Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1)

by Lisbette Tomas

  It was her desire for love that was much more troubling.

  Oh, she said she had given up on it, that all she wanted now was some measure of compatibility. With him, he supposed, given how the evening had played out. But what did she mean by it? Despite her attempt to explain it during that ride in the park, he still had no idea what she was looking for.

  None of her expectations made any sense to him.

  Logically, he knew that love must exist. There was too much evidence of it in human history for him to write off its existence entirely.

  There was much less evidence to suggest it was possible in the ton. None of his experiences pointed to the slightest chance it could work, as far as he understood the concept. Too many people were focused on the superficial, appearance instead of character. Social standing mattered more than basic humanity.

  He couldn’t see the meeting of two hearts coming out of that, unless they were joined together out of self-interest — hardly the type of thing he thought the poets droned on and on about.

  Besides, even if he believed it was possible to find love in Society, he was absolutely certain that capability didn’t exist in him. His family’s legacy was unmistakable. The family eyes hadn’t been the only thing he’d inherited from his father. Generations of Carlingtons had failed at love, something his grandfather had pointed out repeatedly as Martin was growing up. The most successful marriages had been those where neither party had ever tried.

  Perhaps it would be best to approach the marriage like any other business arrangement he’d made over the past ten years. Terms could be set and made clear and by managing expectations, they could maintain a reasonable relationship without unnecessary conflict. After all, they had both been looking for a spouse, even if the intended partner had been someone else.

  He took another swallow of whiskey. Their earlier arrangement had revealed a rational and pragmatic woman who admitted her initial mistakes even as she took steps to preserve her options for the future. He couldn’t believe that someone so open and honest about her motivations wouldn’t appreciate a similar amount of candor in return.

  He couldn’t even blame her for any of it. He’d known what he was doing, far more than she had. Years spent perfecting his self-control undone in one momentary lapse. Perhaps what Lord Radcliff said was true, that there was more of his father in him than he wanted to admit.

  No. He refused to believe that. One lapse did not make him his father — and it would only be one lapse. He would see to that.

  Draining his glass, he sighed and stood. There was little use in sitting and contemplating what was done. Tomorrow would be busy enough. Since he no longer needed to stay until the end of the Season to find a wife, there were several open business matters he needed to attend to before leaving town — something he was anxious to do as soon as possible. He’d already been gone far too long.

  As soon as the marriage was complete and he and Teresa had met with the Duke of Debenford, he intended to set out for Moorhall. There would be much to do, especially once he received the funds for his inheritance. They would provide the final influx of capital needed to repair the damage his father had done to the estate.

  He would not fail at this point. His responsibilities demanded otherwise and Martin had always, always met his responsibilities.

  Chapter 11

  Since moving to London, waking up had gone from Teresa’s favorite part of the day to something to be avoided as long as possible. Her dreams had become her escape from the confines of fashionable society and she did her best to cling to them as the morning light began to filter into the room.

  It made no sense that she would dream of herself out on a terrace with the Earl of Carlington. That he would make her so aware of her body. That his kiss would shatter her world.

  Or that her aunt would have witnessed it and she would now be engaged to a man she hardly knew.

  It wasn’t until she arrived at the breakfast room and found her aunt seated at the table that she realized something extraordinary must have happened. Charlotte never appeared outside her rooms before noon the morning after a ball. Her presence now could only mean…

  That it wasn’t a dream at all.

  “Lord Carlington is meeting with your uncle right now about the marriage settlements. He has requested to speak to you before he leaves.”

  Saying nothing, Teresa continued to spread jam on her toast. She recognized the glitter in Charlotte’s eyes. Her aunt had something to say. From long experience, Teresa knew it was better to simply let her speak her mind without interruptions. Those were never taken kindly.

  “I knew that if you had enough motivation, your vaunted ideals would disappear and you would use the tools you had, just like the rest of us you look down on.” Not for the first time, Teresa wondered what her uncle had ever seen in Charlotte. Her aunt would be a pretty woman if it weren’t for her perpetual sneer, but that hardly seemed enough to explain the marriage. “You decided that, if you couldn’t choose for love, you would choose a title. I don’t know how you managed to get the Earl alone but I pity him. He deserved a wife who could actually assist him in Society. Goodness knows he needs it.”

  Teresa carefully set down both the knife and toast, struggling to hold on to the shreds of her temper. As hard as she tried to build up armor against her aunt’s verbal assaults, Charlotte excelled at finding new weak spots to poke at. There might only be the tiniest hint of truth in what her aunt was saying but that hint alone was enough to sting. Teresa had, ultimately, made the decision to go out onto the terrace with the Earl, even if she’d had no idea what was going to happen.

  “The wedding will have to be soon, of course. Talk is already spreading around town.” Charlotte paused in her monologue, frowning. Teresa resisted the urge to ask how many of her friends Charlotte had sent notes to after the ball. The sympathy Charlotte would receive over her unfortunate niece’s latest outrageous act would keep her the center of attention through at least the end of the Season.

  At least someone has something to be happy about over this. She knew better than to hope her aunt would have sympathized with her in any way, but it still rankled to see her aunt’s blatant dismissal of Teresa’s happiness in favor of her own reputation.

  “There’s not time for new wedding clothes or a large party, but I think no one will question a small and quiet affair in these circumstances, especially after everything we’ve done for you over the past few years.”

  That was a familiar refrain — Charlotte never missed the chance to guilt Teresa for the burden her presence had been, even if it hadn’t been Teresa’s fault in the first place. Teresa had regarded it as a test of self-control, one designed to help her mind her tongue when all she wanted to do was point out how her aunt had begrudged every cent spent on her, even though she knew her parents had left her with at least some funds to cover the expenses for her debut.

  This morning, as she felt her stomach twisting into knots, it was a harder battle than normal. Too many emotions warred for her attention and she realized that what little appetite she’d had upon waking up had since disappeared. She felt brittle, completely unable to respond to the hate her aunt flung at her and suddenly needed to be somewhere, anywhere away from her. Pushing back from the table abruptly, she rose. “If you’ll excuse me, ma’am, from what you’ve said, I should go prepare to meet with Lord Carlington.”

  Charlotte’s lips curved up and Teresa knew she was all too aware of the real reason why her niece was fleeing the breakfast room. “Of course. I’ve instructed the housekeeper to make the morning parlor available for your use. Let her know if you have any other requests.”

  Teresa bobbed in the expected curtsy and fled before she could say anything more.

  *

  The morning parlor was the smallest of the parlors. Charlotte considered it shabby and kept insisting her uncle set aside funds to allow her to remodel it into the current mode but he had steadfastly refused, pointing out that Charlotte received
all her guests in the larger and more impressive receiving parlor anyway. Her aunt’s response to that was always to sniff and say that if the room was fashionable, she might consider receiving guests there but as it currently was, it was hardly fit for family.

  Teresa considered it one of her favorite rooms in the house. The furniture might be older and worn, but everything about the room reminded her of her parents’ parlor. She’d asked, but nobody had been able to tell her if her mother had played a role in decorating the parlor. She suspected she had, though.

  Two windows overlooked the back garden, showcasing the handiwork of the elderly groundskeeper who had disguised any evidence of the surrounding houses with a sea of greenery. His work meant that if Teresa squinted and ignored the sounds of the city, she could almost imagine herself back out in the country. The room reflected the view, with the furniture upholstered in lighter greens and bright flashes of color from embroidered pillows.

  Particularly on rainy days, she loved to spend a quiet afternoon in this room, reading a novel or working on her embroidery. After too much time trapped in the cold displays of extravagance that her aunt favored, this room felt like home.

  That Charlotte wanted her to meet with the Earl here was a clear insult, both to her and the Earl. Teresa would have thought Charlotte wanted to ingratiate herself with a peer, but apparently her distaste for her niece had won out over social considerations, at least today. Charlotte would never allow someone she wanted to impress into this parlor. Ironically, Teresa drew comfort from that. At least here in the morning parlor, she had a chance to calm her nerves. Standing by the window, she looked out at the riot of green and flowers and sighed, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had been preparing for the masquerade ball and putting together a list of potential brides for the Earl of Carlington. A list she had most emphatically not been on. When she hadn’t been working on that, she’d begun thinking about ideas for summer entertainment, on the off chance that her uncle might look at the Earl’s ‘courtship’ and allow her to host a small dinner party to meet with other suitors.

  Now, she was sitting here waiting to meet with the Earl, who presumably was hashing out the wedding settlements with her uncle. Her aunt was already planning the wedding breakfast. There would be no summer dinner parties, no additional chances to search for love.

  Her only choice now was how she was going to handle marriage to a man who made her body sing but had no interest in any other kind of relationship.

  At least there was a silver lining. If nothing else, she would finally escape from her aunt without being handed off to Lord Radcliff. Small comfort, as she might physically be safer but her instincts screamed that the Earl was more dangerous. Certainly the way he made her forget herself every time they touched hadn’t done her any favors.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t realize she was no longer by herself until she heard the door close. Startled, she looked up to see that the Earl of Carlington had stepped into the room and was regarding her with the steady gaze she was beginning to realize was his default.

  “I beg your pardon. Your aunt said you would be waiting for me in here. I did knock, but apparently you didn’t hear me.” He shifted his weight slightly, turning to look around the room. “I have to say, I like this room much better than the one where I met with your uncle.”

  Small talk. She wasn’t sure whether to welcome the distraction from the ruin of her plans or to ignore it. Settling on the former, she considered her uncle’s options. “Did he choose the library or his office?”

  “I believe he considers it his office, although I fail to see how he can accomplish anything with those gargoyles glaring down at him.” Teresa couldn’t help it; her lips twitched. Her uncle was so proud of his gargoyles and wouldn’t hear any criticism of them. Teresa never told him she found them hideous, feeling it wise not to irritate her one erstwhile ally with any power in the household.

  Martin smiled back before motioning her to sit. He remained standing until she had settled into her favorite chair before taking a seat on the couch opposite her, looking briefly at his hands before returning his gaze to her face. “I should start by saying that I owe you an apology. Last night should not have happened, and that was my fault.”

  Teresa stiffened, perversely irritated by the apology. He had been in the wrong, but if she was honest with herself (something she generally tried to be), she hadn’t done anything to stop him from kissing her. Had, in fact, allowed him to kiss her. She might be angry with him about what he’d said before and done afterward, but they were both responsible for what happened up to that point. “I share some of that blame, my lord.”

  “Do you?” He held up a hand to forestall her interruption. “You were an innocent. Still are, for that matter. I knew that. I should have been more responsible and I failed us both.”

  Her frustration demanded an outlet. Simply balling her hands into fists and biting her tongue was no longer sufficient, not in the face of having her life dictated to her by people who felt they knew better simply because she was a young woman. Especially by someone who had agreed to treat her better than that. “My lord-”

  “Martin. I just signed the marriage settlements with your uncle. I have to believe we can now call each other by our Christian names.”

  “Fine. Martin. While I appreciate your willingness to apologize for the kiss, even if I don’t believe that to be necessary, what I am more interested in is an apology for high-handedly declaring that I had agreed to be your wife without asking me first.”

  He raised an eyebrow in her direction. “And what would that have changed? You and I both know you couldn’t have said no, not in the position we were in.”

  “That’s not the point!” Knowing she was close to losing control, she looked away and took a deep breath, trying desperately to regain some level of calm. This man was going to be her husband, for better or for worse. He respected reasoning, not emotion and so to make her point, she needed to meet him on his terms. “You agreed to treat me as you would treat one of your peers, and yet you acted without consulting me. I cannot believe you would make a contract for one of your peers without his agreement.”

  Martin opened his mouth but then closed it again, clearly considering her words beyond his initial gut reaction. A point in his favor — many gentlemen in the ton would have stopped listening to what she was saying after her first comment.

  Of course, in her experience, many of the gentlemen in the ton didn’t consider the possibility that women could offer any kind of substantive discussion in the first place. Females were only slightly more capable than children and taken about as seriously. That was the conventional wisdom.

  Teresa had no intention of being treated as only slightly more than a child in her marriage. Either Martin was going to acknowledge that or he was going to have a fight on his hands. Again. Since what I said the first time clearly didn’t take.

  “You’re right.” He looked at her and spread his hands. “For what it was worth, I felt I had to act quickly in order to provide you with at least some shield from the gossip that was guaranteed to spread. That is spreading as we sit here talking.”

  He grimaced as Teresa sat back, surprised to hear him acknowledge her point even as she considered his reasons. As uncomfortable as her aunt’s refusal to speak to her had been in the carriage on the way home the night before, it didn’t take much imagination to see that things would have been much worse if Martin hadn’t stepped forward and said they were engaged.

  “Besides, both Society and your family have their expectations. I could see no other options open to us. I would act just as quickly to defend the reputation of any gentleman I call a friend.” He shifted slightly in his seat, as if he were uncomfortable. “I hoped we might be able to find some common ground today, away from the eyes and judgment of the ton. As two rational adults, since that was how we made our previous bargain.”

  For the first time sin
ce reality had set in that morning, she felt hope spark to life in her chest. Her dreams of a love match might be lost, but Martin seemed willing to respect her intelligence. Had in fact already done so, apparently, even if she hadn’t understood it at the time. Perhaps they could form a partnership, instead of letting their relationship devolve into the standoff she saw in so many Society marriages.

  “When I asked you before what you wanted for your wife, you said you were looking for someone who understood that marriage could be a mutually beneficial relationship.” Teresa raised her chin. “While I may have a slightly different philosophy, I can appreciate your goal. Maybe we can build something that satisfies us both.”

  “Then I believe we can reach some kind of understanding, although I have little time to sit and talk with you about it today.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I can promise I will do what I can to make you happy, although you should be aware that I spend the better part of the year at my estate.”

  “That isn’t a problem for me.” Far from it. Teresa was desperate to leave London behind her. The dreams she’d come to London with were long dead, replaced by years of tedium mixed with humiliation and abuse.

  “Excellent.” Martin’s gaze met hers and for a moment, Teresa was struck by the way the morning light emphasized the gold flecks in his eyes, overshadowing the green that had been so prominent the night before. His dark curls brushed the edges of his cravat, presenting a picture that looked like it belonged out on horseback, not sitting contained in her aunt’s morning parlor. Flushing, she looked away, feeling like a debutante caught staring at her first ball.

  Martin didn’t seem to notice but instead rose to his feet. She quickly stood as well, wanting to maintain some level of equality between them. “I told your uncle that I would have the special license in hand by Thursday, so I believe your aunt is making arrangements for the wedding then.”

  Three days. In three days, she would be married. Despite knowing that this day would come at some point, it still was a shock. Keep the focus on the practical. There’ll be time to process later.