Chapter Three
Agnes squeezed my hand as she gestured for me to enter Old Lady Gladstone’s sitting room. Did she know more about my godmother’s sudden summons than I? Agnes’s palm was a curious mix of soft, delicate skin and callouses along the tips of her fingers and center of her palm. A decade ago, she had been the first servant I’d met in the Gladstone household, and she still treated me with special consideration when I visited. She moved with a puttering pace that belied the lines in a face as pale and round as the full moon. Her hair, now more white than any other color, frizzed out around her head like a halo.
“Good luck,” she whispered. “She’s been in a fit of nerves all afternoon.”
That couldn’t bode well.
With clammy palms, I smoothed my skirt, white silk with a brocaded star design. I straightened the navy blue ribbon I’d fastened around my waist and adjusted my spectacles before I entered the room.
Old Lady Gladstone stood by the window, though what she hoped to see, I didn’t know. The curtains were drawn, and only the palest glimmer of the dying light of the day peeked through the crack between them. Several candelabra were lit around a room easily as big as the sitting room and breakfast room of my house put together. The flickering light chased the shadows into the corners of the room and deepened the color of the furnishings. The tallow candles emitted an oily, almost acrid smell.
The rug, curtains, divan, and cushions were a deep, rich burgundy color. Although the walls sported a lighter color, in the dim light, the contrast faded into shadow. Porcelain figurines representing the extended family lined the mantle. The divan and chairs circled a round rug with golden brocade forming an eye-catching pattern. Small tables, now laden with lamps, punctuated the semi-circle, leaving only one entrance. Edwin Sutton stood in the center of the rug, clad in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. His jacket was draped over the back of an armchair.
Damn and blast! Why was he here? As he turned, his eyes caught mine. His expression was impenetrable in the candlelight.
When Agnes rapped smartly on the open door behind me, I jumped. With Edwin’s gaze upon me, I’d forgotten she was there. In a strong, but demure voice, Agnes announced, “My lady, Miss Mary has arrived.”
Old Lady Gladstone turned. Usually dressed in flamboyant, eye-catching attire, she seemed especially small and plain tonight. Without a turban in a blindingly bright color, her short gray-and-brown hair looked flat and lifeless. The shadows cut the lines in her plump oval face even deeper, enhancing her weary expression. Her heavy-lidded eyes looked dull, and her narrow mouth pursed in disapproval. No jewelry adorned her long earlobes, her wide neck, or her pale hands. In the dim light, her dark dress appeared charcoal, nearly black, as though she already mourned the loss of her beloved nephew.
Agnes asked, “Shall I fetch the tea service?”
“No.” Old Lady Gladstone’s voice fell heavy in the thick, stagnant air. Not a breath of a breeze relieved the weight of her disapproval. She didn’t spare Agnes a glance as she added, “Leave us. Shut the door behind you.”
I cringed as Agnes pulled the door closed, cloistering me in the room with the countess’s wrath. The old woman, sixty-five if she was a day, turned her beady gaze on me.
I gulped. Had she learned of the caricature, that I’d disobeyed her and worn breeches in public yet again? Perhaps she’d demanded my presence in order to rescind her support. A thousand horrifying outcomes crossed my mind. My mouth dried. I clenched my hands in front of me to keep from trembling.
To my surprise, instead of turning her displeasure on me, she stretched out her hands with a thin smile. “Mary, darling. So nice to see you.”
Startled, I glanced toward Edwin. His expression gave away none of his thoughts, nor a glimpse into the future of this evening.
The thick carpets beneath my feet muffled my footsteps as I crossed to take my godmother’s hands. I tilted my head to kiss each of her soft cheeks. She smelled soothing, of lavender. She frowned as she arranged a lock of my hair beside my face. Jane had attempted to curl it before I left the house, but it hung limp with only the slightest wave.
“Those spectacles make you look like an old spinster.”
Reflexively, I touched the wire frames. “I see better with them.” My voice was small, weary of the argument we had every time I visited. “No one is here to see me but you.” And Edwin. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I fought the urge to look at him.
Why were we here? We hadn’t encountered each other in the Gladstone residence since we were children.
My godmother sighed, a long, tired sound. “You would be such a beauty if only you left off those spectacles.”
Edwin ran a hand through his hair. “Leave her be. She looks lovely with or without her spectacles.”
Tucking my hand into the crook of her arm, Old Lady Gladstone clucked her tongue. “And you would look much improved if you’d only let Agnes trim your hair.”
He touched his fingers to the locks curling next to his jaw. When he silently beseeched me as if asking me to come to his defense, he looked like a lost puppy. I’d never been able to resist that look. Hence why my household collected so many strays.
I sighed. “He’s a grown man. Let him dress himself as he sees fit.”
“Oh?” My godmother pursed her lips. “That rugged look appeals to you, does it?”
“Of course it does,” Edwin cut in as he stepped forward. The momentary vulnerability in his expression was gone, replaced by something smug and primal. As I met his gaze, he smirked. “I distinctly recall you saying I looked handsome.”
I snorted. “It must have been in your dreams.”
“Actually, I believe it was moments before you accepted my proposal.”
The moment the words left his lips, they fell on complete silence. A vise clamped around my chest. I didn’t dare breathe.
Old Lady Gladstone’s face brightened with exuberance. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about each other.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. My throat closed. We don’t. “He proposed, but I did not accept.”
“No?” Sutton cocked an eyebrow. “I’m certain you did. I believe it was moments before you kissed me.”
I bristled. What was he playing at? If Old Lady Gladstone thought we…
I squared my shoulders and turned to her, prepared to lie if it would keep me away from the parson’s noose. “I would never kiss Edwin—”
“Oh, you would never kiss me? Then why did you?”
My temper ignited. I rounded on him. “I did not kiss you. You kissed me.”
Blast. I hadn’t meant to say that.
Sutton’s smile grew. He crossed his arms. His forearms strained against his tight jacket sleeves. “I don’t deny I did.” He paused for a heartbeat before adding, “After you kissed me. I would never presume to drag a lady’s reputation through the mud.”
Glowering, I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “That quick peck didn’t count as a kiss.”
His eyes flashed hot as he lowered his gaze to my mouth. “I agree. Hence why I had to kiss you again.”
For a moment, the room melted away and I was certain he would kiss me again. Was I dreaming? From the moment I’d stepped foot into the sitting room, my day had been turned on end. Bewildered, I stepped back and looked at my godmother for support.
Given the dreamy expression on her face, she was miles away. She clasped her hands in front of her chest. “A winter wedding will be lovely. It’ll give us some time to make it look like it isn’t rushed.” Her gaze sharpened and dropped to my stomach. “For family reasons.”
My jaw dropped. “Don’t jest. We haven’t…we wouldn’t…not with him.”
Sutton raised his eyebrows as if he took my denial as a personal challenge. I glowered at him. It will never happen. What an arrogant blighter!
If my godmother noticed the daggers I glared at her nephew, she didn’t show it. Instead, she squeezed past us on her way to the door while mumbling under her breath. Although muffled, I deciphered her words easily.
“We’ll have an engagement party, of course. A pity there are so few people left in London, but if we’re to have a winter wedding, we shouldn’t delay. Edwin, dear, you’ll arrange the notice in the Times?”
I swallowed hard. No notice, no engagement. I leaped after her as she reached the door, opening it to reveal Agnes leaning close to eavesdrop. Gerard, the butler, leaned over her shoulder. They both stumbled back with hasty genuflections.
My voice weak, I protested, “I’m not in danger of…increasing. There’s no reason to marry.”
“No reason?” She wagged her finger. “I’ve had enough of your scandals. I adore your headstrong traits, same as your mother, but I constantly have to mollify those you’ve scandalized with your penchant for gallivanting wherever you please at whatever hour of the day.”
“What I do is important. I help—”
Her expression softened. “I know, dear. I’ve turned a blind eye thus far because the sort of blackguards in whose company you’ve found yourself without chaperone aren’t the sort of men I’d suffer to welcome into the family. This is different.”
“No one knows I was alone with Edwin.” I glanced toward him for support, even though I didn’t expect to find any.
Instead, he snatched a discarded news rag from the nearest table and handed it to me. The Society Pages. Today’s caricature pictured the kiss I’d shared with Sutton in the alley, where I’d thought we were unseen. Blast, my clothes had fooled no one, not with the braid dangling down my back. I tossed the paper onto the table, disgusted.
Her voice as cutting as steel, Old Lady Gladstone said, “All of London has seen you by now. If you want my continued help and support in Society, you will marry Edwin and clear the scandal from both your names.”
My ears rang. She couldn’t be threatening to revoke her sponsorship. I didn’t care a whit for attending the boring events of le bon ton, but we were family. Certainly she couldn’t be threatening to disown me if I didn’t marry her nephew…could she? She’d been there to support me ever since Mama had died almost ten years ago. I couldn’t imagine a future wherein she didn’t treat me like family.
Sutton stepped closer, standing next to me as though to lend his support. For the moment, the heat of his strong body soothed me. At least until he said, “Might I have a moment alone with my betrothed? It certainly won’t harm her reputation further.”
Beaming, the older woman nodded.
“No, don’t leave me—”
She turned to her servants, summarily dismissing me. “Agnes, fetch my stationary, if you please. I must pen some invites. Gerard, would you fetch Mrs. Tanner? We need to start preparations for a party at once.” She puttered down the corridor after her servants.
I held my breath until she was out of sight. Then, shutting the door, I rounded on Edwin. “I will not marry you.”
“No.” He ran his hands through his hair. “We’ve discussed this. The engagement will be a farce. A…misdirection. Once the rumors have diminished, you’ll cry off and I’ll be a free man. I’ll tell my aunt I was the cause, so she doesn’t withdraw her support.”
Oh, he thought he’d get out of this situation unscathed? He’d arranged this so I had no choice but to accept his bargain. My family couldn’t afford to stay in Mayfair, otherwise. Embracing the hot burn of anger, I cornered him against the door, pinning him in place with a hand on his chest. His chest muscles bunched beneath my palm, surprisingly firm.
Swallowing, I snatched my hand back. “I can cry off? How thoughtful of you, to give me the choice.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t marry me just to spite me, would you?”
Was that a hint of fear in his voice? Good.
I shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. My friends have all found husbands, why shouldn’t I?”
“You’ve never been one to follow what others are doing.”
“I thought this was what you wanted. A marriage.”
“Of convenience,” he said, stressing the word. “Not one of lifelong inconvenience.”
What did he think I’d do, nag him into an early grave? I laughed. In fact, I could think of several other, lasting punishments that would result from a lifelong union between us. We didn’t suit. We were too dissimilar.
My laughter died as he shifted. The movement punctuated how close we stood, with only inches separating our bodies. He stared at me with desperation, as if I was the only person who mattered in this world.
Some people might mistakenly call that love. In this case, it was closer to loathing.
We’d tear each other to pieces before a month passed. I didn’t intend to marry any man, least of all a man I no longer recognized for the boy I’d once known. He wasn’t my Edwin anymore. He was the Honorable Lord Sutton, a man full of all the arrogance and self-righteousness the title implied.
But when he stared at my mouth as though willing me to speak the words he wanted to hear, I couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his body. The way the light played over his mouth. The way he licked his lips nervously.
No. That line of thinking had led to this predicament in the first place.
“Mary—” His voice broke.
I hugged myself with both arms and stepped back. “Leave. Leave and forget about me.”
The words resounded through the air like ripples falling on a still pond. I’d lashed out at him with the same words when I was fifteen. The last time we’d spoken before he made the transformation from quiet, kindhearted boy into the austere man standing before me.
He loomed, straightening his spine as he thrust his shoulders back. I steeled myself for the same words he’d cut me with so many years ago. Maybe I will.
Instead, he said every bit as vehemently, “No.”
I squeezed my middle tight to quell the shivers threatening to wrack my body.
He stepped closer. “Not this time, Mary. Like it or not, we’re engaged for the next fourteen days. My solicitor will have the contract ready in the morning.” He reached out, cupping my cheek and brushing his thumb across my lower lip. “You’d best find a way to acclimate yourself. We’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”
As he departed, leaving the door ajar in his wake, I ran my tongue across my lip to stifle the tingles in the wake of his touch. Without the heat radiating from his frame, I shivered. He was right, damn him. I had to find a way to play the pretty fiancée, in order for us both to get what we wanted.
What I wanted was Edwin’s money and my godmother’s support, certainly not the man himself.