“Whyever not? Do you prefer ‘dearest?’ Or perhaps ‘sweetheart?’”
He recoiled, blushing up to his ears. “God, no! Please do not call me anything but Lord Whitcomb. I think it’s best if we maintain as much distance as possible under the circumstances. This is not a love match, for heaven’s sake.”
His words reassured her that he wasn’t attempting to flatter her or woo her. If he had been, whatever he said would have been a lie, and she needed someone honest and trustworthy. Still, it might have been nice if he had shown some hint of being a romantic at heart. After all, theirs might be an arranged marriage, but she was not going to let her husband be a stranger to her like so many sad souls in the ton, eternally chained to unfeeling spouses.
So, she shrugged and beamed at him, pretending a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “Not yet.” With a bit of luck, it still wasn’t too late for her to have the grand romance herparents had, the kind she read about in books, even if she was in a bit of a predicament because of Jeffrey’s stupid, spiteful lies.
Lord Whitcomb made a strangled noise in his throat, then took a deep breath and let it out through gritted teeth. “Pardon me, my lady. I do not mean to cause offense, but I was given to understand that you were urgently in need of a husband to preserve your reputation.”
“Quite true.” Thanks to that knave Jeffrey’s lies about her virtue. Very few people in her life had managed to make her truly angry. It wasn’t in her nature. But he had pushed her too far. The mere thought of him made her stomach tense.
“And I was told this was strictly a marriage of convenience and that after three months we could part ways, living separate lives.”
It wounded her that he was so distant, even though she had expected it. “Also true, but onlyifwe so choose. Who’s to say we won’t fall madly in love and decide to spend every moment of the rest of our lives together?” That was certainlyherintended outcome. Spending the rest of her life in a loveless marriage like her friend, Lady Ashton, was not acceptable. Lord Ashton had deposited her friend in a crumbling country estate in Kent a week after the wedding and left her there all alone but for the servants ever since. It had been a year now, and the callous man hadn’t visited once.
That wouldnotbe Clarissa’s fate, which was why she’d insisted on three months together. That would hopefully be plenty of time to inspire Lord Whitcomb to love her for the rest of eternity. After all, she was nothing if not determined when she set her mind on a thing. And surely, luck would be with her once again.
“Trust me. We won’t.” He edged even further away.
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had told her to be patient, that her potential match would likely require time to come around to the idea. Mama said the same and urged her not to be impatient. So what had madehimdesperate enough to marryher? She had to find out.
Leaning forward, she whispered, “I’m not sure how to ask this delicately, but I’m simply dying to know how you ended up here. Is there some dark secret about your past that Mrs. Dove-Lyon threatened to reveal? Did you gamble away your fortune? Did you cheat at cards?”
“Good God, woman! What kind of knave do you think me? And if you believe me capable of such things, why in heaven’s name would you want me as a husband?”
She sighed. If she wanted him to open up, she supposed she owed him a bit of honesty too. “Given that everyone in the ton considers me ruined, I’m hardly in a position to judge. And I do have a weak spot for scoundrels seeking redemption, preferably through the love of a good woman. Though, I suppose, that did go rather badly wrong with Jeffrey. He was just a scoundrel through and through.” There was that knot in the pit of her stomach again.
“Who’s Jeffrey?” Lord Whitcomb looked like he’d eaten a sour grape. Somehow, someday, she was going to coax a smile from this man, and it would be one of the greatest accomplishments of her life.
“Lord Effingham.” The no good, rotten, lying, two-faced bounder.
Lord Whitcomb’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of sympathy there. She could work with that.
He shifted in his chair. “Ah. I see. Well. My condolences. You picked a truly horrible scoundrel indeed.”
“You know him, then?” She shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone did, which made his lies all the more damaging. Why did he hate her so? What did she ever do to deserve his ruining her reputation and driving all her friends away? She thought he’d been a romantic hero, but he turned out to be a villain through and through.
“Unfortunately, yes. He’s friends with my fool of a brother. I’m surprised your father let you anywhere near him.”
“Oh, he didn’t know, at least not until it was too late.” Papa was apoplectic when he learned she’d been meeting Jeffrey in secret during her daily rides in Hyde Park. He stormed out of the house in high dudgeon, and when he returned, he’d informed her she was betrothed—which was exactly what she wanted, so it all worked out for the best. At least, until she’d learned about Jeffrey’s affair with the Countess of Albemarle. If he hadn’t been so stubbornly unrepentant, they might have mended things. After all, they weren’t married yet, so he hadn’t, technically, betrayed his vows. But he didn’t even try to make things right.
“Too late? What kind of trouble did you get yourself into?” His eyes bored into her. “I beg your pardon for asking indelicate questions, but if I’m to marry you, I need to know. Are you with child?” Lord Whitcomb gripped the arms of his chair so hard his fingers turned white. The furrow in his brow was deep enough to plant seeds in.
She shouldn’t have been surprised by his question, but it still made her wince. While she greatly looked forward to being a mother, she knew exactly what everyone thought of young ladies who got themselves in such a fix.
“Heavens, no! I’m not that foolish. And before you ask, my virtue is intact. Jeffrey wanted to take liberties, but I never let him, no matter what he says. I’m here because he’s spreading lies about me to everyone in the ton who will listen.” Few things could pierce her natural buoyancy, but that raffish toad eaterhad managed it. At least briefly. Nothing could keep her down for long. She stiffened her back and raised her chin.
Was that another flash of sympathy in Lord Whitcomb’s eyes? He let out a long, slow breath, reaching out for her hand but pulling back at the last moment, much to her disappointment. “I’m sorry to hear that. No one deserves such treatment.”
Her heart fluttered at the sudden sympathy in his voice. “I quite agree, darling.”
He gritted his teeth but said nothing. His warm, pleading eyes told her he was softening toward her despite himself.
“Now you know my sad history, but I still don’t know yours. What led you to seek my hand in marriage?” She smiled and leaned forward, barely able to contain her curiosity.
“I’m not seeking…that is…I didn’t come here to…” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did I come to this pass?” he mumbled to himself. Then, after a long pause, he said, in a muffled way, “Very well.” And then he lowered his hand to look at her directly. “I’m here because my brother has gambling debts that neither of us can afford to pay, and this is the only way I can save him from debtor’s prison.”
