Compromised Miss (7 page)

Harriette froze at the brutal description of what had
not
occurred. And for the length of a heartbeat wished that it had.

‘Five minutes, then.’ Sir Wallace allowed Harriette to pull her wrist away. ‘Take his lordship to the library, miss, and try to keep some sense in your stubborn head.’

They descended the stairs, Harriette leading the way into a library as dusty and disused as the rest of the house, what furniture there was shrouded in Holland covers. The leather spines of the few books on the shelves were dull, clearly unread. Immediately the door was closed behind them, a swathed form of a sofa strategically positioned between them, Harriette swung round to face the Earl. Her eyes were clear and bright and very determined. She might have been proud of her earlier reticence, but she could remain silent no longer, even if it meant rejecting the heartstopping image painted in her mind by the Earl’s savage words.

‘There’s no need for this, my lord. I know what my brother is about. I’ll lay odds he didn’t suggest marriage until he heard you were an earl!’ She saw her sharp cynicism cause a slash of high colour along the Earl’s magnificent cheekbones—whether from anger at her brother’s presumption or disapproval of her lack of discretion she could not tell—but she would not simper and prevaricate.

‘I wouldn’t take your odds, Miss Lydyard. Sir Wallace certainly saw the opportunity.’

‘I’ll wager the
Lydyard’s Ghost
he did! To get me off his hands, and to gain a connection with a man of wealth and consequence.’ Harriette made no attempt to bury the bitterness. ‘My brother is nothing if not ambitious. And I
should tell you, I won’t do it, just to further Wallace’s ambitions. Not even if you were the Prince Regent himself!’

‘Fortunately for both of us, I am not!’ the Earl responded, taken aback. What was the impression he had gained not ten minutes ago? Here was no innocent, vulnerable, gently reared girl, bullied by her brother. Here was a highly opinionated young woman actually refusing his offer of marriage. And with a forthrightness that, quite frankly, he resented. His lips thinned. ‘Would marriage to me be such an anathema, Miss Lydyard?’

‘That’s not the issue here. What possible advantage could there be for you in such a
mésalliance
? I think you must be all about in your head to even consider it, my lord!’

‘The blow from a club might have rattled my senses as a temporary measure,’ he snapped back, ‘but I think I am sane enough.’
What possible advantage…?
The kernel of an idea began to form in his mind. That such a marriage might just bring him a glimmer of light, an unforeseen advantage….

‘We know nothing about each other. How would I fit into your elevated social circle in London? I have no notion how to go on there. I have never been to London, not even further than Brighton. Why would you possibly wish to marry me? A beautiful debutante? No. A wife skilled in the social mores of London? Not that. A rich wife with powerful connections? Not that, either. So why? I am no fit wife for you.’ Harriette kept her voice unemotional, ignoring the weight of regret that lay on her heart. He would never know how difficult it was to reject him. ‘I am twenty-three years old, my lord!’

‘And I am thirty-four, if that is of any interest to anyone but myself.’

She saw the flash of proud temper as she resisted him,
but would not retreat. ‘I agree your age is irrelevant. Mine is not. I did not think you obtuse, my lord.’

‘Obtuse?’ His eyes hardened, unused to being challenged.

‘I am firmly on the shelf, with nothing to recommend me as a wife, fit for nothing but to be governess to my brother’s children.’ She stated the uncompromising truth without a quiver, her chin raised.

His face remained stern. ‘I commend your shining honesty, Miss Lydyard, but marriage can be the answer—if you are not determined to be so stubborn.’

‘What will your family say with a plain nobody like me for a bride, trailing behind you on your expensive doorstep, somewhere I expect, in Mayfair?’

‘I have no idea, nor do I care,’ he replied, struck by the sad little image. ‘It seems to me, Miss Lydyard, that you sell yourself short. You are hardly a nobody. Your family is perfectly respectable.’

But Miss Lydyard did not retreat. ‘Respectable! How damning a word is that? Compared with the Hallaston family, the Earls of Venmore, we are
parvenus
indeed. It takes no intelligence to guess the
on dit
of the Season. A common smuggler as the Countess of Venmore! As bad as Lady Lade. I can’t wed you, my lord.’

At which he smiled, for the first time with some level of genuine humour. It lit his face, softening his mouth, rendering her instantly breathless. ‘
Not
as bad as Letty Lade. She, as I recall, before she was elevated to society, was a servant in a brothel and mistress of Sixteen-String Jack, who ended on the gallows. I doubt you, Miss Lydyard, have any such claim to fame.’

His face was alight with laughter, atrociously handsome despite the disfiguring bruises and the vicious path of the knife on his cheek. Harriette was forced to look away,
forced to take a steadying breath as her dreams shattered before her eyes. He was not for her. To know that he had offered for her under duress, driven into an honourable gesture by her despicable brother, was entirely shaming for her. Without Wallace’s spiked accusations, the Earl of Venmore would never have noticed her, much less invited her to share his life and his bed. She took another breath against the sharp dejection and wished with all her heart it could be otherwise, but she could not, would not, let him be a sacrifice for her brother’s greed. It would humiliate her—and him. Marriage on such terms, when all he had shown her was kindness, would be beyond tolerance for both of them.

‘Why did you do it?’ His soft question surprised her.

‘What?’

‘Take on the appearance and identity of Captain Harry?’

‘A family obligation.’ She walked away to look out towards the cliffs where seabirds wheeled and dived in a joyous freedom, finding it easier not to face him.

‘It’s a hard burden for a family to ask of a young girl.’ To her dismay he followed her to stand at her shoulder, a solid physical presence so that she was immediately aware of the heat of his skin against hers, the sheer dominance of his tall figure. But she would not allow herself to feel vulnerable.

‘It’s not just an obligation.’ She felt an inexplicable need to defend herself to him. ‘It’s the excitement, too.
Lydyard’s Ghost
is my own. So is Lydyard’s Pride, this house that I love but can’t afford to keep and where my brother refuses to let me live.’ Unaware, animation coloured her words and her face. ‘The smuggling runs have become part of my life. Without them, what do I have before me? I am unwed and unlikely to be so, whatever my
brother might say. So I must die of boredom—a neverending round of embroidery, painting, sedate walks under my sister-in-law’s caustic eye. When Zan first took me on a run…’ She flushed, regretting having laid herself open to his interest. ‘It’s in my blood, I suppose.’

‘Zan?’ he asked.

‘Alexander Ellerdine. My cousin. My friend. He showed me the…the satisfaction of it. And since Wallace would not, I took on the family connection. The sea is in my blood, too. Lydyards have always had an interest in the Free Traders.’

The idea that had crept into Luke’s mind blossomed into a fully fledged possibility. To rescue Miss Lydyard from dishonour—a matter of duty in itself—and at the same time…the cutter,
Lydyard’s Ghost
! He turned to lean, careful of his shoulder, against the window shutter so that he might look directly at her, obliging her to raise her eyes to his.

‘Since you don’t appear to value my offer of marriage overmuch…’his mouth curled in a touch of self-contempt ‘…allow me to suggest a contract that might appeal to you Miss Lydyard. A business deal, if you will.’

‘A business deal?’ That she had not expected.

His eyes narrowed as if he contemplated some distant plotting. ‘I find I might have the need for a fast cutter to give me easy access to the French coast. You own such a cutter.’

‘Well—yes. But if you need one, would it not be simpler to just
buy
one?’ Harriette’s brows rose in blatant disbelief. ‘Why saddle yourself with a wife?’

He thought fast of the advantages that he might just make use of. ‘I need a trustworthy crew and an experienced captain with knowledge of tides. A captain with knowledge of the French coast and a connection there. And speed would be important—might be crucial in my planning. You could offer me all of that.’

Harriette folded her arms. ‘I could. Why?’

‘A matter of family business. It need not concern you.’ And Harriette watched as a grimness settled about the Earl’s mouth. It was like a shutter closing, she thought, masking any emotion.

‘So you get use of the
Ghost
.’ She pursed her lips. ‘What do I get?’

‘Simple enough.’ He lifted a hand, palm spread. ‘My title and consequence. My purse strings. I can give you comfort, luxury if that is what you would enjoy, social standing, independence. There will be no compulsion on you to paint or embroider from me! You will no longer be under the eye of either your sister-in-law or your brother. Is that not at least tempting? I own a number of houses that you might like. You might find that you enjoy a London Season.’

‘Ha! With nothing to think of but what I wear and what I say, and if I can manage the steps of a country dance at Almack’s without tripping over my feet? You should know that I have never been taught to dance, either!’ She let the ideal filter through her mind. ‘You think that money would matter to me?’

‘As a smuggler, I imagine profit is an important consideration for you.’

‘You would think that,’ she replied enigmatically. If that is what he thought of her…But how should he not since he did not
know
her? ‘Why would I choose to escape from my brother into your controlling, my lord?’

‘You would not find me too rigorous a husband. Will you do it?’

Harriette studied the unsmiling, masterful features and was not sure, not sure at all. The Earl of Venmore did not seem to have the makings of an easy, tolerant husband.
There was suddenly no similarity between this man and the helpless figure who had been tumbled broken and bleeding at her feet. This man who insisted on her striking this remarkable bargain with him.

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.

‘Why not? Consider what a profitable catch I turned out to be.’

There was no mistaking the edge of a sneer in his voice. What a low opinion he appeared to have of her. Well, she would reply in similar vein. ‘So there’s something in this for both of us. Youw ould be as self-interested as I in finding an advantage in this match.’

‘Yes. Why not?’

Harriette dragged in a breath. Here was honesty between them at least. And it was tempting; she felt herself weakening. The Earl of Venmore was clearly a devious man, knowing that independence would be a priceless gift to her. What would it be like to share his life, to share his bed? She shivered at the thought of the Earl’s physical ownership of her. It was an image that would destroy her resolution, she admitted in her heart, if she allowed it.

‘You said you could not afford the upkeep of this house.’ His words brought her back to the present. ‘It obviously means much to you. If you wish to spend money to put this place back in order…’

Harriette stared at him.

‘…then I could enable you to do it.’

Was he actually offering to pay to resurrect Lydyard’s Pride from dilapidation to its former glory? Why would he put himself out to be so persuasive? There was no debt for him to pay. Harriette could find no words to reply between what her heart desired and what her mind informed her was only right and proper. Her mind, of course, had the victory.

‘You don’t have to, my lord. We both know my honour was not compromised.’

‘I know it, as do you. But unfortunately the polite world is not kind to even the veriest whisper of scandal. It can be cruel and malicious. If you have any ambition to attract a husband, you must be aware of the dangers for you if gossip wags its spiteful tongue.’

He watched her as she thought over his words with utmost seriousness. She frowned a little as she replied, as if her words were painful to her, as they were. ‘It seems to me, my lord, that there are far more advantages for
me
in this arrangement. All
you
get is an unsuitable wife and the
Ghost
.’

‘And it’s important to me.’ Surprising her, and perhaps himself, the Earl took her hand in his good right one and Harriette felt an arresting sparkle of light ripple through her blood. His clasp was firm around her fingers, strong with more than a hint of possession. Never in her life had she felt so dominated by a man. She was intensely aware of his forceful presence and their seclusion, of the strength of his will when he had set his mind to a course of action. His words confirmed it. ‘Let us have plain speaking between us, Miss Lydyard. Is there someone whom you love, to whom you are promised?’

Harriette shook her head.

‘Then we are both without entanglements and of an age to enter into this agreement of our own free will.’

‘But that isn’t so. I think there is a lady close to your heart.’

His brows twitched together. ‘I don’t…’

‘A lady named Marie-Claude.’

His eyes flashed a warning. ‘No. Whatever I said in delirium, you misunderstood, Miss Lydyard. She is nothing to me.’ His response held a hard bite. ‘I promise
to be an attentive and tolerant husband. I will defend your name and your honour with all the power I have. I will not make more demands on you than you are willing to give—and in return you will allow me use of the
Ghost
. Miss Harriette Lydyard, will you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?’ His proposal held none of the warm emotion that might be expected in a bridegroom towards the woman who would put her future into his hands, but he kissed Harriette’s fingers, lips cool on her skin, that stirred a hot little flame in her heart. ‘It would please me, restore us both to the good graces of polite society and solve all manner of problems for you.’