Page 8 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

ready to settle down and see to filling his nursery.

While he would never feel the passionate love for Lady Grace he saw between Eugenia and Devon, there was no doubt he held Lady Grace in great regard. In his opinion, that was the only requirement for a successful marriage. Eventually, as the years passed and they raised children, a strong affection would grow between them.

Her generous dowry—should the rumors prove correct—was very appealing, as well. He hated to think about that part of it, but there you have it. His estate was in serious need of an infusion of blunt, or they would be in deep trouble. When his father had passed a few years ago, the situation had been concerning, but nowhere near as dire. It seemed no matter how well the tenants did, Mr. Bowers, his man of business, reported they were still low on funds. Once he got the matter settled with Lady Grace, he would have to make a trip to Suffolk to see if he could get an idea of what was going wrong.

“You seem to be spending a great deal of time watching the staircase, Nash. Are you perhaps looking for a particular young lady?” Lord Mullens grinned in his direction as he took a sip of champagne.

Switching his attention from the staircase to Mullens, he said, “I believe the time has come for me to select a bride.”

“And you’ve decided to take whatever female comes down the stairs next?” Mullens regarded him with the famous crooked grin that made ladies melt at his feet. “I am amazed that with all the young ladies—and their mamas—casting invitations in your direction you have avoided the parson’s noose for so long.”

“Leave off, Mullens. There is a particular woman, but for now, I shall keep her name to myself.”

“Rumor has it that Lady Grace will be the next Countess of Clarendon.”

Drat! He hated how these things got started. Preferring to keep his business to himself, Nash was never the type who bandied his affairs about. “Whomever I offer for will be the first to know, not the rest of the ton, regardless of their hunger for the next on dit.”

“Ah, sounds as though the man is besotted and fears someone snatching up his lady love before he has a chance to speak his piece.”

“Is not there someone else you can plague, Mullens? I’m sure there are several ladies here tonight who would enjoy your attention. I, on the other hand, do not, so I will leave you to your conquests.” Nash strolled away, wishing Lady Grace would appear. She’d assured him at his last afternoon call that she and her mother would be attending.

His lady love, indeed. He was selecting a bride, not a mistress. Love was for besotted fools like Devon, not him. Although he did not intend to maintain a mistress once wed, he still preferred a marriage of respect and affection. Once love entered into it, emotions ran rampant and things got messy.

If anything proved that point, all he had to do was remember Lord Wentworth, whom he’d gone to University with. The poor sap had fallen madly in love with Lady Maryann Wesley, and had pursued the woman until she accepted his offer. Within months of their wedding, she had taken a lover, and Wentworth had continued to make a fool of himself before the ton.

The entire debacle had ended in disgrace when he took a gun to his head. No. No love and volatile emotions for him. A good, solid marriage with no romantic entanglements was all he needed.

He rubbed his head as he proceeded to the refreshment table for a lemonade.

He’d been fighting a headache since his encounter with Lady Arabella’s cat that afternoon. As the hours passed, his head had hurt more and more, and the glass of champagne had made it worse. This was one of those headaches that would only go away with quiet and sleep.

Since he and Ashbourne’s middle son had been friends at Eton, Nash had spent time at the family’s townhouse and he was familiar with the layout. He would retire to the library for ten or fifteen minutes and surely by then, Lady Grace would have arrived. He would have a dance with her, take her to the garden, offer his proposal, and then leave for home.

Nash exited the ballroom through the French doors. He went down the patio steps and turned right, following the path to another set of steps that reached the French doors leading to Lady Ashbourne’s sitting room. He carefully crossed the room in the darkness and exited, accessing the corridor. Candles burning in sconces along the walls cast a dim light, but enough for him to make his way several doors down and enter the library. Once the heavy wooden door closed, noise from the ballroom receded, and peace descended on him like a welcoming shroud.

The smell of the books greeted him, reminding him of his own library. The one in town was adequate but his library in Suffolk was immense, and he’d spent many a day there, reading all the books his father, and the Lords Clarendon before him, had amassed.

He strolled to the window and looked out at the darkness. Gas lights flickered along the winding garden path, illuminating Lady Ashbourne’s spring flower gardens. He turned when the sound of the door opening drew his attention.

A young woman entered. From the dim light he could barely make out her countenance. As she walked farther into the room, the moonlight from the window caught her and he sucked in a surprised breath.

Lady Arabella.

Bloody hell. What the devil was she doing here? Finding another way to torment him?

She closed the door behind her and moved forward. “I am sorry to disturb you, my lord but I received a note to meet my mother here.”

“Ah, perhaps she has more animals for you to rescue?” He raised one eyebrow, delighting in the look of annoyance on her face. Why he enjoyed irritating her was a puzzle. But he did like to watch her lips tighten and her cheeks flush a lovely red. Although she pretended to be a lady, there was a lot of fire and passion in the young woman.

Lady Arabella drew herself up. “I do not know why she wanted to meet me. In fact, the entire thing seems suspicious, now that I think about it.” She waved a paper in his face. “Did you write this note?”

“What?” He reared back. “Why in heaven’s name would I ask you, of all people, to meet me here? Mayhaps you saw me enter and want me to climb the library selves to rescue another creature?”

“Oh, you.” She stamped her foot. “I almost wish I had left Miss Aphrodite in the tree rather than ask anything of you.”

“I, too, wish you had decided on that course of action. Then I would have been able to enjoy my stroll in the park.”

They glared at each other. “Well, I see no reason to stay here. I must have misunderstood her note.” She sniffed. “I am sorry to have caused you any bother, my lord.”