The Earl of Davenport: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club)

by Maggie Dallen

  Blast. He had done that. His gut churned with something he couldn’t name but there was no turning back now. It was best that she realized who she was marrying and what she was getting herself into.

  “You’re marrying me to save my family,” she said, though he heard the question in her words. “And to provide your tenants with a countess, and—”

  “And you suppose I chose you for those reasons alone?” he asked, hating the mockery in his tone but making no effort to hold it back. It was for the best. She needed to know what she was getting herself into, even though he knew very well she had no other option.

  That thought made him irrationally angry. The fact that she was with him out of desperation and nothing else. She hadn’t wanted to marry him; she was going along with this plan to be some sort of sacrificial lamb. And her family would allow it.

  “Tell me,” he continued. “Why do you think I’m whisking you away? Don’t you think a nice young woman like yourself deserves to have a true wedding?”

  He saw her swallow and the last of her smile was snuffed out.

  When she didn’t respond, he let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Can’t you just see it now?” he asked. “The looks on the faces of the ton when they get wind of this.”

  He watched as the color faded from her cheeks. A sick sense of satisfaction and shame warred in him as the hero worship faded from her eyes.

  He forced a broad grin as he held his hands out as if reading the headlines in front of his face. “The Earl of Davenport takes a wife.” He paused to look her in the eye. “The devil and his bastard bride.”

  He saw the blow hit its target. Anne flinched before turning her head quickly to face the window. Even with only her profile on view, he knew he’d caused her pain.

  The truth hurt, he told himself. It was for the best that she knew what she was getting into. Much as he tried to remind himself that it was better this way, his heart twisted in his chest. His muscles ached at the restraint it took to keep from going to her, pulling her into his arms and telling her it was all a lie. He hadn’t given society a second thought when he’d proposed to her.

  Oh, he’d used that logic to help convince himself that this marriage made sense. That it was in fitting with his image. But when all was said and done, he’d proposed to Anne because he wanted Anne as his wife.

  He watched in misery as she feigned an interest in the passing landscape, but all joy and humor had faded from her demeanor.

  He’d succeeded in making her see just how wicked he could be. But he felt no sense of triumph, no victory at having proved his point.

  All he felt was shame. He’d done this to her—he’d repaid her kindness with cruelty. The one person he’d never intended to hurt and he’d done it. He’d lived up to the curse that haunted him and hurt Anne just because she’d had the audacity to see more in him than just the devil he’d embraced.

  He had to make it right. She might be stuck with him, but she deserved better. He would be better for her. Somehow he would find a way to make this right.

  He snuck a sidelong glance at her profile before turning to look out the opposite window.

  He would make it right. He just had no idea how.

  Chapter Five

  Anne managed to hold back the tears until she was alone in her room at the inn.

  The moment the maid shut the door shut behind her she let out the sob that had been choking her throat for the last several hours.

  The devil and his bastard bride.

  The words played through her mind, mocking her as they’d ridden in silence for the remainder of the journey. With that one sentence he’d brought her back to reality. With those few words he’d broken through the silly, romantic daydream she’d been harboring all morning.

  Who was she fooling? It was a girlish fantasy that had lingered from childhood, ever since that first time he had come to her defense. Back then she hadn’t understood what the jibes had meant. That awful bully had been years older and far more worldly than she. All she’d known was that she was being offended, mocked, degraded… and Frederick, the future Earl of Davenport, had come to her aid.

  Ever since that moment she’d come to think of him as her own personal knight in shining armor. She’d heard the stories of his wicked ways but had always insisted that he wasn’t as bad as everyone believed. She’d thought she’d seen something in him. A kindness, a goodness, a wild spirit that was woefully misunderstood. She’d thought perhaps it was something only she could see.

  She’d even suspected, or perhaps hoped, they’d shared that secret. That connection.

  Falling back against the closed door, she bit her lip to stifle another sob. Perhaps she had just been a fool.

  After her initial shock over that morning’s proposal, she’d rushed to her room to pack and had allowed her girlish daydreams to sweep over her, clouding her judgment and coloring the situation in a rosy romantic hue.

  When Jed had tried to talk to her about her decision, she had waved him off, certain that any objections he might have over this marriage or the quick wedding were unfounded. She’d actually managed to convince herself that the proposal and the rushed wedding were romantic, that he hadn’t wanted to wait another moment to make her his wife. When, in fact, his decision to marry her and his haste had been all in the name of mockery. There was no other way to see it. He hadn’t wanted her for her, he’d wanted a scandal. He’d wanted to shock the ton by marrying a woman with whispers attached to her name. And he’d wanted to do it quickly to get the most out of this latest shock.

  Tears choked her and she pressed her lips together to stifle them. She shouldn’t be upset. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She was an intelligent woman—most of the time, at least. She’d been raised with low expectations when it came to marriage and her standing in society.

  The urge to sob again was so overpowering it caused her chest to tighten painfully. She’d never expected to marry well, so instead she’d garnered an altogether more ludicrous hope… that she might marry for love.

  A knock on the door behind her had her spinning around, facing the closed door.

  “Anne, it’s me.” Davenport’s voice through the door had her tensing. “May I come in?” She opened her mouth to say no. They weren’t married yet. She didn’t have to allow him into her rooms.

  But resignation made her tired and weary, and she let out a long sigh. After tomorrow she would be his to do with as he pleased. He’d be free to bed her or ignore her as the whim struck.

  At the very least, her family would be saved.

  She stared at the door as he knocked once more, this time with a firm bang bang bang. After tomorrow he could most certainly barge his way into his room, so why bother trying to keep him out now?

  He was in the middle of knocking again, even harder this time, when she threw it open so quickly his fist came down on thin air.

  She’d forgotten to glance in the mirror before she’d opened it and she feared even that brief stint of tears had left her looking ridiculous. Either that or she’d grown a second head. That was the only other explanation for his shocked look of horror as he took in the sight of her.

  Wonderful, she thought with a sniff. That was just how she hoped her bridegroom would regard her on the eve of her wedding.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, coming into the room without asking permission and closing the door behind him.

  It briefly occurred to her to object but what would be the point? To preserve her reputation? Absurd! He wanted her because her reputation was in shambles and he aimed to make her look even worse with a rushed wedding.

  Instead of answering, she turned from him. “I’m tired from the journey, that is all.”

  There was a long sigh behind her. “Anne, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your unerring honesty, whether it is wanted or not. Now is truly not the time to try your hand at lying.”

  She cast a look over her shoulder, confused by the gentleness of h
is tone as much as by the intimacy of it. It did not escape her notice that he was admitting to knowing her. Up until now he’d seemed content to pretend that he barely knew her, let alone played with her during her childhood or protected her from that nasty village boy.

  “You’ve never been much of a liar,” he added, moving toward her until she grew alarmingly aware of the fact that they were very much alone. No worried former governesses or concerned sisters hovered outside the door, and this was no formal drawing room.

  He set his hands on her shoulders and gently urged her into a seat at the table. Her maid had brought food before leaving and it called to her now, the smell of freshly baked bread managing to temporarily overcome her heartbreak.

  “Why don’t you eat some supper and tell me what has you so distraught.”

  The kindness in his tone nearly undid her. She hadn’t been making it up. He wasn’t the horrid man he’d seemed to be in the carriage. But she hadn’t been making up his crude behavior in the carriage, either. Where had that man gone, the one who’d seemed intent to humiliate her?

  Oh, she was so confused. Her earlier optimism and excitement warred with the overwhelming disappointment and betrayal she’d felt when in the carriage.

  The devil and his bastard bride.

  The confusion and hurt had her eyes swimming with tears once more as she reached for bread, hoping to shove down her silly tears with some food.

  He sat across from her watching her eat with a concern that was truly sweet. No, he was not the devil. And he wasn’t an angel, either. Both of which she’d already known. He was a man, plain and simple. And by marrying her he was saving her family. With that thought in mind, she forced a smile and tried to tell the truth without revealing too much. “I will be all right, truly. I was a bit hurt earlier when I realized that you wanted to exploit the rumors about me—”

  “It was wrong of me to say that,” he said. His voice was gruff and earnest and she looked up to see him looking remarkably contrite. She wished for a moment that her sister and the rest of the ton could see this man they called devil now. He looked no worse than a mischievous boy who’d misbehaved.

  “But it was the truth,” she said with another shrug. Could she really fault him for his wanting to exploit her reputation when she was marrying to exploit his wealth and connections?

  That thought brought another wave of misery. That romantic hue had well and truly faded by now and she was faced with the prospect of marrying a man who did not love her or possibly even like her. It was a fate she’d thought to avoid. It was Claire’s destiny, not hers, and she’d been content to let her sister bear that burden. Now, facing reality head on, she also had to face her own shame.

  She was a hypocrite, pure and simple. The thought made her want to weep.

  He must have seen it, though she thought she’d done a rather valiant job of keeping more tears at bay. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “Come now,” he said, his voice so low and gruff it made her tremble. “Marrying me isn’t so terrible, now is it?”

  Yes, she wanted to say. But not for the reason he thought. When she didn’t immediately answer, his tone took on a disarmingly rueful tone. “I’ll have you know some consider me to be quite the catch.” His soft laugh sounded self-deprecating and his tone lacked his typical confidence. “Just ask any of the marriage-minded mothers in society.”

  She tried to force a smile in return and failed, but she glanced up to meet his gaze when he sighed.

  “I’ve been abominably selfish, haven’t I?”

  She couldn’t speak for the tears that choked her. She shook her head but he continued with such a contrite expression it left her stunned. “I was, and I’m sorry. I only thought of how this marriage would benefit me and I didn’t think of your feelings.”

  A laugh threatened to escape her but it came out as a sob.

  Again, he’d gotten it all wrong.

  Dropping his head, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Anne. Truly. I should have told you before that I would help your family without forcing you to marry me. I know it was selfish—”

  She finally managed to cut him off, grasping his hand to stop him from speaking. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not upset because you were selfish.” She rolled her eyes and added, “Well, I was partly upset because of your reasons for marrying me, but it isn’t as though you tricked me. You didn’t declare your love for me or seduce me.”

  He blinked at her, surprise clear in his eyes. Then his mouth hitched up and his voice lowered teasingly. “Would you like me to seduce you?”

  She ignored the comment and tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. “I may not like your reasons for marrying me rather than my sister, but I cannot blame you for being selfish when my family will benefit as well. Neither of us is marrying for purely selfless reasons. It would be the height of hypocrisy to call you selfish.”

  Her speech started strong but ended with a shaky voice. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he held her hands in his. “What is it, Anne? Tell me what to do to make this right.”

  She sniffled. “It’s not you. It’s… oh dear. Now I’m crying.”

  He smiled up at her, his brows raised. “I hate to tell you this but you have been crying from the moment I entered.”

  She scowled. “Yes, but now I am really crying. There’s no hope of stopping the flood once it has started.”

  He scratched the back of his head. “Do you want to tell me what’s troubling you? It would be much easier for me to fix things if I knew what was the matter.”

  She pressed her lips together to hold back a wail. His kindness was making her feel even worse.

  He sighed. “I was not lying when I said you would make a fine countess. I do realize that I am a selfish ass, but—”

  The wail escaped as she stood abruptly and moved to stand in front of the mirror. She instantly wished she hadn’t. The sight of her red nose did little to cheer her. “The problem is I’m the selfish one.”

  She heard him stand from his chair and approach from behind. The words were hanging in the air between them and she half expected a scolding. It was what she deserved. Instead she heard his low, rumbling laughter as he came to stand behind her.

  He was so close she could feel the heat from his body and his laugh rippled through her like a current. An intoxicating, delicious current. She closed her eyes for a moment to revel in the sound.

  They popped open again when his hands came to her shoulders, rubbing gently. A simple, sweet caress that somehow made her gown feel too tight and her skin overly heated.

  “How on earth are you selfish, my little angel?”

  She shivered again, this time at the tender tone. “Angel?” she echoed. With a sniff she added, “I thought I was your little hellion.”

  He laughed again and she felt her own lips tug upward in response.

  “I’ve changed my mind. Now tell me, what is this all about?”

  She was too ashamed to admit it aloud—yet, she also needed to say it. If this marriage stood any chance of working, honesty was key. “There are not many benefits to having a background like mine.” She turned to face him with a shrug. “I was told from an early age that my mother was not really my mother.”

  To his credit, he did not so much as blink at that statement. But then, she supposed he already knew so her affirming that fact was hardly newsworthy. Still, it felt momentous to say it aloud to someone outside of her immediate family.

  His hands came up to cup her face. “I am sorry,” he said. “You deserved a better childhood than to be made to feel second best.”

  She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. How had he known? But then, it was clear. He had been around her family her whole childhood as Jed’s friend. She supposed it had been obvious even to a visiting friend. But now she shrugged. “That is beside the point.”

  He raised his brows in question.

  “Yes, there are down sides to my unique position within the family,” sh
e said. “But there was one benefit.”

  He waited patiently for her to continue.

  “No one expected me to marry.”

  His brows shot up at that. He looked torn between amusement and anger. The fact that his anger was on her behalf made her warm all the way through. “Your family did nothing to give you a future and that is a good thing?”

  “I should clarify,” she said. “They did not expect me to marry well.”

  “Ah,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That is much better.”

  She found herself stifling a laugh, some of her heartache melting away with his humor. “It was, in fact.” She looked around the inn’s small room rather than meet his gaze. “You see, when no one has expectations for one’s future, one can dream of anything.”

  He watched her with that hint of amusement. “I see. So you dreamed of… what? A lovely life as a spinster? The doting aunt, perhaps?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, silly. I dreamt of marrying for love.”

  Her words caused him to still. His eyes remained fixed on her but his body had tensed. His arms crossed in front of his chest. “I see.”

  She’d thought it would feel good to get this out in the open but now she felt her heart sinking in her chest as he recoiled from her words of love.

  Finally, he shook his head. “And how exactly does this make you selfish?”

  She sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Because I never doubted that my sister would marry well. I never truly thought about the fact that she would not have a choice in her life. I was happy to let her be the sacrificial lamb, so to speak.”

  His expression turned grim. “And now you are the sacrificial lamb, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Oh dear. She was making a mess of this. The amusement had faded from his face and the light in his eyes had faded to a dull gleam.

  “No, that’s not it. At least—” She stared at him for a moment, wondering how she could make this right. Only one way occurred to her. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at the mere thought. Her stomach twisted with nerves as her mouth grew dry. There was nothing for it but to tell him the truth.