Page 13 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

She stiffened. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Perhaps I have other plans for tomorrow at five o’clock.”

Nash shrugged. “Cancel them.”

Oh, the man was insufferable. “Mayhap I do not wish to cancel them, my lord.”

He studied her for a minute, his arrogant eyebrow raised. Apparently, he’d never considered that she would not fall at his feet with glee at having a strong man order her about.

“I do not wish to make an issue of a simple request.”

She offered him a smile sweet enough to cause a toothache. “Ah, my lord, but ’twas not a simple request. It sounded more like a demand.”

They glared at each other.

Realizing that Tavers stood patiently while they had this exchange, and somewhat embarrassed at having the servant witness her impertinence, she tightened her jaw then offered a slight curtsy and headed up to her bedchamber, mumbling all the way.

If this was how he intended for them to go on, then he would be in for a surprise. She was no young, silly Lady Grace, who would gaze up at him adoringly, waiting longingly for commands and guidance through her life. Even though it was her mother who had inadvertently placed them both in a position that resulted in this fake betrothal, Arabella had no intention of assuming the demeanor of a swooning debutante, eyelashes batting. Until she could rid herself of the burden that was Lord Clarendon, she would make it clear he was not her lord and master.

She rang for Sophia and paced, wondering if Mother had granted Clarendon an audience and what had been said. Being the gentleman she’d found him to be, she doubted if he would insult Mother in any way. Hopefully, Mother would use her common sense and explain that jumping in with both feet to save her had been unnecessary.

Before Sophia had even arrived, Arabella heard the sound of a carriage door closing and wheels rolling on the cobblestones in front of the townhouse. Either his lordship had been correct, and what he needed to say was truly not very long, or Mother had refused to see him. In any event, the maneuverings Mother had set in play tonight had thrust Arabella into an untenable situation that needed correction, and fast.

The next morning, while Sophia fixed her hair, Arabella touched the puffy dark circles under her eyes with her fingertips. Based on what she saw in the mirror, a lie-down later would be necessary if she were to present herself to Clarendon for their carriage ride looking less like a hag than she did right now.

A slight knock at her door drew her from her thoughts. Mother entered, the first time she’d seen her since the debacle the prior evening. “Good morning, Arabella. I hope you slept well.”

Arabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Slept well? Hardly.

“As well as could be expected, I would think, under the circumstances.” Arabella glanced at Sophia in the mirror. “That is fine, Sophia. You may leave now.” The young maid curtsied and left the room.

Once the door closed, Mother went immediately on the defensive. “I am sorry for the mix-up last evening, but you must admit, Arabella, things have turned out rather well.”

Arabella spun around in her chair, her mouth agape. “Rather well? I am now betrothed to a man I hardly know, who was planning on offering for another lady, who probably hates me and will soon be spewing vitriol about my virtue. Which, no doubt, several people are already questioning.” Arabella stood and circled the room, slapping her fist into her palm. “Do you think I will go through with this farce? How could you do that, Mother? And Lord Pembroke?”

Mother raised her chin. “The situation had grown dire, Arabella.” She wrung her hands. “I received a letter yesterday from the new earl that his plans have changed and he will be back in England within the month. We have nowhere to go.”

She dropped her hands to her sides and stared at Arabella. “What do you mean ‘do I think you will go through with it?’”

“Just that. I have no intention of marrying Lord Clarendon. I can barely stand the man—although I did tell him he was tolerable—but I definitely do not want him for a husband.”

“You have no choice. If you do not marry him, you will be ruined. No one will offer for you. We will be tossed out into the streets.”

“Not so. The new earl has already said we were free to stay here and to also make use of the estate manor until I am settled.” They had discussed this very matter several times, and Arabella had no reason to believe her mother had softened her position.

“I will not live on another’s forbearance. Why, for all we know, he might have a wife and several children. I doubt very much if she would be happy with the arrangement.”

“You are jumping to conclusions with no merit. Furthermore, it appears to me your only consideration was worry for your own well-being. Did you, however, consider me and my wishes? I certainly would have preferred to spend the rest of my life with someone whose very presence does not cause my stomach to roil, as does Lord Pembroke.”

Her mother smirked. “Well, then it is a good thing Lord Clarendon had been in the library, because I doubt very much if you will find it difficult to sit across the table from him each morning. He is certainly not difficult to look at.”

This angered Arabella further. “Yes. And he is obnoxious, arrogant, high-handed, and overbearing.”

Mother tugged on the cuffs of her day gown, the gesture she always used to announce the subject under discussion was closed. “We have much to do before the wedding, Arabella.”

The wedding.

The memory of the scent of sandalwood and the feel of firm muscles under his clothing brought a slight kernel of excitement to her stomach. Although, as most young maidens

, she knew very little of the marriage bed, she could imagine that what took place there would certainly be much more pleasant with him than Lord Pembroke and his fat, sausage fingers.