How to Manage a Marquess (24 page)

“Oh.”

“And Uncle Nate is taking us to Davenport Hall. Mama and our new papa will come after their honeymoon,” Stephen said.

“But then it rained and made the roads bad, so we had to stop here,” Edward finished.

George nodded. “Yes, I see. But—” He ran his hand through his hair. “Lord, Nate, you've got yourself in quite a pickle.”

Chapter Sixteen

“How bad is it?” Nate asked since George clearly expected him to do so. He was still trying to clear the anger from his system. Did Trant have
any
idea how close he'd come to death? If Anne hadn't called out—

Nate took a deep breath.

“I volunteered to fetch your supper partly to discover how things stand,” George said. “Everyone, and I mean
everyone
, is talking.” George looked at Anne. “I'm sorry, Miss Davenport, but we all heard you announce your identity. The fact that you were here in this hideous inn alone with the Marquess of Haywood will be all over London by tomorrow, if not tonight.” He shook his head. “There's no way to put that cat back in the bag.”

“Miss Anne is not alone with Uncle Nate,” Stephen said. “She's here with me and Edward.”

Edward, having just taken a large bite of chicken, contented himself with nodding vigorously.

“And Lord Banningly forced Lord Haywood to accompany us,” Anne said.

“He didn't force me, Anne. I was willing to see you and the boys safely to Davenport Hall.”

He waited to feel the noose drop over his head and draw tight.

Nothing.

He took another deep breath.

“Oh! If only my father hadn't gone off on this honeymoon, we would not be in this situation. I do not understand what the rush was about. It's not as if they were waiting for the vicar's blessing to—”

Thankfully, Anne caught herself, apparently remembering who else was in the room. She managed to smile at the boys. “I suppose it is just a sign of how much my papa and your mama love each other.” She looked back at George. “And if the weather had been better, we would not have been required to stop here.”

“Yes,” George said. “But the fact of the matter is you
did
stop here—and were discovered.”

“But we weren't doing anything scandalous, Mr. Harmon.”

“Miss Davenport, surely you've been among the
ton
enough to know that what you were doing is not important. It's what people
say
you were doing that will affect your reputation.”

Which was all too true.

“There's nothing for it,” Nate said abruptly. “We'll have to marry.”

George nodded. “Yes, I think that's the only solution.”

“What?!”
Anne gaped at Nate as if he'd just said they'd have to dance naked down St. James Street.

“Miss Davenport, just consider,” George said. “There's no way to stop the talk now. Even if Nate spent the night in my room—”

“I'm not leaving Anne and the boys unprotected again.”

“Yes, well, even if Nate stayed in my room—which I understand he will not do,” George said quickly when Nate opened his mouth to protest again, “it wouldn't make any difference. You've been seen in a bedroom—”

“With two young boys!” Anne said.

George pressed on. “And everyone knows by now that Nate told the innkeeper that you were his wife and Edward and Stephen his sons.”

Anne sat back, crossing her arms and frowning mulishly. “I am not going to marry Lord Haywood.”

“Don't you want to marry Uncle Nate, Miss Anne?” Stephen asked.

Edward nodded. “I thought you liked him. You cuddled with him in the cottage.”

Anne's face turned bright red. “That was because of the storm.”

George's eyes couldn't open any wider. He looked at Nate.

“Miss Davenport doesn't care for thunderstorms.” He wasn't about to betray Anne's confidence. “She had a bad experience once.”

There was no question about it: They had to marry. It was almost a relief to be forced into it.

Except Miss Davenport did not look as if she was going to be forced into anything.

Edward tugged on her arm. “
Don't
you like Uncle Nate, Miss Anne?”

Her color was still high. “Of course I like him, Edward, but that doesn't mean I'm going to marry him.”

“You really have no choice,” George said.

That
was the wrong thing to say.

Anne turned on George. “This is the nineteenth century, Mr. Harmon.” She narrowed her eyes and poked her finger at him. “The days of forcing a woman into marriage are past. Of
course
I have a choice.”

“But the scandal—” George sputtered.

She snapped her fingers. “I give
that
for the scandal, sir. I live in a small village. The people of Loves Bridge won't believe any whispered nonsense about me. They—”

She stopped abruptly, a look of alarm or perhaps guilt on her face.

Was she remembering her own attempt at gossiping someone to the altar? Fortunately Miss Hutting had declined Marcus's offer and was now safely ensconced in the Spinster House.

Technically, Anne was still a virgin—her maidenhead was intact as far as he knew. But in terms of sensual experience. . .

Perhaps not.

And that's my doing. I
should
marry her.

The noose he kept waiting to feel still hadn't made an appearance.

“I am not going to yoke myself for life to some man just because Society thinks I should.”

“But consider Nate's position, Miss Davenport,” George said. “People will judge him harshly for ruining a lady, even more so as she is now the stepdaughter of one of his childhood friends.”

Anne snorted eloquently. “Oh, Mr. Harmon, I sincerely doubt the Marquess of Haywood will suffer the cut direct over this silly rumor. Anyone with a modicum of sense must realize the tale is ridiculous.”

George stared at her. “You are a very odd woman, Miss Davenport.”

The odd woman grinned. “I will take that as a compliment. Now let us speak no more about it.”

There's certainly no point in speaking to
George
about it.

Nate gathered up the remains of their meal, “I think it's time you were on your way, George.”

George did not immediately spring to his feet. “But Nate—”

Nate held up his hand. “No. I appreciate you championing my cause, George, but I believe I can advocate for myself.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Quite right.” George puffed out his cheeks and then let out a long breath and reluctantly stood.

Nate shoved the tray of dirty dishes into his grasp. “Good-bye, George. I'll see you in London.”

George sighed and then nodded. “Very well.” He executed a shallow bow over his collection of scraps. “Good evening, Miss Davenport, boys.”

Nate closed the door firmly behind George and locked it. When he turned back, he had two pairs of anxious eyes watching him. Miss Davenport was studying her hands.

“You have to marry Miss Anne, Uncle Nate,” Edward said. “I don't want people to be mean to her.”

Anne spoke before he could respond. “People won't be mean to me, Edward.”

“But they might,” Stephen said earnestly. “People can be very mean.”

Which Stephen probably knew from experience, sadly. The
ton
lived to criticize and mock, and felt morally justified in doing so when faced with a reprobate such as Eaton. They'd likely never thought to extend some understanding and compassion to the devil's wife and young sons.

Anne must have realized this, too, because she smiled gently at the boy. “Yes, they can, Stephen. But I really do believe the people of Loves Bridge won't treat me harshly. And if they do . . .” She shrugged. “I know I've done nothing wrong.”

No? Nate would admit they'd done nothing that
felt
wrong. But as to it being wrong? There was no question of that.

However, it was a wrong marriage would right. He just had to convince Anne.

And what about Marcus,
his conscience whispered
, and your vow to your mother?

He could still keep an eye on Marcus. He wouldn't be spending every single moment in bed with Anne.

His brainless cock registered a vote for doing exactly that.

But it was true. Very few husbands and wives were seen together in Society. There was no need for him to live in Anne's pocket or she in his. Yes, being married would be a distraction—Ha! That was an understatement of mythic proportions—but it needn't rule his life. He could go about his business as usual—including watching over Marcus—and then go home to Anne.

He liked that thought.

He liked even better the thought of having her in his bed.

“But you like Uncle Nate,” Edward said. “And Uncle Nate likes you, don't you, Uncle Nate?”

“Of course I like Anne.” He especially liked how his words made her blush. “I like her very much. But, as I told your Uncle George, I can advocate for myself.”

Edward frowned at him. “But what does advo—what does that mean?”

“It means I can woo Anne without any help from you or Stephen or your Uncle George or anyone else.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Anne said. “You are not going to woo me.”

He grinned. “Certainly not here in this cramped room with two young boys watching us.”

She looked rather delightfully confused before she scowled at him. “Not here or anywhere.”

“I wouldn't be so certain of that.”

Edward and Stephen were grinning.

“You should let Uncle Nate marry you, Miss Anne,” Edward said. “Mama said he needs a wife.”

What was this? “Your mother never told you that, Edward.”

“She didn't tell us, Uncle Nate,” Stephen said. “She told Aunt Olivia and Uncle William. We just heard.”

Good God! Why was Eleanor busy about his business? “I see. When did this happen?”

“After Uncle George sent word you were coming instead of him. And Mama said you could keep Miss Anne occupied and maybe you'd marry her and—”

Stephen stopped, his mouth slightly open as if he'd just realized he was about to say something he ought not.

Edward, being only five and less aware of polite behavior, finished his sentence for him. “And take her away to your house so she wouldn't live at Davenport Hall anymore.”

“Edward,” Stephen hissed.

“She said you were too old to be living at home, Miss Anne, but I think she's wrong. I want you to live with us.” Edward hugged Anne, but then frowned up at her. “Unless you'd rather live with Uncle Nate?”

Anne looked at him rather helplessly.

“Edward, we'll have no more talk about marriage if you please,” Nate said. “In fact, let's have no more talk at all—it's time to go to sleep. It sounds like the rain has stopped. I hope to make an early start in the morning and leave this unpleasant inn forever.”

“But where will we sleep, Uncle Nate?” Edward asked. “There's only one bed and it's small.”

“We will be gentlemen and give Miss Anne the bed. You can join me on the floor here.”

“I don't mind taking the floor,” Anne said. “It might be softer than this bed.”

“It might be indeed, but you will take the bed nonetheless and allow us to feel as if we are doing you a gallant turn, right, boys?”

“Yes, Uncle Nate,” Stephen said.

Edward looked more doubtful, but nodded anyway.

“Very well. Thank you. But then you must take this blanket.”

“No, we—”

“I insist, Lord Haywood.” Anne had already stripped the thin, tattered, and rather gray cloth off the bed.

“You are rather strong-willed,” he said, taking it from her.

“I'm glad you understand that.”

He found that thought quite exciting.

His idiot cock was certainly excited.

He spread the blanket on the floor and, once the boys were settled next to him, draped his greatcoat over them all.

The boys fell asleep almost immediately. It was surprisingly pleasant to have their warm little bodies curled up against him.

“You know you do not have to marry me,” Anne whispered.

“Go to sleep.” He was not about to argue with her here.

Anne might have been to London and attended
ton
events, but she'd spent most of her life in Loves Bridge. She had no idea how much gossip there would be. And there
would
be gossip. The gabble grinders would be transfixed by this story. The Marquess of Haywood
never
misbehaved.

He smiled as he pillowed his head on his arm and prepared for yet another relatively sleepless night.

 

 

 

Nate—

No,
Lord Haywood
. I
must
remember to call him Lord Haywood.

Lord Haywood snored softly in a corner of the coach. The poor man had likely not slept a wink last night. She'd had the bed, which must have been at least somewhat more comfortable than the floor. Still, she'd been startled awake every half hour by shouts from the taproom downstairs.