“You seem out of sorts today, Uncle. Would you like to continue at another time?”
“No.” Charles looked at his nephew, as if for the first time. Francis emitted the same carefree attitude present in Miss Doutree. Did that mean something? He knew of his own failings, but the boy didn’t appear to suffer the same discomfort around other people.
“Can I help? Although I’m not interested in the earldom, it doesn’t mean I can’t assist you more with the estate.”
Settling back in his chair, Charles debated accepting the help. “What do you do for fun?”
Francis blinked as if Charles had turned into another person. “What do you mean? I enjoy a great many things.”
“Can you give me a few examples?” At his nephew’s raised eyebrows, he continued. “It has recently come to my attention that I don’t partake in any activity simply for the enjoyment of it. I’m looking for some ideas.”
A smile spread across Francis’s face as he leaned back in his seat. “Well, women can be very pleasurable, but I suppose you already know that. But the park, the theater, and the . . . music from Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens are a few other options.”
“And how often does one partake in these indulgences?”
To his surprise, Francis laughed. “It depends on how much you enjoy it. Some don’t miss a performance, while others can barely tolerate one.”
Charles rubbed a hand across his chin. He wondered if Miss Doutree held a preference regarding those events. He needed to spend more time with her to determine if he should marry her. Would it be appropriate to ask her to join him?
Their excursion to Hyde Park hadn’t ended well, and he couldn’t fathom why. Although she tried to hide it, he could tell she felt uncomfortable during their walk and the conversation back to her father’s townhouse had been strained.
An hour after he sent his nephew home, Charles still hadn’t decided what to do about Miss Doutree. In the end, he admitted waiting a few days before contacting her again held merit. But he had no desire to allow her to forget about him. On the other hand, if he contacted her too soon he would appear too eager.
He let out a sigh as he covered his face with his hands. This game seemed ridiculous. In the past, securing a bride hadn’t been so troublesome. Why did people find it necessary to go through this?
A knock at the door had him clearing thoughts of the blue-eyed puzzle. However, the appearance of his butler brought no less confusion. Typically he didn’t appreciate an interruption while he sat in his study.
“My lord,” the man said. “A Mr. Doutree and a Miss Doutree request an audience.”
Shock permeated his body, but he disallowed the emotion from displaying on his face. “I shall join them in the drawing room shortly.”
“Very good, my lord.” With a bow, the man left as swiftly as he had entered.
Settling back in his chair, Charles resisted the urge to hurry to the drawing room. What could their visit mean? Surely if Doutree intended to warn Charles away from his sister, he wouldn’t bring her along.
As the riddle of the lady grew, he felt more anxious to be around her. To discover how she thought. To hear her secrets.
He groaned. This new interest didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t need to involve himself with her any further than to get her to marry him and produce an heir. Getting to know her would not serve him when her end arrived.
Unable to delay any longer, he made his way to the drawing room. Silence greeted him outside the doorway. A glance inside, however, gave him the reason why. Judging from Doutree’s disapproving expression, he didn’t want his sister to be here. Why did he bring her?
“Good afternoon.” His greeting made Miss Doutree jump, but a smile spread across her face as well as her brother’s. “What brings you here today?”
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he took a seat on the opposite side of the room.
“I hope you can forgive our intrusion,” Doutree said.
“Yes, my lord,” Miss Doutree began. “But our cause is just, and I imagine you could help us.”
Confused, Charles further surveyed the woman. She appeared excited, but judging from her restless hands, slightly nervous. Her full, pouty lip was caught between her teeth again, and he wondered if this was something she did often. The desire to know more about her worried him. He didn’t want to care. She was simply a means to an end.
“I will do what I can,” he muttered, trying to dispel the pride welling up inside him at the hope in her eyes.
Her hands ceased her restless movements as she scooted to the edge of her seat. “Lady Minor has begun a charity to collect unused clothing items for the less fortunate. Do you have any items you could donate?”
Not expecting such an odd request, he sat in silence.
“It doesn’t have to be much. Anything would help,” Doutree added.
Charles cleared his throat. “I apologize, but when I traveled to London, I didn’t bring much with me.”
Miss Doutree’s face fell. “Oh, I see. We had hoped you had unneeded . . . women’s garments available.”
Clenching his jaw, Charles worked to control his normal anger. Was this her way of prying into his past? Regardless, he couldn’t afford to scare her away. With a deep, cleansing breath, he relaxed his features.
“I suppose I could send for a few articles. Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”
Her face perked up as hope and excitement reentered her eyes. “No. We are happy to have whatever you can give.”
“That’s settled then.” Doutree stood. “We won’t bother you further.”
At this statement, Miss Doutree’s disappointed gaze landed on her brother before she nodded and stood. Copying her action, Charles tried to find something that would make them stay. His mind came up blank, but . . .
“Miss Doutree,” he called before she could reach the door. “Would you— I mean, do you enjoy the theater?”
She turned to him, her delicate eyebrows drawn together. “I don’t mind it. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About having fun. And I’d like to try it. Would you and your mother join me for a performance?”
“We’d be delighted.”
The smile she bestowed upon him caused an odd fluttering sensation in his chest. He had the urge to return the smile, to bask in it some way. Why? What was wrong with him?
Silence echoed in the room. Rebecca had trouble sitting still, but with her mother’s eyes on her, she fought the instinct to move. The outing to the theater had been pleasant, but sitting here in the drawing room was diminishing her memory of the evening they just shared.
“Why are you acting so uncomfortable?” her mother asked. “Your father is finally taking the role he should have from the beginning.”
Unable to listen to her mother’s dislike of the earl any longer, Rebecca crossed her arms. “I disagree. I’m not sure why Father demanded to see him the second we arrived back here, but I can’t imagine it being his desire to begin acting like a father.”
“Do not say such things! He cares for you. He simply doesn’t know how to handle having a daughter.”
Turning to the side, Rebecca focused her gaze on the empty fireplace. Her mother had been making excuses for that man her entire life. This argument was old, and Rebecca was tired of hearing it. She knew her mother loved her, but her father did not.
“Rebecca?”
She faced her mother and opened her mouth to utter the normal assurances she offered, but the sound of male voices stopped her. From the tenor of speech, it sounded as if their conversation went well. Rebecca sagged her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized how tense she had been.
“Victoria,” her father called to her mother as he entered the room. “Come with me.
The earl needs to have a word with our daughter.”
Rebecca knew the fear in her mother’s face was mirrored in her own. What had the two men discussed that would result in a private conversation between her and the earl? She feared she already knew the answer.
Shaking off her concern, she nodded her agreement to her mother. Lord Dunmore had no designs on her. Not only had he asked her to locate a bride for him, but he clearly had already dismissed her. The bitterness rising in her throat was a direct contrast to the terror she just felt. Why did she feel like this? She didn’t want to marry the earl.
“Of course, my lord,” her mother said through tight lips. “Please excuse me, Lord Dunmore.”
With that, Rebecca watched as her parents left the room. As the door clicked shut, she fought the shiver racing across her flesh. Lord Dunmore didn’t intend to harm her, and there was no proof he killed his wives, she reminded herself.
“Please take a seat,” she offered, unsettled with him towering over her. “What can I help you with?”
“Help me?” he asked as he sat in the chair next to her.
“My father said you wanted to speak with me. I assume you require my assistance.”
His eyebrow rose a fraction. “Is that why your face fell and you lost all color?”
Rebecca’s eyes widened as she felt heat returning the missing color to her cheeks in an overabundance. “Yes. I mean, no. I just . . . My father has never suggested I speak to a gentleman privately.”
“I see.” He ran a hand along his jaw. “Does that frighten you? To be alone with me?”
Putting her shoulders back, she met his gaze. “No.”
His answering smile could have melted the Heavens. The boyish, good-looking quality of his face always struck her hardest when he smiled. He was, without question, the most handsome man she’d ever met.
“That makes this part much easier.” His eyes bored into her. “Your father asked for my intentions toward you, so I told him. Now, after obtaining his blessing, I have to ask. Will you marry me?”
Her heart stopped beating as time froze. Did he really just propose? And her father had already given his blessing? Part of her wanted to rejoice at hearing the words she never thought she would. Both the idea of removing herself as a burden to her family, and the possibility of marrying a man who was not unappealing, enticed her in a way she never knew existed. But, the Earl of Dunmore? Had fate truly saved her for him?
“Please say something. I’m accustomed to having a response before now.”
Although his words were meant to elicit a reaction from her, she heard the uncertainty in his voice. He was afraid she’d say no. Why? There could be no question that he only wanted to marry her for an heir.
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I find myself a little surprised. Why do you want to marry me? We hardly know one another.”
He leaned back and took a deep breath. “Many people marry knowing even less about one another than you and I do. Even I have married a woman previously unknown to me.”
“Why?” She bit down on her lip, but couldn’t recall the question, nor did she want to. In light of his proposal, he owed her answers.
That thought made her sit up straighter as an idea formed in her mind. If they were to become closer, betrothed even, she would have her truth. And her story. But could she go through with it? Create a scandal by crying off a betrothal? Or marry a man rumored to be a murderer?
“The earldom needs an heir. I’ve never shirked my duties before, and I will do whatever it takes to succeed in this one as well.”
She dropped her eyes to the floor. Although his past danced through her mind, she couldn’t help her disappointment. She knew he didn’t have any strong feelings for her, but she hoped his reason for picking her would be slightly more personal. Regardless, she wasn’t sure how to proceed. Her father certainly believed the earl was good enough for her, but what of her opinion?
“I see.”
He grabbed her hand, causing her to gasp and focus her attention on him. “It won’t be that bad. I know we haven’t spent a great amount of time together, but you’ve enjoyed the time in my company, haven’t you?”
Swallowing, she could only nod. His warm, gloved hand still clutched hers as his thigh pressed up against her. The effect made it difficult to think straight. As if drawn by some unknown force, her eyes fell to his lips. The soft pale pink called out to her, mesmerizing her. She wanted to kiss him.
“Then I believe we will deal well together. My fortune is substantial. I can supply you with anything your heart desires.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to agree, but the question still remained if he had killed his wives or not. She didn’t want to be the fifth death. Nor did she want to live in fear.
On the other hand, her father and brother wouldn’t be pleased with her rejection of the suit. The earl was their means to rid themselves of her. Her father could have her thrown from the house if she didn’t agree. The thought made her stomach clench.
The silence must have worn on Lord Dunmore as he gently squeezed her hand twice and brought his face closer to hers. Once again his mouth captivated her. Would her decision be easier if he were to kiss her now?
“What is your answer? Will you marry me?”
Needing to break the spell he put her under, she pulled her hand from his grasp and crossed the room. She took a deep breath and allowed the air to ease the clean scent of him from her nostrils.
“I-I don’t believe I have an answer for you, my lord.”
He sighed. “If your answer is negative, please tell me now. I have no wish to be put off for your fear of denying me.”
“It isn’t that.” She slowly spun around so she could gauge his reaction. “I need to know you first. Can you give me a fortnight to make my decision?”
As he stood there staring at her, she imagined he would refuse. Judging by the confusion on his face, his previous wives had jumped at the chance to wed him. Well, she wasn’t like them. Hopefully she would never be.
“And what do you propose we do during that time?” he inquired at last.
“Talk. We should see each other every day, ask questions, and learn about one another. Only then will I know if we will suit.”
“I don’t know—”
“Please, my lord,” she interjected before he could voice his concern. She needed this. Needed the time to figure out how to detach herself from the situation . . . and to discover the truth for the publication.
He closed his eyes for a long time before fixing his dark brown gaze on her. “Very well. Now, the first thing you should know about me is my name. It’s Charles, not my lord.”
“Then, Charles, I’m Rebecca.”
“Rebecca.”
The way he said her name spread goose bumps over her flesh. What power did he hold over her that affected her body so and turned her insides to mush? She had two weeks to find out.
Then if she was forced to wed him, she would have many more years beyond that to learn more. That was, if she survived that long.
Charles slipped a finger under his cravat and tugged, loosening it by a fraction. The night air felt cool on his face, but Rebecca’s constant inquires strangled him. It hadn’t even been a full week into her requested fortnight, and he was tired of answering questions.
“I don’t see how all these things are relevant,” he complained, grateful they had managed to leave the ball and find an unoccupied part of the garden. “I mean, how does which boot I put on first affect you?”
Rebecca laughed. “Well, I hadn’t intended to ask that question, but now that you mention it” — he narrowed his eyes at her – “All right. I’ll be serious. These little things just give me insight into your character, and also allow me
to work up to much bigger questions.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Like what?”
“You know what I’m anxious to ask about, so why don’t you just tell me about them?”
After he forced his body to release the tension, he sat on the bench next to her. She was right. He’d been expecting her to ask about his wives long before now. Although he hated the necessity, she deserved to have her answers.
“What do you want to know?”
“Can we begin with their names and how you met them?”
He sat in silence for a moment while studying her. Over the time he’d known her, she’d constantly surprised him. He had thought her first question would be about their deaths, but he’d been wrong. It was as if she wanted to get to know them first.
Realizing this conversation couldn’t be put off, he focused his attention on the bushes growing across the path. “Miranda was first. Her father’s estate backed against mine, so we’d known each other for quite some time. I imagine she knew she wanted to marry me long before I felt the same for her.”
“A woman who knew what she wanted,” Rebecca commented. “I suppose she and I would have been fast friends.”
“Perhaps. And you probably would say the same about Diana. She arrived in the country to visit an uncle. We were wed before I knew what happened.”
Rebecca laughed again, more naturally this time, and his body tightened at the sound. Her normal husky voice became higher and freer in moments of high emotion. Part of him wanted to keep her in that state to see how long she could maintain that intriguing voice. Shaking off the thought, he tried to concentrate on their conversation, not the fascinating woman beside him.
“What about the others?” she prompted.
Redeeming the Earl Page 4