Seduction Becomes Her (9 page)

Adrian shot him a startled look, clearly unused to making decisions for his eldest sister. “Think you better talk to Daffy,” he said.

“I shall do so first thing in the morning.” Charles grinned at him. “At the same time I propose to her.”

Adrian grinned back at him. “I’ll warn you—Daffy’s used to having the bit in her teeth and doing as she pleases. Doubt she’ll take kindly to a firm hand on the rein.”

“That may be, but I’m sure that we shall deal well together.”

“Indeed, yes,” said the vicar. “Miss Beaumont has always struck me as a sensible young woman. I’m sure that when she considers the honor done to her by Mr. Weston, she will be gratified that a gentleman of his fortune and standing has chosen to marry her.” He smiled at Adrian. “Well, young man, Mr. Weston and I have some further business to discuss. Would you mind leaving us?”

“Oh, not at all,” Adrian replied, adding artlessly, “Lord Trevillyan has promised to teach me to play billiards.”

“Excellent!” said the vicar. “Since you and Lord Trevillyan will be busy, perhaps you would ask my wife to join Mr. Weston and myself.” A twinkle in his eyes, he added, “My wife will want to start planning the wedding.”

Adrian laughed and promised that he would send in Mrs. Henley.

A few minutes later, a smile on her pleasant features, Mrs. Henley came into the room and taking a seat by the fire, murmured, “I assume that all has been settled?”

Charles tugged on his ear. “Yes, except for informing Miss Beaumont of my intentions.”

“Ah, yes. Miss Beaumont has a mind of her own, but she seems all that is proper, and I am sure when the situation is explained to her, that she will be reasonable. After all, she can’t want to be looked at askance and shunned by society…nor, and probably more important to her, her brother and sister tarnished by this unfortunate affair. The tongues are already wagging.”

His eyes shuttered, Charles asked, “Do you think that our marriage will scotch the scandal?”

The vicar rubbed his chin. “In the long run, yes. There is bound to be gossip—I’m sure Squire Renwick’s wife is even now penning a letter to her sister who lives near Guildford and that Mrs. Houghton will be writing to her daughter in Ipswich all the delicious details of your, er, escapade.” He looked unhappy. “We cannot stop the news from spreading, but the calling of the banns this Sunday and the news that you are to be wed within the month will still any whispers. I think that it will be a nine days’ wonder and soon over and done with.”

Mrs. Henley sent Charles an encouraging smile. “This cannot be easy for you, the pair of you being strangers, but from what I know of Miss Beaumont, I believe that she shall make you an exemplary wife, one who will not make you regret your marriage.”

“I think we should worry,” Charles muttered, “whether Miss Beaumont finds marriage to me to her liking.”

Vicar beamed at him. “You have nothing to fear on that head. I am positive that when you declare yourself, she will be beside herself with joy.”

Having no inkling of the treat in store for her, Daphne woke just after dawn the next morning, feeling much refreshed. It was astonishing, she thought, what a good night’s sleep in one’s own bed could accomplish, particularly when one was not bothered by spirits…or whatever. Humming to herself, she slid from the bed and rang for her maid. Shortly, garbed in a blue kerseymere gown with a dove-colored mohair shawl draped over her shoulders, her hair pulled back into a neat chignon, Daphne entered the morning room. Considering the hour of the morning, she had anticipated that she would find the room deserted, and her step faltered when she spied Charles Weston standing at the window that overlooked the side garden. His back was to her, and she cravenly considered retreating, but he had heard her and swung around to look at her.

He looked, she decided, very different from the ruffian of last night. Exquisitely shaved and barbered, wearing pristine linen, gleaming boots, breeches, and a bottle green coat of superfine, he was the very epitome of a gentleman of means and station.

Walking into the room and approaching the sideboard, where she helped herself to a cup of coffee, Daphne said, “Good morning! I did not expect to find anyone up this early.”

Picking up his own cup of coffee that was sitting on the table beside him, Charles said, “I tend to be an early riser.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I trust you are recovered from our, er, adventure?”

“Oh, indeed, yes! And I must thank you again for your gallantry.” She glanced down at her cup. “It was an unpleasant experience for both of us, but your company made the entire episode less of an ordeal than it would have been.” A slight shudder went through her. “I do not think I would have liked to have been buried in that cavern all alone, and your quick thinking by requesting food and fuel for the fire just before we were trapped made it bearable.” Her gaze met his. “Thank you. My family and I will always be indebted to you for coming to our aid, and you have our…my sincere gratitude.”

“Very prettily said,” Charles replied, “but I think your gratitude is misplaced—especially when you consider the repercussions of our being locked together alone in that cavern.”

Daphne frowned. “Repercussions? What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t strike me as a stupid woman—stop and think about it. We were
alone
in that cave for two nights…just the two of us with no chaperon….”

“Good heavens! Do not tell me that anyone believes….” Daphne swallowed as a vivid image of Mr. Weston being overcome by passion and violently kissing her flashed through her mind. Her cheeks burned, and looking everywhere but at him, she managed, “I think you refine upon the matter too much. No person of good sense can believe that anything…untoward occurred between us. I am not some green miss just out of the school room, and you are not….” She stopped, suddenly aware of how little she knew of Mr. Weston. Perhaps, she thought uneasily, he was a hardened rake with a scandalous reputation, just the sort of scoundrel that in his company, no woman’s reputation was safe. Which was ridiculous, she decided. After all, she reminded herself, his cousin was the Earl of Wyndham—surely that counted for something. Mr. Weston had been a perfect gentleman with her during their time together, and while she knew herself to be on the shelf and not a beauty, certainly if he had been a vile seducer, he would have made some attempt to…. Conscious of her lack of charms, the lowering notion occurred to her that the reason he had been so very polite and circumspect was because he had not considered her worthy of his attentions. She shook herself. Now, she was being silly. She hadn’t wanted him to press his attentions on her, had she? Upset with her thoughts, she said sharply, “The whole idea is ludicrous.”

“Do you think so?” Charles asked with a flick of his brow. “Certainly, the vicar didn’t think so when he discussed the matter with me last night.”

“The v-v-vicar,” Daphne stammered, her eyes full of dismay. “Oh, surely not!”

Charles walked up to her and taking her hand in his, said quietly, “I’m afraid that the answer is yes. You may not have been aware of it, but even before I spoke to the vicar and your brother, I had the distinct impression, in view of our, ah, time together, that the community is breathlessly awaiting the announcement of our betrothal.”

An expression of utter horror crossed Daphne’s face, and Charles didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. Not a vain man, he couldn’t help but be aware that the majority of the opposite sex considered him handsome and that more than one pair of feminine eyes admired his tall form and address. Having inherited an impressive fortune upon his stepmother’s death, on the Marriage Mart, he was considered an excellent catch, and for the past few years, he had been avoiding the more aggressive of the matchmaking mamas who thronged to London, hoping to find a husband for their daughters. He might not have a title or a fortune large enough to make Golden Ball Hughes blink, but his family was aristocratic—his cousin was a bloody Earl! And these days, he was wealthy enough to support a wife, even one who might want to make a dash amidst the highest ranks of the ton. Stonegate was a fine estate, one any woman would be proud to call her home. Charles knew his own worth, and yet this hazel-eyed spinster of minor lineage and no fortune to speak of was horrified at the idea of marriage to
him!
He wondered if he should be insulted.

“I take it,” he said dryly, “that the idea of marriage to me is not to your liking.”

Flustered, Daphne didn’t know what to say. Any dreams of love or marriage that she may have had, she’d put from her years ago. Her brother and sister’s welfare had dominated her life, and all her energies had gone into planning for their futures. She was content in her role as guardian to her younger siblings, and at no time since the death of her young Lieutenant had she ever considered any other alternative. That her circumstances might change had simply not crossed her mind and that someone of Charles Weston’s ilk, obviously a man of fashion and prominence, might offer for her, even considering the situation, was beyond her ken.

Falling back on something he’d said a moment ago, she asked, “Adrian? Adrian knows about this?”

Charles nodded. “Indeed. You do not think I would offer for you without your brother’s permission, did you?”

“Though only a lowly female, since I
am
his guardian, it does come as a surprise that he is busy arranging my future,” she replied testily.

“He didn’t have a choice, and it was only proper that he be involved.” Charles quirked a brow. “After all, he is the head of your family.”

Daphne’s eyes flashed with irritation. Of all the nonsensical notions! Her younger brother,
Adrian,
deciding her future, when it was she who for years had made every important decision in their lives. Outrageous! Honesty compelled her to admit, “Yes, I suppose he is, but for all practical purposes, I have acted as the head of our family for some time now.” Not looking at him, she added, “And while I appreciate the niceties of the situation, I am not about to be guided in such an important matter by a seventeen-year-old boy!”

“Then perhaps, you’ll be guided by vicar and his wife? Both of them feel that marriage between us is the only way to avoid a lasting scandal.” Charles noted the stubborn slant to her mouth, and torn between amusement and a strong urge to shake her, he said, “The vicar and his wife discussed it with me last night. They feel that the only way out of this unfortunate circumstance is that we marry…and as soon as possible. Mrs. Henley pointed out that the longer we delay making an announcement of our betrothal, the longer tongues will wag and the more damage there will be to your reputation and standing in the community.”

Daphne bit her bottom lip, distressed. That the vicar and his wife, two people who she held in the highest respect, thought it necessary for her to marry Mr. Weston put the situation in a whole different light. She took a nervous step around the room.

Coming to stand in front of him, Daphne looked up into his dark face. For a long moment, she searched those hard features, wondering if she had wandered into a nightmare. Marry this man? This stranger with the cool green eyes and unyielding jaw? She knew little of him—other than that he had risked his life to be with her.

It wasn’t a simple situation, she reminded herself miserably. If there was only herself to consider, she might just throw caution to the winds and give in to the demands of society, but there wasn’t only herself to think of…. If she married him, this man she had known for less than seventy-two hours, not only would her future be in his hands, but indirectly, those of her brother and sister as well. Could she trust him to treat them fairly? Did he realize that in marrying her, not only would he be gaining a wife, but that for a number of years, he would have the care of her two siblings as well? She had to consider their futures, too. And what of Beaumont Place? Did he expect to carry her and Adrian and April off to God knew where and just abandon Adrian’s home and estate? What of Ketty and Garthwaite and Mrs. Hutton and all the other servants who looked to her, technically, she reminded herself, to Adrian, for their support and welfare? What of them?

A terrible thought occurred to her, and fear such as she had never known flooded through her. She gasped, and her face went white. Dear God! What if he meant to tear away her from Adrian and April?

Seeing the expression on her face, Charles grasped her shoulders. “What is it, my dear?” he asked, concerned. “I know that this was not what either of us envisioned when I joined you in that cave, but surely, marriage to me can’t be so horrifying that the very thought of it makes you look as if you will faint.”

Aware of the heat and strength of his hands on her shoulders, Daphne shook her head. “N-n-not exactly,” she stammered. “What of my brother and sister? What of them?”

His brows flew together in a quick frown. “What of them?”

Daphne licked her lips. “If we were to marry, you w-w-wouldn’t separate us, would you?” Impetuously, she clutched the lapels of his elegant coat. “If you married me, you would have to understand that I have the care of Adrian and April. I must see to their future.”

“Even at the cost of your own?” he asked harshly, furious that she thought him such a monster that he would tear her family asunder.

She nodded. “Even at the cost of my own.”

“Let me see if I understand you,” he said icily. “You would throw my offer away, face scandal and disgrace if I were to say that I will not have your sister and brother in my household?”

Daphne nodded, not understanding the quiet rage she sensed within him.

He shook her. “You little fool! I can survive the gossip that will surround this event, but you cannot. If you don’t marry me, not only will your reputation be ruined, but that of your brother and sister as well. Don’t you realize that your dreams of a grand match for them will come to naught if you do
not
marry me? Do you think for one moment that any member of the
ton
would wish to align themselves with a member of a family who tolerates and condones the sort of scandal that will follow you?” He gave an ugly laugh. “Perhaps Sir Adrian, with his fortune, might find a bride who would be willing to overlook the reputation you will have, but what of April? I doubt that she’ll see any vouchers for Almack’s! Or that the offers she’ll receive will be honorable.”