Two
No one regarding Lord Wickton would have realized that he was anything but mildly curious at the bald statement that had just been tossed in his face. In truth, the young gentleman had been hard-pressed to maintain his composure since overhearing Isa’s shrill claim that she preferred the dungeon to becoming his wife.
What the devil was wrong with the chit?
He was the one being forced into this marriage. It was his freedom that was to be sacrificed so she could claim the title of countess. And it was his existence that would be altered beyond all recognition with a wife and family. Anyone would think she was the one making the sacrifices.
Besides which, what had happened to the sweet, utterly biddable creature he had left? In her place was an iron-willed chit with a sharp tongue and unpleasant manner of regarding him as if he belonged in the stables. Hardly qualities a gentleman desired in his intended.
Not that he disapproved of all the changes, he reluctantly acknowledged. Who would have suspected the pale child would bloom into such a lovely maiden? One who would stir the blood of any gentleman.
With an effort, he reined in his unruly thoughts. He had been decidedly thrown off guard by Isa’s strange manner and was far from certain how he wished to respond.
“Well, well.” He withdrew an enamel box to measure a delicate amount of snuff. “I must say that this is rather a surprise.”
She regarded him for a long moment, as if surprised by his bland tone.
“I do not comprehend why,” she at last said stiffly. “It has been years since we last spoke. We are strangers to one another.”
“Hardly strangers,” he drawled, puzzled by her sharp references to their time apart. Had she expected him to wait about Kent until she grew up? Ridiculous. “As I recall, on my last visit to Cresthaven, I held you in my arms as you pleaded undying love.”
A flood of heat added a delicate color to her countenance. “I was a child.”
“Your kisses were not those of a child.”
“You were also the only gentleman I was acquainted with,” she charged in defense. “It is not surprising I would consider myself violently in love with you.”
Why, the impudent jade.
“And now you are not so violently in love?”
“No.”
“May I be so bold as to ask why your affections are no longer engaged?”
A hint of embarrassment rippled over her features before she turned away to hide her expressive countenance.
“Over the years I realized we have very little in common.”
“Hardly a necessary asset in marriage,” he pointed out in reasonable tones.
“It is for me,” she insisted.
“I see.” A surge of suspicion rushed through Barth. There was something more to her change of heart than she was admitting. “This would have nothing to do with your regard for another gentleman, would it?”
His suspicions were immediately confirmed when she stiffened in alarm.
“I hardly think that any of your concern.”
Barth battled a flare of fury. She had fallen in love with another.
How dare she!
“Considering that we were intended to wed, I would consider it very much my business,” he retorted in biting tones.
She slowly turned to face him with a militant expression. “My private feelings are my own.”
“So there is another.” He narrowed his gaze to dangerous slits. “Who is he?”
“I will not discuss the subject.”
With an effort, he maintained his composure. He was a gentleman accustomed to ladies who rushed to please him in all matters. No doubt he was spoiled by his undoubted success among the fairer sex, but he certainly did not expect a maiden to toss him aside for another, especially not one he had agreed to make his wife.
“Do your parents know of this mysterious suitor?”
The amber eyes flashed at his mocking tone. “My father is unconcerned with anything beyond his own pleasures in London.”
“And what of your mother?”
“My mother is aware of my feelings.”
“And she approves?”
The tiny chin tilted. “Of course not. She desires a connection with your family and is willing to sacrifice me for that dubious honor.” She met his glittering gaze squarely. “She, however, cannot force me into marriage.”
Force? This maiden had once been eager to become his wife.
“Certainly not.” His expression was unreadable.
Clearly unable to determine his reaction to her blunt confession, Isa reluctantly tempered her words.
“I am sorry if I have disappointed you, my lord.”
“Are you?”
“Certainly. Although Icannot imagine you are anything but relieved at my decision.”
Barth deliberately folded his arms across his wide chest. “And why should you presume any such thing?”
A frown marred her brow. “You cannot wish to marry me.”
Barth easily thrust aside the knowledge with which he had devoted years to railing against the arranged marriage. He had at last complied with the inevitable; the least Isa could do was be suitably grateful.
“I must wed eventually.”
Absurdly, her features tightened with annoyance. “And it does not matter to whom?”
“On the contrary, I am quite particular,” he informed her.
“Fah.” She gave an inelegant snort. “A gentleman interested in wedding a lady does not disappear for five years without once attempting to contact her.”
Really, the chit had grown into the most unreasonable of creatures, he told himself. There wasn’t a single reason for him to feel a stab of guilt.
“Perhaps I wished to give you the time and freedom to mature.”
“Really?” Her lips thinned. “I must warn you that I am no longer a gullible fool, my lord. Your practiced charm is no longer sufficient to convince me of your sincerity. The moment you left Kent, you pushed all thoughts of me aside.”
There was little use in denying her claim, not when he had indeed neglected to send so much as a missive, so Barth followed Napoleon’s strategy and went on the attack instead.
“At least I did not allow my emotions to become entangled with another.”
“What emotions?”
His eyes widened at the provocative challenge. “You believe I lack finer feelings?”
“I think you are an incurable rake who devotes himself to his own needs and pleasures.”
A thoroughly unexpected urge to prove how a true rake would respond to such a provocative maiden raced through his body. How would she react if he bent her over his arm and kissed those venomous lips to sweet compliance? Would she murmur with pleasure, as she had years ago? And press her soft body close to his?
Abruptly realizing where his thoughts were straying, Barth stiffened with annoyance. Good lord, he could feel his muscles stirring at the mere thought of holding her in his arms.
“I am disappointed, Isa,” he forced himself to chide. “I presumed that you were wise enough to dismiss such common gossip.”
Her arms crossed her bodyin a manner that echoed his own. “Then it is untrue that you are renown for accepting any dare, no matter how shocking or dangerous?” she demanded. “Or that you possess an excessively expensive mistress by the name of Monique?”
The London rattles had certainly been busy, he acknowledged with a flare of unease.
“Those are hardly fit subjects for a delicately reared young lady.”
“How convenient for gentlemen that the pursuits they enjoy cannot be curtailed or even acknowledged by a proper lady,” she mocked.
“You desire a promise that I shall abandon such pursuits?”
“Not at all. I wish you to be happy with them.” She gave a shrug. “I merely prefer a gentleman who possesses no interest in such frivolous entertainments.”
Barth gave a sharp laugh. “And you believe one exists?”
“Certainly. There are a rare few gentlemenwho prefer to devote their time to improving their minds.”
Something in her tone struck a nerve. “Gentlemen such as your mysterious suitor?”
Her eyes abruptly lowered. “I speak in general.”
Barth very much desired to meet the gentleman that dared to steal the affections of his intended. He clearly needed a lesson in the dangers of poaching.
“Tell me, Isa, do you intend to marry this gentleman?”
“I have no intention of marrying anyone at the moment,” she hedged.
“Meaning that he has not yet asked?”
He watched as she stiffened in annoyance. His thrust had obviously hit home.
“I have said that I would not discuss my private affairs.”
“But mine are open to speculation?”
She suddenly lifted her gaze. “Your lack of decorum has made them so.”
Barth drew in a sharp breath. The biddable mouse was gone indeed. A fault he would ensure was corrected once they were wed.
At the moment, however, he had to content himself with a mocking smile as Mrs. Lawford scurried back into the room with an anxious expression.
“Here we are, then. Lunch is served.”
* * *
“Really Barth, if you are determined to wear a hole in a carpet, I wish you would do so in the front parlor.” The dowager countess of Wickton, Lady Sarah Juston, regarded her grandson with dark green eyes. “I never could abide that hideous flower pattern.”
Barth came to a halt in the center of his grandmother’s private chamber. Unlike the rest of the vast sixteenth-century house, it was comfortably furnished with mahogany furniture and heavy tapestries to soften the block-stone walls.
With a wry smile, he regarded the older woman. Although silverhaired and bent with age, Lady Wickton had been a great beauty in her day. It was said that with her flaming curls and jade eyes she had received offers of marriage from dozens of gentlemen, including a duke and a foreign prince. Instead, she had wed the charming Lord Wickton, who had shared her love for adventure and had escorted her from India to the colonies. Since his death, the dowager had retreated to her private wing and rarely emerged to join the rest of the family.
“Forgive me, Grandmother.”
The tiny head tilted to one side. “Why do you not tell me what is amiss?”
Amiss? Bloody awful, more like it, he seethed.
Although it was several hours since his uncomfortable luncheon at Cresthaven Manor, his mood was in no way improved. Indeed, the more he brooded over the injustice of Miss Lawford’s betrayal, the angrier he became.
“Isa Lawford,” he gritted.
Settled among a pile of cushions, Sarah smiled with obvious fondness.
“Such a charming child.”
His aquiline nose flared. “Hardly a child any longer.”
“No, I suppose not.” A hint of suppressed amusement glittered in her eyes. “Did you not find her well?”
“I found her ill mannered, sharp tongued, and nothing at all like the proper maiden I left.”
“Indeed? Well, it has been some time since you have been together.”
“So she pointed out with annoying frequency,” he retorted.
Expecting his beloved grandmother to be suitably shocked by Isa’s unfortunate manner, Barth was caught off guard when the elder woman gave a sudden laugh.
“Did you expect her to be cherishing her youthful affection for you?”
“Why not?” he demanded with a frown. “She claimed to love me. Her heart is clearly of a fickle. nature. Hardly a characteristic you would want in a potential wife.”
“La.” Sarah gave a click of her tongue. “What a boorish hypocrite you are, Barth.”
Barth stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
The green gaze held a knowing glint. “You have been playing fast and loose throughout England and Europe, and yet you expect Isa to remain quietly in Kent pining for your return.”
There was no need to make him sound so unreasonable, Barth thought as he shifted uneasily.
“I did not expect her to pine, but I did expect her to remain loyal,” he accused in defensive tones.
“Ah.” The smile widened. “So that is what has you so discomposed?”
Barth widened his eyes in surprise. “You knew she was in love with another?”
Sarah shrugged, as if the knowledge that her prospective granddaughter-in-law was in love with another gentleman were a trifling matter.
“I had heard that she was spending a great deal of time at the vicarage.”
Barth was beginning to wonder if the entire neighborhood was just a bit looby. The vicar was seventy if he were a day. Not even Isa could prefer a doddering fool to himself.
“Vicarage?”
“Oh, yes, the new vicar possesses a young son,” his grandmother readily explained. “Quite a well-spoken young gentleman. And handsome, of course.”
Ah . . . a new vicar with a handsome young son. Just what he needed.
“I am glad you approve,” he said dryly.
The elder woman was indifferent to his thrust. She was one of the few who refused to be intimidated by his powerful personality.
“Oh, I do. It is high time that Isa had someone her own age to bear her company. It has not been easy for the poor dear to remain isolated in the country while other girls traveled to London to enjoy their season. Every lady needs a flirtation or two during their youth.”
Barth gave a shake of his head. He had always known his grandmother was close to Isa, but he did not suspect that she would take her side over her own grandson.
“Do you also approve of the fact that she no longer wishes to wed me?”
Sarah appeared remarkably unsympathetic. “Do you wish to marry, Isa?”
“What an absurd question.”
“There is nothing absurd about it.” Sarah narrowed her gaze. “Do you wish to marry her?”
He abruptly resumed his pacing. “There is no question as to what I do or do not wish,” he pointed out in sharp tones. “Father made a wreck of our finances, and Mother has extravagantly lived on the expectations of the Lawford fortune for years. I shall have to wed her.”
His dark features reflected the hint of bitterness that lingered deep in his heart. Although his father had died while he was still in short coats, he had managed to deplete the last of the family fortune on ludicrously unsound investments and vast gambling debts. It was said that he once lost twenty thousand pounds on a single turn of the cards.
As a result, Barth had been raised with the everpresent knowledge that he was expected to save the family from ruin. A knowledge that was never far from his mind.
Sarah gave a vague shrug. “There are other wealthy young ladies.”
Barth shuddered in revolt at the mere thought. Bad enough that he must wed. He was not about to tie himself to a stranger.
“I have no intention of searching throughout England for another suitable maiden.”
“So, you are angry with Isa because she does not wish to marry a gentleman who is only walking up the aisle to save him the bother of finding another fortune for his impoverished family?”
“Dash it all, Grandmother,” he complained at the decidedly unpleasant implication. “What would you have me do?”
She slowly leaned forward. “I would have you seek happiness.”
He gave a sharp laugh. Such sentimental nonsense was easy to speak of, but it had nothing to do with reality.
“And what of you and Mother? Would you wish me happy when we are all locked in debtors’ prison? A fine lot of enjoyment that would be.”
“I doubt that it would come to such drastic measures,” his grandmother countered. “I possess a small annuity that would provide a modest establishment for myself and your mother.”
Barth laughed again, wondering if his grandmother was becoming a bit daft.
“Mother in a modest establishment?”
Sarah grimaced at the thought of her elegant daughter-in-law. “It would do her little harm to sacrifice once in her self-indulgent life.”
“And Graystone?”
“This great monstrosity of a barn would be much improved by a torch and a good deal of kindling.”
Barth felt a stab of shock. “Grandmother.”
She leaned back into the cushions. “Your mother has raised you to believe that it is your duty to repair the inadequacies of a century of Wicktons. I am telling you that life is far too short for such grand sacrifices. If you can find happiness, then grasp it with both hands.”
Just for a moment Barth allowed himself to consider his grandmother’s words.
How would it feel to walk away from his responsibilities and simply enjoy his life?
He could return to London. He could be in the arms of Monique and enjoying the companionship of his friends. Oh, perhaps he would have to tailor his lifestyle to a more modest means, but he would no longer be plagued with the burden of an unwanted wife. Surely that was happiness?
Then a wry smile twisted his lips.
Could he be happy with the knowledge that his mother’s pride was forever damaged at being reduced to living on a mere pittance? That Graystone was falling into disrepair? And just to the point, how long would Monique remain with a penniless earl?
No, it was a ridiculous fantasy. His duties were clear.
“A lovely sentiment, Grandmother, but hardly sensible.” His lips twisted. “I doubt that I should enjoy living in genteel poverty any more than Mother.”
Something flashed deep in the green eyes as Sarah regarded him in a speculative fashion.
“Then what shall you do?”
His expression hardened. “I shall marry Miss Lawford as I have planned for the past twenty years.”
“And if she will not have you?”
“She will have me.” An unknowing glint of anticipation entered his hazel eyes. For the first time in a very long time, Barth found himself looking forward to the future with a tingle of excitement. like most gentlemen, there were few things he enjoyed more than a challenge. “Make no mistake on that, Grandmother. Lord Wickton will not be bested by a common cad who does not possess the sense to steer well clear of my intended.”
A mysterious expression settled on the dowager’s lined countenance.
“I wish you luck.”
“Not luck, but skill, my dearest.”
“Skill?”
Coming to a halt in the center of the room, Barth allowed himself to conjure up the delicate features. and wide amber eyes of Isa. Surprisingly, the image did not provoke the familiar flare of panic. Instead, he recalled the tempting softness of her lips and the feminine curves visible beneath the muslin gown.
“Winning the affections of a lady is like winning a battle,” he murmured. “You must plot a strategy, have the best possible weapons, and know everything there is to know about your opponent.”
Sarah gave a wry laugh. “Scoundrel.”
Barth offered his grandmother a sudden bow. “Now you must forgive me, Grandmother, I have a great deal to do.”
“Where are you off to?”
Barth gave a slow smile. “I have a battle to plan.”