Page 28 of A Gifted Earl

Lady Hardenwell poured, and handed Lord Blatherfort a cup. He appeared annoyed, and for a moment, Venetia thought he might reject the tea. But he gave her a rather grim smile, accepted the cup, and sipped politely. All of this gave her, and her mother, time to consider what to say.

She could not laugh in the man’s face, could not afford to have him speak badly of them in society, yet she could not, simply could not, countenance the idea of marrying him. Starvation would be better. She sipped her own tea as a pool of icy fear, which the tea did nothing to warm, settled in her stomach. Then, with a clink which startled her, Lady Hardenwell set her own cup down on the side table.

“Lord Blatherfort, this comes as somewhat of a surprise, given the… suggestions… which you have made to Lady Venetia a number of times before. Might I enquire about the… motivation… for your change of heart on this matter?”

Lord Blatherfort looked, for a moment, ready to explode. He was obviously not used to a woman questioning or challenging him in any way.

“I do not see why I need to explain myself to you. Surely the generosity of my willingness to marry your daughter is enough?”

“It is not. Lady Venetia’s father is dead. I am her guardian – and discussion of marriage and the like which might normally have happened with her father will happen with me.”

Venetia wanted to cheer her mother on. The more she saw of this man, the more she knew that marrying him would be a terrible mistake. But she sat quietly, watching. It seemed that he had come here expecting easy acquiescence – and now was unsure how to respond.

“If you must know, I have changed what I am willing to offer for one reason only. News has just reached me that my son, who has been travelling in India, was carried off by one of those dreadful tropical diseases, quite some months ago. Only one wife of the three I’ve had managed to bear me a child who lived, and now he is gone. To be blunt, I now lack an heir. I need a young healthy wife to breed me another one, as soon as possible. Breeding does not require beauty, but a healthy strong body is of assistance. As Lady Venetia is unlikely to get any other offers, this seemed a good solution for both of us.”

Venetia was, by the end of that little speech, positively shaking with fury. There he was, discussing her as if she was a cow, or a brood mare, not a person. Her mother was also furious, although only someone who knew her well would recognise the signs. She had stilled, and her face was pale, with a little heightened colour high on her cheeks, and she shook – infinitesimally, but it was there.

“I see. And what are your expectations with respect to money? Lady Venetia’s dowry is not large, but I would expect a marriage contract which would provide well for her future, with a suitable widow’s jointure, for example. Have you all of the details of such things laid out?”

Lord Blatherfort swallowed heavily.

“I have not – it seemed unnecessary to bother which such detail now, when she will get no other offers.”

“Then you should not have offered. I suggest that you consider these things, and return here tomorrow, so that we might provide you with her answer – and even then, should the answer be yes, all of the financial matters will need to be in order.”

“You, madam, are ungrateful, and unsuitably arrogant for a woman. But as I feel some urgency on this matter. I will do as you say.”

With that, he set his cup down and simply left, without even a bow. Neither of them moved until they heard the front door close behind him.

“Mother…”

Lady Hardenwell laughed, waving a hand at Venetia.

“Do not fear, my darling, I would never, never suggest that you accept a man like that. I just needed a way to make him perhaps reconsider, and to get him out of the house now, so that we can plan. A direct refusal now would have produced anger – this way is better. Tomorrow, he will be more prepared to be told no.”

Venetia half collapsed into her chair, relief filling her.

“I could not…” she shuddered, shaking her head, “starvation would be better than that!”

“Indeed, it would. We shall see what happens tomorrow – but, no matter what, you will not be marrying Lord Blatherfort. I shudder to think what his three previous wives went through, if he only managed one living child between them. I sincerely hoped that you might receive a better offer – but we will survive, somehow, regardless.”

*****

The following evening, after a harrowing day during which Lord Blatherfort, upon finding himself rejected, insulted them in language worthy of a sailor, Venetia and her mother stepped into the ballroom nervously, waiting to see what word of anything might have reached the gossips. They were welcomed by the usual group of wallflowers and their mothers, but the conversation was not focussed on Lord Blatherfort at all.

“Lady Hardenwell, Lady Venetia! There is wonderful news! Lord Merringbar has offered for my Amelia! And she has accepted. They are to marry by license next week, so that they can travel for their wedding trip before the roads are too bad.”

Venetia forced herself to smile, even while her heart sank entirely. Lord Merringbar was older, but quite good looking, and seemed a reasonable man. Miss Amelia Hanson was lucky, and Venetia could see at a glance that all of the other girls positively burned with envy.

“How wonderful for you. My congratulations.”

What else could she say? At least this conversation was better than having Lord Blatherfort’s offer for her as the subject of the day.