“On the contrary, I think I will enjoy the challenge.”
“The challenge?” Oliver asked.
“Of taming the shrew as Shakespeare put it.” Middlemarch sipped his brandy. “That filly needs a firm hand.”
Oliver inhaled deeply. It was all he could do to stop himself from hitting the man. How could Mrs. Dove-Lyon pair the lovely Miss Sheldon with this odious creature? What kind of father will he be to her child?Oliver shook his head. But who was he to question the Black Widow? She only did what Miss Sheldon had paid her to do—secure her a husband and a father for her unborn babe. In all fairness, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had tried to get him to marry Miss Sheldon, and he’d refused. Yet, he could not stand by and let her marry Middlemarch.
What could be done if they were already betrothed? Any contract with Dove-Lyon would have to be honored.
“To be clear, you haven’t set a date for the wedding?” Oliver asked, his mind still churning. He’d need time if he wanted to think of a plan that would work.
“Not yet. We only signed the contract tonight, and I want to see her tamed before I get the license, so she knows my demands are serious. If she wants to be Lady Middlemarch, she will show her loyalty and obedience to me first.”
Oliver thought of his fiery Beatrice. How he’d loved her bold spirit. The thought of a man like Middlemarch forcing her, or any woman, into submission made his blood boil. Middlemarch didn’t deserve Miss Sheldon or her babe.
“That’s a shame.” Oliver stood up, overwhelmed by his own grief and anger.
“What do you mean?”
“I quite like a spirited woman. And I think it would be a shame to see Miss Sheldon tamed by the likes of you.”
Oliver smiled upon seeing Middlemarch’s smug expression crumble. “And one more thing, don’t boast about the auction. It only makes you sound like a fool who can’t attract a bride based on his own merits.”
Then he turned and strode out of the gaming room.
Kate sat ona garden bench and breathed in the fresh night air. She needed to compose herself. Her aunt was right. She’d have to apologize to Middlemarch. She’d have to be compliant, and she’d have to maintain that for the rest of her life—for her babe’s sake. She cleared the sorrow from her throat and stood up, ready to go inside and face her future.
“Miss Sheldon,” a man’s voice addressed her.
Her heart pulsed. It was him. The earl. He stood before her, tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a white linen shirt and cravat fitted under a midnight blue waistcoat and matching tailcoat, paired with tan trousers and black top boots. His strong jaw, chiseled features, and mesmerizing eyes were the opposite of Middlemarch’s small, mealy face. Looking at him made her want to weep with regret. Why had she let herself be auctioned?
“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, yet. I’m Lord Knox. I know it’s improper to come and introduce myself, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon spoke so highly of you, I feel as if I already know you.” He gave her a warm smile—one that softened his features and revealed a genuine kindness of heart.
Her breath caught in her throat. Yet she stiffened at the reference to his conversation with Mrs. Dove-Lyon and turned her face in an effort to shield her embarrassment. “Yes, of course,” she murmured, barely able to get the words out.
“I hope I haven’t upset you,” he said.
She couldn’t let him see her being weak, even though that’s how she felt. “Just what exactly did Mrs. Dove-Lyon tell you about me?” she asked, turning to face him again.
He ran a hand through his thick, sandy hair and seemed to contemplate his words before saying, “She explained your predicament. And why you are in need of a husband.”
“I see.” Humiliated beyond anything she’d ever experienced, Kate felt herself stiffen even more as she wondered just how much of her predicament the widow had divulged. “And you obviously wanted no part of that, so why are you here now?”
“That’s not entirely true,” he said, locking his soft gray eyes on her face, and making her skin tingle. “My circumstances are…well, regardless, I wanted to warn you about Middlemarch. I know the man, and he isn’t someone you—or any woman—should spend their life with.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Kate said, embarrassed, but also oddly relieved to be talking about her predicament with this stranger. “I don’t have a choice.”
He cleared his throat. “I understand. I was present at the auction.”
Kate’s cheeks flamed. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice was gentle and sincere, making Kate want to gravitate toward its warmth. “I only wanted to tell you that there are ways to extract yourself from a contract. All it takes is a lot of money and a bit of power.”
“I don’t have any money”—she stopped, suddenly suspicious. “Are you offering to purchase me as well?”
“Not you. Your freedom.”
Kate scoffed. “And what shall I do then? Clearly, everyone knows I was auctioned off like a donkey. I’m a laughing stock.”
