“Is that not the way?” He took a sip of wine she didn’t remember being served. “My mother was born and raised in the Highlands. Bairns are given the names of their clans.”
Isabella sensed there was more to his mother’s decision than that. Honor, perhaps.
“Or mayhap she intended to shame the mon into fulfilling his duty.”
Isabella frowned. “That was a brave thing to do.”
“My mother would have done anything to see me fed, including taking naught for herself.”
When Lord Jeffery had visited her father, it had been hunting season and he’d arrived at their country home with a boy her age. A boy with blond hair and rich blue eyes that mirrored Nicholas’s. “You have a brother. Does he know of you?”
“Aye.” He sliced through the steak on his plate, only rigid fingers around his knife giving evidence to his unease.
Isabella tore her gaze away from Nicholas. Abandoned by his father because of rank and having to support his mother at a young age, he had reason to hate the upper class. It would only be a matter of time before he came to resent her. After all, she was one of them, and he insisted on marrying into a class he despised.
“Lady Isabella.”
She turned towards the voice, rasped with age and cigars, as the older gentleman moved towards their table. “Lord Eaton.” She started to rise and was waved back into her seat.
“You must be Captain Nicholas Ferguson.” Nicholas shook Lord Eaton’s outstretched hand.
A business introduction. Isabella was pleased. Lord Eaton didn’t miss an opportunity to be introduced to an entrepreneur, especially ones that sat at his tables.
“All of London is raving about the quality of your latest shipment, sir.”
“I doubt all of London knows of me yet,” Nicholas said.
The older man laughed. “I’d be honored to have you and your finer spirits at my tables. I think we can agree on the advantages.” Neither did Lord Eaton miss an opportunity at having the finest quality alcohol, Isabella thought, as the man walked away.
“Lord Eaton is the owner of Brown’s Gentleman’s Club,” she told Nicholas. “I believe he’s just offered you membership.”
“How are you acquainted with Lord Eaton?”
Isabella did not meet Nicholas’s gaze. “My father patronizes the most reputable clubs. Brown’s has the highest standards.”
“Am I to find Lord Emsley at Brown’s?”
Lowering her lashes, she nodded. “I’m afraid he’s a frequent member.”
“And you would have him toss the wee detail, that you were once his, at every encounter?”
“The question, sir, is not whether I can set Emsley behind me, but whether you can trust that I have. Emsley is no longer part of my future, and I refuse to live the rest of my life avoiding encounters. If you want to grow your business and gain access to the homes of the well-to-do, you’d benefit from accepting Lord Eaton’s offer and establishing a relationship with the gentlemen that frequent his club.”
She noticed Nicholas’s mouth was curved slightly before all traces were once again hidden behind his stone jaw.
“You’ll consider Lord Eaton’s offer?” she asked.
“I agree, Isabella, accepting the man’s offer is sound reasoning. As for your companions, they will soon realize you are out of their reach.”
Twelve
“Are the rooms ready?” Nicholas asked his butler when the man’s tall slender frame exited the kitchen.
Winston paused, his eyes widening. “They will be, sir.”
“Did the hired driver not alert you to Lady Isabella’s arrival?”
“No, sir.” Winston turned, heading back towards the kitchen.
It seemed his message alerting the household of their arrival was not delivered. He hadn’t sent a note or made sure the driver understood. His only thought had been on keeping Isabella close and out of Daniel’s reach.
He had tried charming her during their meal, sharing bits of his past, though each revelation had made him uneasy. Isabella had listened and, to his surprise, defended the decisions he had made in his youth. Yet, even as he did not regret their conversation, Nicholas wondered if she might use her new knowledge against him.
When they sat in the close quarters of the carriage, the space made cramped with parcels, he had glanced down several times and noticed the creamy tops of her breasts and their delicious valley. A path he was cocksure led to hell. Her tilted chin—defiance, he was sure, stemmed from regards for another man, one she would rather kiss and lavish her affections on—had stopped him from pursuing any wicked thoughts. He had cursed himself for not hiring a second carriage after their late afternoon lunch. He’d cursed her for that perfume she chose to don, which made him think of tangled limbs, silk sheets, and long deep thrusts. An hour later, his breeches were still too tight for comfort.
“Are there no rooms available to house guests?”
Winston cleared his throat. “Only the usual one, sir.”
Nicholas’s gaze drifted over to the woman standing beside him. Their eyes met, a slight shiver quivering her bottom lip. His eyes locked on the movement. He could only guess at what he looked like. He’d been in an aroused state for the better part of the day. It was dangerous to place her in his adjoining rooms. Her scent was still wrapped around him like a cloak. Now looking at her crimson neckline, he’d have it no other way.
“That will do.” He never took his eyes off her. Reaching forward, he cupped her chin between his fingers. “Have her trunks taken up at once.” And for the sake of his groin, sure it would deflate with a touch of anger, he said, “Have Miss Conley heat water for a bath; Lady Isabella has had a most adventurous morning before we went into town and no doubt wants to wash away the memories.”
“Very good, sir.”
Heat flaring across every delicate feature of her face, Isabella’s breath hitched. She became the loveliest shade of red when angered, he observed. Nicholas sighed, immediately regretting his harsh words. “Isabella, I’m—”
Jerking her chin out of his grip, Isabella walked up the stairs until their eyes were leveled. “You are a most perplexing and irritating man, Captain.” Her voice lowered. “That you would try to manipulate…mention our romantic encounter in front of the staff…”
Nicholas closed the distance. He knew this Isabella. Defiant. Strong willed. Gone was their earlier comradery, replaced by spit and fire. “And you, lass, are stubborn.”
“I was manipulated once before and will not be made a fool again, sir.” She shook her head. “Marriage to you will not do.”
“Despite what society thinks, I know you value your reputation and the Berths’ well-being. You would not be foolish enough to throw that all away out of spite.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
He would not turn her servants onto the streets, but he wasn’t going to tell her that, not when the Berths’ livelihood seemed to be her sole consideration at the moment.
“You promised them employ.”
“They will have a place under my roof as long as you are my wife.”
A soft groan escaped Isabella’s mouth before she turned, climbing the remaining stairs. He had intended to woo her; instead he had done the opposite, destroying the little favor he’d gained. Looking down at his breeches, Nicholas cursed.
Harold walked into the room, stopping at Nicholas’s side. “You have a way with the lassies.”
Nicholas ignored his cousin. “The woman doesna ken she nay has a choice.”
“You forced your will by announcing the nuptials in the dailies. Drove her from her home. Threatened to toss the people she considers friends out onto the street to fend for themselves… No wonder why her resolve is set.”
“I tried to woo her.”
Harold laughed. “With what, brute strength? Have you not heard a word I said?”
“It is difficult to remember how bonnie her eyes are when I find the lass planning to run off with another mon.
”
Nicholas uttered a curse when Harold laughed again. When he found himself able to move without causing damage to his groin, Nicholas headed towards the study, Harold on his heels. He frowned. “Where’s Cassie?” He looked over his shoulder, expecting the familiar trot of little feet as she turned the corner. He also expected Miss Conley and Virginia to fill his ear about his daughter’s unladylike manner. He received neither.
“Virginia took Cassie on a short outing. She did not think it wise to have our little imp scare the lassie off or rebel against our hard work before you have a chance to show her the right of things. If you ask me, you are doing a fine job of scaring Lady Isabella on your own.” Harold grinned.
“I did not ask you.” Nicholas scowled. Talking to Cassie would have to happen sooner than later if he hoped to avoid another female’s fury. The child was stubborn, to say the least, and he wanted to be the first to mention Isabella to her. He decided to talk to Cassie at breakfast. In the meantime, he’d take Harold’s advice on appealing to Isabella. “The men?”
“Ready to sail when you are.”
Thirteen
Isabella faced the thick wood door set in the wall opposite the large bed in her new chambers. All her instincts warned that behind it lay Nicholas’s rooms. The man was insufferable. Nothing she did deterred him. What she did not understand was why he insisted on marrying her.
The large lavish bedchamber, green and gold threads woven into the decorative pillows, bed covers and curtains, reminded her of his wealth and thriving business. She ran her fingers along one of four polished bed posts, each reaching above her head.
Fathers would welcome him for their daughters. He was handsome and desirable, with growing wealth. Her skin was still on fire from their earlier encounter—and he could be charming.
Isabella frowned. Entrance into the nobility was not as simple as marrying above one’s station. Did he seek the connections of her father? Isabella hoped not. Her father did not intend to forgive her slight, and he no doubt thought her engagement another attempt to snub him. The father she knew would not warm to the idea of a husband who made his livelihood by trade.
She could offer Nicholas nothing. That thought chilled her. Emsley had wanted her dowry. Power and money, she understood. What would Nicholas do when he grew tired of their arrangement? What would she do? With no family or money, she would be dependent on his support.
That would not do.
It was late evening when she and Edyeth finished unpacking the trunks. Sleep evaded her. Walking to the adjoining door, she touched the tips of her fingers to the wood, then flattened her palm. Her forehead rested against the polished surface. No sound came from the other room. She had hoped to hear his footsteps, exchange a few words while she had the courage and the household was asleep. Though his proposal of marriage was more than reasonable, she wanted to make demands of her own. Turning from the door, Isabella gasped and stared into the greenest pair of eyes.
“I did not intend to frighten you.”
Isabella looked for a spark of resemblance to Nicholas and found none. What she did find was a woman no more than three years her senior with knowing hazel eyes.
“He’s not there, you know.”
Isabella flushed.
“I’m Virginia.” A smile curved the woman’s lips.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Isabella said, returning the smile. “Are you Nicholas’s sister?”
“In a way, I suppose you’re correct, only we’re not related by blood.” At Isabella’s confused frown, Virginia continued, “Nicholas has a way of saving people from themselves, as you’ll soon find.”
“You mean capturing and taking hostage?”
Virginia’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve been waiting to meet the woman who’s sent Nicholas into a wild frenzy.”
Isabella felt a tightening in her chest. Surely this woman was wrong. “You’re mistaken. He doesn’t act like a man who wants me here. One moment he’s kind and charming and the next he’s…”
“Unbearable?”
“And stubborn.”
“Let’s not forget ill tempered,” Virginia said. They laughed. “I’ll help you unpack. I would have welcomed you sooner but …”
“I’ve already emptied the trunks, thank you.” Isabella walked to the door, opened it. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I must speak with Mr. Ferguson.”
“Off to do battle? May I offer a suggestion?” Virginia’s green eyes danced.
Isabella paused.
“Nicholas is used to getting his way. He’s been this way since childhood,” Virginia said. “And it’s not all empty bravado.” Virginia’s head tilted to the side. “A battle of wits will only serve to entice him… Use your charm, and you might catch him unaware.”
Isabella’s brows drew together. “Why are you helping me?” They were strangers by all accounts. Nicholas had brought her into his home only hours ago, and the two women had exchanged only a handful of words. She had expected hostility, not kindness.
Virginia laughed. “If we’re to be sisters, Isabella, what better way to foster our relationship?”
“He may well toss me aside after tonight.”
“Then I’ll help you gather your things… But I doubt he’ll do anything of the sort.” Virginia smiled. “I believe you can make him listen to reason.”
Fourteen
Nicholas heard the library door open, then close. He looked up from the desk, his hands hovering over the note he had started to pen. It was hours since her arrival at his home and he had expected her protest sooner. Instead, she had kept to herself, refusing the refreshments he’d sent to her room. Not knowing her thoughts irritated him. He preferred spit and fire any day.
He watched her graceful movement as she walked across the room. She was a beautiful woman. Warm and soft with the right touch of delicateness, her hips purposely swaying to provoke him.
He detected no anger, but Isabella was a woman of education and he had felt the bite of her words. He straightened in his chair. They might as well resolve their differences before dawn, or at least he hoped they could. This business of finding a wife proved vexing, a greater task than he had anticipated.
“Mr. Ferguson.”
His skin tightened at the use of his proper name. “Isabella.”
She settled in a nearby chair with the same grace she had used to walk into the library.
“Where is your chaperone?”
“It’s late. I’ve sent her to bed.”
If he did not know better, he’d think she was warming to the idea of marriage. He relaxed. “Are your rooms suitable?”
The slow lifting of her eyes from beneath her lashes was enough to heat his blood. Folding his arms across his chest, Nicholas ignored the feeling. This was a marriage of convenience, he reminded himself. A union Isabella had protested from the start.
She nodded. “They are comfortable, thank you.”
“Since you are without a chaperone to protect you from indelicate advances, I presume you did not seek me out to show your gratitude.”
She looked down briefly before holding his gaze. “You’ve made it impossible for us to marry without furthering gossip, dashing any chance of me earning suitable income. I have terms.”
“In case I go back on my word?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. He was being generous, he thought, offering her a better life than she could possibly have without his aid. Yet, she had terms—she had come here hoping to bargain. Intrigued, he said, “Alright.”
“But first, a question. What is it you expect of me, and why must we marry at all?”
Ah, she had realized their rooms joined.
He rarely expected people to do anything without the promise of coin. However, he hoped Isabella was different.
“I have a daughter,” he said. “She needs a mother, or, at the very least, a woman’s guidance.”
Isabella stared at him, and he suspected his admission surprised her.
“You can pave her way into society.”
“You do not need a wife for that when you can hire a governess.”
“A wife can open far more doors than a governess.”
“You would marry for my title alone?” Her eyes widened.
He raised a brow. “Was Emsley not besotted with your dowry?”
Her cheeks warmed. “What of love?” She looked away, focusing on some distant nonsense over his shoulder.
“Is that what you wish for, Isabella? Love?”
Her eyes met his again, and what shone in their depths made him pause. Dare he hope that she would accept more from him, that she could love a man like him, so different from her peers?
“What I wish is for us to come to an agreement.” Her chin angled up.
He almost laughed at his lapse in judgment. He ran his hand over his face, letting the bristle from a day’s beard prickle his palm. Isabella heated his blood from their first encounter, but it was time he set aside notions of passion or love. He was a good father and a good captain with loyal men. It was more than most men had.
“Is she your illegitimate child?”
“No.”
Her brows pinched. “You were never married.”
“Cassie is my ward,” he clarified. He had made a serious error if Isabella could not accept Cassie.
“The ton will never accept your orphan, sir…”
He walked around the desk and placed his hands on her shoulders. He ignored her wide eyes and shocked gasp. “And you, could you accept her? She was born in wedlock by parents who loved her enough to trust her upbringing to me, and I aim for her to grow in wedlock. She’s not a bastard and will not be treated with any affection other than kindness, even if ye cannot see fit to love her.”
Isabella wiggled out of his grip. “I only meant that my current reputation will not aid you in this.” Her eyes flashed.
He had frightened her. Nicholas took a seat on the other end of the chesterfield, the fight draining from his bones. “In time, high society will forget your scandal, move on to the next. I don’t want Cassie to have the life I had. I want her to have choices.”
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