Chapter Fifteen
The Aftermath of Recklessness
Richard sank into the nearest armchair, his head in his hands. How had he lost control? He had nearly seduced his ward, a mere girl—nineteen years old. Only a moment more and he would have pushed up her skirts, seeking release despite any scruples he should have had.
It must be the opium. It had to be. He was not this kind of man. His defenses were down, he was in pain, out of his mind—but there was no suitable excuse for his behavior. How in God’s name was he to fix this?
All he could think of was how perfectly her body had fit him.
Devil take it, he was still aroused. Was he some schoolboy to be so overcome with lust?
His head reeled. There would be consequences to such recklessness.
He sat up and stared grimly into the fire, well aware that there was but one way to make up for this debacle.
The next morning, his ward failed to appear at a late brunch arranged by his mother. When he asked about her absence, she had sent word that she was exhausted from the night before and would take chocolate in her room.
It was not surprising that Fiona had avoided a meeting he had hoped to have for a private conversation.
“Are you better this morning, dear?” his mother inquired.
“Much improved, thank you. I plan to have a brisk ride to clear the cobwebs. Do you expect callers today?” He sat and unfolded the newspaper beside his plate.
“We have already received countless cards for later this morning. I do hope Fiona will have recovered by then,” she fretted. “Perhaps you should find out, Valentina.”
“Who has requested to call?” Richard asked.
“Lady Jersey and Countess Lieven, Arthur Fitzcombe, Viscount Redmond, William Denton, the Barrett brothers—oh, a dozen others at least. We can’t possibly accept them all.” She made a face. “Oh, dear.”
“What is it, Mother?”
“The Marquis of Fellingham sent his card. I know you do not care for the man, Richard, but he is a marquis…and very wealthy, I hear.”
“I believe any reports of his fortune are greatly exaggerated. Is Fellingham hanging after Valentina?”
“I don’t think so. At least he is still found everywhere with Eleanor Davenport. He enjoys the limelight and shares her love of gossip. I must say, Richard, that is one attachment of yours that I shall never understand.”
He scanned the paper without comment.
“It’s a shame Valentina has no interest in Sir William. But have you noticed his attention to Fiona? They do make a handsome couple.”
He quashed a spasm of annoyance. “Fiona will not marry William Denton, Mother; you needn’t have fears on that account.”
“But, Richard, if Valentina will not have him, what is the harm? You found him perfectly acceptable for your sister.”
“He would not suit Fiona. I have no more to say on the subject.”
Even as he spoke, she entered the dining room wearing a rose-striped morning gown, adorned with green satin ribbons. Her hair was fashioned a la grecque, which suited her high cheekbones and generous mouth. If she still suffered from fatigue, it did not show.
“What was that?” Valentina was close behind. “Has someone offered for Fiona?”
The earl rose, casually dusting a crumb from his nankeen breeches. “I was speaking of Sir William Denton.”
Fiona froze. “As it happens, he hasn’t asked me to marry him. But if he had, isn’t that ultimately my decision?”
“I am afraid the law says differently. And I do not find him a suitable husband for you.”
“If I wished to marry Sir William Denton, I would do so. Even if it meant a trip to Gretna Green!” she declared.
His mother looked on in horror. “Gretna Green? Fiona, you wouldn’t.”
“That particular plan would be scotched before it began,” he reassured her, then turned to his fuming ward. “Know that I can and will intercept any carriage you take and bring you back forcibly, if necessary.”
“Richard,” his mother moaned, “Think of the scandal…”
“I have no desire to marry Sir William, Richard,” Valentina said earnestly. “It does not bother me in the least if Fiona does.”
“Thank you, Valentina, but the decision is made,” he said, unable to prevent an edge of sarcasm from creeping into his reply. Standing, he picked up his paper.
“You are not leaving?” Fiona hissed.
“I am. The subject of your marriage is closed, Fiona. Mother, I have some business at Seldon. I intend to leave early this afternoon. Do you plan to attend the musicale at Burrell House Saturday night?”
“Yes. I thought to ask Clementine today if Fiona might participate.”
“Then I shall meet you at the Burrells’ on Saturday. Fiona, I have correspondence to deal with, but I wish to speak privately before I leave. Shall we say noon, before any callers arrive? In my study, if you please.”
“I will be there promptly, I assure you, my lord,” she answered, lifting her chin.
“Ladies.” He dipped his head slightly and departed the room.
*
Exactly at noon, Fiona knocked firmly on the library door.
She spent the last two hours playing the piano ferociously, choosing the darkest pieces in her repertoire.
Lady Amelia, looking rather alarmed, took Valentina for a stroll in the park.
Most likely to miss any confrontation between Fiona and her son.
Fiona passed a sleepless night, lying awake to replay the scene in Richard’s study over and over in her mind. Had she encouraged him to kiss her? It had been foolish to go to his study alone at that late hour. Was she hoping something might happen between them?
No, she truly had wanted to help. It never crossed her mind that the cool, controlled Earl of Seldon might lose himself in passion. She had to admit attraction on her part, but it was just a flutter now and then, perfectly understandable. After all, Richard was a very handsome man.
But her reaction last night had been far more than a flutter. Just thinking of what he did to her breasts, the heat and ferocity of his arousal—not to mention seeing him almost naked—had her heart racing all over again. She couldn’t be in love, not when they constantly fought.
No, she would find a tractable husband and have a comfortable home away from the Earl of Seldon.
He would consume her. Sir William Denton was an excellent choice.
They enjoyed good conversation and shared the same sense of humor.
Though he was attractive, it was no love match, but wasn’t that safer than giving up her independence by falling in love?
She had her music to consider, and it would always be the center of her life.
When she entered the oak-paneled room, Richard stood by the large window, gazing outside with a pensive air. She wondered about the damage to his library; the carpet would need to be replaced at the very least.
He turned, motioning to a chair, and flicked aside the tails of his perfectly tailored coat to sit behind the desk.
She was glad to deal with him in a businesslike way and hoped to put last night behind them.
If he didn’t care to mention it, neither would she.
When he looked up and finally met her eyes, his blue-gray gaze was somber.
“We need to discuss what happened last night, Fiona.”
Her face flamed. “There is nothing to talk about. It was an accident. I’ve made allowances for your illness and my lack of experience. We shall speak no more of it.”
“You may say that, but it will not go away. My behavior was unforgivable, and I deeply regret my actions, but it’s done now, and we must face the consequences.”
“What consequences are those? Am I to be sent away?” His attitude alarmed her. He had clearly made up his mind on a plan of action, and the thought of leaving Merrick House was surprisingly painful.
“That would hardly be fair, since the blame lies with me.” He hesitated, and she wondered what was so hard to say. “There is no recourse but to marry.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Marry? You can’t mean it. For an evening’s indiscretion?”
“Do you think of it so lightly? Perhaps you consider such…activity commonplace, but I assure you I do not usually seduce young women under my care.”
She rose angrily. “You know that is not what I meant. This is absurd. We barely know each other, and you cannot claim to be in love.”
Something passed over his face, but it was gone instantly. “No. We are not in love. But you are prepared to wed someone far less familiar than I. Few people have the luxury of choosing love as a reason for marriage, Fiona.”
“I’m to sign over my life to you based on one reckless incident?
It is ridiculous. You already have control over everything I do.
Is that not enough?” An inexplicable panic seized her; she could not be trapped in a marriage with this irritating, indifferent, inexplicable man.
He made her confused and uneasy; worst, she couldn’t bend him to her will. She would be ruled and overruled.
“Most would say marriage to the Earl of Seldon is not a hardship,” he said in a clipped voice. “You will have the advantage of my name, my fortune, and my protection. I stand to lose far more in the bargain. My life as a bachelor is quite satisfactory.”
“Then keep it! I do not give a fig for your fortune or your station. I will lose my freedom, and that means everything to me.”
“It is the only reasonable solution.” His expression softened, and he flashed her a crooked smile. “Come, Fiona, is marrying me so distasteful? Surely, we can make the best of it.”
She teetered on the verge of responding to that smile, those coaxing words. But she couldn’t forgive his autocratic nature, his arrogance. She would be miserable in such a marriage.
“I’m afraid I must refuse your offer, my lord. I prefer to choose a husband rather than to suffer in a marriage neither one of us wants.”
He rose from behind the desk, his face tight. “Then you face a difficult situation, for I will not permit you to wed another man. Perhaps, while I am in the country, you will have time to think upon the matter.”
“I won’t change my mind.” She stood as well. “And you needn’t think you will bully me into marrying you.”
He did not reply; he merely walked to the door, holding it open for her.
Fiona kept her composure until she stepped outside, then dashed to the privacy of her room, where she threw herself on the bed and inexplicably burst into tears.
Why did the idea of a marriage to him disturb her so?
She was attracted to him. Just being in the same room made her stomach flutter.
When he spoke, it was difficult not to remember his lips on hers, his passionate words.
But it wasn’t love or anything close. At this moment, she detested him. If only he had proposed from affection, rather than a sense of duty, she might have considered it.
Fiona walked over to the large bay window, wiping her eyes, and looked past the meticulous gardens to the stable yard.
Jerome was hitching the grays to Richard’s curricle.
Seldon was a vast and impressive holding, the seat of four generations of Merricks.
He was right; many women would swoon at the opportunity to wed him.
Below, Richard entered the yard and sprang lightly into the driving seat, taking the reins.
Jerome climbed up beside him. Even from here, she could see his set, angry expression.
He lifted his driving whip and the horses trotted out of sight.
She sighed in relief. Thinking clearly was impossible in his presence.
There was a knock on the door, and she released the catch to see Betty waiting outside.
“Excuse me miss, but Lady Amelia requests you come downstairs. The first callers have arrived.”