The Earl Claims a Bride Page 4

  Not Angelina. She found it difficult to believe the ladies actually wanted to marry such a man. A man who followed no rules and had no order in his life. She would have eyes only for the honorable and distinguished Captain Maxwell. A military man. He would know all about following orders, obeying rules, and being a true gentleman.

  “You are talking about his past,” she heard her father say though she had no idea what her grandmother had said to prompt that answer from him.

  “He’s settled down now,” her father continued. “All that was before he became the earl. Why, he hasn’t even been in London for weeks now.”

  “I’m sure that’s because he was in a duel not three months ago and shot a man.”

  Yes, Angelina had heard about the duel, too. There was much gossip in her reading society about it. Everyone thought the reason the earl hadn’t been in Town was because he had been shot, too, and was recovering from his wounds. They had all speculated as to what the duel had been fought over. An insult, a woman, or a wager? The ladies in her group had giggled and decided it must have been because he was having a torrid love affair with the other man’s wife.

  If that was true, did her father really want her to marry such a man?

  “All gossip!” her father insisted strongly. “I have it on good authority that the earl has changed. Besides, what he has done or not done is of no consequence to us. Only that he be a good match for Angelina.”

  Angelina rose and said, “Papa, I don’t want you to go to prison but I don’t want to marry the earl, either. You know I’ve had my heart set on Captain Maxwell. We must think of something else.”

  “Nonsense. Besides, what else is there? Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? We are destitute. I’m completely without further resources with no way to obtain any.” He looked down at her with eyes a lighter shade of blue than her own. “I’ve already made the arrangements with the Prince for you to meet Lord Thornwick next week. I’ve just returned from seeing my creditors and, because of the possibility of the Prince paying them in full, all have agreed to give me a two-month reprieve. Don’t you understand, if your marriage to the earl takes place by the end of the Season, the Prince will take care of everything. I’ll be free. If not, there will be no further delays. I will be quickly sentenced to one of the debtors’ prisons.”

  Angelina’s throat swelled. She wanted to help her father. She had always tried to help her father. He was in this predicament because he’d been trying to help her. How could she give up on her dream of becoming Captain Maxwell’s bride?

  But what else could she do?

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked softly, “Papa, is there no other way?”

  “I’m afraid not.” He lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I wouldn’t force you to marry anyone you find despicable, my angel,” he continued, in an affectionate tone. “I legitimately owe the debts, and I’m willing to go to prison if I must.”

  “Archard, that’s cruel.”’

  He looked up. “It’s the facts, my lady.”

  A stiff, aching pain seemed to crowd into every part of Angelina’s body and soul. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll meet the earl and if he will have me, I will marry him.”

  But I will never like it.

  “The earl will give you a much better life than an army officer could hope to,” her father answered with a satisfied glow in his eyes. “It’s settled then. At the opening ball next week you will be introduced to the earl. I have no doubts whatsoever that he will find favor with you. How could he not?”

  Angelina remained silent.

  Her father then muttered, “I’m sorry about all this. It’s not how I wanted your Season to be. I’ve done the best I can for you under the circumstances. I’m not asking for gratitude. Acceptance will do.” He reached down and kissed her on the forehead. “Now go see about that new stray you brought home and don’t think about any of this for now.” He turned and strode out of the drawing room.

  Shivering from the raw emotions that gripped her, Angelina took in long, deep, silent breaths. She had no idea how much money was involved in her father’s gambling losses, but from all he said, they must be considerable. She wondered if Captain Maxwell had enough money to pay her father’s gambling debts if she married him. Would he want to if he could? How could she broach the subject with him? They had no understanding between them. Just sweet smiles and the promise of a dance when he returned. Would the honorable Captain Maxwell even want to talk to her if he knew her father was in danger of going to debtors’ prison?

  She felt her grandmother’s warm, comforting arms go around her. Still she didn’t move.

  “Mark my words,” Granna said. “All this will work out for the best, Angelina. I’ll go see about having some tea brought in. It will make you feel better.”

  Angelina’s father’s words faded to the back of her mind as her thoughts drifted to Captain Maxwell. Suddenly her breathing slowed, her shoulders relaxed, and she calmed. Thinking about him always soothed her.

  Angelina remembered the first time she saw Captain Maxwell. Her grandmother’s friend had come for tea and brought someone with her, but Angelina didn’t know who. She waited at the top of the stairs for them to leave so she could see. That’s when she saw Captain Nicholas Maxwell for the first time. The officer must have sensed she was watching him because he turned, looked up at her, and smiled. Her heart had melted like snow on hot bricks.

  Angelina had never seen a more handsome and appealing man. The red coat of his uniform with its shiny brass buttons and gold fringe epaulets was impeccable, prestigious, and dashing. He looked so gallant and very much the protector of innocents with his sword hanging by his side. Ever since that first glimpse of him, whenever she painted a gentleman, she always gave him Captain Maxwell’s enchanting smile.

  That was when she was sixteen. In the last three years, she’d seen him a few more times and spoken to him twice. Last year, when he’d stopped at the door and looked up at her, he’d asked when she would make her debut in Society. Another year, she’d replied. He’d smiled at her and said he would look forward to seeing her when he returned from India.

  “Save me a dance,” he said with a smile.

  According to her grandmother, Captain Maxwell’s aunt said he was expected home from India in time for the first ball of the Season.

  Next week!

  Her stomach muscles contracted at the thought of seeing him again. She wondered if he’d been longing to see her. If he wanted to marry her. But even if Captain Maxwell didn’t want to marry her, how would she manage to live with a man like the earl? A man who had no order or discipline in his life. A man who had seldom followed Society’s rules—in fact, deliberately flaunted them.

  No, she wanted an honorable man. A man who wore a uniform and looked like Captain Maxwell. She would meet the Earl of Thornwick. She may even be forced to marry him, but she would never welcome him into her bed.

  Chapter 4

  Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out.

  King Lear 5.3.15

  Harrison could dance as well as the next man, but he’d never found it entertaining. To him there was something unnatural about a man skipping, hopping, and moving around to music. But here he was in the middle of a hot, crowded dance floor surrounded by people who, like him, looked utterly ridiculous light-stepping to the rhythm.

  He and the young lady he was with followed the leaders and helped form a canopy of arms for others to dance under two at a time. There was no doubt his partner was lovely, quite shapely he guessed beneath the high-waisted gown, and completely infatuated with her accomplishments. She could play the pianoforte and sing at the same time, she always wrote the most stirring verse in her poetry society, and she received nothing but praise from everyone for her elaborate embroidery samples. If it took appreciation for things like that to make him a respectable earl in Society or a dutiful husband, he was at the point of thinking maybe Newgate wasn’t looking so bad.


  At last, he and the talkative miss had their turn skipping under the covering of arms. Gratefully the dance ended soon after that. He could only count it a blessing that her name wasn’t Miss Rule.

  He quickly left the sparkling-eyed doe with her mother and fled to the champagne table that had been set up in a far corner of the ballroom. Harrison couldn’t say he’d actually been interested in a young lady since Maddie. He’d had his share of beautiful ladies, delightful women, and exotic females in his bed, and he’d enjoyed them all. But he hadn’t come close to having warm, soft feelings for any of them.

  Harrison had arrived in London three days ago. Since Mr. Hopscotch’s last visit, he’d thought long and hard about not coming at all. There was another option available to him. He could have left the country, but that idea had no appeal. After his brother had married Maddie and she had their son, Harrison had spent two years traveling from the Americas to India and almost every country in between. He had no desire to see any more of the world.

  Thornwick was his home now. He wanted to rebuild it, protect it, and preserve it.

  For as long as he could remember, he’d lived the life of an unrestrained scoundrel. He had no obligations to anyone, no responsibilities for anything. That had changed when Thornwick and all it entailed had become his. His penchant for drinking, gambling, and staying out all night had ceased. Learning about Thornwick was his only passion.

  Marrying and having a family hadn’t been something he’d spent much time thinking about, either, until Mr. Hopscotch had arrived and given him the ultimatum to marry Miss Rule or go to prison for dueling. Harrison had concluded there was probably only one way to prevent either of those things happening and that was to select his own bride, marry, and produce the heir the Prince so desperately wanted. It was something he would have done eventually. The Prince’s declaration had just accelerated the inevitable.

  He was warming to the idea of having sons to watch grow up and play on the grounds of Thornwick as he and his brothers had. At the moment, he just wasn’t keen on having a wife to produce those sons. When his friend Bray was born his mother had moved into her own house and she and Bray’s father never lived together again. Harrison didn’t see any reason why that type of situation wouldn’t work for him if need be.

  It was unfortunate for him, and a damned nuisance, too, that now that he had decided he needed to seriously consider having a son, he must first choose a bride.

  And that was why he’d decided to make the journey to London and attend the Season. That was why he was at the ball early and why he had already danced with three young ladies very much like the one he’d just left.

  Fate had given him Thornwick. It was now up to him to produce an heir, and not leave the task for his cousin Guilfoyle to fulfill. Harrison had decided he wanted to do that for himself. If it would please the Prince and keep him out of prison, all the better. Not that Harrison thought for a moment a French sympathizer could do much damage in England’s Parliament, but if the Prince did, Harrison would try to oblige him.

  Looking around the room, Harrison hoped to spot Bray. Perhaps Bray would have some ideas on how Harrison could stay out of Newgate and out of the parson’s mousetrap, too, long enough to choose his own bride.

  Harrison took a sip of champagne, and from over the rim of his glass caught sight of a striking golden-brown-haired young lady standing near the entrance of the ballroom. His stomach contracted as he brought down the glass. His gaze traveled swiftly over her at first and then went back for a slower look.

  She wore an alabaster-colored gown trimmed in wide gold braid at the high waist and cuffs of her sleeves. The scooped neckline draped low enough to give a hint of the gentle swell of full, tempting breasts. She was tall, slender, and looked as beautiful as the paintings and statues he’d seen of Venus. She had the strong, capable appearance of the goddess Athena. But this young lady was not cold, hard stone. In fact, all she needed was a pair of wings on her shoulders to look like an angel. He knew she would be warm, soft, and delectable in his arms.

  As he watched her, it seemed to him that she was intently searching the ballroom. Her gaze quickly flitted from one gentleman to another like a butterfly checking all the flowers on a bush before selecting just the right one to land on. Harrison’s breathing increased as he watched her attention draw closer and closer to where he was standing. Would her eyes hesitate or brighten when they swooped across his face? Would they linger and take the time to thoroughly look him over as he had her the instant he’d seen her?

  Harrison’s lower body gently swelled at that possibility and he thought, I want to be the gentleman she’s looking for.

  He was attracted to her in a way he hadn’t been attracted to a young lady since Maddie. Quickly her gaze caught his and stayed for a few seconds. Just about the time he thought she was interested, her sight skipped past him and continued her exploration of all the gentlemen in the room. He smiled to himself. She might not have had the same reaction to him as he’d had to her, but she had paused and for now that was enough.

  Was she searching for a beau, a lover, or a husband?

  No, his mind quickly shut down that line of thinking. He didn’t want to consider the likelihood that she already belonged to another. Right now, he only wanted to meet her. Then he would continue from there.

  It had been much too long since a young lady had intrigued him at first sight. He hoped that when he met her, she wouldn’t want to tell him how good she was at stitchery, painting, or some other talent most ladies thought captivated a man. That she could arouse him on sight—that impressed him and that interested him.

  As he continued to stare at her a petite, older lady and tall gentleman suddenly flanked her and the three of them stepped down into the ballroom. He watched her alabaster-colored skirt swirl around her long legs until she was swallowed by the crowd.

  He chuckled to himself. Harrison didn’t believe in love at first sight. He wasn’t even sure he believed in love. But he did believe in want at first sight. Just as had happened with Maddie years ago, his mind, his body, and his soul told him he wanted that young lady to be his.

  When Harrison turned to set his champagne glass on the table behind him so he could follow her, someone clapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see his good friend Bray, the Duke of Drakestone.

  “Why the devil didn’t you send word you were back in Town?”

  Harrison couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that he had ruined every shirt he owned with soot and had to visit the tailor before he could be seen in public.

  “Why bother to send over a note when I knew I’d see you tonight? I expected to see your lovely duchess by your side, though.”

  Bray and Harrison had been friends since their first year at Eton. The two of them, along with fellow student Adam Greyhawke, had managed to get into one madcap escapade after another all the way through Oxford, their teens, and on into their twenties. In fact, their raucous behavior hadn’t stopped until four years ago when Adam married and Harrison left to tour the world.

  “And she will be. My mother whisked her away to meet someone the moment we walked into the ballroom. I was on my way to pay respects to the dowagers and widows when I saw you standing over here without your usual swarm of young ladies vying for your attention.”

  “Oh, so your ritual of having the first dance of the evening with one of them is not going to change now that you are happily married and no longer the most eligible bachelor in London.”

  “No reason it should.”

  Harrison gave him a doubtful look. “I have a feeling it was Louisa who insisted you continue the tradition.”

  “It was.” Bray grinned and then said, “When it comes to whatever Louisa wants, I don’t usually mind. I wasn’t sure you were coming to Town for the Season. How are things at Thornwick?”

  “Better,” he said, knowing Bray wouldn’t press him for details he didn’t want to share. “The rebuilding started last week.”

  “Go
od to hear. You plan to stay in London for the Season?”

  “I’m not sure I have a choice right now.”

  Bray seemed to study on that comment before saying, “That sounds ominous, my friend. What’s happened to cause this?”

  “How well do you know the Prince?”

  Bray shifted his stance. “Not very. Why?”

  “It’s too involved to get into tonight.” Harrison took a drink from his champagne. His gaze automatically scanned the ballroom, looking for the golden-brown-haired angel he’d seen. Someone had already led her onto the dance floor.

  Not surprising that she had already caught attention. She was easily a diamond of the first water and the belle of the ball tonight.

  “Are you going to talk to me or stare at the dance floor?”

  “You always see too much.”

  “There’ve been many times in the past when you were glad I did.”

  Harrison grinned. “You need not remind me of my foolish youth.”

  “Are you looking for anyone in particular, or have you already found her?”

  Harrison smiled and ignored Bray’s probing question. He knew his friend was fishing for what had caught his attention, and Harrison wasn’t ready to divulge anything.

  “Let’s meet at the Heirs’ Club this week,” Bray said. “Now that you’re in London you need to officially apply for membership.”

  “After all these years.” Harrison’s thoughts drifted back to the many times he’d walked through the door of that club and acted as if he owned it. “When we were younger I would have signed over my yearly allowance to a footpad to be a member. I didn’t want to be a member this way.”

  “Understandable considering the circumstances. No one wants to gain entrance the way you did. Still, no need for you to continue to participate as my guest when you can have all the privileges of a member.”