“You did not know that until today.”
“And so my question arises once again. Why did you wish to marry me?”
He rubbed his forehead, leaning heavily against the wall. “I must marry before my father’s illness claims his life, or I will be disinherited.”
Grace could scarcely believe his words. Lord Ramsbury was to be disinherited? He had been the highly anticipated Earl of Coventry for his entire life. Every person that entered Brighton knew of him. His place in society relied on that forthcoming title, and surely his livelihood relied on his fortune. But there was one question that still lacked an answer.
“Why did you choose me?”
He shrugged. “You were a painfully simple target, what with your intense… interest in me.”
“False interest.”
His teeth gritted. “I cannot believe that it was entirely false. You said that you once fancied me.”
“It is astonishing how much one’s opinion can change over time.”
Lord Ramsbury opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind. His gaze, heavy with frustration, met hers for a long moment before he turned, exiting the room without another word. Grace watched his back until the door closed firmly behind him.
Her shoulders relaxed; she hadn’t realized how tense her posture had been. Her mind raced with the reality of what she had just said and discovered. Lord Ramsbury had only pretended to be interested in her in an attempt to keep his inheritance. She had only pretended to be interested in him to win a wager. Her heart sunk a little at the realization. Though she despised him, she had fancied the thought of him genuinely caring for her. But as a reader of many works she understood the significance of irony.
When she heard the front door of the house signal Lord Ramsbury’s exit, she sat down on the sofa. With a heavy sigh, she snatched up the knitting Lord Ramsbury had so rudely stolen from her grasp, awaiting her family’s reprove. If perchance they had been listening from the hall, she would be in severe trouble.
CHAPTER 6
Edward had never been a skilled swordsman. But he had never attempted it after being harshly rejected by a woman, a fate which had now befallen him twice.
Twice.
His arm came down with unexpected speed, his epee making direct contact with Henry’s, the metal scratching as they collided. Edward advanced on his brother, fighting with renewed strength and skill. He could hear Henry’s laugh of disbelief as Edward managed to disarm him, pressing the blunt tip of his epee against the rapid rise and fall of his brother’s chest.
Henry pulled off his mask, his eyes wide and his face beaded with perspiration. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I never thought I would see the day that you conquered me.”
Edward lifted his own mask, catching his breath. His hair stuck to his forehead, and he pushed it away, lowering his epee. “And I never thought I would see the day that Miss Grace Weston rejected my proposal. I was certain Miss Buxton’s rejection would have been the last and only.”
Henry shook his head, a broad smile breaking over his face as he crossed the room for his cup of water. “Forgive me if I find it amusing. Both you and Miss Grace were acting with some measure of deceit toward the other. But in the end, she won her wager and you are still without a wife.” He fell into laughter.
Edward scowled, taking an angry swig from his own cup. He found himself wishing the cup contained something stronger than water. “I cannot simply let her claim that victory and leave me without mine.” It had been a full day since Edward proposed to Miss Grace, and he had spent every moment since trying to understand her aversion to him. It seemed he wasn’t as charming as society had taught him to believe. His pride had been bruised to say the least, and it would vex him for months. He simply couldn’t be rejected a second time. He refused.
Henry raised both eyebrows with a laugh. “Do you still wish to marry her?”
Edward considered the question for a long moment. “Yes, and I plan to.”
“Please do explain.” Remnants of Henry’s laughter still crept into his voice, shaking his words. “Is it that you can’t fathom the notion of a woman being resistant to your charm?”
“She made a fool of me, Henry. She is a wicked, spiteful woman, but yes, I still wish to marry her.”
Henry stared at him for a long moment, his brow scrunching. “Why?”
A smile crept over Edward’s lips. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“This is a marriage, not another game of whist. It should not be taken lightly.”
Edward hardly heard his brother. “What did I do wrong the last time with Miss Buxton? I was not persistent.” He paced the floor. “I asked her once, she refused, and I have regretted it for almost a year. I should have asked her again. I should have romanced her a little longer. I know I could have changed her mind.”
Henry stared at Edward as if he were mad. “Would it not be easier to choose a new woman to pursue, one that does not despise you? Do you even like Miss Grace at all? You did just call her wicked and spiteful.”
Edward stopped his pacing, coming to stand in front of his brother. He clapped him on the shoulder, new enthusiasm pulsing within him. “To choose a new woman would mean I was accepting my defeat. Again. No, never again. Miss Grace is going to fall in love with me. I am going to make certain of it.”
“Are you forgetting that you will still have to marry her?” Henry asked in an exasperated voice.
“And so I will win back my inheritance. If I must marry a woman I don’t love, I don’t care who that woman is, even Miss Grace Weston will suffice. Do not try to stop me, brother. My apologies, but you will never see your day as the Earl of Coventry.”
Henry laughed, rubbing his forehead. “I am glad to see your tenacity has returned.”
“And you shall never see it leave me again.” Edward winked, elation building in his lungs as he drew a heavy breath. He had convinced himself to attempt a seemingly impossible task. Miss Grace was determined not to love him. He was determined to change her mind. When he was through with her she would be begging him to marry her. But he would need to approach it differently this time. His forward flirtation did not affect Miss Grace the way he had seen it affect other women. Her resistance to him was pure motivation.
“No woman rejects Lord Ramsbury and comes away unharmed,” Henry said with a chuckle.
Edward raised one eyebrow. “What is so harmful about a bit of romance?” Giving his brother one final clap on the shoulder, he turned on his heel, bursting through the doors of the ballroom. He would need to freshen his appearance before beginning his earnest pursuit of Miss Grace.
“Edward!” A little voice reached his ears from down the hall. He turned to see his young sister Juliet, standing in the doorway of his father’s bedchamber. Juliet had just turned ten years old the month before, and had spent the last fortnight with their cousins in Henfield.
“Juliet! I have missed you.” Edward smiled, walking forward to meet her. “Did you enjoy your time in Henfield?”
Juliet shrugged one shoulder, a look of deep contemplation entering her sharp blue eyes. “I wished Papa could have come with us.”
Edward’s heart stung at the grief that contorted her small features, the tears that balanced on her lower lashes. Their father’s illness had made the greatest impact on Juliet. He bent over to be closer to her height, placing one hand on her shrugging shoulder. “Would you like me to read you a story? And then you may tell me of all your adventures in Henfield.”
Her eyes flicked back through the doorway, settling on the bed where their father lay, deep in slumber.
“When we are finished we may return here and tell Papa of your adventures as well,” Edward said. “But for the moment he must rest.”
Juliet nodded, her golden curls bouncing atop the puffed peach sleeves of her day dress. She grasped his hand and he straightened to his full height, his muscles aching from his recent match with Henry.
“Mama spoke to Papa
this morning,” Juliet said as they walked to the library. “He said that you were going to marry soon.” She threw him an inquisitive glance, her pale eyebrows contracting.
“Indeed, I am.” He smiled down at her. Even Juliet appeared surprised.
“Who is the lady?”
He hesitated before stopping himself. If he was going to undertake such an arduous task, he needed to have full confidence in his ability. “Miss Grace Weston.”
A small smile pinched Juliet’s lips. “Is she beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“How beautiful is she?” His sister stared up at him, hope and excitement shining in her expression.
He thought of Miss Grace and her fierce brown eyes, sweeping lashes, and rich brown hair. He had found it shocking that such a pretty and seemingly mild woman could be so devious. Since the day before, when she had expressed her aversion to him, he had found her to be immensely more fascinating. He couldn’t explain it, nor could he rid his thoughts of her scowling face.
Edward knew his sister to be fond of clear description, so he chose his words carefully to describe Miss Grace. “She is as beautiful as a sun setting over the ocean, a night sky filled with stars, or a rose in full bloom.”
Juliet’s smile grew and her eyes came out of focus, as if trying to picture the woman in her mind.
A set of feet clicked on the marble behind them. “And who might you be speaking of, Edward?”
He turned, meeting the rapturous gaze of his mother. Her smile spread even wider than her daughter’s, her fine wrinkles and age the only difference between their faces. “I was told you were seeking a wife, but could not believe it.”
“When faced with a stipulation like the one Father gave me, I had little choice in the matter.” Edward said, keeping the bitterness from his voice. He realized a smile still lingered on his face, brought to his attention by his mother’s intense study of it.
“I see that I was right in desiring for you to marry,” she said. “This woman you speak of has already had a positive effect on you. I have not seen a smile like that for months. What is her name?”
He couldn’t give Miss Grace any credit for his elevated mood. Could he? It was true that he hadn’t found any purpose in his life for months, and now he had a goal to work toward. She had given him that much, but his reason for smiling was less honorable than his mother hoped. He smiled at the idea of Miss Grace falling in love with him—falling prey to her own trick.
“Her name is Miss Grace Weston. But we are not engaged yet,” he reminded his mother.
“Well, the woman would be foolish to refuse you.”
He gave a pained smile. “Yes, she most certainly would.”
“I do look forward to meeting her.”
“And you shall, very soon.” He hoped it were true.
“How wonderful. I did miss you, Edward.” His mother’s eyes shone with tears as she stared up at him. She had only been away for a fortnight, yet she acted as if she had not seen him for much longer than that. “I have missed seeing your firm mind at work. Nothing has excited you for a long while. When I meet this Miss Weston, I will have much to thank her for.” She patted his cheek, smoothing her hand over it. “And if she was what compelled you to shave, then I will have even more gratitude to express.”
Edward tore his face away from her hand, laughing. “You have Henry to thank for encouraging the shave.”
Juliet giggled. “I did not like your beard.”
He gasped, rubbing his jaw. “How dare you insult it?”
“I may insult it now because you cut it off.”
“Shall I grow a new one?”
“No,” his mother and sister said in unison.
If his pride had been bruised before it was now trampled. “Very well. My face will remain bald for what remains of my existence. Does that please you both?”
Juliet nodded, giggling behind her hand. Edward’s mother gave him a loving smile before offering her approval as well.
“I will not subject myself to your insults any longer.” He winked at his mother before pulling Juliet along by the hand. “We will be in the library.”
“May we take a walk instead?” Juliet asked. “I want to play with the sand by the ocean.”
“Shall we read our story by the sea instead?” he suggested.
Juliet gave an eager nod.
“Remember to behave as a proper young lady, Juliet,” their mother said as they retreated down the hall. “Keep your dress pristine. We have been invited to a dinner party this evening.”
“Only if Edward doesn’t throw sand at me,” Juliet said, her words disappearing behind her giggles.
Edward laughed at his mother’s look of dismay.
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
He exchanged a glance with his sister. “Yes, but Juliet threw seawater at me first.”
“Edward Beaumont, you are six and twenty,” his mother gasped. “I would hope for more maturity from you.”
“Is that not why you seek a wife for me?”
She raised a scolding finger at him, a smile breaking through her censure. “Please return by five o’clock. Our dinner invitation came by a man of your acquaintance. Cornelius Arnold, the Baron of Hove.”
Edward didn’t recognize the name. But it didn’t surprise him, considering that he had forgotten the time he had first met Miss Grace. When she had mentioned it, he did indeed recall dancing with a beautiful young lady at the Livingston’s ball. But after learning the true nature of Miss Grace’s spiteful character, he couldn’t say he regretted snubbing her afterward.
“We will return in time to dine with Lord Hove,” he assured his mother.
He led his sister down the hall to the library, throwing his mother one last smile as they passed. Juliet chose a short children’s story from the shelves of the library before they left the house, stepping into the warm spring air.
Clemsworth was located very close to the ocean, the scent of the sea wafting up through the breeze. Edward could feel the moisture of minuscule droplets of water in the air, and if he concentrated, he could almost taste the salt of the sea. He had spent his entire life in Brighton, only leaving for brief periods of time. As someone who had always had the ocean nearby, to be distant from it made him feel as if he were missing part of his soul.
Juliet let go of his hand as they approached the sloping bank that led down to the even sand. Waves peaked in the distance, frothing with tiny white bubbles, growing until they reached the shore then crashed gently over the smooth sand. This side of the beach rarely saw visitors. It was far enough from the center of town—from the pavilion and social assemblies.
“May I go closer to the water?” Juliet asked.
“Only if you promise that you will not splash it at me.”
She giggled, picking up her skirts as she took careful steps into the shallow water. She took another step, and another, until the water soaked into the hem of her skirts.
“Juliet, Mama will be fit to be tied if I allow you to ruin your dress.” He walked behind her. She turned her face toward him, a mischievous smile on her lips as she skimmed her hand over the water, sending a spray toward his face. He gaped at her as the water dripped down his hair, falling into his eyes. The salty water burned as he blinked it away.
She laughed, terror entering her gaze as he scooped up a handful of wet sand.
“No!” Her laughter verged on hysterical as she backed away from him, her wet skirts dragging behind her.
He scooped up another handful, the dirty water soaking into his white sleeves. He gave her a teasing smile. “You should not have thrown water at me. I’m afraid I must have my revenge.” He wouldn’t actually throw the sand at her, of course. But Juliet did not know that.
She shrieked, covering her face. Edward gave a wicked laugh, advancing toward her.
A gasp met his ears from the path behind them, just as he raised his fistfuls of sand. He glanced back. There stood Miss Grace Weston and her sist
er, both with looks of severe shock as they watched his display. Juliet uncovered her face, following his gaze up the sandy slope to where the women stood.
Edward dropped the sand, wiping the remnants on his breeches without thinking. He could only imagine how he must have appeared. Juliet had stopped laughing, which only made him appear more guilty of frightening a poor child. What the devil were the Weston women doing here?
Miss Grace uncovered her mouth, fixing him with a look of sheer disapproval before gripping her sister’s arm and walking down the bank toward him. She gave him a brief nod of greeting for the sake of propriety. Her eyes darted to Juliet with concern, who stared up at her with clear curiosity.
Edward nodded at both Weston ladies, bringing his gaze back to Miss Grace. Consternation showed in every line of her expression. If he had any slim hope of convincing her to marry him, it was now decreasing by the second.
“Please meet my sister, Juliet Beaumont,” he said in a quick voice. “She recently returned from a visit to Henfield. Juliet, please meet Miss Weston and Miss Grace.”
Juliet smiled up at the latter, an uncharacteristic shyness entering her expression. “Please stop Edward from throwing sand at me.”
He gave a quick laugh, holding up his empty, and rather dirty palms. “I was simply teasing you, Juliet.” He found Miss Grace’s eyes, hoping to convince her that he was not a wicked elder brother. “We came to the beach to read one of Juliet’s favorite stories.” He opened his jacket where he had tucked the thin volume, withdrawing it for her to see.
Miss Grace took the book in her hands and studied the cover. Her eyes grew wide. “The Horse and The Lady.” She looked up. “This was my favorite story as a child. I forced my governess to read it to me every morning before I would comply with our lessons.” A smile spread over her cheeks and she looked up. His heart momentarily stalled. The smile she wore now appeared nothing like the smiles she had flaunted before. The moment she met his eyes again, her smile faded, as if she were remembering that she hated him.
Feigning disinterest, she placed one hand on her hip, extending the book toward him. “Do you enjoy The Horse and The Lady as well, my lord?”
Romancing Lord Ramsbury: A Regency Romance (Brides of Brighton Book 3) Page 7