Ruined by the Earl (Marriage by Deceit Book 3)

Home > Romance > Ruined by the Earl (Marriage by Deceit Book 3) > Page 6
Ruined by the Earl (Marriage by Deceit Book 3) Page 6

by Ruth Ann Nordin


  “A book won’t do any real harm,” Chloe said. “It’s not like he told you to throw a knife at him.”

  “Right,” Helena replied. “If he wanted you to do damage, he would have picked something else. It was a smart thing for him to recommend a book. You can let him know exactly what you think of him, and he gets by unscathed.”

  Even with the two ladies chuckling and encouraging her to do it, Melissa decided she couldn’t. She was raised to act like a lady at all times, whether in public or in private.

  The front door opened, and Melissa stiffened. Logan wouldn’t be stopping by now, would he? She glanced at the clock. He usually picked a time in the early afternoon, and he hadn’t been by today…yet. How uncomfortable it would be for her to be down here when he came, especially when she was entertaining visitors.

  But as it turned out, her brother came into the drawing room. Relaxing, Melissa offered him a smile. “Chloe and Helena, I’d like you to meet my brother.” She stood up and gestured to Chloe. “Malcolm, this is Lady Hawkins. And you already know Lady Seyton. She recently became the Duchess of Ashbourne.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Malcolm said, offering a bow. Turning to Melissa, he continued, “Can we talk? I have something important to tell you.”

  She frowned. By the tone in his voice, she ventured whatever he had to say was serious. She glanced at the ladies, who were already rising to their feet.

  “We only came by to see how you’re doing,” Helena said. “If at any time you need to talk, you can see either one of us.”

  “Yes,” Chloe added. “We’d like to be friends.”

  Melissa thanked them then watched as they said their good-byes to Malcolm and left. If only it were so easy to get rid of Logan. Then she might not have any problems at all. Or at least, her life would be more tolerable.

  “It’s nice they stopped by,” Malcolm said.

  “Yes. I didn’t think they would. I got used to thinking of the duchess as a mentor. It’s hard to think of her as a friend.”

  “Perhaps it’ll be easier as you get to know her.”

  She nodded.

  “Where are our parents?” he asked.

  “Mother went to visit her sister, and Father is out conducting business.” She paused then added, “I’m surprised you’re here. Usually, you’re also conducting business this time of day.”

  “I’m taking some time away from business to take care of more pressing matters.”

  “Oh? What are they?”

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he replied and closed the distance between them. Lowering his voice, he continued, “I don’t want you to worry. You won’t end up marrying Lord Toplyn. I’m going to make sure of it.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “How?”

  He put his hands on her arms and smiled. “I told you, don’t worry. I have it all taken care of. Though there’s no undoing the scandal, it’s possible the family’s wealth might help you to find a much more desirable husband, even if he won’t be of the same caliber as Lord Waxman.” He lightly squeezed her arms then let go of them. “This is going to work. I promise.”

  “Won’t you even give me a hint?” she asked.

  “You don’t need to trouble your pretty little head about it. Why don’t you go upstairs and change into that nice blue dress? I want to get you something special to celebrate the end of your betrothal.”

  She already knew what the ‘something special’ was. Whenever her brother was celebrating, he had a tendency to buy her or her mother jewelry. And honestly, she didn’t mind such gifts, so she was more than happy to obey. So despite her curiosity on how he was going to get her out of the marriage, she hurried to her bedchamber. If nothing else, she wouldn’t be here when Logan stopped by. That, in itself, was a nice reprieve.

  Chapter Seven

  The next night, Logan woke up from a deep sleep, his body swaying in what had to be a carriage. The only reason he knew this was because he recognized the sound of the wheels and horses’ hooves. Otherwise, everything was dark, not to mention nearly suffocating because of the sack someone put over his head.

  Granted, he could think of several people who might wish to tie his wrists and ankles together then shove a bag over his head and throw him in a carriage. But there was only one who would actually go through with it. And that was Malcolm.

  The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and Logan fell to the floor like a sack of useless goods. Well, this was no way to treat a future brother-in-law. Malcolm had a lot of nerve.

  He had no idea when Malcolm kidnapped him. The last thing he remembered, he was at home drinking some brandy and reading a book. After that, he woke up in the carriage and found himself in this predicament. So Malcolm must have slipped something in his brandy. Had it been good brandy, it might have been worth it. But since it wasn’t, this inconvenience wasn’t worth it at all.

  The door opened and Malcolm grabbed Logan’s ankles and pulled him out. Then, adding insult to injury, he let Logan fall on the grass. Logan grunted but didn’t bother trying to move. Before long, the sack came off his head. The first thing he noticed was the moon, which was high in the sky.

  In the next instant, Malcolm’s face came into view as he knelt beside him. “We’re having this duel, whether you like it or not.”

  “Is it your policy to tie people up and force them out to the country to get them to do what you want?” Logan asked.

  Without answering, Malcolm rolled Logan onto his side, and Logan felt the cool blade of a knife slide between his wrists. He stiffened, but only for a moment. If Malcolm intended to kill him outright, he would have done it already.

  Once Malcolm cut the rope around Logan’s wrists, he did the same with the rope at his ankles. Since his hands were numb, Logan sat up and shook them to get the blood flowing back into them. “You didn’t have to tie my hands together so tightly,” he told Malcolm.

  “I don’t care about your comfort,” Malcolm snapped. “Should we do this with a pistol or swords?”

  “Can’t we engage in some witty banter instead?”

  “I’m not interested in talking to you. I want to free my sister of the marriage. If you’ll willingly set her free, I’ll forget the duel.”

  “By marrying her, I will be setting her free.” He glanced at Malcolm, who was scowling at him. “Maybe it’s not the kind of freedom you’re talking about, but it’s freedom.” And it was better than anything Malcolm could offer her.

  Before Logan had time to think, Malcolm dragged him to his feet. “Pick your weapon, Toplyn.”

  “A pistol.”

  Giving him a curt nod, Malcolm strode back to the carriage and hopped inside it. Logan took the opportunity to rub his hands, slowly working out the pricks of pain that had replaced the numb sensation. He glanced around and saw they were the only two people out here.

  “Not that you’re going to win,” Logan began, “but what did you plan to do with my body if I die?”

  “I have a shovel and a change of clothes, so no one sees the dirt on my clothes after I bury your worthless hide.”

  A part of Logan was impressed. Malcolm might be reckless, but he’d given the consequences to his actions some thought.

  When Malcolm returned to him, he handed him a pistol. “I’ll go over there.” He gestured to the left. “And you go there.” He gestured to the right. “We will start out, back to back, and walk ten paces. Then we’ll turn around and shoot.”

  “I’m so glad you explained the rules to me,” Logan said, not hiding his sarcasm. “I’d hate to think I’d start shooting at seven paces or not turn around at the right time.”

  “Your comment isn’t appreciated.”

  “I didn’t intend for it to be.” He held the pistol out to Malcolm. “I’m not going to duel with you.”

  Malcolm didn’t take it. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

  With a sigh, Logan stopped trying to give it to him. “If you feel that strongly about my marrying your sister, why no
t shoot me and get it over with? Who needs the formality of a duel?” He scanned the area. “No one’s here to stop you from killing me. Get it over with. Bury me. Say I ran off to another country.”

  “If I did that, there would be no honor in it.”

  “You drag me out here, against my will, and demand I duel. And you think there’s honor in that?”

  “This way, you have a chance to defend yourself.” Malcolm straightened his shoulders back. “I refuse to shoot an unarmed gentleman.”

  Logan groaned. Wonderful. Fantastic. This was just what he needed. Well, since Malcolm was bound and determined to be made a fool of, then who was Logan to stop him? “Fine.” He turned his back to Malcolm. “You do the counting.”

  This seemed to please Malcolm enough since he quickly got behind Logan. Once he began counting, Logan proceeded forward, stepping one time for each number called out. This was ridiculous. What was it with gentlemen like Malcolm who felt they needed to resort to such senseless violence to solve their problems?

  When Malcolm reached ten, Logan spun around and fired his shot. The bullet met its target just in time for Malcolm to pull his trigger. But since Logan’s bullet grazed Malcolm’s wrist, Malcolm’s pistol shot at an angle, which allowed Logan to remain in safety the entire time.

  Letting out a surprised yell, Malcolm dropped the pistol and inspected his wounded wrist. Logan shook his head. What made Malcolm think he was any good at this? He was horrible. Not only did he not shoot right away, but he dropped his pistol as soon as he got hurt.

  Logan marched over to him, directing his pistol right at Malcolm’s face. “I told you I was good.”

  Malcolm looked up from his bloody wrist. “Do it. Shoot me, and get it over with.”

  “No. It’s enough Melissa will be crying because she has to marry me. She doesn’t need to be grieving the loss of you as well. But,” he added, “let this be a warning. Next time you force me into a duel, the bullet will do more than brush against your skin. I might not kill you, but I can make it so you won’t be able to shoot at me again.” He gestured to the wrist. “As I’ve just demonstrated.”

  Malcolm gritted his teeth but didn’t respond.

  “So,” Logan continued and picked up Malcolm’s pistol, “will you be coming back to London with me, or do you prefer to walk?”

  “Why can’t you let my sister out of the marriage? I’ve offered to pay you off. If you want an heir, all you have to do is find another lady and marry her. What makes my sister so important to you?”

  “She must be worth marrying if you protest it so much.”

  Logan knew the answer didn’t satisfy Malcolm, but no answer would’ve been sufficient. Malcolm was just going to have to stand aside and watch Logan marry her. There were worst things that could happen to her, but Logan didn’t expect him to understand that right now.

  He jumped up into the coachman’s seat and glanced over at Malcolm, who was wrapping his cravat around his wrist. “Why don’t you take the inside of the carriage this time?”

  His expression dark, Malcolm trudged to the carriage.

  Logan waited until the carriage door was shut before he slipped the pistols under his seat and gathered the horses’ reins. He headed back down the recently traveled path.

  ***

  “Oh good, it’s my betrothed,” a familiar voice called out the next afternoon.

  Melissa gasped and stopped talking to her mother. She glanced behind her and saw Logan hurrying after them in the park.

  “I thought Malcolm said Logan was supposed to be out of London today,” her mother whispered.

  “He did,” Melissa replied, turning her gaze back to her mother. “But for some reason, he’s still here.”

  And that meant her pleasant day had been taken from her. Since others were watching, she didn’t see how she and her mother had any option but to stand in front of the flowers and wait for the insufferable earl to catch up to them.

  “It’s such a pleasure to see you,” Logan told her. “I worried you might have taken ill since you were in your bedchamber every time I stopped by to visit over the past two weeks.”

  “I was ill,” she replied. “The very sight of you makes me sick.”

  To her surprise, he wasn’t the least bit offended by her remark. In fact, his smile widened. “You have such clever wit. You’ll make a lovely wife.” She scowled at him, but he diverted his attention to her mother. “You’re as lovely as your daughter, Mrs. Jasper. I can tell where she got her good looks.”

  “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Melissa told him.

  “It’s only flattery if it isn’t the truth. But I,” he pressed his hand to his chest and glanced at her mother, “am telling the truth. You are a fine looking lady. I can see why your husband wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.”

  “Why are you bothering us?” Melissa asked.

  He turned his attention back to Melissa. “Bothering you?”

  “Yes. We happen to find you exceptionally annoying.”

  He chuckled and winked. “At least I’m exceptional.”

  Melissa bit back the urge to groan. He was incorrigible. The gentleman had no sense of decency at all. She glanced at her mother, wishing to express her regret that he’d come along and ruined their pleasant afternoon. But to her horror, her mother was smiling at him. And this wasn’t one of those polite smiles someone might give someone because they had to. This one was genuine.

  Melissa frowned. This wasn’t good. She and her mother had just spent the better part of the past couple weeks lamenting the marriage, and now, Melissa had the sinking feeling her mother would be agreeing with her father, that this marriage would be a good thing.

  “Mother,” Melissa began, “we should get back to the townhouse before your friend comes.”

  Her mother blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Oh! I almost forgot. My daughter’s right. I’m expecting a visitor.”

  “Mind if I walk you two home?” he asked, directing his gaze—and his smile—at her mother.

  Melissa glared at him, willing him to look at her, but he didn’t. He kept his focus on her mother.

  “I don’t see the harm in that,” her mother replied.

  “Mother, is it really proper to be talking to him for such a long time since he isn’t a relative?” Melissa asked, praying her mother’s sense of propriety would compel her to tell Logan no.

  “I don’t see what the harm is,” her mother said. “You are betrothed to him, and I’m chaperoning. I went with you and Lord Waxman to the museum and theatre.”

  Yes, but Melissa had enjoyed Lord Waxman’s company. She would have voiced this thought aloud, except Logan was staring at her with an irritatingly triumphant spark in his eyes. If she let him know she missed Lord Waxman, he’d probably be delighted.

  Well, she could tell when she was facing a lost cause. Melissa shut her mouth and joined them as they headed toward her townhouse. Logan asked about her mother’s friend, and her mother obliged him by telling him everything he wanted to know.

  At one point, Melissa fell a step behind them. They were so enraptured with their conversation, it took them both a full minute before they realized she wasn’t walking beside them.

  “Melissa, is something wrong?” her mother asked.

  Melissa nearly huffed. As if her mother didn’t know!

  “I think she’s unsure about marrying me,” Logan told her mother. “I was hoping to ease her fears by spending some time with her.”

  “That’s a good idea,” her mother replied then turned her gaze to Melissa. “You should spend some time talking to him in the drawing room. My friend and I can visit in your father’s den.”

  Melissa’s jaw dropped. Never in a million years did she think her mother could be so easily won over. A couple of compliments and smiles and her mother was on his side? What happened to the hours she and Melissa had spent together bemoaning her fate? Or the hours she held Melissa while Melissa cried? Did none of that matter? />
  Her mother went over to her and put her hand on her arm. “He’s a lot like your father, don’t you think?” she whispered.

  Melissa grimaced. No, she didn’t think that. Not one single bit. But it suddenly made sense as to why her mother was taken in by him. When she looked at Logan, she saw the gentleman she’d married, and theirs had been a love match. It was no wonder that she changed her mind about the marriage.

  “It’s not the same thing,” she whispered to her mother. “I’m not you, and he’s not Father.”

  “I know, but he is making an effort to atone for his transgressions,” her mother said. “That proves he has an honorable side to him.” Before Melissa could respond, her mother turned back to Logan. “I will ask my husband to invite you over for dinner before the wedding. It’ll be a good chance for everyone to get better acquainted. We will be family soon, after all.”

  “What a grand idea,” Logan replied. “I’ll be more than happy to come.”

  “This might be just the thing we need.” Her mother started walking, and Melissa reluctantly joined Logan, who fell into step with her. “It’ll be good to sit and talk and enjoy ourselves. The Ton can be so formal. It’s hard to get to really know someone at times.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Logan replied. “There are so many rules. I often wonder what all the fuss is about.”

  “Says the gentleman who used those rules to trap me into marriage,” Melissa muttered under her breath.

  “What’s that, dear?” Logan asked.

  “Nothing,” Melissa replied.

  While Logan proceeded to talk to her mother about the silly rules, Melissa walked with them in silence. It was absurd she had to marry him simply because he caught her by surprise with a kiss. No one cared that she hadn’t wanted the kiss, and they wouldn’t let her out of the marriage without her reputation suffering horribly for it. It was really quite unfair.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she searched her pocket for a handkerchief, relieved she’d thought to bring it. She dabbed her eyes and sniffled.

  Logan glanced over at her, and she thought she saw him grimace. So he didn’t like her tears? Well, good. That was to her advantage. She’d cry a river of them if it meant he’d leave her alone. Perhaps she’d cry every day for the rest of her life. She’d do anything it took to get him to leave her alone. But that moment wasn’t now.

 

‹ Prev