Chapter Eight
Nathaniel walked up to the front door of the Plimpton residence at ten o’clock sharp.
He’d left his carriage at home and had been walking around Mayfair since eight.
The exercise quelled some of his nervous energy, but his anger came back the instant he saw the Plimpton family portrait in the entrance hallway.
It was too big for the space, ostentatiously greeting every person who came to call.
It was perhaps his imagination, but it almost looked like the six subjects had posed separately and been combined as an afterthought: a group of individuals rather than a family.
Miss Frances Plimpton appeared to be the third of four daughters, the only one with slightly reddish hair, favoring neither of her parents.
“Lord Lark for Mr. Plimpton,” he announced himself to the footman who came to take his card.
“He’ll see you in his study.”
The footman led the way past a sitting room where Nathaniel saw Mrs. Plimpton and her two daughters waiting patiently, trying to look busy.
“Lord Lark, please have a seat.”
Mr. Plimpton was standing behind his desk with a glass of brandy in his hand and what looked like a ledger open before him.
He was there to talk business, and while Nathaniel didn’t want more than a transactional relationship with the man, he couldn’t imagine selling off his sisters in such a manner.
“I don’t expect to be here long enough to require it,” he responded. It had not escaped his notice that Mr. Plimpton’s chair looked like a large throne, while the one intended for Nathaniel was half its size.
Luckily, Nathaniel’s height gave him the advantage when they stood.
“There are matters to discuss, assuming you are here to prove your honor.”
“I’m here to ask for Miss Frances Plimpton’s hand in marriage. I assume I have your blessing to do so?”
“Of course, but my Frances isn’t like those chits you’re used to. She’s a well-bred lady from a good family.”
“She’ll be cared for with all the rights and privileges afforded the Countess of Lark.” There was an edge to Nathaniel’s voice, both at the insult to the women he frequented, and for daring to imply that he would treat his wife with anything less than the utmost respect.
“Good. I don’t know what you were expecting in terms of a dowry—”
“That’s not necessary. You may keep it for your younger daughter.” Nathaniel was valiantly trying to keep his anger in check. He was done with this conversation before it even began.
Mr. Plimpton raised an eyebrow, as if trying to determine if Nathaniel was mocking him. He looked like he was about to declare he didn’t need anyone’s charity, but then he opted to take the win.
“Glad you’re aware the prize you’re getting with my Franny.”
“She is a credit to your family,” he agreed tersely.
“You’ll be announcing it in the papers then, and getting a special license?”
“I won’t rescind the offer unless she refuses.”
“All the same, it’s nice to have assurances.” Mr. Plimpton would no doubt add some clause into the settlement papers in case Nathaniel reneged on the agreement. “My daughter deserves a proper wedding, not something quick and shameful.”
“I was planning on an elegant, yet very intimate affair,” Nathaniel said pointedly. “But luckily for you, my grandmother took your side. There will be an engagement ball and a wedding reception, with a guest list I am sure you will find acceptable.”
“Mrs. Plimpton will want to be consulted.”
“I assume Miss Plimpton will as well.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Your family is also invited to Wiltshire Manor for a family dinner. Lady Wiltshire suggests tomorrow, before the banns are read, but she will work around your schedule.”
Nathaniel said the last part through gritted teeth.
He’d tried to convince his grandmother they only needed to invite his betrothed, as she was the one joining the family, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
So far, being in Mr. Plimpton’s company was the only thing that made him seriously consider going back on his word, but it also solidified his resolve.
He could endure a few minutes, but Frances, from what little he knew of her, did not deserve to have that man in charge of her well-being and happiness.
“I’ll have to ask the missus. Lord Wiltshire will be in attendance as well, I presume?”
“It is his residence, and his wife issuing the invitation. My siblings are also eager to meet Miss Plimpton.”
“They would be.”
Mr. Plimpton managed to make it sound like an insult to all involved, as if the Suttons were fools for their interest, and his daughter wasn’t worth the fuss.
“Was there anything else?” Nathaniel asked instead of the string of insults he would have liked to use.
“It’s all in here.” Mr. Plimpton handed him a stack of papers.
“I’ll draw up the settlement for my lawyers to review.” Nathaniel tried to be pleasant and polite, but he felt dirty just being in the man’s presence. “I would like to have a word with Miss Plimpton before I leave.”
“You spoke with her during the dance, did you not? She knew why you were coming today. She’ll do as she’s told.”
“An exemplary wife.”
Mr. Plimpton didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm and contempt in Nathaniel’s voice.
“We raised her right,” he agreed.
“I’ll find her in the drawing room.”
He left Mr. Plimpton and went back to the women, who sat up straighter and picked up embroidery when he approached.
“What a lovely surprise to see you, my lord. I trust your meeting with my husband went well?” Mrs. Plimpton asked once he’d greeted them and been formally introduced to the youngest Miss Plimpton.
“As well as can be expected,” he agreed.
“Then everything is settled?”
Mrs. Plimpton was eager, the younger sister excited, but Miss Plimpton looked resigned.
“Just one thing.” He gave Mrs. Plimpton a polite smile. “Might I have a word with Miss Plimpton?”
“Again?” Her mother sounded surprised.
“As she will be his wife, we should expect him to enjoy her company,” the younger sister reminded her mother gently.
“But surely, anything he needs to discuss can be done with Mr. Plimpton, or within our company,” Mrs. Plimpton insisted.
“Are we still concerned about leaving them in a room together?” The younger Miss Plimpton rolled her eyes, then took her mother’s arm and led her out to the hall, while Frances stayed sitting.
“As promised.” Nathaniel sighed and went to take a seat before deciding to do his grandmother proud and give the girl a proper proposal, on bended knee. “Miss Plimpton, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He ignored the stabbing pain in his chest at the familiarity of those words. The woman he said them to this time looked not quite afraid, but somewhat stricken.
“You really don’t have to do this, my lord,” Miss Plimpton began timidly. “Not just the proposal, but the whole…you really don’t have to.”
“Are you trying to convince me not to?”
“No, of course not,” she assured him. “But you must admit, this is insanity.”
“You wound me.” He smiled teasingly, hoping to calm her nerves, but she wasn’t one of his sisters who would find comfort in that; he was a stranger to her.
“You said yourself you have no intentions of marrying, and surely, if you did, you could have your pick of any lady. You don’t even know me, my lord.”
He was stunned, not expecting he would have to convince her to accept.
“I know you have a kind heart. And my sisters, whom I consider to be excellent judges of character, like you,” he answered.
“And you’re right. I do not consider myself suitable for marriage.
I am not even half the prize some believe me to be.
I am not looking for love for myself, Miss Plimpton, nor can I offer it.
But what I wish, more than anything, is for the people I care about to find their happiness.
For my father’s legacy to continue beyond reproach.
To do right by you,” he added, because it was the truth.
“I can offer you a partnership, Miss Plimpton. A promise to be faithful, and to never force you to do anything you do not fully desire to do. Which is why the decision is yours, with all those facts, if you still choose to marry me.”
Frances had no choice. Not really. Now that the earl was there and had spoken to her father.
Even if she cried off and said he was the one who changed his mind, she would still be blamed for it.
She had to marry him. Just as she had to fetch the tea for Daisy’s suitors or refuse Mr. Brooks when he asked her to dance.
She knew that. And she knew Lord Lark didn’t want her.
Even with all his logic, he could have chosen a hundred women better suited, more pleasing than her.
He’d said himself that he could never love her, and she didn’t blame him.
The only reason he was settling on her was to preserve his pristine reputation, in case rumors someday prevented his siblings from their ideal matches.
But as Frances looked into his beautiful green eyes that begged her to trust him, she knew that wasn’t why she wanted to say yes.
Lord Lark was brave and handsome, strong and kind. He clearly doted on his siblings.
And somehow, Frances believed every promise he made.
As terrified and nervous as she’d been in the Williamses’ parlour, when he held her in his arms for the dance, she’d also felt safe.
So, she ignored the voice in her head telling her he was making a terrible mistake in choosing someone so inferior, a mistake he would soon regret, and instead said, “The honor would be mine, Lord Lark.”
“Then I hope to see you at Wiltshire Manor for dinner tomorrow.”
“You are done with my father?”
“Unless you had any requests?”
“No, of course not.”
“If there is anything, pertaining to the contract or otherwise, simply ask me. I am assured my bark is worse than my bite.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she assured him.
“Good day, Miss Plimpton.”
“Goodbye, my lord.”
Frances waited until he’d left the room to sigh, uncertain whether she was more terrified or relieved now that her engagement to Lord Lark was truly happening.