Chapter Four
T homas had assumed Danford would be violently opposed to that proposition, so he was ready when, with a maniacal cry, the earl hurled himself at Thomas’s throat. The hours spent at Jackson’s sparring with Geoffrey and other gentlemen had also made his reflexes quicker than lightning. He threw up an arm to ward the man off, then deftly came up from below in a smooth left-handed uppercut to Danford’s right jaw.
For a moment the earl looked astounded. He staggered back, his eyes rolling up as he crashed to the floor.
Without hesitation, Mrs. Dove-Lyon moved to the door and called to Demetrius, apparently waiting just outside. “Take Lord Danford to his carriage, please.” She stared meaningfully at her escort. “Make certain he is sent on his way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The big man lifted the unconscious Danford as easily as if he were a child and carried him out.
With a nod of her veiled head, Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “Please do go on, Lord Braeton.”
“My pardon, ladies,” Geoffrey spoke smoothly before Thomas could open his mouth. “I must speak with my friend before he goes any further.” He clamped his hand onto Thomas’s shoulder in a death grip. “Lord Braeton? A word?”
Well, he knew what this would be about. They had just been through it, and Thomas had been adamant. But Geoffrey was stubborn, so they would need to hash it out yet again.
When Geoffrey had pulled him back into the corner, he set his lips in a thin line and finally let go of Thomas’s shoulder. “Thomas, I beg of you, think before you do this.”
“As you heard, Geoffrey, it is already done. I asked her to marry me.”
“You said she could choose.” Trust his friend to remember every turn of phrase. “You didn’t ask her to marry you. It can be withdrawn without involving your honor.”
Sighing, knowing he was going to make Geoffrey unhappy in the end, Thomas tried to explain the inescapable situation once more. “I cannot stand by and allow this innocent young woman to suffer the loss of her reputation because Danford is besotted with her.”
“You do not have to stand by and do nothing, but neither do you have to marry her. Give her money to go home to her family.” Geoffrey took a quick look at Miss Quinn, then returned his gaze to Thomas. “If she’s out of Danford’s sight long enough, he will forget about her.”
“Did you not hear the man threaten to ruin her and her family?” Thomas could well believe Danford capable of such a dastardly deed. “He means to block her every avenue of escape, make life as his mistress the only option she can take. Already he has severed her from her position. As soon as he tells Lady Danford what has occurred, she’ll berate Miss Quinn to all of her friends, who will, in turn, disparage her to their friends and so on. I’ll wager quite a sum Miss Quinn’s name will be anathema before the week is out.”
“Even so, Thomas,” Geoffrey caught his eye, determined to stare him down, “you are not obligated to offer her marriage. She’s the daughter of a clergyman. You are an earl.”
“Is that your main concern, Geoffrey?” Biting back a smile, Thomas put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “As I understand it, that makes her an eligible match.”
“Eligible perhaps, but your titles and line are ancient. You should marry to improve them.”
“Were I given my choice, Geoffrey, I should marry for love, not status.” Thomas sighed. He’d cherished the hope of a life with a woman he could love by his side. Now, however, that seemed unlikely. “That was but a fancy. I am certain I will be just as happy with Miss Quinn as with any other gently bred young lady.” God, he hoped he would. She was comely enough and had a good bit of spirit. He did like that about her. She’d stood up to Danford and given him a cracking good slap. “In any case, I will let the lady decide.” He made as if to turn back toward the ladies when Geoffrey grasped his shoulder again.
“What if she could marry someone else?” Geoffrey’s tone was insistent, and Thomas pivoted back to him.
“Are you perhaps offering yourself as a potential husband instead of me, Geoffrey?” That raised Thomas’s eyebrows not a little. His friend was somewhat high in the instep, so such an offer would be completely out of character.
“Of course not.” The snort of disdain was more the Geoffrey he knew. “But Mrs. Dove-Lyon could find her someone. It’s her business, don’t you remember?”
Oh, yes. Thomas was well aware of the Black Widow’s penchant for helping unsuspecting gentlemen to a bride. “I do. And I suspect that is why she asked me to come in here with Danford. She’s tried to trap me into marriage before. I was able to avoid it that time. Today’s outcome will likely be different.” The woman had played her cards well. Somehow, she’d known of his stance on honor. Known he’d not let a woman suffer the loss of her reputation when he could so easily remedy it. “She will earn her fee today.”
Geoffrey’s face had drawn down in a monstrous frown. “Only if you allow yourself to be used by her.” Biting his bottom lip, his friend cocked his head. “What if you pay the fee but ask her to find some other gentleman in want of a wife? Then your honor would be preserved, your life would remain as it has been, and Miss Quinn will have her reputation saved.” Geoffrey looked so pleased with himself, Thomas didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d taken that scenario into consideration already.
“That might be possible if…” Thomas held up a hand, “if I trusted Mrs. Dove-Lyon. If I give her the fee and walk away, however, I have no control over who she will put forward as a husband for Miss Quinn. It could be anyone. An old lord trying to get an heir, or a young rake who’s trying to defy his father, or God forbid, a gentleman riddled with the French pox.” He shook his head adamantly. He would not subject Miss Quinn to the possibility of being married to someone worse than Danford. “If I marry her, I will rest easy knowing I will treat her with the respect she deserves. She will be in no danger of mistreatment as she would if I abandon her.” He jutted his chin out, and Geoffrey’s shoulders slumped, defeated. “So, you see, there can be no other solution.”
“Oh, very well. Play the knight errant if you must.” His friend was not pleased, but he’d support Thomas to his last breath. “I just pray you will not regret your decision, Thomas.” He glanced over Thomas’s shoulder at the ladies. “She is rather pretty or will be when she’s not frowning. I doubt you’ll have trouble wanting to bed her.”
“That will come later. I have no intention of forcing myself on Miss Quinn until she and I are thoroughly well acquainted, as though we’d gone through courtship in the usual way.” Thomas laughed at Geoffrey’s incredulous expression. “I want a willing bride, Geoffrey. Not merely a dutiful one.”
“Then you’d better bring your famed powers of seduction to bear on Miss Quinn without delay.” Again, Geoffrey peered over his shoulder and raised a brow. “I think your bride-to-be is about to flee the establishment before you can secure her.”
Thomas whirled around to find Miss Quinn had risen and stepped toward the door. Only Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s hold on her arm was detaining her. He hurried toward them.
“Miss Quinn, I beg your pardon for leaving you so long unattended. I have been making arrangements with Lord Longford in the event you accept my proposal. If you do so, I believe it will be best if we move forward swiftly with our nuptials. I will send Lord Longford to the archbishop to secure a special license so we can marry as soon as possible.” Thomas glanced at Mrs. Dove-Lyon, but of course, her veiled countenance revealed nothing of her feelings regarding this turn of events. He rather suspected things were going exactly according to her plan.
Even so, it was the best one available to the young woman who stood in front of him. He hoped she understood that. Mustering his most charming smile, Thomas grasped her hand to find it pitifully cold. Her face had grown paler, her breathing anything but steady. He prayed she would not swoon and make matters more difficult. Still, there was nothing for it but to carry forward. “Do you have an answer for me, Miss Quinn? Will you marry me?”
Stunned by that unexpected proposal, Honoria had sat watching as Lord Braeton planted Lord Danford a facer but could pay their didoes little mind. All she could focus on was counting the planks of the paneling on the wall, trying to comprehend the fact that his lordship had asked her to marry him. This was wrong. She could no more marry Lord Braeton than she could agree to Lord Danford’s proposition. Not that there was anything dishonorable about a proposal of marriage, but she simply could not accept it.
Honoria glanced up to find Lord Braeton and Lord Longford deep in conference on the other side of the room. Lord Danford was nowhere to be seen. The day that had started so wonderfully had turned into quite a nightmare. She wished with all her heart she could simply crawl back into her bed and forget everything that had happened today.
“What do you say, my dear?”
Honoria jumped as Mrs. Dove-Lyon spoke in her ear. She’d forgotten the woman was in the room.
“Will you accept Lord Braeton’s proposal?”
Heart racing, Honoria shook her head. “I can’t accept him, ma’am.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon pulled her around to face the suddenly frightening veiled face. “What do you mean you can’t accept him? It is a perfectly suitable offer from a wealthy and influential gentleman. Any lady with a grain of sense would leap to say ‘yes.’”
“Yes, I understand that, ma’am. But…” How could she explain to this woman that she could not marry a perfect stranger? In a corner of her mind, she wished that the circumstances were different. Lord Braeton, in addition to being kind and considerate, was extremely handsome as well. Tall and blonde-haired, he could have been an Adonis, with broad shoulders and chest, and a waist that tapered neatly to give him a pleasing proportion. Despite her distress, she’d seen that much. Impeccably dressed, too, in expensive brown superfine. The perfect gentleman. But a stranger nonetheless.
“But what?” The figure before her had begun to shake, presumably with impatience. Or rage. “You’ve said your father is a vicar, so you are a gentlewoman and therefore an eligible parti .” Mrs. Dove-Lyon grasped her shoulder, and Honoria thought for a moment she would shake her like a terrier with a rat. “The rules of the game have changed, my dear. Lord Danford saw to that when he exposed you to ruin in my club. What you need is a husband to act as your protector, to scotch any scandal that may try to rear its head from this contretemps. And I assure you, it will. London loves nothing so much as gossip unless it’s scandal, and this will be tomorrow’s juiciest on-dit , mark my words.”
From what she knew of Society, Honoria couldn’t deny it. Neither could she let it distract her. “If I retire to the country, to my parents’ home, there will be no reason for the scandal to continue. Despite his words, I truly do not believe Lord Danford will try to defame me there.”
“Then you have no idea of the lengths to which the earl will go to have you, Miss Quinn.” The cold conviction in the woman’s voice made Honoria shiver. The memory of Lord Danford’s mouth on her, the obscene things he’d uttered in his smug voice resurfaced. Was she truly underestimating the earl’s determination?
Mrs. Dove-Lyon bent low until her head was near Honoria’s ear. “If you do not accept Lord Braeton’s offer, I can all but guarantee you will be in Lord Danford’s bed before the week is out.”
Honoria gasped, a sickening lurch hitting her stomach. The thought was hideous.
“If he makes it known that you were compromised by him—and he may be doing that very thing this minute—no one will help you. Neither ladies nor gentlemen of the ton have much sympathy for fallen women. Your family will have to denounce you or face ruin themselves. You will be destitute within a week, and on your back in Danford’s bed or another’s within a month.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Honoria tried to dispel that image. This could not be happening. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t deserve this to happen to her when she’d done nothing wrong.
“Or you can marry Lord Braeton and live a respectable, luxurious life with a husband and children to comfort you.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice had become softer, soothing. Manipulative.
Summoning all her strength, Honoria raised her chin to stare at the black-veiled woman before her. “Either way, ma’am, I will, as you say, be on my back in a man’s bed.” Marriage inevitably brought a demand for a wife’s duties. Not distasteful perhaps with a gentleman of her choice, but this marriage would not be of her choosing.
“But in that case, when sanctioned by marriage, quite an appropriate turn of events.” The woman cocked her head. “Do you dread a man’s touch, Miss Quinn? I assure you it is not as bad as you might believe.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “I suspect you will come to enjoy it with such a man as Lord Braeton.”
Again, memory of Lord Danford’s unwanted kisses and loathsome touch sent a shiver through Honoria. “He is a stranger to me, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. How is it right that I…I submit to a man I do not know just because we are legally wed?”
The woman beside her shrugged. “Arranged marriages have been the usual way of things for centuries, Miss Quinn. Women have married men they have known no longer than you have his lordship there.” A throaty chuckle emerged from the veiled face. “I doubt you will have much to complain of if you take Lord Braeton to your bed.”
Honoria glanced over at Lord Braeton again. A shiver of a different kind slithered down her spine. The gentleman was extremely pleasing to the eyes. It might not, after all, be unpleasant to have this man as her husband, at least not for her. But what about his sensibilities? “Won’t he be displeased at having to marry a woman he doesn’t know?”
The mere sound of the words was ludicrous. She peered at Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Even if he were to do it, he would resent me all my life for being forced to marry me.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon shrugged. “No one is forcing Lord Braeton to marry you. He’s offered for you of his own volition. Because he’s a man of honor who saw a woman in need. Do you think he would have asked you to marry him if he minded that you are strangers? Especially when he could have simply paid a fee and had me find you another gentleman for your husband.”
Startled, Honoria jerked her gaze over to Lord Braeton. He could have avoided marrying her and hadn’t? That brought up the curious question of why he hadn’t availed himself of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s services. She would have loved to know that answer before she gave her own. Might he have some actual interest in her? And was that good or bad?
A wave of her hand, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon dismissed Honoria’s ongoing troubles. “There’s nothing new about a titled gentleman marrying a woman they don’t know. Arranged marriages are still quite common, although they are usually done for position or money.” Her voice took on a peculiar note. “Marrying for honor is perhaps nobler, don’t you think? That might make up for any misgivings his lordship might have about marrying you.” The businesswoman’s voice returned. “In any case, you need to agree to his offer, Miss Quinn. For your own good.”
She glanced again at Lord Braeton, the stern look on his face as he spoke with his friend making her heart pound. He was not a man she wished to anger. Despite Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s protestations, Honoria believed that, should she marry Lord Braeton, she’d be miserable one way or another for the rest of her life. Time to make her escape. “I need a breath of air, ma’am.” Honoria rose and headed swiftly for the door. “I will return momentarily.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s hand shot out and grasped her upper arm. “You would be wise to wait quietly, Miss Quinn. Demetrius has dealt with recalcitrant women before and I warn you, his tactics are the same with ladies as they are with unruly gentlemen.”
Frowning, Honoria tried to wrest her arm out of the woman’s grip. She had to get away before—
“Miss Quinn, I beg your pardon for leaving you so long unattended.” Lord Breaton appeared at her side, contrition in every line of his body.
Drat. Now she would have to stay and refuse the man to his face.
“I have been making arrangements with Lord Longford in the event you accept my offer.”
Did the man mean to marry her tonight?
She peered up into his handsome face, now wreathed in a warm smile that made her toes curl. Her heart beat faster, but she had to tell him no.
He took her hand in his, and heat poured through her such as she’d never known before.
“Do you have an answer for me, Miss Quinn? Will you marry me?”
His eyes were brown. She could see that clearly now. The warm amber color of a fine cognac. They fixed her with a kind stare, beckoning to her.
No. She had to say no. She opened her mouth, determined to refuse him.
Then he squeezed her hand, ever so gently, and a lightning bolt shot up her arm and exploded with a hot flash at her core. Honoria gasped, snapped her gaze to their clasped hands, then let it travel slowly up to his eager face. The handsome face she could watch for all the rest of her days if she only said—
“Yes, Lord Braeton. I will marry you.”