Chapter 9 The Most Inconvenient Proposal
The Most Inconvenient Proposal
Hereford was having a rather delicious dream involving Amelia Thornton’s chestnut hair spilling across his pillows when thunderous pounding dragged him from sleep.
In the hazy space between dreams and waking, he could still feel the phantom sensation of her curves pressed against him, taste the sweetness of her mouth…
“This better be about a beautiful lady caller waiting for me, Cooper,” he growled as his butler opened the door, looking distinctly ruffled.
“My lord, the Duke of Lancaster, the Earl of Carlisle, Mr. Thornton, and Viscount Norwich are here. They insist it’s urgent.”
“Are they foxed?”
“Not in an obvious way, my lord.”
Hereford released a long groan, trying to banish the lingering images of Miss Thornton’s lips parted in pleasure.
What the devil was wrong with him, dreaming of that sharp-tongued termagant?
True, she had magnificent eyes that turned forest green when she was angry, and that limp of hers made her hips sway in a rather hypnotic fashion…
He shook his head sharply. Clearly, he needed to find a new mistress if he was having erotic dreams about a woman who’d compared his intelligence to that of livestock.
“ARE YOU COMING DOWN OR SHALL WE DRAG YOU OUT OF BED?” Carlisle’s voice boomed from below.
Cursing, Hereford grabbed his banyan and headed downstairs. Whatever had brought four powerful men to his home at this ungodly hour, it couldn’t be good news.
But as he descended the stairs, his treacherous mind kept returning to how Miss Thornton’s hair had felt sliding through his fingers in that dream…
He found the four men in his study, helping themselves to his best brandy.
Lancaster paced before the fireplace while Carlisle slouched in a chair, looking grim.
Steven Thornton stood ramrod straight by the window, his expression unreadable.
Norwich appeared to be the only one relaxed enough to enjoy the brandy.
They all seemed to have been dragged out of bed.
“This had better be good,” Hereford growled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Do you know what time it is?”
“We wouldn’t have interrupted you if it wasn’t important. We know how much you treasure your beauty sleep,” Carlisle said.
“We have a problem,” Lancaster said. “The railway investment we’re involved in. Apparently, there’s an old law still on the books—all major investors must be from noble families.”
Hereford dropped into a chair. “And this couldn’t wait until morning?”
“Our solicitor just confirmed it,” Carlisle said, his usual good humor absent from his face. “If we don’t resolve this within a few days, we could lose everything we’ve invested. The whole project could collapse.”
“And you’ve come to a solution, I take it?” Hereford reached for the brandy, noting the peculiar tension in the room.
“Yes,” Steven said quietly. “You could solve our predicament.”
Hereford’s glass froze halfway to his lips. “How?”
Three of the four men exchanged loaded glances while Norwich fixed Hereford with a steady, almost challenging stare. Lancaster cleared his throat before speaking. “By marrying Miss Thornton.”
Brandy burned Hereford’s throat as he choked. “I beg your pardon?”
“If Amelia becomes a marchioness,” Steven explained, his voice steady despite the audacity of the suggestion, “I would be connected to nobility through marriage. The law’s requirements would be satisfied.”
“You’re mad. All of you.” Hereford stood, pacing the length of his study.
“I will not marry under duress, especially to a woman who makes her contempt for me abundantly clear.” He turned to Steven.
“My apologies, Thornton, but my mother would have an apoplexy. I’d rather lose my investment than test her health. ”
“More than just money hangs in the balance,” Carlisle said softly, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. His eyes held something that made Hereford pause.
“I told you he’d refuse,” Norwich said, his cultured voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. “The Hereford line is too precarious for such a hasty match. No doubt the marchioness has a carefully curated list of suitable debutantes awaiting her son’s attention.”
Though the words were true enough, Hereford felt his jaw tighten at Norwich’s casual reference to his family’s generations of difficulty producing heirs. Being the third generation of only children was not something he cared to have bandied about.
“I assure you my sister is quite capable,” Steven said, his quiet tone carrying an edge of steel.
“With that leg of hers?” Hereford’s laugh held more discomfort than humor. “Come now, Thornton. I need someone sturdy, someone who can withstand multiple pregnancies. And she’s hardly the type to inspire…” he hesitated, reluctant to finish the thought, “marital enthusiasm.”
The temperature in the room plummeted. Steven’s expression turned dangerous, his fingers whitening around his glass.
“You’ve known her for years. Even with her injury,” Steven said with careful control, “she works longer hours than anyone at her publishing house. She hasn’t taken a sick day since her recovery. You’ve seen her capability firsthand.”
“The stakes here go beyond marriage,” Lancaster cut in, leaning forward intently. “This railway could revolutionize everything, how we pass messages, how we protect Madame Tansley’s women. This is larger than any of our personal legacies, Hereford.”
Hereford ran a hand over his face, exhaustion warring with growing unease. “Surely there must be a more suitable bachelor, one your sister doesn’t actively despise.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Steven said dryly. “She’s merely irritated by you. A state I imagine many share.”
“What of her literary circles?” Hereford pressed. “Surely she has admirers there.”
“None of noble birth,” Steven replied. “And no current suitors of note.”
Hereford shook his head, trying to ignore how that last detail pleased him. “Miss Thornton has made her opinion of me abundantly clear. And she’s been on the shelf for years. I couldn’t be certain of her ability to provide an heir.”
“Pity. We rather thought you’d be preferable to Norwich,” Carlisle said casually.
“Norwich?” Hereford’s head snapped toward the viscount, who wasn’t quite managing to hide his smile. “You’d consider him for your sister, Thornton? The man’s a snake.”
“Watch yourself!” Norwich surged to his feet, his face coloring.
“Settle down, both of you,” Lancaster thundered, his voice cutting through the tension.
He turned to Hereford, his expression severe.
“It’s not your decision to make unless you agree to marry Miss Thornton.
Norwich has already expressed his willingness, and right now, Thornton considers him our next best option. ”
“Indeed,” Norwich said, smoothing his waistcoat as he retook his seat.
A smile played at his lips that made Hereford’s fists clench.
“As his lordship is declining the match, we needn’t waste more of his time.
I shall obtain a special license within days.
Miss Thornton and I have spent considerable time together this past week, and we’ve found ourselves quite compatible. ”
Hereford’s vision blurred at the edges as an unfamiliar rage swept through him.
The thought of Amelia—when had she become Amelia in his mind?
—with Norwich made his blood run cold, then hot.
He could picture it all too clearly. Norwich’s charm, his careful cultivation of her trust, those calculating eyes watching her every move.
The same eyes that had watched his own wife waste away years ago, if the rumors were true.
The brandy glass creaked ominously in his grip as he imagined Norwich’s hands on her, that serpentine smile as he led her through Society’s machinations.
The sudden, visceral need to prevent this match startled him with its intensity.
It was one thing to decline the marriage himself, quite another to hand her over to a man who treated wives like sacrificial lambs.
He found himself standing without conscious decision, his body thrumming with an emotion he wasn’t ready to name.
“I’ll do it.” The words burst from Hereford before he could stop them, rough with an urgency he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“You will?” Thornton’s voice balanced precariously between hope and doubt. “You’ll actually marry my sister?”
“Consider carefully, Thornton,” Norwich cut in, his cultured voice taking on an edge of desperation.
“Would you truly condemn your sister to a life of endless scandals? We all know Hereford’s reputation with women of questionable virtue.
Miss Thornton deserves better than spending her nights wondering which widow’s bed her husband warms.”
“As if your own reputation sparkles like diamonds,” Thornton said coldly. “At least Hereford’s indiscretions are honest ones.”
“I’ve been as chaste as morning dew since my wife’s passing,” Norwich bristled.
All four men scoffed simultaneously. “Only in appearances because you dally with the innocents who dare not speak out. Your maids, for instance,” Hereford said with disgust.
“And your suspicious business practice,” Thornton said icily. “If you have nothing to hide, then tell me the names of your factories and other holdings.” Several seconds ticked by painfully slowly while Norwich avoided Thornton’s stare.
“Yes, I will marry her,” Hereford broke the silence, his voice carrying a finality that eased the tension. Norwich whirled away with a muttered curse while the others smiled and congratulated him on his betrothal.
He tried to ignore how satisfying it felt to thwart Norwich’s obvious designs on Amelia. This was about protecting her from a snake, nothing more, even if she detested him. It had nothing to do with how his blood boiled at the thought of her in another man’s arms.
Nothing at all.