters. And what was she to do about Avery and his talk of marriage? She didn’t want another marriage of convenience. Another man forced to the altar.
Her heart squeezed in longing. Her throat felt as if she had swallowed something large and dry. The backs of her eyes burned.
Oh, no. She was not going to cry over something she never intended and had no wish for. No wish at all.
Tomorrow she would have to find a way to sort out this whole blasted mess. Hopefully Westram’s temper would have cooled somewhat and Avery could be brought to see sense.
* * *
Avery, at his lodgings and still in his dressing gown the next morning, gazed into the maelstrom within his cup as he stirred his tea. Engaged to be married, by God. There was absolutely no way around it. Carrie had been wrong when she said Westram took no interest in what his sisters did. He also should have known better than to believe it. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking on his part, damn it. Not that there was anything Westram could do to him if he did not come up to scratch. His reputation was already as black as it could be and he had not a penny to his name.
He should have stuck to his principles. Never got involved with a single lady. And if for one moment he thought Carrie had actually engineered that scene last night, if he for one moment thought that she had either written to Westram or had her landlord do it, he’d be on the next boat travelling to India, or China. But upon reflection, he realised Carrie was incapable of such deceit and felt awful for having suggested as much. No. It wouldn’t be Carrie. She wasn’t like that. It had to be the Duke. And while he wasn’t quite sure what the old man might be trying to achieve, Avery should have expected something of the sort after his conversation with Bart and taken the necessary precautions.
But Westram insisting on marriage was likely not the outcome the Duke hoped for, surely? More likely he’d be hoping Westram would set Avery to the right about. Papa certainly wouldn’t want him marrying the daughter of a merchant. Would he? Perhaps he didn’t know Carrie’s exact circumstances.
But despite what Avery had said to Carrie the previous evening, when his temper had been high, he wasn’t even all that displeased about Westram’s demand. He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to her after their lovemaking last night. He wasn’t ready to bid her farewell. And Westram wasn’t wrong to sneer at the way she was living in that little shop. She deserved so much more.
His gut tightened. And just how was he going to provide more?
He closed his eyes and leaned back. He’d have to play for higher stakes, which increased the risk of higher losses. With luck, John would soon start earning enough to support his family so Avery could leave Laura to him. Avery certainly wouldn’t be playing escort to anyone else’s wife. He hadn’t done so since meeting Carrie and he could not see himself ever doing so again. And while he had no problem with his wife being a shopkeeper, a husband should be the breadwinner.
A scratch at his door brought him upright. Had Bart heard the news? It wouldn’t surprise him. His brother had an amazing network of suppliers of intelligence. It was the only way he managed to keep the Duke from committing some new folly.
‘Come.’
The door opened and Carrie stepped in. ‘Lord Ave
ry, I have come to thank you for your kind proposal, but I am afraid I cannot accept.’
Shooting to his feet, he stared at her blankly. As the words made sense, a sharp pain pierced his heart. ‘Why?’ It was the only thing he could think of to say. His mind went back to that day when he’d been twenty-two and still green about the gills and another lady had said almost the same thing to him. Had Father bought this one off, too? But then why bring Westram into it at all? None of this made any sense. He was missing something.
Carrie lifted her chin. ‘I do not think we should suit. You never wanted to be married and nor did I. I value my independence.
Last night, Westram had indicated he had no intention of allowing her to maintain that independence. Had something changed? He gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the little table. ‘Please, sit down. Have you breakfasted? Would you like tea?’
‘I—’ She gazed longingly at the toast rack.
‘Help yourself.’ He went to the cupboard beside the hearth and brought back a fresh cup and saucer. He sat down and proceeded to pour tea while she buttered a slice of toast. ‘I don’t have any jam, I am afraid.’ It was a luxury he could do without.
She nibbled at the toast, then put it down on the plate and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I came early so I could catch you before you went to your appointment with Westram.’
There were shadows around her eyes. She’d clearly spent a sleepless night worrying. Dash it all. ‘Carrie, I told Westram we were affianced. There is no way I could in all honour go back on my word now.’
She drew in a deep breath. ‘I did not give my word.’
‘You did not deny it.’
When she opened her mouth to object, he shook his head. ‘Think about it. Would it be so very bad?’
She glanced around his lodgings. ‘I don’t think I can keep the business going. Thrumby was most distressed when he came to see me this morning. He said if he had known Westram had not approved of the venture he would never have allowed me to rent the shop. And besides, Westram will not allow Marguerite and Petra to have anything to do with it any longer and so, without any more hats to sell, it must close.’
‘Quite honestly, I am not surprised that Westram would put a stop to it. But that is no reason for us not to marry.’
She frowned. ‘How would we manage?’ Her frown deepened. ‘On your gambling?’
He shrugged. ‘What else?’
She nodded slowly, frowning at the toast. Finally, she pushed the plate away, her grey eyes lifting to focus on his face, thoughts, like shadows, swirling beneath the calm surface. ‘We were both very clear at the start of this adventure that neither of us wanted to marry. Nothing has changed.’
He wanted to howl with frustration. Bang his fist on the table. He took a deep breath. ‘Nothing? A great deal has changed. Do you think Westram will not insist on this marriage? If I renege, do you think he won’t ask for satisfaction?’
She looked shocked.
Hah. Got her. A feeling of triumph filled him. She was right, he had not wanted to get married when they first met. But that was then and now things were different. Warmth spread through his veins at the idea of Carrie as his wife. He was definitely fond of her. And she seemed fond of him. Perhaps it was love, of a sort. Perhaps love did exist?
She gave a little jerk of her chin. ‘Do you think your father will be happy at you marrying a cit, as you nobles call us?’
Blast it, he really wasn’t sure if the old man was behind this turn of events or if he would be opposed to it. ‘It is none of the Duke’s business what I do and I neither know nor care what he thinks.’
She narrowed her gaze and took a deep breath. ‘All right, let me stop beating around the bush and get down to brass tacks. I am not going to be forced into marrying anyone, not by Westram or anyone else.’
Forced? He felt as if he had been stabbed through the heart. The pain left him speechless.
Her chin came up and she looked him straight in the eye. There was a glassiness about her gaze that looked suspiciously like tears. ‘I will not marry you, Avery, and I wanted you to know this, because that is what I intend to tell Lord Westram before you call on him at eleven o’clock and I will ensure that he listens.’ She rose to her feet and headed for the door.
‘Carrie,’ he said, giving her a smile that ought to soften her anger. ‘Be reasonable.’
‘I am being reasonable. Reasonable and sensible. Please, get this through your head. Our little fling was wonderful, but it is now at an end and we are not getting married.’ She strode out.
He started after her, but he could hardly chase after her through St James’s in his dressing gown. He rubbed at the growth of beard on his chin. And he could hardly turn up on the Earl’s doorstep in disarray if he wanted to make a good impression.
His gut dipped. Nor could he force Carrie to wed him if she didn’t want to.
He actually had the strange feeling she was trying to give him a way out of the whole mess. Instead of feeling pleased, or grateful or relieved, for the second time in his life he felt desperately hurt.
Only this time, he wasn’t going to run away the way he had after what happened with Alexandra. This time he was going to fight for the woman he loved.
Loved?
Dammit all. He did love her.
And he did not believe she cared nothing for him, not after last night. Apparently, he was going to have to find a way to convince her of his love and to woo her into loving him back.
Oh, no, Carrie Greystoke, this was definitely not the end of their affair. Not if he could help it.
Chapter Fourteen
Only an idiot would be tempted to marry a man like Lord Avery.
And Carrie counted herself an idiot. She stopped a few yards from Westram’s hotel and dried her tears with her handkerchief, then blew her nose.
She took a deep breath. She was not going to allow Westram to force Avery into marriage. He had forced her first husband up to the mark, she certainly would not allow him to do the same thing to Avery. If she had known more about Jonathan, she would never have agreed to his proposal.
Although with the pressure from her father to accept after Jonathan had offered for her—well, it was no use going over old ground...it was the present she had to deal with. She had her sisters-in-law to think of now, too. They had agreed to stick together. To renounce the married state and help each other. The idea had been to take a lover should the opportunity present itself, not end up in church marrying the man.
So what if Avery had stolen her heart? It was the sort of thing men like him did. He made a living by making foolish women fall for his charm. And foolish men, too. At the gambling tables. Unlike the situation with Jonathan, whom she knew little about before they married, she did know all about Avery. Even if Westram wasn’t pressing him to marry her, she could not be with a man who loved the thrill of a wager.
What if he promised to give up his gambling? The strength of that hope took her aback. Oh, she really did need her head examined if she thought he would keep such a promise.
When the next wager came along that offered the chance of easy coin, he’d be off risking his life by swimming across the Thames or climbing a steeple. That was the sort of thing her first husband had done she had learned after his death. People had spoken of his exploits with awe and fondness. It had made her so very angry.
She certainly wasn’t going to sit at home waiting for the news of Avery’s death in some misadventure. She simply could not do it.
Her mind kept running in circles. Tossing up what ifs and maybes until she could not think at all. This was so unlike her. But oh, she did so wish things could be different. They couldn’t. And even if Avery gave up gambling and wagering on ridiculous outcomes, she would not marry a man who had to be forced to the altar for the sake of his honour.
What had that gypsy fo
rtune teller said, something about the head ruling over the heart if she wanted true happiness? Then that was her answer. Logic and reason, not sentiment.
She strode into the hotel without hesitation. She knew exactly how to go on. She had visited merchants who had come to Nottingham on business with her father. In those days, her father had been a force to be reckoned with among the merchants and no one had taken any notice of him bringing his daughter along.
Here, the porter looked at her askance.
Well, he would. Young women did not usually call on gentlemen unescorted. Blast, she should have thought of that and brought Tansy with her, but she needed her to mind the shop. ‘I am here to visit my brother-in-law,’ she said firmly. ‘Lord Westram.’
The man’s eyes widened. ‘What name shall I give, ma’am?’ His expression was polite enough, but his eyes held doubt.
‘Mrs Greystoke.’
He wrote a note and gave it to a lad in livery standing at attention near his desk. ‘If you would take a seat for a moment or two...’ he suggested.
She nodded and perched on one of the chairs scattered around the lobby. She chose one with a good view of the stairs.
A few moments later, Westram ran down them, looking harassed and flustered. He had a brief word with the porter before coming to her side. ‘There is a private parlour we can use.’ He took her arm and escorted her up to the second floor. The windows of the small room looked out over the Strand where not long ago she had gone to visit an elephant.
‘What are you doing here, Carrie?’ he asked once they were seated.
‘I have no intention of marrying Lord Avery, so it is absolutely pointless you meeting with him this morning.’
He reared back. ‘So the blackguard got you to do his dirty work for him, did he? Well, it won’t wash. I will not allow such an insult to my family name to stand—’
‘Enough.’ She inhaled a deep breath and calmed herself. ‘Please, Westram. Believe me when I say the blame is mine. I approached him. I am sorry if you are disappointed in my behaviour. I certainly did not intend to cause you any anxiety. I can assure you nothing like this will ever happen again, but I am not marrying Lord Avery.’
A Lord for the Wallflower Widow Page 19