A Hasty Betrothal

by Jessica Nelson

  Bitt’s head bent, as though she regretted her harsh words. “I recall her laugh and it was quite lovely. I apologize for my impetuous words. Of course you loved her for more than her beauty. It was unkind of me to suggest otherwise. Perhaps my own insecurities have blinded me to what a man desires in a wife.”

  “Any man would be fortunate to have you as his bride.” Miles tapped his fingers against his thigh. “This situation you find yourself in... John and I are concerned.”

  “He is overprotective. He need not worry though, because I have no intention of marrying anyone, and if my parents try to force me into it, I shall simply run away.”

  Miles did his best not to scoff. “That would hardly solve anything. Besides, how would you support yourself?”

  “I have been saving money for several years. If the need arises, I shall use that to find a post somewhere. A companion position, I suppose.” Perhaps she saw the doubt on his face, for her brows furrowed.

  “No legitimate family will hire a ruined woman.”

  “I am not ruined yet. Gossip has a way of trickling off. I simply must wait for a juicier tittle-tattle to occur.”

  Miles could not stop incredulity from barreling through him. Perhaps the reaction showed, for Bitt scowled deeply.

  He returned her look with a glower of his own. “You hate attending society events, you shun the outdoors and you deny an audience to anyone who is not family because of a mere birthmark. I do not believe for one second that you will become a companion or a governess. Marriage is a position every lady of gentle breeding has been groomed for since birth. Will you really subject your family to great reputational harm rather than marry?”

  A dark flush suffused her cheeks, creeping around the large birthmark that covered the right side of her face and coloring the rest of her fair skin an angry scarlet.

  She gave him an arch look, completely belying every notion he’d ever entertained about her timidity. “Unless it be for love, I shall never marry. No matter the consequences.”

  * * *

  “Even at the expense of your family?” Miles asked.

  Elizabeth winced. Tearing her gaze from the books, she looked at him. She’d spent all morning in this library, hoping and praying the gossip would die down. And then he appeared, reminding her of the entire predicament.

  It was unfair how handsome he looked when she found him so bothersome. His crisp waist jacket lay becomingly over dark breeches that were paired with shiny Hessians. She didn’t know why, but suddenly the lack of his dreadful mustache struck her anew. A little shiver coursed through her at his appearance.

  From his full lips to the dimple in his cheek, formerly hidden by the mustache... She shook away the awareness that rippled through her at his changed looks. This was Miles. Childhood nemesis and annoying man who most unfortunately turned out to be her hero last night.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  He returned her look, unblinking. She patted her hair, certain it must be in place. Jenna had been dressing it for years. Why else did he stare at her so? Was he terribly disappointed in her?

  “Since you are here, I feel I must thank you for rescuing me,” she said to fill the silence.

  “By all means, do not force your thanks.”

  Did she hear mockery in those words? “It is not forced at all. I am sincerely thankful you arrived when you did. Wrottesley was out of line, and I believe he also partook of too much punch. You will see—the gossip will die down, and my family will be fine.”

  She prayed it to be so, for she did not truly wish for their reputations to be harmed because of her. If the rumors affected only herself, she would have been happy to live at Windermar for the rest of her days.

  But this could affect her family for years to come.

  Marriage.

  Bah! She likened the institution to a velvet cage. An image from the tribal book she’d read filled her mind. The young women carried baskets on their heads. Of all things! Every culture had its societal expectations and dictates, she supposed.

  A footman appeared in the doorway. “My lady, Lord Wrottesley is here to call on you.”

  She suddenly felt faint. She had no desire to see the man. Words refused to form. Miles’s gaze was on her. She blinked.

  “I had hoped to take the lady for a ride in Hyde Park,” he said, never removing his eyes from her.

  She nodded faintly, catching her breath. “Yes, that would be lovely. Please tell him I am indisposed, or out.” She waved a hand dismissively. Thank goodness Mother had gone out shopping or else she would not have allowed Elizabeth to go with Miles.

  The footman disappeared.

  Miles held out his arm. “A ride, then?”

  Suddenly the thought of fresh air and sunshine seemed smart, indeed. She took his arm, noticing how much taller he stood than she. His arm felt exceedingly strong.

  Which was neither here nor there, she told herself firmly.

  It did not take long to leave.

  Miles helped her into his rig. His fingers lingered on her knuckles, and she sent him a sharp look. Did he realize the small impropriety? Still feeling warm, she withdrew her hand and found her seat. Once they were settled, and Jenna had handed in her bonnet and taken her own seat, they were off.

  “Hyde Park is beautiful this time of year,” Elizabeth said inanely.

  “We’ve never taken a turn by ourselves, have we?” Sunlight lit the chiseled planes of his profile.

  She glanced at her lap, fiddling with the ribbons of her bonnet.

  “You do not need a cap to hide your face, Bitt.”

  “It is for shade, sir.”

  “I see.” His tone suggested he thought otherwise.

  She cared not a whit what his tone said, though her hands were clammy.

  They left the tree-lined road as Miles turned the rig into Hyde Park. Sunlight bloomed immediately upon their faces, warm and inviting in the still-cool spring air.

  She situated the bonnet upon her head, but as she pulled the ribbons forward, Miles touched her hand.

  “Allow me, my lady.” His eyes darkened. Some tempestuous emotion spiraled through them, though Elizabeth had no idea why. She dropped her hands to her lap.

  Miles parked the rig to the side of the pathway. Setting the reins on his lap, he pulled the ribbons of her bonnet gently, tying them neatly beneath her chin, the skin of his knuckles the briefest whisper of a caress against her skin.

  “I had wondered...” He paused, his face only inches from hers, his gaze earnest. “If you might consider a betrothal.”

  Chapter Four

  Elizabeth stiffened. The bonnet hid most of her face but the sudden frown turning her pretty lips downward remained visible. “I shall not be marrying Lord Wrottesley, no matter what occurred last night. I do hope my parents have not sent you to persuade me otherwise.”

  Miles wanted to take her hand, but the knowledge that they were riding in a public place and bound to encounter peers stayed him. He tapped his fingers against his knee instead, debating the best way to phrase his question.

  Perhaps a simple business proposition?

  That might be best, as it most described the purpose of the proposal. He picked up the reins, guiding the horses back onto the path.

  “Nay, Bitt, your parents know nothing of my actions. The thing is...” He gathered his courage, which seemed to have deserted him. “I have come to see if you would consider a betrothal to me.”

  Her mouth rounded. Miles took a curve in Rotten Row, passing an early rider he did not recognize. He felt compelled to fill the silence of Bitt’s shock, to assure her of his honorable intentions. And perhaps to convince himself that such an offer was in both of their best interests. Hard to imagine; nevertheless, he felt honor bound to offer.

 
“John came to my house this morning. He is concerned.”

  “Yes, yes, you told me he saw the papers.”

  Miles’s mouth tightened. “He worries for your family’s reputation.”

  “He should have expressed his worries to me.” She pulled out a fan and began waving it vigorously against her face. “I truly feel that the gossip shall pass. After all, the column was quite vague, merely mentioning an heiress. That could be a number of people, including debutantes. It is known that I shall inherit, of course, but the amount has been kept quiet to discourage fortune hunters.”

  “Do you speak of an inheritance or a dowry?”

  “Both, really. My grandmother has settled a dowry upon me, but I am also to receive an inheritance from my grandfather. It was in his will. We were very close. He made me feel loved for myself, and in fact, it was he who introduced me to the wonder of novels.” Her eyes briefly closed as though she remembered a sweetness Miles himself had never known.

  His own experiences with reading encompassed contracts, bills and legal papers. He took a quiet moment to study her. She sat to his right and the birthmark did not extend to the left side of her face. Her high cheekbones hinted at aristocracy, at a regal breeding that did not enrich his own blood.

  “Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.”

  “His life was too short.” Elizabeth opened her eyes, training their brightness upon him. “Tell me, Miles—why propose to me? I had believed you to be firmly settled in your widowerhood.”

  He dragged in a breath. “It is true. Marriage is the last thing I want. But you are an old friend, Bitt, and I do not wish to see you ruined. A betrothal seems a smart proposition. The article did mention a factory owner. Not only will the rumors subside and your reputation remain pristine, but you will be able to continue with the life you have known. With me, you might reside in the manner to which you’re accustomed. We are comfortable together, having known each other since childhood. I wished to discuss the idea with you before going to your parents.”

  “While I appreciate the sentiment, you make marriage sound cold and heartless, a calculated business decision rather than a joining of hearts.” She edged away from him.

  The morning sun felt unbearably hot. He tugged at his cravat. “Because that is what it would be, Elizabeth. A proposition.” He cleared his throat. “Do not mistake me. I do not want to ever marry again, but should the rumors increase, I want you to know that I am here to assist you by whatever means necessary. I do have a few requests, of course. Requests that would assure me you could be a suitable partner.”

  “Such as?”

  “If forced to marry, I would want a wife who is not a ninny, one who might keep my home warm but not interfere with my social and political activities, promising a beneficial arrangement. You would have the protection of my name and the comfort of my acceptance.”

  “Forced to marry? And this is what you think I want?” The high pitch of her voice indicated that he’d upset her, but he could not fathom how or why. “I have not been ruined yet, sir, and if I were, it is doubtful I would accept such a proposal. Even from an old friend. How very distasteful.”

  “It’s practical, Bitt. We get along well enough.”

  “That is an exaggeration if I’ve ever heard one.”

  His cravat grew tighter by the second. His head pounded. “You are a woman of excellent taste, refined but timid, one whose biddable nature would do well in housewifery. If it is acceptable to you, I would ask your parents for your hand in marriage—”

  She reared back. “Have you lost your senses, Miles? We have nothing in common. Nothing at all. And I shall never marry unless for love. The matter is as simple as that. There is nothing that could induce me to marry you. Nothing at all.”

  “Not even scandal?”

  Her face flushed but she did not respond.

  He shifted on the seat, wondering if Bitt’s lady’s maid had heard her exclamation. “Your vehemence is unnecessary, my lady. A simple no will do. This is not my idea of fun. I simply thought to help.”

  Beneath the brim of her hat, her eyes flashed. “If I have wounded your ego or offended your pride, I do apologize, but for you to take me on this ride and hold out marriage as some kind of business offering...it is uncomfortable, Miles. What would Anastasia think of such a proposal?”

  “Anastasia is gone,” he bit out, “and has no place in this conversation.”

  Elizabeth’s arms crossed her middle. He would like to imagine she was sorry for her harsh words, but he began to think he’d assigned to Elizabeth a heart that perhaps she did not truly possess. All for the better that she found marriage as abhorrent as he did. Her family could deal with her. He was done.

  She sounded strained as she said, “I am merely pointing out that I want to marry only for love. Rumors abound in the ton. Let the gossip run its course. My parents and John shall be fine. They shall not suffer for my actions.”

  “And if the rumors don’t subside?”

  “I cannot marry someone who feels forced into the deed.”

  “You are being naive, Elizabeth.” He felt unruly inside, unsettled by her unexpected irritation, her complete lack of faith in his husbandly virtues. Not that he had faith in them himself. This was all for the best, he told himself. He turned the horses for Bitt’s home.

  “Better to hope for the best than settle for the worst,” she said.

  “Indeed,” he muttered. The worst meaning him, of course. “It was merely an idea to keep you from ruin, but since you feel it unnecessary, then we shall not discuss this again.”

  “I do so appreciate your putting aside your distaste for marriage in order to help me, but fear not. All shall be fine.” The hopeful lilt of her tone did not comfort him.

  John could still pressure them into marrying, citing honor, but at least Miles had offered before the request became a demand. He had fulfilled his obligation, but where he should have felt relief, he merely felt a deep emptiness, a wrenching certainty that things had not turned out how they were supposed to.

  Elizabeth wished to face life on her own terms. He could understand such a goal, and yet, watching her proud posture as they rode back, he could not shake the nagging feeling that this Season was bound to interfere with his life in a most uncomfortable way.

  * * *

  Life did not unfold as Elizabeth hoped. Neither did the rumors abate.

  She was sitting in the library the following day, congratulating herself on her newest find from Hookham’s Library, when her mother blasted into the room.

  Or so it felt.

  Mother snatched the book from Elizabeth’s hands, prompting a startled gasp and immediate irritation. She straightened, eyeing her mother carefully. The older woman paced the library. The calm she usually carefully exuded was gone, replaced by a tenseness that permeated the room and ruined any vestige of comfort Elizabeth had felt.

  “Is something the matter, Mother?” She played with the lace on her dress, dreading the answer.

  Mother swung around, slapping the book down on the nearby desk. “As a matter of fact, Elizabeth, there is. I was denied a voucher to Almack’s today. Denied. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? To be told my family does not have the prestige to enter? We have never been denied entrance. Never.”

  Elizabeth’s hopes imploded. “Was a reason provided?”

  “I know what the reason is. You are still in the gossips’ line of fire. There is only one way to remedy this.” Elizabeth did not miss the imperceptible tightening of her mother’s lips.

  The coiffing of Venetia’s hair must have taken her lady’s maid at least an hour to fix. She wore her favorite emeralds, as well, handed down to all the wives in Father’s family. His affluent earldom more than made up for Mother’s step down from being the daughter of a duke.

 
She quietly waited for the woman who birthed her to speak. There had been a time Elizabeth longed to know the mother whom she resembled so closely, but that desire no longer existed. Not for many years, not since the evening she’d overheard a conversation that revealed her parents’ true feelings toward her.

  “Your father and I are in agreement that Lord Wrottesley might be willing to marry you.”

  Venetia’s eyes, the same shade of ice blue as Elizabeth’s, implored her to listen.

  “He is a viscount who has already shown an interest in you. There is no reason to believe that has changed.” Her mother paused, but not in a dramatic way. No, Mother did not put on airs. Her calmness quite made Elizabeth want to stomp a foot. “If Lord Wrottesley offers for your hand, your father and I are prepared to accept the proposal.”

  Elizabeth gasped. She’d suspected her parents’ plans, but for mother to speak them in such a way, with such finality... She clenched her skirts, readying to retort, but Mother held up a hand.

  “This Season, to my utter dismay, is proving more disastrous than your first one. An intervention is in order. Due to your unique situation, finding a husband is nigh impossible. Thankfully, Lord Wrottesley is in need of funds to bolster his estate, and you are in need of a husband to provide for your future and save you from ruin. This is a solution that will prevent further harm to the family’s reputation.” Mother bent her head, looking at Elizabeth in a not unkind way. “We worry about what will become of you, our only daughter.”

  How was it possible to wear such an air of concern while shattering Elizabeth’s world into a million unalterable pieces? A looking glass dropped to the floor could not be more broken than she felt at this moment. Her skin tingled, from temper or hurt, she was not sure. Her mother’s insinuations bristled every ounce of pride Elizabeth contained.

  “The reason I have no suitors,” she said in a tight, emotionless voice, “is due to a lack of desire for them. Should I want a man to secure my future, there are plenty of impoverished earls to choose from. There is no reason for you and Father to concern yourself with me.”