Undone by the Earl

by Elizabeth Rue

  “I am arranging for a special license.” He stared at the floor as he paced. He sounded as excited about getting married as facing a firing squad. Her heart sank even further. At least it would make what she was about to do easier.

  “We can be married as soon as Tuesday,” he continued. “I realize you may wish to bring Madeline, but it would be better to tell no one ahead of time.” No one meaning Lady Carlton, and anyone else who would try and dissuade him. He knew marrying her would have many serious and unpleasant consequences. Yet he would go through with it if she allowed him. Out of duty and honor, not out of love.

  “No,” she said.

  He stopped pacing. “Not Tuesday? Then what day would suit you?”

  Surely she was mad. Here was this wonderful man who, for all his troubles, was heroic, caring, titled, and wealthy, offering her far beyond what anyone could expect, and she was about to refuse it. Then she thought again of her mother and of the resentment Adrian would no doubt feel for her eventually and the misery their marriage would almost certainly become because he didn’t love her.

  “I will not marry you,” she said.

  “What?” The expression on his face made it clear he thought her mad as well.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I am aware of the great honor of your proposal, but I must decline.”

  “You...must...decline?” He shook his head, obviously flabbergasted. “You cannot decline. There is no other honorable course after what has happened.”

  She shook her head. “I shall not marry you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why the hell not?”

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. If he knew why she refused, he would surely deny he would ever resent her, and he might even lie and say he loved her—whatever it took to do what he believed was right. So she must lie. A small wrong, but it would prevent a far larger mistake.

  “I shall not forfeit my inheritance,” she said.

  “Your inheritance?” He looked thoroughly confused. “I do not understand.”

  “My inheritance has been settled that if I marry before Madeline I lose everything.” A piece of the truth he’d long suspected. She hoped by giving it to him now, it would distract him from digging deeper.

  “What?” His eyes widened, then narrowed again. “Let me guess who designed those terms.”

  “Yes. The old earl.”

  “Then I can change it.”

  “No, he made certain no one could. I have already considered every legal alternative.”

  “It was never your wish to stay with Madeline?” he said.

  She nodded.

  “And you have never told her the truth?”

  “Why would I?” she said. “Why burden her with such a thing? He was cruel to do what he did, and Madeline—you know her—she would almost certainly blame herself. Eventually I will tell her, but not yet. I have told no one until now.”

  “Why did you not tell me before? Surely you know I wouldn’t tell Madeline?” He shook his head. “And I still do not understand why it is so important. You would live in continued dishonor for such a modest inheritance?”

  “I have waited years for it,” she said, praying she was convincing. “I shall not give it up now.”

  He curled his hands into fists. “Yesterday,” he said, his voice cracking, “you agreed we should marry—”

  “I never agreed. I said nothing, and you assumed I would marry you.”

  “Bloody right I did!” He strode closer and stopped before her. “How can you refuse? You are compromised. You cannot marry another. You could be...” He glanced at her stomach.

  “That is unlikely,” she said hastily.

  “You would dishonor your family?” His voice rose. “Even Madeline?”

  “There is no dishonor for others if no one knows what happened.”

  “We know,” he growled. He grasped her shoulders, and his touch immediately brought intimate memories rushing back. She longed to fling her arms around him and have him hold her, not argue, not refuse him.

  “No.” She stepped back, letting his hands fall from her. She forced her gaze to the desk behind him.

  “I offer you everything,” he said, “rank, wealth, the home you have loved for years, and a marriage far beyond what you could have ever reasonably expected. I offer to elevate you at the expense of gaining far better connections for me and my family, and you refuse?”

  “Yes.” True as his words were, hearing him say how beneath him in position she was made her answer easier. He was obviously filled with anxiety over the idea of marrying her, and his words proved that eventually he would almost certainly resent her. She was doing the right thing by refusing him.

  “I do not believe you,” he said. “There is some other reason, something you will not tell me.”

  “I have told you why. My inheritance. And, as you said yourself, such a marriage would also cost you the chance to gain far better connections. It might even harm Madeline’s and Cecelia’s chances for excellent matches.”

  “That does not matter now.” He frowned. “Honor forces us—”

  “I simply cannot accept.”

  He glared at her in silence for a moment. “This is your final word?” His voice was ragged.

  “Yes.”

  He turned and strode to the fireplace. He leaned one arm above the mantel, gazing down at the coals. She took a few steps towards him.

  “Adrian.” He flinched at her saying his name. “There is something else I must speak to you about.”

  “What?” He didn’t turn around.

  “It’s about your brother.”

  His shoulders tensed. “What has he done now?”

  “It’s about him and Julia Howe.”

  He spun around, his eyes wide. “Has he said he will confront Sir Neville?”

  “No, it is not that. Although I fear he will summon the courage to do so soon. It is something else...”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s possible that he didn’t ruin her.”

  He stared at her blankly for a moment, then scowled.

  “What nonsense is this?” he said, rubbing his head. “Of course, it was him. You said yourself that he wanted to confront Sir Neville. If he was innocent, why on earth would he do such a thing?”

  “I am not certain... To prove to you that he’s a man? To prove it to everyone? Perhaps also to get back at you for not believing him?”

  “He has acknowledged his guilt for months now!”

  “Has he?” She tried to keep her voice soft. “Or has he simply given up arguing with you?”

  “This is ridiculous,” he said, his eyes narrowing. She could see the fury building in him. “Miss Howe said it was him. Why would she lie?”

  “I am not sure. Perhaps the man who ruined her had already rejected her, and she was desperate and knew with your brother’s reputation that she would be believed and cared for?”

  “Absurd. Edmund is toying with you.”

  “He is not. He still claims he is guilty—”

  He flung up his arms. “There. Even he admits it!”

  “But I find him less and less convincing. Please, just consider that he might not have done it, that you might be wrong.”

  “You are telling me that Edmund’s been innocent all this time? That I have—” He stopped abruptly.

  She knew what he’d been about to say; the anguish of it was written in his face, in the thin line of his mouth and his clenched jaw. The possibility that he’d been punishing his brother for a crime he didn’t commit was too much for him to accept. Knowing the level of rage the brothers felt towards each other and the history between them, she’d feared as much.

  “Enough,” he said. “This is ridiculous. I am sending Edmund away as soon as he returns from wherever he’s disappeared to. And you will stay out of it.”

  Mr. Sinclair was likely off practicing again, preparing for his duel.

  “No,” she said, “if you try and send him away, you will likel
y only force the issue. He will confront Sir Neville for certain, and Sir Neville might well be furious enough to—”

  “If I send him away, he’ll be safe.” He resumed pacing.

  “No, you mustn’t do that.” Suddenly, she grew more angry than fearful. Adrian’s stubbornness might very well cost his brother his life. But she knew from the way Adrian’s eyes flashed that he wouldn’t listen to her right now.

  “I am trying to save his life,” she said. “If you do not listen to me, if you do not do something, he will become violent, I am certain.”

  “No.” He took a step towards her. “You will stop defending Edmund with these wild ideas. And if you will not be my wife, you will stay the hell out of it.”

  He spun away, marched to the window and looked out at the gardens, his back to her.

  In the silence, she thought she glimpsed movement in the garden, a flash of pale green through a gap in the hedges, but it was gone before she could be certain.

  She noticed only now a window was ajar. She hoped to heavens that no one had overheard them arguing. Should the servants gossip about any of this, it could only make everything worse. She must act quickly.

  Adrian turned until he stood in profile, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

  “Get out,” he said.

  “Please,” she said, her voice cracking, “I only wish to help.”

  “Get the hell out of my house.”

  She paused, nodded, and turned away.

  She knew what she had to do, and since she had no choice, she would do it without his assistance. Besides, there was someone else who could help her.

  21

  Adrian stared at the study door, listening to Anna’s fading footsteps.

  She’d refused him. Refused him.

  It was beyond comprehension.

  He thought the same thing all day as he rode about the estate. He thought about it as he swam half a dozen times across the lake and then spent over two hours shooting into the air without hitting one bird. He was thinking of her rejection when, returning from shooting, he marched over a hill and the field they’d made love in came into view. Even at this distance he could see the hollow they’d carved out with their bodies, a tiny clearing in the tall grass.

  He changed direction to avoid the field and took a longer way back to the manor.

  Once inside, he kept to the study, thankful the ladies were busy with some outing. Edmund was still missing as well, which was just fine with Adrian. He wanted to be alone. Even the servants kept away from him, only Smith having the courage to occasionally venture near.

  Adrian searched for the documents regarding Anna’s inheritance, digging through every drawer and shelf in the study and library, but in vain. Finally, he sent a message to the old earl’s solicitor, Mr. Roland, asking for both Anna’s and Madeline’s documents. At first Mr. Roland was apparently reluctant to divulge Anna’s personal papers since Adrian wasn’t her guardian. But in the end, he was more frightened of displeasing the Earl of Wareton and had sent a reply that he would deliver the documents as soon as possible.

  Adrian kept to his room that evening and managed to avoid everyone, even his aunt, all night and the next morning as well. He skipped breakfast and called for archery equipment to be brought to a small clearing north of the gardens.

  He glanced back toward the manor between shots, wondering if Anna would appear. Now that his anger had cooled somewhat, he wanted to talk to her again. But at the same time, he was still angry with himself for wanting to speak with her at all. The devilish woman had wrapped him around her finger, seduced him, and then unaccountably rejected him.

  Given their different positions, it was unfathomable that she should refuse him under nearly any circumstances, but especially after having been so completely compromised. She’d said that she expected nothing of him when she’d seduced him, but was it possible she simply didn’t want anything else from him? Had she merely used him for her own gratification?

  He drew back on the bow and released it violently, watching the arrow sail wide of the target, just as most of his shots had all morning.

  She claimed she didn’t wish to give up her inheritance. When had a mere four thousand pounds ever been so valuable to someone? There was something she wasn’t telling him. He’d seen it in her eyes when she rejected him.

  It wasn’t the money alone, certainly. Not merely wishing to wait for Madeline, either; that was too unreasonable, especially since Anna could marry him and remain in the same home as her stepsister. Could it be simply that her feelings forbade it? That she found him too disagreeable to marry?

  He scowled. Impossible.

  Obviously, she was insane. Or perhaps she merely took perverse pleasure in tormenting him. Was it all some game to her, to refuse his hand and then confound him further by suggesting he’d been wrong to blame Edmund all these months?

  He released another shot that also missed. And another. His mind spun. She couldn’t possibly be right, could she? Edmund had denied ruining Miss Howe in the beginning, of course, just as he’d denied compromising Miss Carpenter. Yet Edmund had admitted his guilt with Miss Carpenter eventually, while with Miss Howe he’d been stubbornly unrepentant, more angry than sorry.

  Adrian heard someone approaching along the garden path, likely a woman from the light sound of the footfalls. Maybe Anna was coming to apologize at last, to admit she’d been foolish to reject him.

  But it was only Anna’s maid, Sophie.

  Sophie bobbed a curtsy. “Lord Wareton.” Perhaps the maid was there with a message from Anna, a test to see if he was still furious with her.

  “Has my brother returned yet, Sophie?”

  “No, my lord. I wished to speak with you about Miss Colbrook.”

  “What is it?” He let lose another arrow. It glanced off the edge of the target and fell into the grass.

  “She wasn’t in her room this morning before breakfast,” Sophie said. “At first, I thought perhaps she went out riding early, so I didn’t think much of it. But then the grooms said she didn’t visit the stables this morning. The other ladies are all gone now, so I can’t ask them if they know where she went.”

  “Miss Colbrook is likely just avoiding me. I shouldn’t worry. She’ll appear eventually.”

  “Pardon me, my lord, but I’m not so sure.”

  He lowered the bow and turned to look at the maid.

  “I asked just now if any servants saw her leave,” she continued, fidgeting with her apron. “One footman said he saw a carriage pull up before dawn and stay only a moment before driving away. He thinks Miss Colbrook left in it.” Adrian’s stomach tightened. The arrow fell from his hands. “My lord, I think she might have eloped with Sir Neville.”

  Adrian marched into the study to find a thick folder on the center of his desk. He realized only then that he still carried the bow. He tossed it onto a chair.

  Smith peered into the room. “The papers you requested from the solicitor just arrived, my lord.” After confirming that Adrian needed nothing else, the butler retrieved the bow and hurried away, shutting the door behind him.

  Adrian tore open the folder and slid the documents onto the desk. He fell into his chair. Finally, he would read the details of Anna’s inheritance. Perhaps he would find some clue to her odd behavior. He pushed aside his guilt for prying into her personal affairs. He wasn’t her guardian or executor of her inheritance and had no real right to read the documents. The man who did would be Sir Neville, assuming she returned a married woman.

  Anna. Married to someone else.

  His hands curled into fists over the papers. Sir Neville might still marry her, even dishonored. Adrian didn’t doubt she would tell Sir Neville first. She was too honest to deceive him that way.

  But her excuse about the money must be a lie, because if she’d run off with Sir Neville, she would forfeit it now anyway. Unless her reason had been true until Adrian had ordered her away.

  He’d treated her badly. He’d lost his t
emper when, misguided or not, all she’d probably wanted was to help Edmund. He’d likely pushed her right into Sir Neville’s arms.

  He put aside the set of documents that concerned Madeline’s inheritance. He frowned. Many papers remained, far more than he expected for merely outlining Anna’s inheritance terms. He scanned the first page, his eyes stopping on the figure of four thousand pounds, listed as the money left to her by her mother, and given to Alfred Sinclair to pass on to Anna. He skimmed the details of how the terms of the inheritance couldn’t be altered.

  The second page was a surprise. The old earl had added to Anna’s inheritance. He’d set aside an additional ten thousand pounds in an account for her, should she fulfill the terms of the contract and wait for Madeline to marry first. A generous sum, especially from a man as stingy with his money as Alfred had been.

  Taken together, fourteen thousand pounds was a respectable dowry, enough to give her a good chance of marrying at any age. It was the least the old earl could do after refusing her fiancé and trapping her at Wareton.

  But there were several dozen more pages. The solicitor was a meticulous note-taker, having listed every single time Anna visited him concerning the inheritance.

  August 12, 1811, looked for ways to alter the terms without success. Informed Miss Colbrook it was watertight. September 29, went over possible ways out of agreement again, found nothing...

  There were a few similar entries over the next few months, then something different. February 11, 1812, Miss Colbrook inquired about investing the sum of £10,000. Found no legal barrier to such an endeavor, made arrangements to proceed with investments...

  He read on. Dozens of pages of notes followed, each transaction carefully recorded, every change in investment explained in detail. He scanned the pages. Anna had set aside the original four thousand pounds, but she’d not only invested the remainder of her pending inheritance, she’d reinvested it again and again. She must have achieved more than modest returns from the look of things. It also seemed she’d selected risky investments. He frowned. It seemed unlike her to be so reckless.