by Cheryl Holt
“I’ve given my word,” he repeated.
“Break it.”
“I can’t. I won’t.”
It probably wouldn’t be that hard to renege on his vow to the navy. With his title of earl, he would be granted leeway another sailor might not receive, but he didn’t want to renege.
He’d been unhappy for months, twiddling his thumbs and questioning his options, and he’d finally seen the road he had to travel. He had to resume his old life, the one he loved and had missed so intensely.
He wasn’t a farmer who could loaf in the country and watch his crops grow. He wasn’t a dandy who could gad about town with nothing to do. He wasn’t a Romeo who would shuck off his responsibilities merely to wallow in a pretty woman’s bed.
As he’d ridden to Jo’s house, he’d rehearsed the speech he’d use to explain himself. He’d been certain and prepared. He was still certain and prepared, but he had to ensure she was safe while he was away, and he didn’t have much time to sort it out.
He wouldn’t argue with her, wouldn’t allow her to dither and decline to heed him. She couldn’t be stubborn or unbendable.
“I’m going to propose again, Jo,” he told her, “and I won’t let you refuse.”
“Oh, I’m so perplexed. This is all occurring too fast. It’s bad enough that you’re leaving. I can’t cope with an added catastrophe dumped on top of that.”
“You knew I would eventually depart, Jo. You thought I should.”
“I never expected you to head out at once, without any warning.”
“I don’t have control over where or when I’m posted. I can’t ignore a direct order.”
He conveniently neglected to mention that he’d volunteered, that he’d practically begged for the mission. After his recent visit to Benton, he was anxious to escape and pretend he was the man he’d previously been: a man with no familial obligations to weigh him down.
“I understand you’re in the navy,” she said, “and you have to obey orders, but what if you never come back?”
“I’ll come back. Don’t worry.”
“I will worry. I’ll worry every day.”
“I have nine lives, and I’m lucky. You needn’t fret.”
“I can’t help it. What if your luck has run out? Where would I be then?”
They glared, on the verge of a quarrel, but he wouldn’t fight with her.
“I won’t debate this with you,” he said.
“Well, you’ll have to debate it. I don’t want to marry you. Not like this. Not in such a huge rush that there’s not a second to so much as stitch a string of lace on a gown.”
“When I return, we’ll have another wedding. We’ll find a church and invite a hundred guests. We’ll throw a big party and celebrate for a month, but not now. Now we have to accomplish it quickly so I can make arrangements for you.”
“What are you imagining? Will Daisy and I remain in this rented lodging? You won’t move us to Benton, will you?”
“No. It’s probably best if you stay here.”
“I suppose.” Then she groaned with frustration. “I take that back. I have no idea if it’s best. You’re behaving like a lunatic, and you’re pressuring me unmercifully when I can’t bear to be pressured.”
“How am I pressuring you?”
“We’re not even sure I’m increasing!” she protested. “My tummy has been upset, and my cook—who I’ve only known for a matter of weeks—has announced that I’m about to have a child. You believed her, so you’re ready to march to the altar.”
“Jo, I can’t loiter in England until we’re positive. Nor can I ship out and act as if this isn’t happening. There’s no option but a swift wedding.”
“But Peyton, think! I’ll be your countess. I’ll become Lady Benton. You don’t want that. You’ve never wanted that. I don’t want that.”
“We’ll figure it out later, Jo. I can’t deal with it now. I have so many other chores to complete.”
“I’m one more pesky detail?”
He scowled. “Don’t make it sound as if I’m disrespecting you. I have to meet with my bankers and lawyers, and I have to ride to Benton to tell Barbara what’s transpiring. And I have to marry you. By Thursday!”
“When would we hold the ceremony?”
“I thought Thursday morning. I sail Thursday night when the tide turns.”
“You’re deranged.” She pushed him away. “Why can’t we wait? Why can’t we slow down? Once you’re in England again, if you’re still inclined to ask me, we could do it then.”
His gaze dipped to her stomach. “We can’t wait. It’s impossible.”
He was losing patience with her. He had a dozen important tasks dragging him away, and he couldn’t continue to bicker. She was a female, so she would view issues in an emotional way. He was a male, and he had to keep them from any sentimental sparring.
He dropped to a knee and clasped her hand.
“Marry me, Jo. Just say yes. Let’s don’t argue about it.”
“This is all wrong, Peyton. I don’t want you to have to wed me. I want it to be because you’re madly in love. I want it to be because you can’t live without me.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to respond with, Of course I love you!
But he’d never spoken the words to anyone, and he had no desire to wallow in a maudlin morass. Any strident declarations would seem frivolous and false.
“Jo, you may not want me to have to wed, but that horse has left the barn. We don’t have a choice, and I don’t mean to rush you, but I have to get going. I can’t leave until we’ve resolved this.”
She stared down at him, her eyes beseeching. Finally, she murmured, “I accepted a proposal once in my life—from a man who didn’t really care about me. I vowed I’d never put myself in such an untenable situation again.”
“I’m not Holden Cartwright, Jo. Don’t claim he and I have any traits in common.”
“If circumstances have forced you into this, how can I be sure you’ll follow through?”
“Give me some credit. You know me, don’t you?”
“Sometimes, I assume I do, but usually, I don’t have a clue of what sort of person you truly are.”
“You know this: I would never do anything I didn’t wish to do. If I wasn’t eager to have you as my wife, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
“Swear one thing to me.”
“If I can.”
“Swear you will never regret this.”
“I won’t dignify that comment with a reply. Now stop complaining and answer me.”
“I need your answer first. Swear you’ll never suffer a minute of regret.”
“Oh, Jo, I never will. I will always be glad.”
She took a deep breath, and she looked miserable and dejected. Ultimately, she said, “Yes, Peyton, I will marry you.”
She pulled him to his feet, and he bent down and stole a quick kiss.
“You’ll never be sorry,” he told her.
“I already am,” she churlishly retorted.
He could only chuckle. “For a girl who’s about to be a bride, and who will have a brave, dashing member of the Royal Navy as her husband, you’re not very happy.”
“I’ll become happy. I promise. At the moment, I’m too overwhelmed.”
“I’m an overwhelming fellow, so I completely understand.” He kissed her again, then started for the door. “I’ll try to join you for supper, but if I don’t, please don’t worry.”
“All right. Will you make the wedding plans? Or should I?”
“I’ll obtain the Special License, but if you could find a vicar and a chapel, that would help me immensely.”
“There’s a place where we can schedule a hasty service.”
“I’ll keep you posted on my whereabouts, but if I don’t see you until Thursday, don’t fret.”
“I won’t.”
“If you have to contact me, send a message to my club
. I’ll be running around the city, but someone will track me down.”
“I hope this ends as you’re expecting.”
“Why wouldn’t it? Don’t be such a pessimist.”
“I’ll attempt to be more optimistic, but I have to ask you a question. You’ve been so generous, so I’m embarrassed to raise it, but what about Daisy and me? Will you pay our rent and provide us with some money for expenses? If you don’t, I can’t imagine how we’ll carry on.”
“Yes. A lawyer will be in charge of your affairs. You won’t have to concern yourself.”
“I’ll tell myself to trust you.”
“Why wouldn’t you trust me? Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll be fine, Jo. I guarantee it.”
He froze, taking in the sight of her, filling his vision with her sweet beauty and poise. She was wearing the lavender dress he liked so much, the one that made her eyes appear more violet than blue.
Her distress washed over him, vividly reminding him that, from this point on, her safety and contentment were his responsibility. She was young and vulnerable, and she was about to be his forever. Fate had pushed that conclusion onto his shoulders, and he felt quite grand about it.
He had a thousand tasks to accomplish, the biggest hurdle being a trip to Benton. Initially, he’d thought to simply sail away without informing Barbara, but that was the coward’s route. As she’d caustically mentioned, he was part of a family now, and she deserved to hear about his decision.
So… he couldn’t dawdle in Jo’s bedroom. He’d been in the navy for fourteen years, so he was an expert on packing and shipping out with scant notice, but in the past, he’d never had to furnish funds to a lawyer. He’d never had to arrange a speedy wedding and organize a wife’s security.
He had to do all of that, and he had to do it in the next two days. He’d like to stay and bask in her sunny presence for a few more hours, but he couldn’t.
He spun and left before he realized he couldn’t bear to go.
* * * *
Jo listened as Peyton bounded down the stairs and hurried out the door. Then she staggered to a chair and slid down.
She was alarmed and terrified and brimming with joy. Wasn’t she?
She was about to be Mrs. Peyton Prescott. That’s how she’d picture herself anyway. When the wider world learned of their folly, they’d view her as Lady Benton, as Lord Benton’s countess, but she couldn’t worry about that.
She didn’t have the ancestry or training to be a countess, and she’d never yearned to be an aristocrat’s bride. She didn’t want to live at Benton with its winding halls and chilly, ostentatious salons. She didn’t want to manage dozens of servants and supervise one of the kingdom’s most splendid manors.
She liked the small, cozy house Peyton had rented for her. It suited her, and it was more than enough. She wished they could be normal people, an ordinary couple, but with Peyton as her husband, that prospect wasn’t possible.
She should have refused him. None of his kin or acquaintances would ever accept the union. Everyone would agree—for the rest of his life—that he’d married down. He’d be the butt of jokes and horrid gossip, but he’d been in such a rush that he hadn’t considered the ramifications.
A baby! Could it be?
She rubbed a hand over her abdomen, wondering if there was a child growing inside her. The notion was scary and thrilling, and she shook her head with dismay. She couldn’t believe he’d actually wed her. Surely he’d come to his senses.
If naught else, Barbara Prescott would yank him to reality. She would never welcome Jo into the family, would never welcome Daisy, and who could blame her?
Jo needed a friend she could talk to, but she was on her own, floating free, and about to marry Peyton Prescott, even though she was certain it was a huge mistake.
Noise erupted down in the foyer, and it sounded as if Daisy and their footman had returned from the excursion to the butcher.
“Aunt Jo?” she called. “Are you home?”
She was always afraid that Jo might vanish when she wasn’t looking, and Jo figured she was suffering lingering effects from Richard Slater threatening to lock her in an orphanage.
“Yes, Daisy,” she called back, “I’m upstairs.”
Daisy skipped up to Jo’s room. Jo was so stunned that she was still seated. She didn’t bother to stand, and she must have seemed stricken because Daisy was smiling when she entered, but it immediately altered to a frown.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
“Sit with me for a minute.” Jo patted her thigh. “I have some news.”
Daisy hesitated. “Is it good or bad?”
“It’s a little of both.”
“I’m not leaving, am I?” Daisy’s perpetual fear was always close to the surface. “I’m not being sent away?”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll never be separated. Your Uncle Peyton promised, remember?”
“Yes, but adults don’t always tell the truth.”
“You’re correct, but he meant this. We’ll always be together.” Jo reached out to her. “Now come and sit.”
Daisy trudged over, and Jo drew her onto her lap.
“Your uncle stopped by a bit ago,” Jo said.
“Drat it! I missed him. I hate that.”
“He told me two significant things.”
“Will they upset me?”
“One of them is a tad upsetting, and it’s sad, but it’s happy too.”
Daisy’s frown deepened. “How can it be sad and happy at the same time?”
“Your uncle has decided to return to the navy, and he has to ship out right away.”
“How soon?”
“On Thursday.”
Daisy’s jaw dropped. “It’s in three days!”
“Yes.”
“That’s not happy. That’s very sad.”
“I’m deeming it happy because it’s what your uncle has craved most of all, and he’s very excited. He was only in England because your father died. His furlough was temporary. You know that.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think he’d go. I thought he might stay with us.”
“Men have important events in their lives that don’t include women.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“If he hadn’t done this, he’d have been miserable forever.”
“How long will he be away?”
“He didn’t provide many details, but I expect it will be several months.”
“I see…”
“Here’s the good news”—Jo forced some cheer into her tone—“and when you hear it, you have to smile.”
“I will.”
“Your uncle is very fond of me.”
“That’s not a secret.”
“And…he’s asked me to marry him.”
Daisy gasped. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be his wife!”
“Yes,” Jo said again.
“If he’s departing on Thursday, when is the wedding?”
“On Thursday morning, then he’ll sail Thursday night.”
“A wedding! In three days?”
“Yes. Will you help me get ready?”
“Of course I will.” Daisy wrapped her arms around Jo and hugged her as tightly as she could. “This is the best ending ever, Aunt Jo. I’ve been praying for it.”
“You have?”
“Yes, I’ve been praying—ever since I first saw you with him. It’s meant to be.”
“You never mentioned it.”
“I was afraid to jinx it, and now, everything will be perfect.”
Jo didn’t think so at all, but she didn’t dare admit it. She just nodded. “Yes, it will be perfect from now on.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Hello, Peyton. I’m surprised to see you in the country so soon.”
“Hello, Barbara.”
“On
your last visit, you couldn’t wait to depart. Are you intending a longer sojourn this time?”
“No—a shorter one.”
Her hostility practically oozed out.
She was vain and proud and would never forgive him for rejecting her marriage proposal. She’d never forget it either. For the remainder of his life, she’d devise methods to remind him he’d spurned her, and she’d make him regret it.
He sighed with irritation. He truly thought she’d been extremely brave about it and considered telling her how impressed he’d been, but he doubted she’d like to hear any compliments from him. In his view, it would be better for both of them to pretend their prior conversation had never transpired.
“You’re wearing your uniform,” she said, stating the obvious. “Does this indicate you’ve decided to become Commander Prescott again?”
“Yes. I’m shipping out tomorrow.”
“That was fast.”
“My services were needed immediately. There was no reason to delay.”
They were in the front parlor at Benton, and Barbara was sitting on a sofa. Her brother, Richard, stood behind her, a hulking, angry sentinel.
It was incredibly brash of Richard to show his sorry face. He hadn’t vacated the property as Peyton had demanded, and Peyton had to deal with him once and for all, but it wouldn’t be today. It probably wouldn’t even be in the next year.
Peyton was eager to be out on the sea, and he wouldn’t be slowed down by Richard. Perhaps, if he was lucky, Fate would solve the dilemma for him. Richard might die or glom onto an heiress and move away. Although it wasn’t likely, he might quarrel with his sister and part company with her.
If Peyton’s experience in the navy had taught him anything, it was that a strange event could occur when a person least expected it. His fingers would be crossed.
“Is that why you’re here?” Barbara asked. “To notify us of your plans?”
“Yes, and to inform you that I’ve arranged for my attorney, Mr. Thumberton, to handle my business affairs while I’m away.”
Barbara bristled. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean he’ll have charge of the bank accounts, and he’ll determine which bills are paid and which aren’t. He has the report from the inventory I conducted, so he has an idea of the income and debts. You’ll have to travel to town to speak with him about how much money you’ll require, and you’ll get a stipend.”