by Eloisa James
Cedric snorted. “You understand so little about men, my dear. Though anyone could deduce that from your romantic history, could they not?”
“Ignorance alone cannot explain my rotten choices,” she said, rather sharply.
“Trent and I discussed that very thing—intimacies with you—later in the day on which you found that dreadful dog in Hyde Park,” Cedric said. “We had returned to Cavendish Square and were on the threshold, just about to enter the house. If it makes you feel any better, Trent sent the butler back into the house when the conversation began.”
There was something so bluntly factual about his report that a lump of ice began to form in Merry’s chest.
“You talked about me on the front steps?” Against her better judgment, she almost believed him. Almost.
“I told him that I didn’t plan to tup you until marriage, and that I hadn’t kissed you because I felt you were the sort to lose interest. How right I was. I must say that you take faithlessness to an extreme,” he added, drawing on his cheroot so sharply that it made a hissing sound.
Merry had the irrational sense that he was crushing her heart, physically compressing her chest. She wanted to tell him to stop, but instead she just sat rigidly in place.
“You must understand, we are exceedingly competitive,” Cedric continued. “Our mother used to egg us on, which didn’t help. Trent even tried to turn my betrothal to you into a contest, but I needed your dowry and of course, as duke, he could never marry someone of your nationality and stature. Though he did have one go at you before I stopped him.”
Merry felt as if she’d descended into some sort of nightmare in which no one was who she’d thought he was. “You mean . . . on the balcony?”
“You didn’t really believe that he had no idea who you were when you first met, did you? I had told the duke that I was planning to propose to Miss Pelford the night before the ball where you met him.”
“Oh.”
“I warned him off,” he said, pity leaking into his voice. “I told my brother that you were so in love with me that he had no chance. But as you see, he waited until there was a breach between us and leapt on you like a fox snapping up a chicken.”
In that moment, Merry understood that her heart was breaking—though the heartbreak had nothing to do with the end of her engagement.
Cedric caught her expression and misunderstood it. “The duke wouldn’t have ruined you or, God forbid, compromised you. He’s not that wicked, and besides, he wouldn’t risk being forced to marry you. He understands that his spouse will need to come from the peerage. He just wanted to score points against me.”
Did Cedric think that she would applaud a cruelty that went only so far? Nothing between the duke and her was real, not the way he smiled at her, talked to her, or teased her. And yet their friendship had felt more real and more true than any relationship she’d ever had with a man.
Cedric shrugged, and blew another ring of smoke. “He won that round. The sport of betrayal, as played out between brothers.”
He gave her a look that was oddly sympathetic. “If it helps any, it has nothing to do with you. We came out of the womb fighting for the same toys. The estate has never been enough for him. He wants everything that’s mine: he even told me that he wanted the dogs. He offered to adopt both of them.”
Merry tried to think of something cutting to say, but even when she was furious, she’d never been any good at coming up with insults.
She did the only thing she could think of: she began to tug off the diamond ring. “I’ll return this to you.”
“No need.”
“There’s every need,” she said, trying to stop herself from crying. “I don’t want your ring. I mean, of course, I won’t keep your family ring.”
“I do not accept your breaking of our engagement,” Cedric said casually.
“What?” Merry’s head jerked up. “What did you just say?”
Cedric flicked the ash from his cheroot. It landed on the carpet to the side of his chair. “We will marry just as planned. It was extremely gauche of you to air our private business in the ballroom earlier, but we’ll put it about that it was a lovers’ quarrel.”
“We are not marrying!” Merry glared at him. “You must be very drunk. Either that, or you’re cracked.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m neither,” Cedric replied, sounding a little surprised. “I was trapped in that chair with no more than a sip of brandy for what felt like hours while you and the duke pawed each other.”
Merry’s thoughts were so jumbled that she couldn’t form coherent speech. She should get up and find her aunt, and never mind the fact that everyone would gape at her. Surely they all knew, even if she hadn’t, that she had been no more than a pawn between rival brothers.
No, it was worse than that. She was seen as a lascivious American heiress who sampled and discarded men the way other women did hats. No wonder Bess had been so worried about the damage to her reputation if a third fiancé was jilted. Merry’s naïveté had protected her from understanding the ugly conclusions people were drawing.
Merry felt a stab of longing for her father so acute it almost took her breath away. Her father would never have let her betroth herself to three despicable men in a row. Well, two despicable men; Bertie was only hot-tempered.
Her father would have put his arms around Merry and made everything all right, the way he had when she was a little girl with a scraped knee.
Cedric flicked another ash, indifferent to where it landed. “Actually, I’ve come to a decision about our marriage. I know we’re supposed to marry in June, but I think we’ll marry two days hence instead.”
“No!”
“I don’t trust you to stand by your word as time passes. This must feel tiresomely familiar, but if you refuse to marry me, I can and will sue for breach of promise.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Merry whispered. But she straightened her spine and met his eyes. “You are immoral to do this to me. You and your brother, both of you.”
“It is not I who nearly did the blanket hornpipe with a man to whom you are not engaged, in the Verekers’ library—where anyone might have entered.” Cedric pointed at her with his cheroot. This time, the ash dropped onto the chair and he flicked it away.
“In fact, there’s enough shame to go around. You will marry me, Merry Pelford, because the moment you accepted my proposal, you promised me that money. Moreover, when you told all and sundry about the unpleasant state of affairs regarding my debts, you made me look like an ass. You damaged my chance of making a satisfactory marriage in the future.”
The feeling of being caught in some sort of odd, distorted nightmare was only growing stronger. Merry tightened her lips before she said something irrevocably unladylike. Perhaps that etiquette list had been good for something.
“So you must marry me or I’ll sue you and your uncle,” the fiendish man opposite her said. “I’ll give him some credit: as soon as Pelford realized I was having second thoughts, he popped out with that offer to pay off my debts. Here’s my thinking: You may be something of a sow’s ear, but you can be shaped into a purse full of guineas. Or however that goes.”
“You are a contemptible person,” Merry said stonily. “I am not a sow’s ear. And only a boor and a parasite would allow another man to pay his debts.”
“I don’t think we should exchange insults just yet, do you? It seems so connubial, and we aren’t there yet.”
“Why must you make yourself seem clever by using big words?” Merry cried.
He raised an eyebrow. “Your paltry vocabulary is hardly justification for such hostility. I would venture to call it—forgive me—a trifle ill-bred.”
“If I were to enter the church with you,” Merry stated, “I would never say yes. Unless in answer to the bishop’s question whether anyone had just cause to stop the wedding.”
A faint smile curled Cedric’s lips. “I have every faith that you will respond appropriately—in o
ther words, with a yes.”
“I’ve been sued by one avaricious man,” she pointed out. “I have an attorney already.”
How could she have ever thought that Cedric had warm eyes? They were cold as ice. “In fact, you will marry me.”
Merry jumped to her feet. “You’ve lost your senses, perhaps owing to an overindulgence in spirits. I shall return to Boston as soon as I can arrange passage.”
If she thought about the fact that the duke and his brother had discussed her; about the fact that the duke had kissed her merely to score points against his brother; about the fact that she was nothing but a shuttlecock batted between insolent, titled Englishmen, she would cry.
No, she would sob.
She pushed the thought away and started for the door. She’d been deceived before. She would survive this.
Just as she reached for the latch, Cedric caught up with her, and spun her around. He leaned in close and Merry recoiled, her head jolting against the door.
“You will marry me,” he stated, eyes holding hers. “My suit against you will not only refer to a broken wedding contract. After your not-so-delightful display this evening, I will also sue for slander.”
Merry could not believe her ears. “No one will credit that foolishness!”
“Oh, but they will.” He smiled. “I have a roomful of witnesses to the fact you besmirched my character. You broke off two previous engagements; obviously you are not to be trusted. Everyone knows that you paid off one of the men. Likewise, everyone now thinks that you paid for me. You are American. People will believe anything of you.”
Despite herself, a tear rolled down Merry’s cheek. “You are nothing but a liar and a cheat,” she managed.
Cedric raised a hand to her chin and forced it up. “Darling, do you really think that I give a damn about insults from a fiancée whom I caught groping my own brother?”
“Then sue me. Ruin me!” Merry cried, choking back a sob and getting control of herself again. “I would rather be utterly ruined than marry you.”
“What of your uncle?” Cedric asked softly. “Your hotheaded, good-hearted uncle. Not even Mr. Pelford has bottomless pockets.”
Merry stared at him. Her uncle stood to lose his fortune because of her inability to keep her promises. Because she was a vacillating fool.
Her heart thumped. Thaddeus would be outraged.
He would challenge Cedric.
“I might add that I am a crack shot, and quite good with a sword,” Cedric said casually.
“Why would you do such a monstrous thing? Who are you?”
“There’s no need to be histrionic. I don’t want to sue you; I want to marry you. You owe me money, and you’ve damaged my reputation. The only way to gloss over that vulgar public performance tonight is for you to walk down the aisle of St. Paul’s looking as if I fulfilled your heart’s every desire.”
Merry pressed her lips together tightly. The nightmare she’d found herself in was growing worse by the moment.
“It’s not as if you have a chance in hell of becoming a duchess. I thought my brother could have been a wee bit more polite when he announced that he would never marry you,” Cedric said. “Don’t you agree? After all, he had just kissed you, for all the world as if he were genuinely interested. Maybe he was; his mistresses are generally fleshy in the bosom.”
Merry might be a plaything between warring brothers but they seemed to have their own queer code of honor. The duke had punctiliously informed her—twice—that he would never be coerced into marriage. He had never allowed her to delude herself into thinking his kisses meant anything.
“You don’t want to marry me,” she said desperately.
“That is true. What you said in the ballroom was so vulgar that I don’t even like you very much at the moment. However, needs must. A lawsuit might get me money, but I’ll end up without a bride, and my reputation in tatters. I won’t be able to find a suitable wife of my own rank. Therefore, we shall marry.”
“I’ll give you ten thousand pounds,” Merry offered. “It cost me five thousand dollars to get rid of Dermot; that’s more than double.”
“I’m worth at least that. I have a title, and I am not graced with the laughable name of Dermot Popplewell. Really, how could you? Merry Popplewell. It sounds like a nursemaid. A governess at best.”
“I’ll give you fifteen thousand pounds,” Merry said desperately. “In a year or two, no one will care whether I paid your tailor’s bill.”
Cedric raked his fingers through his hair. She watched with loathing as a lock fell into precisely the right place over his forehead. “Merry, Merry, Merry. You still don’t understand, do you?”
“Apparently not.”
“My brother wants you. He wants you merely because I found you first, but that’s irrelevant.”
Merry felt sick. She edged sideways. “Let me go.”
“As long as you understand that we shall leave this room arm-in-arm, and you will smile with girlish pleasure as you inform everyone that you hadn’t understood the nature of your Uncle Thaddeus’s gift, and that we are quite reconciled. I shall announce that I’ve decided to purchase a special license tomorrow, and we’ll marry the following morning.”
“No,” Merry gasped.
“Oh yes,” he said calmly. “The wedding will be a spectacle to remember; I’m quite certain that most of London will contrive to appear, even with this brief notice. But I do have one request. You’ve had your last kiss from my brother, if you please. I think we’d better say no family dinners for a good period, don’t you think?”
Her heart was broken, but that didn’t matter. She had to protect her uncle. Thaddeus couldn’t lose his fortune, and possibly his life, owing to her mistakes, to a feud between heartless aristocrats.
“Very well,” she said dully. Voices were coming down the corridor. Cedric caught her wrist and pulled her away from the door.
“One complaint to your uncle and aunt, or to my brother, and I’ll throw down a gauntlet that will end in a duel,” he threatened. “You may take me at my word, Merry.” Anyone meeting his icy gaze would have no doubt he meant it.
The door opened and Aunt Bess walked into the room. To Merry’s horror, Lady Vereker crowded through after her. “My goodness!” the lady cried. “I thought His Grace was with you, Miss Pelford.”
“Good evening, ladies,” Cedric said, bowing. “My brother has been and gone. He played the peacemaker, escorting Miss Pelford to me after my fiancée and I had a most foolish squabble.” He slipped an arm around Merry and gazed down at her lovingly.
“It appears to have worked,” Aunt Bess observed, her tone approving. “I’m happy to see it. Unfortunately, gossip is flowing through that ballroom like water. I cannot understand why people are so convinced that the duke would try to steal his own brother’s fiancée. The very idea!”
“The chatter stems from the fact that we’ve seen these two young men grow up, you understand,” Lady Vereker said. “And they’ve always been . . .” She paused delicately.
“Antagonistic,” Merry put in dully.
“I was about to say competitive,” the lady clarified.
“Only over trifling things,” Cedric said. “Never over something as momentous as marriage, Lady Vereker.”
“Of course not,” Aunt Bess said. “In the end, family are all you can count on.”
“Lady Vereker,” Cedric said, “could we count on you to sort out any little confusion that might pertain in the ballroom as to my brother’s intentions? I certainly don’t want his future bride to have a mistaken impression. As you may know, he has chosen a duchess.”
“Lord Cedric, have you any idea about the identity of the lucky bride?” Lady Vereker asked eagerly.
“It wouldn’t be my place to confirm anything. But I can say that I have noticed he seems quite taken with Lady Caroline,” Cedric told the lady.
In years after, Merry never could remember how they managed to leave the Vereker townhouse.
&
nbsp; She only remembered the moment in which Cedric jerked her to a halt before their host and hostess, and said ruefully, “My fiancée and I owe you our humblest apologies for causing such a contretemps during your ball. What fools we made of ourselves! A lovers’ quarrel. One has to think of Shakespeare’s immortal words: ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’”
He threw her a melting glance. “My darling misunderstood the import of a gift from her uncle. Happily for me, I was able to enlighten her.”
Merry smiled.
Weakly, but she smiled.
Chapter Nineteen
Dear Lord Cedric,
I was unable to sleep all last night. I understand that I am nothing more than a tennis ball batted between you and your brother, but please do not make this worse by insisting on proceeding with a ceremony that is surely repugnant in the eyes of God and man.
Believe me, yours respectfully,
Miss Merry Pelford
Dear Merry,
Why, there is no end to the novelties left in store for us. I had no idea that you placed so much faith in the wisdom of the Almighty. Or was it merely that you believe I shall end up in a dark and thorny place? No, really, my dear, I must insist upon marriage.
Yours ever,
Lord Cedric Allardyce
Dear Lord Cedric,
I will give you £20,000. It is the whole of my fortune, but I am prepared to surrender it in order to extricate myself from this situation. Please.
With sincerity and respect,
Merry
Dear Merry,
Money is but one of the reasons I am marrying you, and by far the least important, if you will have the truth of it. Imagine: the duke has been rather apologetic about the whole affair. He seems sincerely regretful to have conducted himself so inappropriately with my fiancée.
I am hopeful that this marriage will begin a new era for myself and my brother. I believe it might be the mending of the family.