Page 18 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

She studied him while he waited for her answer. She could accept what fate had placed in her pathway and marry the Earl of Clarendon. Her mother would be taken care of, Arabella would be accepted in Society as his respected countess, and all these worries would vanish.

Along with her freedom.

Given his comments on her animals, worries about her and Mother’s future would be replaced by others, no doubt. Additionally, there was the problem of her much-valued independence, combined with Nash’s overbearing, arrogant manner. “No. Marriage to you is not contemptible,” she answered. “I just do not believe we are compatible. I appreciate your offer—sincerely, I do—but I cannot see us married to each other.”

He patted her hand. “Do not concern yourself. I have reconciled myself to our predicament, as you must, as well. There is no reason we cannot have a pleasant marriage.”

Botheration. Just what she’d always wanted to be—someone’s reconciliation.

…

Nash dwelt on their conversation as they moved forward through the park, nodding at passing acquaintances and ignoring the smirks and sly looks from some. Based on Arabella’s comments, she was blessedly unaware of how dire the circumstances were in which the late earl had left his family. Between Nash’s conversation the prior evening with Lady Melrose when she had provided the solicitor’s name, and his own conversation with the man this morning, Arabella crying off would not only ruin her reputation, but her entire life.

As unfair as the matter was, a gently reared lady ruined, with no resources of her own, was generally only able to follow one path in life—a nobleman’s mistress. Lady Arabella had the body and face to survive quite nicely in that life. He tightened his grip on the ribbons at the thought of Arabella forced to earn a living at the mercy of some of the gentlemen he knew. Even if she were fortunate enough to secure employment as a companion or governess, she would be fair game to most men of the nobility. More than one gently reared woman had fallen into a disreputable life after having been taken advantage of in a lord’s home.

On the other hand, young Lady Grace was well liked in Society, pretty, and came with a generous dowry. No doubt her handkerchief would be barely dry before offers for her hand started to arrive. He doubted if the chit had held a genuine fancy for him—most likely his title had been the appeal.

Arabella, on the other hand, would have been cast to the lions if he hadn’t offered for her. And considering their financial situation, the lions were close to her door. Not that his funds were much better, but since he was not taken with gambling and supporting expensive mistresses, at least he had no worries about losing the roof over his head.

“If I get the special license tomorrow, I would like to move ahead with the wedding as quickly as possible.”

Arabella drew in a breath and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “If you do not wish to hear me scream and bash you over your arrogant head with my parasol, I suggest you let off with this conversation. Now.”

He was as stubborn as his bride. Even if he had decided not to be the gentleman he’d always thought himself to be and marry her, he had reached the point where it had become a contest of wills.

And he never lost.

Aside from that, all that passion and fire in his betrothed would prove quite interesting in the bedchamber. No shy miss was Lady Arabella. He would have a grand time taming her and teaching her. He shifted in his seat at the thought.

They had almost made a complete circle around the park when the one person he did not wish to see appeared in front of them, going in the opposite direction in a well-sprung carriage, along with her mother.

“Lady Spencer, Lady Grace.” Nash bowed to the two ladies. He couldn’t help but think Lady Spencer had dragged her daughter out to be seen in Hyde Park to assure the Quality that she had not a care in the world, even if the man all of the ton assumed would be offering for her was now betrothed to another.

“My lord.” If Lady Spencer’s tone was any chillier, the flowers alongside the path would be frozen solid. Apparently not as well-mannered as her mother, Lady Grace turned the other direction and waved to someone who did not wave back. Mostly because the only thing facing the young girl was an elm tree.

Lady Spencer raised her chin and shot daggers at Arabella. “Lady Arabella. I must say I am quite surprised to see you here today. I thought after last evening’s humiliation you would have enough good breeding to stay out of sight.”

Arabella sucked in a breath, and Nash’s hands fisted on the ribbons. He did not mind taking a few stabs for himself, but Arabella was to be his wife and countess, and he would not allow her to be insulted. Several people strolling along stopped and pretended to view the flowers. Carriages that should have bee

n passing by slowed to a crawl as all of Society watched the play between the main characters in the latest ton drama.

Lady Spencer continued. “But then, one assumes if you indeed had proper breeding you would not have disgraced yourself so last evening.”

Arabella’s whole body shook alongside him, and her face turned a bright red as she stared at her lap. Unsure how his betrothed would respond to such malice, given her threat before to smack him over the head with her parasol, he gritted his teeth and rested his hand on her clenched one. “Lady Spencer, any further slights cast on my future countess will be dealt with in an appropriate manner that I guarantee will not be pleasant.” He snapped the ribbons and moved forward. “I wish you good day.”

They had barely cleared the exit from the park when Arabella groaned and dropped her parasol, then covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook, and he was certain he heard muffled sobs. Bloody hell that woman had been vicious. Even though he hated a weeping female more than anything, the thought of Lady Spencer weeping would not affect him so. In fact, the notion brought warmth to his heart.

Instead of driving directly to the Melrose townhouse in Mayfair, he took Holyhead Road out of town. The further they proceeded on the road, the cleaner and sweeter smelling the air. They soon left prying eyes behind, to be replaced with disinterested Londoners returning to their homes for the dinner hour.

He fumbled in his pocket and handed Arabella his handkerchief. She mumbled her thanks. Once her sobs had turned to slight hiccups, he spoke. “I assume you are crying because that woman could have been my mother-in-law?”

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide. Once she saw his grin, she smiled, and then chuckled. “That would have been most unsettling, my lord.”

He reached out and touched her lips with his finger. “No ‘my lord.’ Remember?”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes red, and from the sound of her voice, her nose all stopped up. Instead of looking a fright, she looked adorable. Fragile, and somewhat broken, not at all as he’d begun to think of her. Something deep inside him stirred, and he quickly smothered it, replacing it with protectiveness and righteous anger on her behalf.

“I am sure you won’t be troubled by her again.” He raised his hand as she began to speak. “Based on what you’ve just witnessed, I am sure you now understand there will be no crying off. You’ve done enough crying.