Beauty and the Duke (10 page)

So be it, he swore to himself. He intended to marry Christine. But announcing that fact would not further his cause.

Lady Sophia watched the interchange over the rim of her teacup. He was sure Lady Sophia would have remembered him from years ago. How did one forget a man who had married into the family, then promptly lost his bride to a fever ere two weeks had passed? One did not, he suspected. “You are welcome to join us for tea, Lord Sedgwick. If my niece is in the laboratory she could be there awhile.”

After an awkward moment where he declined tea and no one spoke, Erik returned his attention to Darlington. “You will be leaving soon for Perth,” he said, remembering their conversation at the museum, and the look on Christine’s face when Darlington had announced he had received the appointment. Erik had no idea why he should care. But he did.

When no immediate reply was forthcoming, Amelia slanted her husband a hesitant glance. “We will be remaining in London for a while,” Darlington said.

“You will be remaining at Sommershorn Abbey,” Lady Sophia told Darlington. “We were just discussing that very thing when you arrived, Sedgwick.”

“I should let you return to your conversation.” He felt out of place.

Erik patted his inside pocket. He hadn’t brought a card or anything that would make this look like a planned social call as he stood in front of the threesome in his shirtsleeves looking more like a roustabout than an aristocrat calling on a young woman. “Tell Miss
Sommers I was here,” he said.

Erik finally bowed politely and left the trio to enjoy their reunion in peace.

He reached the tree where his horse should have been tied only to ascertain it had loosed itself from the branch where Erik secured him. He found the gelding’s tracks in the dirt and discovered the horse had decided to quench his thirst in the middle of the shallow duck pond.

Erik’s new Italian leather boots were still wet and caked in mud thirty minutes later when he reined in the bay just at the edge of the wooded parkland behind his house and swore softly to himself.

Now almost home, he’d remembered he’d forgotten to bring back Becca’s fossils. With an oath, he swung the bay around.

Christine was suddenly in front of him, bringing her mare to a skidding halt before she collided with him. His startled horse reared, nearly unseating him. He brought his horse around as it pranced sideways into a mud puddle, sending a spray of black water up and onto his cloak, which now complemented the mud caked on his boots. But his anger died as quickly as it had come.

The first thing he noticed was that she was riding sidesaddle. For some reason he had expected to see her defying custom and riding astride. A jaunty straw hat covered her hair and the large blue bow at her chin framed her oval face. Her blue velvet riding attire hugged what he considered a perfect pair of breasts. No country bumpkin was the very fair Miss Christine Sommers.

He leaned an elbow against his knee. “Why am I not shocked that you are here without a groom?”

Her black tossed its head and danced a few steps.
“Perhaps we are beyond being shocked with each other.”

“Are we?”

Her flushed cheeks stood out in contrast to the white lace collar that buttoned at her neck. He suspected why she was here. Her presence had everything to do with Darlington and Amelia’s sudden arrival at Sommershorn Abbey, but he only knew he did not care the reasons.

“I would have an answer from you.” She waited for him to nod. “You have made it clear your only reason for marriage is to beget an heir. What happens to our marriage after I give you a son?”

“What do you want to happen?”

Evading the deeper issue of love, she attacked the primary topic of concern. The one she
could
control. “Any children we have will also be mine. I’ll not leave them, nor be forced to do so.”

“You think me so heartless?”

“The devil duke of Sedgwick is not known for his generous heart.”

There was the briefest of pauses. “I will not force you to leave,” he said quietly. “Nor will I force you to stay.”

“I see,” she said. “Then ours will truly be a marriage of convenience? A bargain met only in bed? You will have your life to attend to and I will have mine,” she said. “Is that it?”

“Unless you know of another more suitable arrangement.”

“Such an arrangement is not all bad,” she agreed.

She fidgeted with the lace on her sleeve only to realize she was destroying her cuff. “You won’t wake up tomorrow and realize you have made a terrible mistake?”
she quietly asked.

Did she think so little of herself? “No, Christine.”

“Then to that point, I have just one more request to ask of you.”

“Will it hurt?” he asked.

Despite her unwillingness to smile, she seemed warmed by his humor. “I hope not. But this is important.”

“What is it you want, Christine?”

“By law, Sommershorn Abbey will pass to my husband.” She drew in breath as she pondered what his reaction might be to her request. “You don’t need the property. I would ask that you put the school into a trust that cannot be touched except by the executor I appoint. I wish the Abbey to remain my legacy to the young women for whom my great-grandmother built the school. I want to keep the tradition alive. No woman should ever be allowed to feel shame for her intellect.”

“As you wish, Christine.”

“Thank you.”

And for the first time since she’d ridden pell-mell into the glade, he felt the constriction in his chest loosen. “Is there anything else to which I should agree?” he asked.

“This may be business for you, but it is also my business. I will be an equal partner in all matters personal between us.”

“All matters personal,” he agreed. “In everything else, I have no doubt you and I can come to an equitable agreement. Do I meet your criteria?”

The wariness inside her eased. “I will marry you, Erik. Your solicitor can deliver the contracts. I will sign them.”

She urged her horse back as if she might swing away,
but he bent down and took hold of the bridle. He looked into her startled face, her eyes wide open and blue as a piece of summer sky.

Until today, he’d always considered himself a man of restraint and subdued passions. In his entire life, with only a few exceptions, he had never surrounded himself with anything that he could not live without.

“Do we have an agreement, your grace?” she asked.

His hand tightened on the bit. Even suspecting her reasons for accepting his offer and wanting to escape England, he would take her. “Aye,” he said satisfied for now with the bargain he had struck. He released his grip on the bit.

“You have not told me where you wish to speak our vows,” he said.

She toyed with her reins. “I wish to marry at Saint Jude’s Cathedral off York Square. It is not far from here.”

“Ah,” he said simply and, despite himself, he smiled. “Saint Jude. Patron saint of hopeless and difficult causes.”

She did not quite smile, but her expression became less tense. “Papa is buried there. I have known Reverend Simms my entire life. I would like him to perform the ceremony. As soon as possible.” A blush stained her cheeks and she rushed to explain. “As it will take a few weeks for me to pack and settle my affairs at Sommershorn Abbey before I can leave, and I know you cannot remain here in London. I would not wish to change my mind while you are frittering away your time in Scotland waiting for me.”

His gaze tracing the tiny curve of her smile, he lifted his eyes back to hers and recognized the comment for what it was. A self-deprecating fact. “I can have a special license in two days. We can be wed by the end of
the week.”

She seemed relieved to put the entire affair into his hands.

“Then we are in accord?” she asked.

“Yes.” His thumb brushed her moist lower lip. “I believe we are.”

Without giving her time to respond, he wrapped his hand around her nape and laid his lips over hers. He’d meant for the kiss to be simple, a bargain sealed. But somehow, his intent gravitated toward something far more complex and less governable, in a kiss that deepened into something rough. Her hand curled around his lapel. Heat clung to her like the sunlight warming his shoulders and she melted against him. Their horses stirred. Slowly, he pulled away.

With trembling hands, she gathered up the reins. “I will await word from your solicitor.”

She swung her black around in a tight circle and, as he watched her maneuver through the trees the way she had come, an old adage nipped at his thoughts. Something about…the wolf eating the lamb that strays from the field.

He frowned and nudged his heels against his horse. Better that adage than the one that said
He who picks up a thorn has one less sin, for had he stepped on it, he would have cursed
.

It should not have mattered to him why she was marrying him, only that she was.

Christine arrived back at Sommershorn Abbey just before dark. Holding a package close to her chest, she shut the door then closed her eyes as if she could shut out the doubts as easily. After leaving Erik, she had not come directly home but had instead gone to a small lace shop near the cathedral where she would
soon be wed. A true bride always wore a veil, she’d told herself.

Mrs. Samuels came bustling toward her. “Oh, mum, you are finally arrived. Lady Sophia is in the dining room waiting for you. Oh, dear, oh dear. Mr. Darlington and Miss Amelia…” Wringing her chubby hands, the housekeeper murmured in her doomsday voice, “Mrs. Darlington,” she corrected, “also be with her, mum. And your uncle and that rascally son of his arrived twenty minutes ago.”

“I see.” She gave Mrs. Samuels the package to take upstairs. “Make me some tea. At least you can boil water while fretting. You don’t have to be here.”

“Yes, my lady. Thank you.”

After Mrs. Samuels waddled away Christine removed her hat and hung it on a peg beside the door. She recognized Amelia’s voice and Joseph’s somber undertones coming from the dining room.

She drew in a breath. She had no interest in hearing about his week, nor was she interested in explaining hers. She would not even know how to begin.

And because no good reason could have brought her family to the abbey on a night like this and because she was a coward, she considered escaping upstairs to her room, before changing her mind. Except she had spent most of her life at the merciful whim of other people’s platitudes.

Christine recognized the sound of her aunt’s cane tapping the floor. It was muffled by the carpet, but it had no less effect on Christine than if it had vibrated the very air she breathed and she imagined Moses’ staff when he parted the Red Sea. Her aunt appeared in the corridor and stopped.

Since she was six and had got herself stuck in a tree while sneaking out of her room, Christine had not seen
that worried look on her aunt’s face. “We were about to call out a search for you. Come inside, child.”

Aunt Sophie never called anyone
child
. Unable to stop the downward spiral of her emotions, Christine clutched her skirts and stepped past her into the dining room. Joseph and Amelia sat at the dining table. Joseph came to his feet. Christine’s uncle, Papa’s brother-in-law, the earl of Heath, and his wastrel son, Gordy, did not rise. She laid her hand on the back of the dining chair as she faced them all, like Daniel in the lions’ den.

She nodded to Joseph and Amelia. “I am glad to see you both back.” Her eyes on Amelia’s face, she attempted to smile. “You are looking well.”

Amelia lowered her gaze to her hands.

“Where have you been, Christine?” her uncle demanded. “Don’t tell us you were at the museum. Mr. Darlington and Gordy just returned from there this evening. No one has seen you since this afternoon.”

Gordy smirked behind his hand as if whispering conspiratorially to Joseph, “We shouldn’t say ‘no one.’”

Remembering just how much she disliked the little weasel, she narrowed her eyes on Gordy, then settled her fury on Joseph. How dare he stand on the side of her family? “Am I now required to consult with all of you whenever I leave the abbey? Since when has any of you cared what I do?”

Her uncle’s expression darkened. “Since Sedgwick was here this afternoon. Since further inquiries have revealed this is not his first visit.”

Gordy leaned forward on his elbows. “And in case you ever had a doubt, old gel, your laboratory activities aren’t exactly beyond our hearing, you know.”

Christine felt the awful rise of heat in her face.

“What were you
thinking?
” her uncle said. “Have
you no ken what would happen to the repute of the school and all of us if anyone found out about you and that bastard? We would be ruined.”

Christine pulled off her gloves, jerking one finger at a time as she worked through the panic that threatened her composure. “You needn’t fear about your reputation. Any of you. I have agreed to marry him.”

Shock silenced the group only momentarily. Then everyone started talking at once. “You have an obligation to the school”…“loyalty to the family to consider”…“The man has been accused of murder”…“His own mother wants nothing to do with him”…“He lives in the wilds of Scotland, a barbaric country.”

“No decent woman dallies with the chap, much less marries him,” her uncle blustered. “Good
Lord!
Society tolerates him only because his title and wealth make him powerful. He may not have caused the scarlet fever that killed my Charlotte, but he is responsible for his second wife’s disappearance.”

“Bloody hell,
coz,
” Gordy said, “how could you possibly agree to marry the man knowing what you do about him?”

“They are right, Chrissie,” Joseph said.

“Yet, you did not seem to care about his reputation, or ours, when you brought him to the museum gala and introduced him to Amelia and me. What does that make you but a hypocrite? Or worse. Tell me you were not going to ask him for his patronage?”

Joseph raked his fingers through his blond hair. “What would you have had me do, when he approached me about attending?”

He spoke with such fierceness that for a moment, Christine could say nothing.