“Do I not? As if I have lived this long and learned nothing? Beauty, grace, demure obedience, and a fine settlement. Those qualifications are high on your list, as on all men’s.”
The temptation to add other requirements, ones that would shock her, almost conquered his better judgment. He only won the battle because he had learned never to let the enemy know his thoughts.
“I can find that in many young women. Shall we be honest with each other? What is it about this particular match that would be to my advantage?”
“A bold question, but a fair one. We will be allies instead of enemies. It will benefit you just as it will benefit us.”
“Well, now, Countess, we both know that is not true. I have been invited to negotiate peace now when my father never was in the past. I would be a fool if I did not wonder why you think I would be agreeable. Considering the rumors regarding my activities in France, I can surmise how you may think this will protect your grandson, but not how it will help me.”
Her eyes narrowed. Her skin’s wrinkles froze like stone carvings. She displayed no fear. Adam admired her strong poise, but then she was not the one she assumed to be in danger.
She stood. “Come out on the terrace. I will show you my granddaughter. Once you see her, you will understand how you will benefit.”
He followed her out into the crisp April air. The garden spread below them like a brown and red tapestry, punctuated by small new leaves and early flowers of yellow, pink, and purple. Bulbs, he assumed. They had not yet begun blooming when he left Paris.
A girl sat within the reviving growth, on a stone bench thirty feet away. She had a book open, held up so her face did not angle down. The dowager must have given her a reprieve from mourning because the girl wore a pale blue dress. She was pretty, and perhaps sixteen years of age. Her blond hair sparkled in the sun, and her fair skin and lovely face would appeal to any man. Add a fine settlement and she would do well enough.
The dowager stood beside him, her expression one of supreme confidence. He did not trust her, but he admired her skill at this game. He admitted to himself that her offer did have its advantages, and not because the girl was lovely. His father’s name and his family’s honor had been badly tainted in the best circles, and if he wanted to overcome that curse, this marriage would definitely help.
It would mean forgetting the reasons he had turned his back on England as well as his only good reason for finally returning. Which was why the dowager had invited him here in the first place, he assumed.
“Emilia is as sweet in disposition as any girl I have known. She is of good humor too and has a fair amount of wit, lest you worry that she might be dull,” the countess said.
Sweet Emilia pretended not to see them, just as she pretended to read, posed so he could see her face and form. No wrap warmed her, and no bonnet protected that fair skin. He wondered how long she had been sitting like that, waiting for her future intended to inspect her.
He did not know why she held no appeal. Perhaps because while she might be lovely and witty, she was too young, and from the look of her compliance with her grandmother’s instructions, probably lacked spirit.
The doors opened and the earl strode out. Tall and blond, he had not yet completely shed the gangly thinness of boyhood. He glowered at his grandmother while he passed her. She pursed her face in return. His arrival apparently had not been part of the dowager’s plans.
He advanced on Adam like a man greeting a friend, but his rushed, loud welcome and the glisten of sweat on his brow told another story. Theobald, Earl of Marwood, was afraid of his guest. Many men had shown the same reaction since Adam arrived back in England two weeks ago. His reputation had preceded him, and society apparently expected him to issue challenges left and right at the slightest provocation.
Adam had done nothing to correct their assumptions. For one thing, he might very well issue a challenge or two, depending on what he discovered about events five years ago. For another, there were men, like Marwood here, who were more pliable when motivated by fear.
“I see Grandmother has already broached the idea of this match,” Marwood said heartily. He looked down at his sister Emilia, still posed in the garden. The two of them looked much alike—fair, pale, handsome, and young.
The earl could not be more than twenty-one. Adam wondered if Marwood knew about the rumor that had haunted Adam’s father to his grave. Marwood’s fear suggested he might, and that Adam’s long-held suspicions about these old enemies might be true.
“Are you amenable to the idea?” Marwood asked.
His grandmother drifted closer. “Forgive my grandson. He is still young enough to think impetuous impatience is a manly virtue.”
Marwood looked to heaven as if praying for that patience. “He knows by now if the notion appeals or if it does not.”
“The notion appeals, in a general way,” Adam said. He did not lie. He still weighed the implications of the dowager’s plan. This offer to simply turn the page on the past tempted him more than he expected.
The young earl shot his grandmother a glance full of bright optimism. The dowager managed more circumspection.
Adam focused his gaze on the girl. The dowager retreated. The earl sidled closer. Eager to complete negotiations, the earl extolled his sister’s charms, man to man. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw the dowager shaking her head at her grandson’s lack of finesse.
A movement on the hill beyond the garden caught Adam’s eye. A flash of black streaked along the crest, took flight over a large, fallen tree, then abruptly stopped. A woman all in black, on a black horse, looked down on the house.
“Who is that?” he asked.
Marwood squinted and feigned lack of recognition. He glanced sideways at Adam, and thought better of it. “That is my half sister, Clara. She is the daughter of my father’s first wife.”
The black spot named Clara managed to communicate a good deal of hauteur even from this distance. She paced her horse back and forth on the hill’s crest, watching the show below as if the rest of them put on a pageant for her amusement.
He remembered Lady Clara Cheswick, although they had never been introduced. She had been out in society before he left England, though. Bright-eyed and vivacious. Those were his impressions absorbed in passing.
