The Earl Claims a Bride (7 page)

This young lady wasn’t throwing sweet, seductive glances his way and her full lips weren’t pouting false promises, but she had his attention. Harrison knew how to handle young ladies who were trying their best to capture his favor and snare him, but he didn’t have much practice with ones who showed little interest in him.

His gaze fell to her lips and lingered there for a moment. Oh, yes, he was attracted to her.

Suddenly a weariness stole across her face. She lowered her lashes and looked down at the fan she held in her hand as if she might somehow draw solace from it. “I can’t believe I must marry you,” she whispered. “It’s not what I wanted.”

Harrison could understand why a young lady would be distressed at the thought of an arranged marriage to a stranger. He contemplated telling her he didn’t like this idea any better than she did.

Wanting to soothe her, he said, “Don’t despair, there hasn’t been an agreement of marriage between us yet, Miss Rule.”

Her lashes flew up and she met his gaze without flinching. “Oh, you’re right,” she said quickly as a frown tightened the corners of her mouth. “How could I have forgotten that I was told you would meet me tonight, and look me over to see if I measure up as acceptable to you?”

So someone had told her what he’d said to Hopscotch. He could understand her not liking that prospect. He wouldn’t, either. But he couldn’t just accept the Prince’s demand that he marry her without question. Especially when he hadn’t met her at the time. Now that he had, of course, he was certainly entertaining the possibility. There was a reason she caught his eye the minute he saw her.

“I can assure you,” she continued, “I don’t like being treated as if I am a thoroughbred stallion you want to purchase.”

“Mare,” he corrected good-naturedly, thinking the best thing to do would be to change the subject to a lighter tone. “You would be a mare, not a stallion.”

A swoosh of exasperation rushed past her lips. “I know the difference in horses, my lord. I was merely using the stallion reference as an example.”

Someone bumped his shoulder in passing and he realized the music had started. The dance area was filling, but Harrison made no move to usher her onto the floor. Their tête-à-tête was far more enjoyable than dancing.

He stepped closer to her and softly said, “I have no doubt, but still you should have said mare or maybe filly.”

She lifted her chin a notch as if to counter his statement, seeming oblivious to the dance they were supposed to have, too. She had fire in her eyes and a determined set to her mouth. He took another step toward her, far closer to her than he should be standing in a roomful of watchful and condemning eyes. He caught the sweet scent of her freshly washed hair and lightly perfumed skin, and all he could think was that she was very inviting.

“Oh, all right,” she said, clearly exasperated with herself. “I’ll admit it was a poor choice of words on my part. I shouldn’t have referred to myself as any kind of horse.”

Harrison gave her a hint of a smile. It pleased him that she thought about not doing it before she gave in. He listened to her labored breathing. His attention fell to the slow rise and fall of her breasts. Though he hadn’t expected it, yes, she was acceptable. More than acceptable.

“Horses are beautiful, powerful, and magnificent, Miss Rule, and so are you.” His gaze swept up and down her face. Unintentionally, his voice turned husky when he said, “I like what I see when I look at you. I find you very acceptable.”

She drew in a long breath. Her eyes rounded and her lips formed a delicate O that made him want to pull her close to him and kiss her lovely lips.

Her shoulders lifted and she said, “I don’t want to marry you because my heart belongs to another.”

That brought Harrison up short and his breath stilled in his lungs. He hadn’t expected her to say that. What the devil was Hopscotch doing trying to get him to marry a woman who loved another man?

He took a deep breath and backed away from her. “If your heart belongs to another, why not just marry him?”

He watched her swallow hard. He could see her pulse working furiously at the hollow of her throat. For the first time since they’d met, her gaze combed the ballroom behind him.

Obviously not finding the person she wanted to see, she returned her focus to his and said, “My father has his reasons.”

So it was as Harrison thought. Her father was forcing her into marriage. But why? For the title? Money? Perhaps it was something more sinister than either of those, or maybe something as simple as not wanting his daughter to marry the man she wanted.

But it really didn’t matter what the reason was. If her heart belonged to another, it changed everything for Harrison. He had feelings for Miss Rule similar to those he’d had for Maddie when he first met her. She had favored the older, titled brother to the younger rogue. Harrison had to guard himself against that kind of pain. He never wanted to be that vulnerable again.

Harrison also had no desire to become involved in a family squabble among a young lady, her father, and her beau. And he certainly had no wish to take a woman who had another man on her mind to bed.

Suddenly he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “My guess would be that your father’s reason is the gentleman who holds your heart doesn’t have a title.”

“You’d be wrong,” she said defensively. “It just so happens he has a very prestigious title,
Captain
. He was awarded the commission by Wellington after the Battle of Waterloo.”

“Ah, military. In the King’s service, is he?”

Her breathing relaxed and her eyes softened. “Yes.”

Harrison knew it was difficult for young ladies to resist men in uniforms.

“Officers certainly know how to be gentlemen,” he said. “I suppose he was the one you were looking for when you first stepped into the Great Hall and searched the ballroom?”

“Yes, but—” She stopped. Her forehead wrinkled. “How did you know—” Her eyes widened. “You had someone point me out to you, didn’t you? You wanted to see me before you would even agree to an introduction.”

It wasn’t true but if her heart truly belonged to another, it didn’t matter. He remained quiet and left her to draw her own conclusions.

She flipped her fan open and fanned herself. “I’ve never had anyone infuriate me as you have, my lord. You are a wretched soul.”

He was a wretched soul. He’d stayed in London gaming after he’d received the letter that his brother was ill and needed him. It didn’t get much more wretched than that. But he’d never had a reason to be any other way until he’d inherited Thornwick.

“Pardon me, Lord Thornwick, but may I interrupt?”

Harrison heard the familiar voice behind him and turned to see the Dowager Duchess of Drakestone stopping beside him. Bray’s mother. He’d first met her when he was ten years old. Through the twenty years he’d known her she’d never changed. She was still beautiful, forthright, and haughty to the point of madness. As the youngest of four boys, Harrison had learned early in life not to let anyone intimidate him. No one ever had—but this woman had come damned close on a few occasions when he was first a guest in her home.

“Of course, Duchess,” he said, bowing and then taking her hand and kissing the backs of her gloved fingers. “May I present Miss Angelina Rule to you?”

“Indeed you may,” she said and gave him a brief smile. “She is the reason I stopped to speak to you.”

“Duchess,” Miss Rule said, and gave her a low curtsy.

“I couldn’t help but notice your fan, Miss Rule. The painting on it caught my eye as I was passing by.” The duchess held out her hand. “May I?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Miss Rule said, handing it to her.

She spread the fan, and Harrison could see that the scene appeared to be a brook or stream with flowers, greenery, and colorful butterflies. Whoever had painted it had done an excellent job of making the sunlight glisten on the water.

Her Grace looked up at Miss Rule and asked, “It’s superb. Who did you purchase this from, my dear?”

“Oh, I, well I—”–

“I can understand you wanting to be protective of the artist and keep him all to yourself,” the duchess said, handing the fan back to her. “He has an exquisite touch and delicate flair. I wonder how he managed to get such a realistic shimmer to the brook.”

“A fine layer of silver and gold dust is sprinkled on the paint while it’s still wet.”

The duchess smiled. “Clever. Have him send over some of his work for me to choose from. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I can’t do that because I
^____
”

“All right, never mind,” the duchess said, once again not allowing Miss Rule to finish her sentence. “He can use a courier to deliver them if he wants and remain anonymous. I don’t mind a little intrigue. In fact, at my age I rather like it. Good painters are always such prima donnas, aren’t they? So tell him I insist he have someone bring his work to me within the next few days. I’ll make it worth his while.” She looked back to Harrison and smiled. “Good to see you, my lord. Good evening, Miss Rule.”

She was gone as quickly as she’d appeared.

“Is she always so intimidating?” Miss Rule asked, watching the duchess walk away.

“Yes. And that’s the way she likes it.”

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“I met her my first year at Eton. She’s not friendly to many people. You should feel honored she even spoke to you.”

“In that case I am.” Miss Rule paused. “What will she do if I don’t identify the artist or have the person send her his work?”

“She would have ways of finding him, but why would you not? The artist who painted your fan should be greatly flattered. If the duchess likes what she sees she will probably buy a fan to match every gown she has. If she does, all the ladies in the ton would want one from him.”

“You jest.”

He queried her with his expression. “Do I seem the kind of person who would tease you about this?”

“If you thought it would shock me, yes.”

“I only tease when I have reason to, and in this I don’t.”

Something caught her attention and he looked in the direction of her gaze. A gentleman dressed in military attire, but by the disappointment he saw in her eyes it was easy to guess not the officer she was looking for.

Suddenly Harrison thought,
No.

Hell no.

He wasn’t going to go through that anguish again. He would bow out now before his feelings for Miss Rule went any further. Yes, he was attracted to her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and take him to task. He liked that and he didn’t mind her frosty attitude. She was spirited and desirable. Usually he welcomed a bit of unfriendly competition—as long as he won in the end.

But he knew already there was something different about Miss Rule and he had no yearning to fight another man for her heart. He’d been down that road. He didn’t want to travel it again no matter how attracted he was to her. It was best this end right now.

“You don’t want this marriage, Miss Rule, and neither do I. There’s no reason to pretend otherwise for the rest of the evening, is there?”

She blinked rapidly. “I don’t understand. I know I’ve been quite outspoken and objectionable at times.”

His jaw clamped down tightly before he released it and said, “You are not objectionable. I find you refreshing.”

“Then you must marry me,” she said, standing her ground, not seeming the least cowed by his imposing frame.

“I must? I put orders in the same category as rules. I don’t like them and I don’t follow them.”

“I was told you would marry me if I was acceptable. You admitted you found me acceptable.”

He gave her a curious look. He could see the turmoil she was going through flash in her face but did nothing to help her. She was the one who had just built the wall between them with her vow that her heart belonged to another. It wasn’t a wall he wanted to tear down or climb over.

“That was before I knew your heart belonged to another man,” he answered in a tight voice. “Just how desperate do you think I am for a bride?”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his eyes. “Desperate enough to consider marrying me in the first place.”

Harrison hesitated. Yes, because the threat of prison loomed. He had to rebuild Thornwick. He had to restore his father’s and his brothers’ legacy and he couldn’t do that from Newgate.

He saw uncertainty in her eyes. Still he said, “I did consider it. Now I’ve reconsidered.”

“I know I’ve been less than pleasant tonight but I do know how to be contrite and amiable. If you don’t agree to at least consider marrying me my father will go to debtors’ prison. I have no choice but to ask you to give me another chance. The Prince will only pay his debts if you agree to marry me.”

What would he want with a contrite and amiable lady? Couldn’t she tell he actually liked her strong spirit and boldness? It wasn’t her he objected to. It was her proclamation that her heart belonged to another. Did she really think he’d want to take her to his bed and let her bear his children knowing she loved another man?

He saw regret in her deep-blue eyes. He felt it, too. She didn’t want her father to go to prison any more than Harrison wanted to go. He could understand that.

He almost relented.

Almost.

But then he remembered the pain of the past and instead, he said, “You should speak to your army officer about that.”

Chapter 6

What do I fear? Myself?

Richard III
5.3.183

What was she going to do?

The music continued to play, and the dancers twirled with delight. Angelina watched the handsome, tall, and broad-shouldered man walk away from her. She cringed inside.

It took all her willpower not to chase after him and ask once again that he change his mind about marrying her so she could save her father. She realized now that it had never crossed her mind when they were sparring that he might actually reject her.

Her beauty wasn’t legendary, but most would consider her pretty. She was intelligent and well-schooled in all the finer things a young lady was supposed to know. She didn’t have many vices, or none really, except not knowing when to back away and be quiet. It must have been at the back of her mind that since the Prince had sanctioned the arrangement, it would happen. Otherwise, she surely would have held her tongue and played the part of a young lady whose only goal in life was to be the wife of a titled gentleman.