by Ava Stone
The proprietor was the only one who knew he was Baron Edgeworth and Nick paid the man handsomely to keep it that way. Not living in the area made it an easy task to keep his title unknown. He’d made the right choice coming here tonight. He didn’t want to feel alone. Throngs of travelers, and men and women from the gentry, occupied this pub. He’d be surrounded by people, without actually having to worry he’d know anyone who’d dare to aggravate him with small talk or inquires of his family, or worse, the funeral.
The only member of the ton who ever ventured to this side of town was his cousin Drew, and Drew hadn’t been here in weeks since his wife Charlotte was close to delivering their first child. The thought of Charlotte being forced into confinement and having to give up starring in plays at the Sans Peril Theatre made Nick chuckle. He hadn’t been surprised when Drew hadn’t forced Charlotte to quit acting the moment he learned she was with child. Nick ignored the jealous twinge that accosted him. He didn’t want to be Drew. His cousin was hopelessly besotted with his wife and let her do whatever she wanted. Nothing else could explain why Drew agreed to Charlotte’s demand to stay in Town for the winter.
He sipped his whiskey slower this time. It may be a four-dram day, but he despised sloppy drunkenness in any man, no matter the reason. The last leg of his return trip from the funeral had been hell because of the weather. He should have stopped, but the need to reach home quickly plagued him and he’d ridden straight through. Foolish, considering when he’d spotted his opulent unoccupied mansion in Mayfair, dread had seized him. He’d barked an order at Peters to bring him here instead and then promptly apologized for being such an unmitigated ass.
Nick swigged the last of his drink and scowled. The liquor was not silencing the clamoring demons as it usually did. He motioned Blakely back over. “Another, please.”
Blakely poured as he asked, “Are your troubles still with you?”
Nick nodded. Arrington’s funeral reminded Nick of Amelia Abbot, likely because she’d been childhood friends with Arrington. Innocent Amelia, who he drove to her death with his callousness and need to possess Elizabeth. He pressed his fingers into his temples.
Blakely frowned, making the red scar above his lip turn white. “I hate to further sour your mood. I know you said you’d be poor company, but your friend is headed this way.”
Nick swiveled around on his stool and groaned. His cousin Drew strode towards him with a scowl fierce enough to scare any man who didn’t know him. But Nick did. He frowned. Why the devil was Drew here? Within seconds, Drew lifted Nick’s coat and sat beside him. “Hospitable today, I see.”
“I left my hospitality on the muddy, bumpy road. I came here to be alone, not to be hospitable,” Nick growled.
Amusement flickered in Drew’s eyes. “Blakely―”
The barkeep slid a glass of whiskey towards Drew. “Here you go.”
Drew took a sip before speaking. “That’s a fine barkeep to always remember what a man prefers.”
“I do my best,” Blakely said before moving away.
Nick glared. “What are you doing here?”
“Grandfather and your mother forced me here, so you can quit glaring at me. Believe me, I didn’t willingly leave my wife’s tender embrace to come search you out. I received two letters today demanding I hand deliver a letter from Grandfather and watch as you read it. Apparently, neither he nor your mother trusts you to open a letter from them. ” Drew reached inside his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. “I should warn you, your mother has enlisted Grandfather’s help in bringing you to task on getting married.”
A ripple of unease crawled its way down Nick’s spine. If his mother had finally managed to get his grandfather on her side in her attempt to force Nick to wed, it could be a definite problem. So far, he’d managed to ignore his mother’s demands he marry and give her a grandchild. It hadn’t been overly hard since his father hadn’t sided with her. Had something changed? Renewed tension coiled in his shoulders. “Give me the letter.” His words came out harsh and clipped.
Drew’s eyebrows came together. “Not so fast. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you of the time you delivered such a letter to me not so long ago.”
Nick froze while reaching for the letter. Good God. Was Grandfather going to demand he marry or be cut off from his inheritance? The surly old goat had the power to make it so. Nick tried to picture being penniless or being married to a woman who expected him to love, protect and cherish her above all else. Both circumstances left a sour taste his mouth. He didn’t need wealth to survive, but he’d rather not be poor, if given the choice. Yet he certainly couldn’t promise to love any woman. To love someone he’d have to like himself first. He damned sure never expected that to happen with his past sins. He snatched the letter out of his cousin’s hand and ripped it open. Better to know his fate than not. If he was going to have pockets to let, he’d rather know now.
Grandson,
I expect you at Danby castle by December twenty-fifth with your bride in tow. If I don’t see you and your beautiful new wife by the stroke of midnight, I’ve made all necessary arrangements to ensure your life is as miserable as your mother―my bothersome daughter―has made mine this last year. Your obstinacy in denying her fondest wish has driven me from my study where she hounds me nightly to beg for my interference. This is unacceptable. Step lively, Edgeworth. If you need help finding a wife I’ve a few ladies in mind. You’ve only to write and request my help.
Nick’s blood ran cold. His cousin’s low whistle filled his ears. “You’re caught now. Sorry, chap. I know how you feel about getting married.”
He hadn’t realized he’d read his grandfather’s words out loud. Crumpling the paper, he faced Drew to expel the impression that any threat could force him to marry. His blistering words died in his throat. Behind Drew stood a petite woman with the snowiest skin he’d ever seen. The sable ermine hood drawn close around her heart-shaped face created a striking contrast with her fair skin. Bright blue eyes narrowed keenly on him. Long dormant lust rippled through his body. “Might I help you, miss?”
“I’m hoping we can help each other.”
Her husky voice sent another jolt of lust through him that shook him to his core. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “You’ve all my attention.”
She pulled her hood back and shook out her thick black hair. A hundred wicked ways he wanted to help her filled his head. As if she read his thoughts, a cynical smile twisted her perfect red lips. She stepped closer to him, forcing Drew to scoot his stool to make room for her. The scent of jasmine surrounded him and he wanted to bury his nose in her hair.
Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips. Was she nervous? Of him? Immediately, he wanted to put her at ease. “I won’t bite.” Yet. And only if she liked that sort of thing. For surely, this was a woman seeking a client for the night. Fortune had taken pity on him tonight to put such an exquisite creature in his path.
A slight frown puckered the skin between her eyebrows. “I’m not afraid you’ll bite. I’m afraid you’ll say no to my proposition.”
“Darling, I assure you I’ve no desire to say no to anything you wish of me.” To his right, Drew snorted and the woman shot a scalding gaze his way. Brava her. She had bollocks.
“Might I have a private word?” Her voice had grown low and unsure.
“Certainly.” Nick forced his gaze to Drew, who looked just as awed as Nick felt. “Leave, cousin. You’ve done your duty, so scamper back to your wife and Grandfather. Tell him…message delivered.”
Drew rose and bowed to the woman who inclined her head as Drew took his leave. Nick swept a hand towards the now empty seat. “Do you care to join me here or shall we go somewhere more intimate?”
The woman eyed the seat while nibbling on her lip. Poor bird. Did she have no idea how desirable she was? Was this her first time doing this sort of thing? A strange urge to protect her filled him and sent icy tendrils of fear straight to his heart. He had no
right to be able to protect any woman.
A soft sigh escaped her as she sat. “Might I speak frankly?”
“How novel.” Damn, he hated how jaded he was. Her blue gaze found his, disconcerting and refreshing in its openness. A little of his usual guardedness fled him. “Sorry. I’m not used to women who prefer to be direct.”
She nodded, her black hair falling to obscure her face. In one fluid motion, she tucked the thick strands behind her ear. “I understand. But I find I have no choice but to be blunt. Time and my situation demand it.”
Nick frowned. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”
“New at what? Approaching a man and asking him if I can sit and proposition him?” Her eyebrows rose in twin arches of amusement. “Certainly.”
Laughter tugged at his lips. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d truly enjoyed conversing with a female. “I meant you’re new at the whole trade.”
The slight frown between her brows became a deep crease. “What trade?” Bafflement filled her voice.
Was this some sort of game? He’d willingly play any game she wanted if it put her at ease. “The trade of being a paramour.” He wasn’t expecting a ripple of surprised laughter as her response. Uncertain, he shifted in his seat. “Am I wrong?”
“Quite.” Her words dripped with mirth.
“What, then?” He felt a fool, a situation he detested.
She hesitated before speaking. “I sought you out Lord―”
“Edgeworth.”
A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face “Yes, I already knew your name. You need a wife, and I’m in the most unfortunate, definitely unwanted position of needing a husband. A titled one to be exact. Immediately.”
Despite years of avoiding this exact sort of situation, her unusual choice of words and the obvious displeasure she found in uttering them kept Nick planted in his seat. He studied her for one second, weighing his options―leave now or listen to what she had to say.
Hearing her out wouldn’t bind him to anything. A gentleman would stay. If he was anything with the ladies, he was always a consummate gentleman. And utterly honest. “I’m listening, but I must warn you, I’ve no wish to marry.”
She smiled and the beauty of it caused his breath to hitch. “Neither do I, Lord Edgeworth, which is why I think we might be perfect for each other.”
He wanted to ravish her, not marry her. Watching her speak, her luscious lips move, made his blood boil. He stared at her, unblinking. “I’ll never marry. Make no mistake.”
“We’ll see.”
“Careful, my dear.” He allowed his gaze to travel slowly down her body, then back to her face. “You tempt me to try and corrupt you.”
Her innocent flush made his heart flip. She inhaled then spoke. “If you marry me you may corrupt me all the ways you can imagine.”
He didn’t like that his mind actually leaped to the possibility of all the ways he’d bed her if she was his wife, nor did he care for the fact that he was still sitting there, but he didn’t move. She’d offered a challenge of sorts and he’d never been one to walk away from a challenge.
Lillian Lancaster was sweating profusely. Not too much of a surprise considering she’d just proposed to a man she only knew from careful research and not actual face-to-face contact. A wave of dizziness gripped her. She reached for the bar as she swayed in her seat, but the little spots of twinkling silver lights that appeared in her vision made it hard to find the edge of the counter. Good heavens. The last thing she had time to do was fall off her stool in a swoon.
She inhaled a deep breath of smoky air filled with the aroma of recently cooked meat. Her stomach protested the smells with a flip. “Water,” she managed through tingling lips. A steadying hand pressed against her back and a glass was raised to her mouth.
“Sip this.” Lord Edgeworth’s soothing voice chased away the last of her dizziness. Or maybe it was the cool water sliding down her throat. She gripped the glass and focused her gaze on her possible future husband. Her stomach rolled in nasty dips at the thought. Certainly not because of the way the man looked. He was beautiful.
Oh dear! She set her glass down and pretended to situate it. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d scoffed at Charlotte when her dear friend had used the word beautiful to describe Lord Edgeworth. But Charlotte had been correct―her husband’s cousin was too pretty by half. No man should have cheekbones as sculpted as his, or eyes as green as moss or hair so thick and dark it made her want to plunge her fingers through it. She didn’t want to marry a man she would ever desire. Longing would lead to her letting down her guard, and she could never afford to do that. Perhaps he was not the right candidate after all.
She stood so quickly her stool teetered backwards and would have fallen except Lord Edgeworth stopped it with the tip of his boot. Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I believe I’ve made a mistake.” She wished her tone sounded more self-assured like she’d planned.
He smiled lazily at her, not moving save the right eyebrow he raised. Fascinating. What would it take to ruffle such a man?
“You probably have made a grievous error, Miss…”
“Lancaster. Lillian Lancaster.”
“Lovely. Miss Lancaster. Mistake or not, my attention’s captured. Such a rare thing. So why don’t you indulge me and explain what drove you to propose marriage?”
Lillian resisted the urge to fan her face. She’d already made herself appear a half-wit. She nodded, pulled off her gloves as well as her overcoat, then sat. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation.” Gripping her coat in her hands, she tried to hide the tattered edges from view.
Lord Edgeworth’s gaze flicked to her lap and then back to her face. She prayed he hadn’t taken note of the haggard quality of her overcoat. Pity always raised her hackles, and she’d hate to be nasty to a man she really didn’t know.
She wasn’t sure where to begin. When she entered the pub, she’d been certain of what she would say. She even managed to start the conversation as she had rehearsed for the past three days, but once the blood rush of what she was doing had lessened, fear and indecision set in. She locked gazes with Lord Edgeworth, expecting to find him impatient. Instead, he reclined against the counter as if he had all the time in the world.
She cleared her throat. “My father was Robert Lancaster, the owner of The Westminster Royal Theatre. I don’t suppose you knew him?”
Lord Edgeworth leaned close, surprising her. She jerked and inhaled sharply while forcing herself not to give in to her instinct to move out of his reach. Old habits were such a nuisance when one wanted to appear unflappable.
His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed to slits that made her shiver. Given the man’s very fit physique, she didn’t doubt he’d make a dangerous enemy. Nervousness caused her to nibble at her lip. “I take it your silence means you weren’t acquainted with my father.”
“I wasn’t, luckily for the man. I’m not one to sit idly when a woman is mistreated, be it my business or not.”
His angry tone stunned her. Lillian sat still for a moment, lest she give anything else away. She’d spent her life hiding the fact that her father mistreated her. Not only was she ashamed, she’d feared what he might do if anyone ever found out and caused him trouble for it. He’d carried out enough explicit threats that she hadn’t doubted his sincerity.
Her heart raced as if he would walk through the door any minute. Swallowing, she reminded herself that Father was dead and could never hurt her again―well, physically anyway. She blinked away the sting of unwelcome, angry tears that burned behind her eyelids. “I never said my father mistreated me.” Her tone was steady, thank goodness.
“You didn’t need to say it, Miss Lancaster. Growing up, we had a servant who beat his daughters. We didn’t know it at first, of course. They recoiled when you moved too suddenly and they always had a hooded look in their eyes. You’ve got that look and you cringed when I moved towards you.”
Lillian swallowed the lump in
her throat. “What happened to the girls?”
Lord Edgeworth’s brows drew together in an agonized expression. “The youngest died from one of the beatings.”
“Is that how your family found out?” Lillian could barely control the trembling of her voice.
Lord Edgeworth shook his head. “I became friends with the eldest daughter, Beth. One day, shortly after her sister’s funeral, I saw terrible bruises on Beth’s arms and she confided in me about her father.”
“Did you tell your father?”
“Not at first. I’d promised I wouldn’t, but when her father broke her leg, I told my father everything. I should’ve known better than to keep such a secret. Beth still walks with a limp.” Lord Edgeworth jerked a hand through his hair.
Lillian gulped. Charlotte hadn’t lied. Lord Edgeworth did seem to blame himself for his friend’s misfortune.
Lord Edgeworth stilled and studied her. “If I’m mistaken and it wasn’t your father who mistreated you, then tell me the name of the bastard, and I’ll make damn sure he never lays a finger on you again.”
His growled promise made her smile and eased away the last of her lingering doubt. He seemed the perfect solution to her problems. Charlotte insisted he had a fierce protective side. If Charlotte was correct, that part of him would be the thing that swayed him to her cause. Lillian rarely allowed herself the luxury of being honest with anyone, yet as she eyed Lord Edgeworth she decided tonight was a night for indulgences. “Given your threatening tone, I suppose it’s a good thing for my father he passed away several weeks ago.”
Lord Edgeworth gaped. “Dear God. I’m sorry. Though I must admit, I feel less sorry than I might have moments ago, considering what I now know.”
Lillian shrugged. Offering truths in exchange for what she desperately needed was one thing, but it was quite another to become too personal with this man. She didn’t need his friendship. All she required was his title and willingness to marry her. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. My father was a despicable man who spent his life―” She froze. She’d been about to spill the whole nasty truth of her life with her father.