Page 14 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

But pleasant bed activities were not enough of an enticement to persuade her to marry the man.

Arabella took in a sharp breath. “I intend to explain to his lordship on our ride this afternoon that marriage between the two of us is not well founded. I am sure he can be convinced, and there will be no need for a wedding. Things will return to normal, I will avoid Society for a while, and all will be well.”

Apparently ignoring Arabella’s stance on the wedding, Mother said, “Before we begin preparations for your nuptials, however, I would like to know why another foul and grubby dog is now taking up space in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, getting in Cook’s way.”

Arabella groaned inwardly. She’d forgotten about the poor, straggly animal that had followed her home the prior afternoon—hours before her life had changed forever. After a bath and a bit of food, he’d looked much better, and had licked her face until she’d laughed with glee. With her penchant for strays, and Miss Aphrodite now residing elsewhere, the household currently had in residence four dogs, two cats, and a bird with a damaged wing.

“You do know it is highly unlikely that Lord Clarendon will allow all of these creatures into his house.”

Why wouldn’t Mother listen to her? Lord Clarendon would have no say because he would not be her husband. “Another reason I need to get this all straightened out with him. I cannot abandon those animals. That would be cruel.”

“No, young lady, sensible is the word that fits. Furthermore, once you marry and move into his lordship’s house, I will have Tavers release the animals in the park.” Once again, she tugged on the gown’s cuff. “Now it is time to prepare for your wedding.”

If Arabella was considered stubborn, there was no doubt in her mind where she had picked up that particular trait. Mother was either deaf or pretending to be. To keep the peace, she would go along with her—for now. Once Lord Clarendon had come to his senses, life would return to normal.

A bit of fear nudged her. If life were to have any semblance of contentment for her, Clarendon simply must agree to cry off.

…

Nash sat very still as the solicitor explained Lady Arabella’s dowry, and why the amount had dwindled since it had first been set up. It appeared Lord Melrose had played fast and easy with his money. After that was gone he’d dipped first into the money set aside for his wife should he pre-decease her, and had then pilfered a chunk of his daughter’s dowry. Her original amount of three thousand pounds had been reduced to a little more than five hundred.

Five hundred! Rumor had it that Lady Grace’s dowry had been six thousand, and he’d depended on that to infuse some life into his estate. In addition to the lack of funds he now had available to him, most likely he would need to support his mother-in-law, since her portion was gone, and when the new heir returned, she would be without a home.

“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, my lord. I had cautioned the late earl that things were becoming dire, but even during the year he’d been ill, he somehow managed to find ways to wager.” The solicitor tugged at his neckcloth.

“Tell me, Mr. Manson, how has Lady Melrose fared the year since his lordship died? The few times I’ve seen Lady Arabella, she seemed well turned out, and I assume they maintained their household and staff.”

The solicitor laid the pen he’d been fiddling with on the desk in front of him. “That is another reason Lady Arabella’s dowry is only five hundred. Once his lordship died, and against my advice, the trust fund passed into Lady Melrose’s name. Food, household supplies, staff salaries, and clothing have been paid from that fund. Lady Melrose continuously assured me that Lady Arabella would make a successful match and their money problems would be at an end.”

This was certainly a dilemma. While his situation was nowhere near as unfortunate as Lady Melrose and her daughter, he still needed to put some money into repairs on the Suffolk manor house. He also had plans to improve on the land so his tenants could produce more. The returns he’d been receiving from his steward had dwindled each year, much like his betrothed’s dowry, only he hadn’t been frittering the money away on gaming and other pursuits.

Well, there was nothing to be done for it. He would have to make do with what he had, and as soon as the blasted wedding was over, he would return to Suffolk and see if he could figure out how to make his estate more profitable.

After they worked out the contracts, Nash headed to White’s to cap off the meeting with a whiskey. Soon it would be time to pick up his betrothed for their carriage ride in Hyde Park. The two of them together would help squash any rumors that might have started about last evening. Although Lady Arabella had not been his chosen bride, nevertheless now she was, and he did not want his future countess’s reputation sullied.

He settled into a chair and signaled for a drink. He’d only taken a sip when Mr. Edmund Kilroy plopped himself into the seat across from him. The man had been an annoyance to Nash since their days at Eton. Never very popular with the other fellows, Kilroy tended to link up with whatever group was badgering a lone student. He joined the harassment, vicious at some points, always looking for praise from the group bully. One semester Nash had been the chosen one to be tortured. The following year, Kilroy had attempted to befriend him. He’d had no use for the man.

“Were I you, I am not sure I would be walking these halls. At least without sufficient protection.” Kilroy moved his mouth in a stupid grin. “You cost several men a great deal of money by switching brides last night.”

Not wishing to discuss the situation, especially with Kilroy, who was known for gossiping as much as the ladies, Nash grunted and took another sip of his drink.

“What happened, man? It was well known that you were all but leg-shackled to Lady Grace.”

Nash placed his now-empty glass on the small table alongside him. Since Kilroy had made his visit disagreeable by his presence, it was time he made his way home to prepare for his ride with Lady Arabella. He stood and glowered at the man. “Whom I choose to marry—not leg shackle—is my own, and the lady in question’s, business.”

“I hear you were forced to offer for her because her virtue was in question.” The odious man wiggled his eyebrows which gave rise to a swift surge of anger pulsing through Nash’s body.

He leaned down and placed his hand on Kilroy’s shoulder, pressing firmly enough that the man winced. “Should I hear any more comments from any source about my betrothed’s virtue or lack thereof, I will take it as a direct insult to me and personally seek you out and thrash you.” He squeezed harder. “Is there anything about that statement you find unclear?”

Kilroy shook his head.

“Good.” Nash straightened and strolled away, the slight altercation with Kilroy not assuaging the anger at the man’s comments. He still felt like thrashing someone.

Truthfully, part of his anger rose from his financial situation. The money he’d counted on would not be there, and he would have to work hard not to direct his anger toward his bride. Not that it was her fault, of course. The earl had left his wife and daughter in an untenable position. Lady Melrose had attempted to right their circumstances by marrying her daughter off to—from all accounts—a wealthy earl. Except her bumbling had resulted in her marrying off her daughter to the wrong earl.

He had no sooner handed his hat, gloves, and cane to his butler, Quinn, than his mother hurried down the stairs, her face flushed. “There you are, Nash. I have been waiting all morning and most of the afternoon to speak with you. Whatever happened at the Ashbourne ball last eve?”

Nash pinched the bridge of his nose. How did one tell one’s mother to please retire to her bedchamber to allow him time to compose his thoughts before he began a lengthy explanation of that which still confused him?