Chapter Six
“I beg your pardon?” Frances asked.
She’d heard Lord Lark’s words, but they no longer made sense to her once she put them together.
Nothing did. One minute, she’d been thrilled that Mama indulged her with a walk to explore the gardens instead of joining her father and the white-haired man in search of his fifth wife, most likely to take care of the dozen children his previous wives had left behind.
She’d even had a nice conversation with a gentleman who never would have approached her if Daisy – or nearly anyone else – was there.
It was a perfect afternoon, even with the light drizzle…
until the rain picked up, Mama disappeared, and her father found them.
Not that they’d been doing anything wrong, even if she could see how it might look that way.
At first, Frances had been embarrassed at the misunderstanding, but she had also been touched not only that her father cared so much about her reputation and well-being, but that he even for a moment considered that Nathaniel Sutton, the Earl of Lark and most eligible bachelor, would have any interest in ravishing someone like her.
The idea was preposterous, but she’d always felt that her parents thought her incapable of garnering anyone’s attention on her own.
She barely processed why the idea made her so happy when the conversation took a turn, her mother arrived, and Frances understood that none of it had anything to do with her.
She wanted to sink into the floor and die of shame, of embarrassment, at the terrible ache in her heart at the realization that her parents thought so little of her they felt the need to trap a man into marrying her.
She was grateful when Lady Rochefort intervened with the truth, though her parents looked very displeased, but now Lord Lark was asking her to dance, which made even less sense than the idea that he’d compromised her in the first place.
“A dance. With you. I would have requested a private audience, but I fear the last thing I should do at the moment is find myself alone with you. So, may I have your next dance?”
Frances looked around the room, not sure what to do.
She wanted, more than anything, to go home and never be seen in society again, but her mother’s pointed look was urging her to accept.
Lady Rochefort looked shocked, but though Lord Lark was clearly upset, the offer seemed genuine.
And she did at least owe him that request, after what nearly transpired.
“Yes, of course,” she managed, but her voice sounded foreign. Distant.
Lord Lark offered her his arm and guided her across the hall to the parlour, where the chairs had been pushed to the side so a dozen people could dance in the middle of it.
She did her best to concentrate on anything other than his arm around hers, and how it felt like her entire face turned red every time he looked at her.
She wanted to bring her hand to her temple, to make sure her mark was still hidden after the rain, but her mother certainly would have told her, and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to it.
The earl must hate her. Did he meant to embarrass her in front of everyone? No; she didn’t think him cruel.
“I apologize for taking you unawares by the dance. I promise I mean you no harm.”
“Of course, my lord. I never felt the least bit endangered by you,” she assured him.
And it was the truth. There was a moment when she was lying on top of him in the rain, with his arms around her, where it occurred to her that she’d never been that close to a man who wasn’t related to her – or even who was – but even then, she hadn’t been afraid of him.
Perhaps she should have been.
“That’s kind of you to say, but you’re shaking.”
She wished he hadn’t pointed it out. It was a combination of the chill from the rain and her nerves, but if she reminded him that her dress was still wet from the rain and probably covered in mud, he would be forced to stop the dance so she could warm up.
She owed it to him to listen to whatever he had to say.
“I just don’t quite understand why you asked me to dance, my lord. Why you wished to speak with me,” she amended, so he knew she knew this wasn’t because he actually wanted to dance with her. It was just an excuse to talk without her mother leaning over her shoulder.
“What happened earlier…”
“I am so sorry about that, my lord. So terribly sorry. I don’t…I can’t fathom what possessed—”
“There’s no need for you to apologize,” he assured her, his hand putting a warm pressure on her back, while his arm did the same along hers. Combined with how flushed her face was, she would warm up in no time.
“Of course there is. You were nothing but kind and—”
“You did nothing wrong. You weren’t the one who took advantage of my kindness. Unless you were aware?”
“I promise you, I had no idea. I still can’t… I’m so terribly sorry.”
“As am I.”
“Of course. You must regret engaging in conversation with—"
“I wish today had gone differently,” he agreed. “But you were not at fault, and I do not blame you.”
“I would understand if you did.”
He sighed. “I wished to speak with you privately before becoming yet another man forcing you to do things you don’t want to.”
“I don’t mind the dancing,” she started, but he shook his head. “I’m not certain I understand what you mean,” she admitted with only a hint of fear, but her heart was pounding, and her face was surely crimson by now.
“I am eternally grateful to Lady Rochefort for rectifying our situation so no one will openly question our innocence, but there will be whispers and doubts.”
“If you are concerned about your reputation, my lord, I can assure you I will not tell tales, and my parents wouldn’t do anything that might further compromise my reputation.
Besides, no one in their right mind would ever suspect that anything untoward would happen between the two of us,” Frances quickly reassured him.
But when she looked around at the couples and bystanders pretending not to stare at their unlikely pairing, she wasn’t so sure.
No one would have suspected anything, had they not followed the escapade with a dance.
Even those who’d witnessed them on top of each other in the puddle would have eventually dismissed it as a ploy on her family’s behalf to trap the earl into marriage.
The ton would have assumed she’d made it all up. But now…
Nathaniel looked at her, confused for a moment, then shook his head. “It is your reputation that concerns me, Miss Plimpton. Though I would hate for this to negatively impact my family.”
“Of course not, my lord. Your family is beyond reproach. And my reputation is not your concern. Lady Rochefort has professed our innocence, and I doubt a few whispers would do much to affect my chances. If anyone did believe it, they may find me more interesting under the wrongful assumption that you did.” She truly believed her fate was no worse than it had been before she’d met him, as her parents already believed her incapable of finding her own match.
“I decided many years ago that I would never marry, but it seems society refuses to accept my decision,” he said, resigned.
“I will constantly be on the list of every matchmaking mother, forever on my guard from being left alone with another unmarried miss. And though your reputation is in no way my responsibility, it is somewhat my concern.”
“Whatever concern you feel, my lord, I assure you that you are not responsible. I am mortified by what happened, and would hate more than anything for your life to be disrupted because of it.”
“More than yours being ruined?”
Her entire body stiffened at the word she’d been taught to fear, but from him, it didn’t sound like a threat.
“Yes.” The idea of it terrified her, but she meant it. She would rather be ruined than for him to suffer for helping her. Or worse, to have him tricked into an unwanted marriage with her.
“For your own sake, what do you wish?”
“At the moment, I’d very much like to not be here,” she said honestly, her response garnering the tiniest of smiles from Lord Lark, as she tried not to be ruffled by everyone pretending not to watch them. “But of course, I would like to do whatever pleases my parents.”
Frances sensed the tension in every part of his body that was close to hers.
She wanted to add that she didn’t mean in schemes like the one her parents had just attempted, but at the same time, would she have been able to refuse if they had informed her of their intentions?
She would have been guilt-ridden and incapable of speech, would have tried her best to convince Lord Lark to escape while he had the chance, but she would have had no choice but to follow her parents, no matter how wrong she knew they were.
“Ultimately, is that your goal? To please them no matter the consequences to others, with no regard for yourself?”
Frances opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Of course that wasn’t what she wanted, but her opinion hardly signified.
“Ultimately,” she said after a pause to organize her thoughts, “I want to marry and have a family with someone kind, who does so by choice.” Who chooses me.
She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but surely most women wanted these things.
He didn’t need to know how deeply she craved a single person who truly wanted her, nor how aware she was that she was unlikely to find it.
She suspected Daisy would marry well, to someone who was mad for her, but Frances would have to prove herself to whoever settled on her.
Which was fine; she’d prepared for as much.
But she would gladly marry even the most unfortunate pauper if he loved her.
“I can’t give you a family of your own, but I can offer you mine. And I’m not sure anymore, but my sisters do say I am kind.”
Frances stopped dancing and looked at Nathaniel Sutton with a mixture of confusion and fear. Not that she’d expected him to laugh at her dreams, but this was absolute madness. “What are you saying, my lord?”
“If it is not entirely disagreeable to you, I would call on you tomorrow to ask for your hand in marriage.”
Now she was frozen entirely. “You don’t have to do that, my lord,” she managed after several attempts to reclaim her voice.
“I know.”
It wasn’t the romantic proposal one hoped for, or the angry one of someone forced into doing something they didn’t want to. He didn’t really sound anything so much as certain.
“I don’t understand.”
“I thought you quite intelligent from our previous encounters.”
He tried a smile, but she shot him down.
“It is not kind to mock me when you are the one who has lost all sense.”
“You are right, and I apologize for teasing. But I believe this could be mutually beneficial. A marriage of convenience.”
He wasn’t even looking at her, not that such a thing would have made this easier. She stared up at him, looking for some sign that this was a joke, but he kept his head high and moved her around the dance floor as if this weren’t the most surreal moment of her existence.
“It would be a marriage in name only, as I am not looking for a wife so much as a countess, someone who could keep me safe from gossip and further compromising situations. In return, you would have my protection and be free from any future entrapments. So my question remains: would you find it acceptable to be married to me?”
“Yes, I suppose so, but—”
“There are no buts, Miss Plimpton.”
The music stopped, and Frances found the earl’s eyes locked on hers.
“If you accept of your own volition, I will call on you tomorrow morning, but if you prefer to remain with your parents, we shall end this dance as polite acquaintances with no hard feelings and never speak of it again.”
It had to be a joke. Some gamble with his friends. But the earl was more serious than she’d ever seen him. Which amounted to less than an hour in total, but it was an eventful period all the same.
“I…I would accept.” She swallowed, apparently more surprised than he was to hear those words come out of her mouth.
“Then I shall see you in the morning, Miss Plimpton.”
He kissed her gloved hand, and she watched him walk away, fully expecting to wake up in her bed and find out the entire day had been nothing but a wild dream. Because if it wasn’t, nothing would ever be the same again.