Page 25 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

‘A music teacher. To my shame, I found him terribly attractive.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Sixteen.’

Anger rose hot in his chest for the hurt he heard in her voice and towards a man who would take advantage of a girl barely out of the schoolroom. Her father should have protected her. ‘Why didn’t he marry you?’

She gave him a swift, pained glance. ‘There were circumstances…’ He could not help but hear the tears in her voice no matter how hard she tried to hide them.

The blackguard must have been married. ‘I see.’

She gave an uncomfortable laugh. ‘I was such a fool.’

He did not understand the hollowness in his chest, the sense of loss. So what if she’d loved someone else? He was also—no, he had been—in the same situation. He was not looking for love. He no longer believed in it. He had to marry soon or later, preferably to a woman who was sensible and capable and not some silly miss who would expect him to act like a romantic nincompoop. He just hadn’t wanted to marry quite yet.

For some odd reason, he felt almost relieved. Why should he care if she had been seduced by another man? Up to now the bargain suggested by Lady March had seemed one-sided, all for his gain, putting him under an obligation. By giving her his name, he would be saving her from the consequences of a youthful mistake. Therefore, now the arrangement would benefit each of them equally.

Besides, if he was going to marry someone, Miss Dearing was perfect in every way; he had never met a more pragmatic woman. And, given the circumstances he faced, it seemed like the perfect solution. Whilst not important, the fact that he found her attractive was an added bonus. ‘My offer stands.’

‘What?’

She spun round to face him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘You cannot mean it.’

‘I most certainly do.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘I don’t understand.’

He shrugged. ‘I think you and I deal reasonably well together, we are old enough not to need all that romantic nonsense and it will solve problems for each of us.’

Expressed so baldly, it sounded cold. But that was how he was—cold inside.

Her mouth snapped shut.

She observed him carefully, as if looking for some inner doubt. She would not find it. Once he made up his mind, he carried his purpose through to the end. If she needed some time to think about it, he would give her a few days. But he wasn’t going to beg. If she said no, then he would find another way to achieve his ends. Even if it meant her father and him ended up in court.

‘Are you sure?’ she said.

‘I am.’

She nodded firmly, like someone agreeing to take a bitter pill. ‘Very well. I accept.’

He blinked at the rush of pleasure at her acquiescence. That he had not expected. She looked somehow as if she expected something. Some sort of token? Dash it all, he was ill-prepared.

He removed the signet ring on his little finger, a ring Uncle Robert had given him when he’d achieved his majority, and slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand.

‘Until I have time to purchase a promise ring,’ he said.

‘Oh, there is no need,’ she said.

Was that sadness in her voice? Surely she didn’t expect him to go down on one knee and propose like some love-sick swain?

She removed the ring and handed it back to him. ‘I think you need to speak to my father first, don’t you?’

‘To ask his permission? I admit under normal circumstances it is the general rule, but we are adults, are we not?’ And what if the old man refused?

‘Not that, but as a courtesy.’

‘Very well. But we have made our bargain. I shall hold you to it, no matter what your father says.’