Page 12 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

“Yes. Papa was ill for more than two years before his passing. We were unable to travel to Town. Then with the mourning period after he died, I was already a few years older than the other girls the year I came out.” She raised her chin. “Do you have a problem with my age, my lord?”

God almighty, the girl seemed ready to begin an argument over anything he said.

“No. I was merely asking.” He studied her. “Do you take offense at every comment?”

“It depends on who is making the comment. Most of yours seem to be insulting.”

He sighed. “I meant no insult by asking why you have no guardian. However, I am finished with disagreements for the evening.” He settled back in the carriage. Given Lady Arabella’s age, that would explain why she seemed so sure of what she wanted and did not want. Unfortunately, she needed to realize that in the matter of their betrothal, they had no choice. In addition to her reputation, his would be tarnished, as well. A gentleman who was caught in a dark room, unchaperoned, with a young lady, was expected to step up and marry her. Whether that made sense or not was a moot point. It was the way of things in their world.

As the carriage rumbled through the streets of Mayfair, his thoughts wandered to Lady Grace. He’d planned on having to guide her into her new role as his wife. At eighteen years, she was young, and had shown signs of immaturity that he knew he’d have to deal with.

Truth be told, her constant chattering about nonsense had grated on his nerves more than once. On carriage rides and walks in the garden, he’d attempted to have more meaningful conversations with her. However, she had merely gazed at him with adoration and a bit of confusion. Hair ribbons, her wardrobe, hairstyles, and the latest gossip seemed to be their entire repartee when he was with her. Maybe having an older bride would suit him more.

That again left him with the odd, uncomfortable sense of the two women being transposable. An unnerving feeling, for sure. Had he not any attachment whatsoever to Lady Grace? Not that he’d intended to ever suffer the pangs of love and romance as Wentworth had, of course. Not for him the wrenching emotions of love that led to hurt feelings and messy botherations.

He focused his attention once more on Lady Arabella. “Since you did not wish to marry Pembroke, is there another you had hoped would offer?”

That was probably not a very gentlemanly question to ask, but nevertheless, he found he really wanted to know the answer. Would she be pining for someone else when he came to her bed?

“No, I have not been out in Society long enough to acquire a tendre.”

He noted the sharpness of her voice. Was this a young lady who was not ready to accept the constraints of marriage? Hopefully, that would not cause him immense trouble. “I must admit surprise that a beautiful woman such as yourself has received no offers.”

She turned and gave him a tight smile. “I did not say no offers. Merely that there was no one from whom I wished to receive an offer.”

“Ah. So, there have been offers you’ve turned down?”

“Yes.”

Now it made sense. Apparently, the young lady was being too particular, and her mama had decided to take matters into her own hands. “I take it Pembroke was the latest of your refusals?”

She nodded. “Although I never gave him the opportunity to actually propose.” She shuddered. “I suppose, if things had gone the way Mother had planned, I would be faced with the dilemma of Pembroke’s proposal.” She turned to him, the earnestness of her words clearly written on her face. “I certainly don’t desire love in my marriage, my lord, but I would like to be able to tolerate the man I marry.”

“Indeed.” His eyebrows rose. “And it seems I will now be that man.” He leaned forward, gazing into her hazel eyes, made visible through the carriage lamp on the wall beside her head.

“So, tell me, Lady Arabella. Do you find me tolerable?”

Chapter Four

Arabella sucked in a breath as butterflies took up residence in her stomach at Clarendon’s softly murmured words. Tolerable? Up to now she’d found him barely tolerable. To think she was expected to marry a man who disagreed with everything she said. But, she had found him to be a true gentleman. It would have been an easy thing for him to explain the truth of their encounter in

the library, which would not have been believed by anyone.

Rumors about her virtue—or lack thereof—would have spread, looks would have been cast in her direction, and she would have been ruined.

He had saved her from all that by announcing their betrothal. The moment he had looked down at her when Lord Ashbourne had demanded to know what was going on in his library, her heart had sped up. She’d waited for him to blame her for stumbling into his peace and quiet, and then, quite literally, falling into his arms.

Lord Clarendon had done no such thing. He’d explained away their situation by relinquishing the woman he had planned to marry. But Arabella had no intention of allowing the situation to go as far as the altar.

However, something about the way he looked at her now made it seem as though all the air in the carriage had suddenly vanished. His heavy-lidded eyes were a much deeper color, and a slight twist to his lips gave him a rakish look. She wondered what it would feel like to have those lips covering hers. Calling herself so much a fool, she answered, “Yes, my lord. I find you tolerable.” Drat, how breathless I sound.

Seeming satisfied with her answer, he nodded briefly. She took in a deep breath and ordered her body to behave itself. Within minutes the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her family’s residence. A townhouse that now belonged to an unknown, obscure relative who would be taking possession sometime later this year. Perhaps it had been her duty to marry quickly so as to provide security for her mother. But for Mother to set up the shenanigans tonight was beyond the pale.

Arabella took Clarendon’s hand after he alighted and turned to assist her. He appeared distracted, removed from the conversation they’d just had. As Tavers opened the front door, Clarendon spoke to the butler. “If Lady Melrose is receiving, I would request an audience with her.” He held out his card.

The well-trained butler never reacted to having her arrive with Lord Clarendon, nor his request to speak to her mother at this hour of the night. He merely accepted the card, bowed, and said, “I will have her ladyship’s maid inquire. If you will follow me, I will conduct you to the drawing room and send for refreshments.”

Clarendon waved his hand. “No need for refreshments. If her ladyship receives me, the encounter will not take long.” He glanced down at Arabella. “I will call upon you tomorrow. Plan to be ready for a ride in Hyde Park at five o’clock.”