Undressed by the Earl (15 page)

“Start small,” Amelia suggested. “But for Heaven’s sake, do
not
fix something or give her doorknobs as a gift.” Her father had once given them to her mother when he’d forgotten her birthday. It was little wonder her mother had been frustrated. He’d made matters worse when he’d forbidden Beatrice to help with Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. Although her mother didn’t sew, she had loved organizing the crofters’ wives, managing the orders, and ensuring that the work was completed on time.

“You could take her back to Scotland,” she added. “I think she liked having a purpose, helping the women with their sewing.”

Henry frowned, as if he didn’t want that at all. “But she does have a purpose. She’s helping you and Margaret to find husbands.”

“But what about
her
life?” Amelia pointed out. “What is it that
she
wants?”

He looked utterly mystified by this, and she wondered if he’d ever taken the time to get acquainted with Beatrice. “I don’t even know how to begin.” Her father stared across the room in contemplation.

“Just try,” Amelia urged. “And if you give her a gift, give her jewels or something extravagant. Something she would never buy for herself.”

With a smile, she squeezed her father’s hand and left the parlor. Before she reached the staircase, she saw that a ninth bouquet of flowers had arrived. This time it was five purple irises, bound in matching purple ribbon.

The butler, Mr. Culpepper, cleared his throat. “Lord Lisford asked if you would consider speaking to him. He’s waiting outside in his landau.”

Amelia suppressed a groan. “I don’t think so, no.”

Mr. Culpepper appeared pained at her refusal. “He warned that he would continue sending flowers until you did.”

“And our home will become a hothouse in the meantime.” She sighed. “I suppose I could speak to him for a few moments.”

The butler shook his head. “He’s afraid of your father, Miss Andrews. He asked if you would join him for an outing, perhaps a stroll or a drive.”

Which would be utterly foolish after the way he’d behaved the other night. Amelia walked past the butler to the front door. He opened it for her, but asked, “Would you like me to send a footman to accompany you, Miss Andrews?”

“I’m going nowhere,” she said. “If Lord Lisford wishes to speak to me, he’ll have to march forward on his own two feet.”

The carriage was indeed waiting outside. Amelia stepped forward so the viscount would undoubtedly see her. She waited, glaring at the landau. A minute passed, and the viscount did not disembark.

“So be it,” she muttered, turning around to leave.

At last, the viscount emerged from the carriage and called out, “Miss Andrews, if you please—”

She paused a moment, and he hurried toward the steps. “Forgive me, but I just wanted a word.”

“Whatever you have to say can be said here or not at all. And stop sending flowers,” she said firmly.

He looked abashed at her words, and then climbed a few of the steps. “Miss Andrews, I owe you an apology for the other night. I had no right to—” He eyed the butler and cleared his throat, saying, “that is, I beg your forgiveness. What I did was reprehensible, and it will not happen again.”

In his hazel eyes, she saw remorse and embarrassment. She narrowed her gaze, trying to discern if there was a trace of slyness or untruth. But no, it appeared that he was genuinely contrite.

“What can I do to gain your forgiveness?” he pleaded. “I really do like you, and…I think we would get on well together.”

“I think you would get on well with any number of women.” She tried to keep her voice gentle but firm.

“In other words, I had my chance, and it’s gone now.” He grew somber, and for a moment, Amelia felt her resolve slipping. He
did
appear quite sorry for what he’d done.

“I accept your apology,” she said at last. She could only hope that he would give up his interest in her.

“Good,” he promised. “In the meanwhile, I wanted to ask you something.” He climbed the remaining stairs until he stood in front of her. The butler remained near the door, and Amelia motioned for him to step back slightly.

“What is that?” She held her ground, uncertain of what he wanted.

“Do you still dream of a romantic marriage?” There was hope in his voice, as if he wanted to believe there was a chance for them.

Amelia thought of her father and mother. Theirs had been an arrangement, a betrothal formed by friendship, not love. Although they had been good companions, she didn’t think they’d had a love match.

Then her thoughts returned to Lord Castledon. By his own admission, he’d loved his wife and had mourned her death, though she’d had trouble imagining him as a romantic sort. And yet, the more she grew acquainted with him, the more she saw that he was a man of steadfast loyalty. When he loved a woman, it was forever. And that appealed to her far more than a man who loved when it suited him.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” she answered honestly.

A dangerous smile broke across his face, and she glimpsed the young man who had once made her heart flutter. “Good. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements.”

And Amelia feared that she’d agreed to something she’d never intended.

Chapter Six

D
avid sat at the long dining room table across from Margaret and Amelia. Lord Lanfordshire was at his left, and Lady Lanfordshire sat on the other side of her husband. He’d already spoken to the baron, prior to the dinner, and now he intended to see if Margaret was willing to pursue a marriage with him.

He’d rehearsed his speech in his head, and everything sounded reasonable. He had several prosperous estates and a title that any lady would welcome. A daughter, whom Margaret could bring up to be a young lady. And although Miss Andrews had been on the shelf for a few years, he suspected that she still wanted a titled gentleman for a husband.

Even so, he could almost imagine Katherine warning him:
No. This isn’t the right woman for you.

Margaret Andrews might not be the right woman, but he believed she was the best choice. She had the knowledge necessary for Christine, and her demeanor suggested that she would keep a strict eye upon his daughter. Miss Harrow would be inclined to let Christine do as she pleased.

Thus, the decision made, he had to speak with Miss Andrews and gain her acceptance. Yet, he wasn’t precisely certain how to go about this. It seemed that he should have spoken to Margaret in private first, but she had avoided all of his attempts.

“The weather has been fine, lately,” he ventured. A moment later, he received a light kick on his shins from Amelia.

She’d kicked him? He glanced across the table, but she sent him a warning look as if to say,
Don’t discuss the weather
.

Well, what else am I supposed to talk about?

Anything but that!
Her eyes glared.

“I am glad you were able to join us this evening, Lord Castledon.” Lady Lanfordshire smiled warmly at him.

Another kick under the table. His shin was going to be bruised if she kept this up. “It was my pleasure. I was hoping to speak with Miss Andrews about…” He paused a moment, trying to read Margaret’s face. The young woman had speared a piece of braised beef and had put it to her lips.

“About marriage,” he finished.

Margaret’s fork clattered to the plate, and she stared at Amelia. “Marriage?”

Another kick. At this, he nudged her back with his own foot. No, this wasn’t at all the best way to broach such a subject, but Margaret had left him with little choice.

“Shouldn’t this conversation take place elsewhere?” Amelia said, none too gently.

David supposed now that it was out in the open, it hardly mattered. He decided that the best way to handle the matter was to behave as if it were any other topic of discussion.

Ignoring Amelia’s advice, he stated, “I have been a widower for six years, and I have an eleven-year-old daughter who is in need of a mother to guide her. My estates are in Wales and in northern England. I also own a house here in town.”

He continued listing several assets, but Margaret’s delighted smile was on Amelia.

“Why, that’s wonderful! I had no idea that you had an affection for my sister, Lord Castledon.” She beamed at Amelia, adding, “It will be an adjustment, of course, but Amelia, you would make a wonderful stepmother.”

This wasn’t going at all as he’d expected. “Actually, I was referring to you, Miss Andrews,” he said to Margaret. “I had hoped to discuss it in private, but there was no earlier opportunity.” Because she’d found every excuse in the universe to avoid him. It didn’t bode well for an acceptance of the proposal, but he wanted to hope that she would consider it.

“I believe we’ve become friends,” he continued, “and I think perhaps we could build a marriage upon it. If you had any wish for a child, a stepdaughter perhaps—”

Another kick beneath the table. This time, he directed his own glare toward Amelia. He didn’t know what she was trying to tell him, but her disapproval wasn’t exactly subtle.

Margaret had gone pale, staring at him. “I think you’re right. We should discuss this in private.”

“I, for one, believe it would make a sound match,” Lord Lanfordshire declared. “I would give my blessing upon the marriage, should you agree, Margaret. And after all these years, it’s high time.”

Her father made it sound as if she had one foot in the grave. Margaret’s dismay was palpable, and David offered her an escape. “Would you like to talk now?”

“Please. And Amelia can come along as our chaperone.” Margaret stood from her chair, folding her napkin.

Given the dismayed look on Amelia’s face, she didn’t want to come at all. “One of the maids could act as chaperone,” she argued. “Or Mother.”

“Oh, no. You are most definitely coming with us.” Margaret was adamant and refused to take another step until Amelia followed. She led them both up the stairs to another sitting room. Only when the door was left slightly ajar did she speak. “You took me by surprise, Lord Castledon. I thought it was Amelia who had caught your attention.”

She appeared flustered, as if she didn’t know what to say or do. Before he could reassure her that it was merely an arrangement, Amelia intervened. “Asking Margaret across the dinner table was not wise. She might have choked.”

“I highly doubt that.” David remained standing and went to study Margaret. “I’m a forthright sort of man, and I’m in need of a wife and helpmate.”

“And what of your daughter? Does she know of this?” Margaret rested her hand against the wall. Her expression made it seem that she was disconcerted by his proposition.

“It was Christine’s idea,” he admitted. “And I don’t think it would surprise you to learn that Amelia also thought you would make a good wife. Your name was on the list she provided.”

“You don’t love me,” Margaret said. It appeared to be yet another reason why she was avoiding the prospect.

Was love so important to her? He’d thought she was a sensible sort, but now he wondered.

“No, I don’t love you,” he admitted. “But you don’t love me, either. Both of us are past our younger days. We’re beyond the need for a fierce passion.”

That sounded like a reasonable argument. And he really could provide for her in a way that would make her life enjoyable. He had no debts, and his estates were prosperous.

“Shall I go and fetch canes for the pair of you?” Amelia interjected. “You make Margaret sound decrepit. She’s not, you know.”

“I never said that. But she is not as impulsive as
some women
.” He sent her a pointed look.

“She deserves a love match,” Amelia said. “Are you prepared to love her the way you should? Or will you continue to pine for Saint Katherine?”

Her words were a lighted match to his temper. “You have no right to speak of my wife.” How did she dare to dredge up the past, making him sound like a martyr? He still loved Katherine, yes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t treat a new wife with respect.

“Margaret deserves better than a life where she’s constantly compared to someone else.” Amelia was hardly more than a hand’s distance from his face, and her own anger was palpable. Her cheeks were red, and her green eyes blazed as if she were contemplating striking him across the jaw.

“I’m still here,” Margaret reminded them. “And Amelia, though I know you’re trying to defend me, I have no need of it.” She gently pulled her younger sister away, and Amelia seemed to realize what she was doing. Although she fell silent, her eyes were seething with rage.

“I am prepared to give you several estates to manage, a daughter to raise, and enough money to spend however you choose,” David told Margaret. “It’s more than most of the other gentlemen could offer.”

Margaret regarded him, “And what do you hope to get from me?”

She deserved honesty, and he admitted, “This marriage is for Christine’s benefit, not mine. There is nothing I need.”

Margaret held his gaze, but then she risked a glance back at Amelia. “I would have to think about it.”

“That’s all I ask. You can let me know your decision within a few days.”

With that settled, some of the tension dissipated. It was a reasonable response, and he hoped Margaret would agree to the marriage.

Amelia sat down upon a settee, while her older sister departed the room. Before he could follow, she blurted out, “That was the worst proposal I’ve ever heard in my life. She ought to turn you down.”

No one could accuse Amelia of veiling her true beliefs. David stopped short and turned back to her. “And how do you think I should have proposed?”

“You should have spoken kind words to her, telling her what a wonderful young woman she is. Every woman wants to believe that a man loves her, even if it isn’t true. And some flowers wouldn’t have been amiss.”

“I think you have enough flowers,” he said, eyeing the numerous bouquets around the room.

“Well, offering for her across the table wasn’t the best way to get her attention.”

He knew that. But neither did he intend to lead Margaret astray, letting her believe there was hope for a love match. This would be an arrangement, nothing more.

“Were you hoping she would refuse?” Amelia asked suddenly. Her tone had gone softer, and though he was about to say no, he wondered if perhaps she was right. He
didn’t
want to marry again, though he’d agreed to do so, on Christine’s behalf.

“You and I both know the reason for this marriage. It’s meant to be a sensible arrangement to benefit both parties. She would get all the freedom and wealth she desires, and my daughter would get a mother.”

“And you would withhold yourself, keeping far away from her, would you not?”

“We would be friends,” he insisted. Surely they could have a pleasant existence together, particularly if Margaret developed an affection for Christine.

“And what of future children?” she asked.

The moment she spoke of it, he tried to imagine himself sharing Margaret’s bed. The image wouldn’t fit at all, but his wayward imagination conjured up the vision of Amelia lying upon tangled sheets, her hair covering her naked skin.

Where in God’s name had that come from?
Too young, too young, too young
, his mind repeated.

But there was a fire in Amelia, and he didn’t doubt that she would be a sensual creature who would love every minute of bed play. Heat flared within him, and he forced the thought away.

“I don’t have to answer that,” he told her. Just because Amelia was Margaret’s sister didn’t give her the right to pry. Whether or not he had any more children was his own business, not hers.

“You want to begin a new marriage with my sister, when you don’t ever intend to be anything more than the purse strings, is that it?” She glared at him, her frustration evident.

“We’ll be friends,” he repeated. “It will be more than enough for a good marriage.”

“It could be more than that, if you’d try.”

But he didn’t want to try. She needed to abandon this line of questioning, for it would lead nowhere. David crossed the room and sat beside her. “You’re so young, Miss Andrews. You believe that love is about flowers and poetry.”

“Just because you don’t intend to fall in love again doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” she said, resting her hands in her lap.

“It won’t,” he corrected her. “When Katherine died, she took everything with her.”

“Then you don’t plan on making this a true marriage. You plan to sacrifice my sister, using her for your own means, thinking nothing of what she wants.” Amelia eyed him as if he were a monster offering for Margaret’s hand.

He stood and turned his back. No, he couldn’t feel anything again. For there was nothing left of his heart.

“I intend to give her a good marriage, and she’ll likely be happier than most of the other women of the ton. That will have to be enough.” David stood, keeping his posture stiff as he moved toward the door.

“Then I hope she says no,” Amelia replied softly. “For both of your sakes.”

Margaret stood near her mother at Lady Rumford’s ball, fanning herself lightly. The gathering of people was one of many events of the Season, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to dance or make merry.

She hadn’t given Lord Castledon an answer yet, though she was seriously considering it. His honesty was welcome, and she didn’t delude herself into thinking it would be a love match. He did possess all the qualities she wanted in a husband, and that ought to be enough for her.

Even so, she questioned whether it was the right thing to do. She’d seen the way Amelia looked at the earl when he wasn’t aware of it. A few days ago, when he’d issued the proposal, she’d noted her sister’s strong response. Whether or not Amelia knew it, Margaret suspected that her sister would be a better match for Lord Castledon. The pair of them were like oil and fire, and although the earl kept a calm demeanor around everyone else, with Amelia, he was different.

If he indeed wanted to make a match with their family, Margaret knew she wasn’t the right young woman for him. It ought to be her sister, she was certain. Perhaps she could guide them toward each other. A sad smile tugged at her mouth, for Amelia was not the only one who could be a matchmaker.

Her own options were gone. Regardless of what anyone thought, Lord Lisford had all but ruined her when he’d ended their betrothal. Even though she’d done nothing wrong, everyone wondered why she hadn’t been good enough for him to wed. Something was the matter with her, and no amount of good manners or deportment would change it. There were no gentlemen here who wanted her. Not really. Most of them wanted young, wealthy heiresses with no opinions of their own.