Season For Surrender (A Danby Family Novella Book 2) (2 page)

“Certainly.” Nick forced his gaze to
Drew, who looked just as awed as Nick felt. “Leave, cousin. You’ve done your
duty, so scamper back to your wife and Grandfather. Tell him…message delivered.”

Drew rose and bowed to the woman who
inclined her head as Drew took his leave. Nick swept a hand towards the now
empty seat. “Do you care to join me here or shall we go somewhere more intimate?”

The woman eyed the seat while nibbling
on her lip. Poor bird. Did she have no idea how desirable she was? Was this her
first time doing this sort of thing? A strange urge to protect her filled him
and sent icy tendrils of fear straight to his heart. He had no right to be able
to protect any woman.

A soft sigh escaped her as she sat.
“Might I speak frankly?”

“How novel.” Damn, he hated how jaded he
was. Her blue gaze found his, disconcerting and refreshing in its openness. A
little of his usual guardedness fled him. “Sorry. I’m not used to women who
prefer to be direct.”

She nodded, her black hair falling to
obscure her face. In one fluid motion, she tucked the thick strands behind her
ear. “I understand. But I find I have no choice but to be blunt. Time and my
situation demand it.”

Nick frowned. “You’re new at this,
aren’t you?”

“New at what? Approaching a man and
asking him if I can sit and proposition him?” Her eyebrows rose in twin arches
of amusement. “Certainly.”

Laughter tugged at his lips. He couldn’t
recall the last time he’d truly enjoyed conversing with a female. “I meant
you’re new at the whole trade.”

The slight frown between her brows
became a deep crease. “What trade?” Bafflement filled her voice.

Was this some sort of game? He’d willingly
play any game she wanted if it put her at ease. “The trade of being a
paramour.” He wasn’t expecting a ripple of surprised laughter as her response.
Uncertain, he shifted in his seat. “Am I wrong?”

“Quite.” Her words dripped with mirth.

“What, then?” He felt a fool, a
situation he detested.

She hesitated before speaking. “I sought
you out Lord―”

“Edgeworth.”

A momentary look of discomfort crossed
her face “Yes, I already knew your name. You need a wife, and I’m in the most
unfortunate, definitely unwanted position of needing a husband. A titled one to
be exact. Immediately.”

Despite years of avoiding this exact
sort of situation, her unusual choice of words and the obvious displeasure she
found in uttering them kept Nick planted in his seat. He studied her for one
second, weighing his options―leave now or listen to what she had to say.

Hearing her out wouldn’t bind him to
anything. A gentleman would stay. If he was anything with the ladies, he was
always a consummate gentleman. And utterly honest. “I’m listening, but I must
warn you, I’ve no wish to marry.”

She smiled and the beauty of it caused his
breath to hitch. “Neither do I, Lord Edgeworth, which is why I think we might
be perfect for each other.”

He wanted to ravish her, not marry her. Watching
her speak, her luscious lips move, made his blood boil. He stared at her, unblinking.
“I’ll never marry. Make no mistake.”

“We’ll see.”

“Careful, my dear.” He allowed his gaze
to travel slowly down her body, then back to her face. “You tempt me to try and
corrupt you.”

Her innocent flush made his heart flip. She
inhaled then spoke. “
If
you marry me you may corrupt me all the ways you
can imagine.”

He didn’t like that his mind actually
leaped to the possibility of all the ways he’d bed her if she was his wife, nor
did he care for the fact that he was still sitting there, but he didn’t move.
She’d offered a challenge of sorts and he’d never been one to walk away from a
challenge.

Lillian Lancaster was sweating profusely.
Not too much of a surprise considering she’d just proposed to a man she only
knew from careful research and not from actual face-to-face contact. A wave of
dizziness gripped her. She reached for the bar as she swayed in her seat, but
the little spots of twinkling silver lights that appeared in her vision made it
hard to find the edge of the counter. Good heavens. The last thing she had time
to do was fall off her stool in a swoon.

She inhaled a deep breath of smoky air
filled with the aroma of recently cooked meat. Her stomach protested the smells
with a flip. “Water,” she managed through tingling lips. A steadying hand
pressed against her back and a glass was raised to her mouth.

“Sip this.” Lord Edgeworth’s soothing
voice chased away the last of her dizziness. Or maybe it was the cool water
sliding down her throat. She gripped the glass and focused her gaze on her
possible future husband. Her stomach rolled in nasty dips at the thought.
Certainly not because of the way the man looked. He was beautiful.

Oh dear! She set her glass down and
pretended to situate it. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d scoffed at Charlotte
when her dear friend had used the word beautiful to describe Lord Edgeworth.
But Charlotte had been correct―her husband’s cousin was too pretty by
half. No man should have cheekbones as sculpted as his, or eyes as green as
moss or hair so thick and dark it made her want to plunge her fingers through
it. She didn’t want to marry a man she would ever desire. Longing would lead to
her letting down her guard, and she could never afford to do that. Perhaps he
was not the right candidate after all.

She stood so quickly her stool teetered
backwards and would have fallen except Lord Edgeworth stopped it with the tip
of his boot. Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I believe I’ve made a mistake.”
She wished her tone sounded more self-assured like she’d planned.

He smiled lazily at her, not moving save
the right eyebrow he raised.
Fascinating
. What would it take to ruffle
such a man?

“You probably
have
made a
grievous error, Miss…”

“Lancaster. Lillian Lancaster.”

“Lovely. Miss Lancaster. Mistake or not,
my attention’s captured. Such a rare thing. So why don’t you indulge me and
explain what drove you to propose marriage?”

Lillian resisted the urge to fan her
face. She’d already made herself appear a half-wit. She nodded, pulled off her
gloves as well as her overcoat, then sat. “I suppose I do owe you an
explanation.” Gripping her coat in her hands, she tried to hide the tattered
edges from view.

Lord Edgeworth’s gaze flicked to her lap
and then back to her face. She prayed he hadn’t taken note of the haggard quality
of her overcoat. Pity always raised her hackles, and she’d hate to be nasty to
a man she really didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure where to begin. When she
entered the pub, she’d been certain of what she would say. She even managed to start
the conversation as she had rehearsed for the past three days, but once the
blood rush of what she was doing had lessened, fear and indecision set in. She
locked gazes with Lord Edgeworth, expecting to find him impatient. Instead, he
reclined against the counter as if he had all the time in the world.

She cleared her throat. “My father was
Robert Lancaster, the owner of The Westminster Royal Theatre. I don’t suppose
you knew him?”

Lord Edgeworth leaned close, surprising
her. She jerked and inhaled sharply while forcing herself not to give in to her
instinct to move out of his reach. Old habits were such a nuisance when one
wanted to appear unflappable.

His eyes widened slightly and then
narrowed to slits that made her shiver.
Given the man’s very
fit physique, she didn’t doubt he’d make a dangerous enemy.
Nervousness
caused her to nibble at her lip. “I take it your silence means you weren’t
acquainted with my father.”

“I wasn’t, luckily for the man. I’m not
one to sit idly when a woman is mistreated, be it my business or not.”

His angry tone stunned her. Lillian sat
still for a moment, lest she give anything else away. She’d spent her life
hiding the fact that her father mistreated her. Not only was she ashamed, she’d
feared what he might do if anyone ever found out and caused him trouble for it.
He’d carried out enough explicit threats that she hadn’t doubted his sincerity.

Her heart raced as if he would walk
through the door any minute. Swallowing, she reminded herself that Father was
dead and could never hurt her again―well, physically anyway. She blinked
away the sting of unwelcome, angry tears that burned behind her eyelids. “I
never said my father mistreated me.” Her tone was steady, thank goodness.

“You didn’t need to say it, Miss
Lancaster. Growing up, we had a servant who beat his daughters. We didn’t know
it at first, of course. They recoiled when you moved too suddenly and they
always had a hooded look in their eyes. You’ve got that look and you cringed when
I moved towards you.”

Lillian swallowed the lump in her
throat. “What happened to the girls?”

Lord Edgeworth’s brows drew together in
an agonized expression. “The youngest died from one of the beatings.”

“Is that how your family found out?”
Lillian could barely control the trembling of her voice.

Lord Edgeworth shook his head. “I became
friends with the eldest daughter, Beth. One day, shortly after her sister’s
funeral, I saw terrible bruises on Beth’s arms and she confided in me about her
father.”

“Did you tell your father?”

“Not at first. I’d promised I wouldn’t,
but when her father broke her leg, I told my father everything. I should’ve
known better than to keep such a secret. Beth still walks with a limp.” Lord
Edgeworth jerked a hand through his hair.

Lillian gulped. Charlotte hadn’t lied.
Lord Edgeworth did seem to blame himself for his friend’s misfortune.

Lord Edgeworth stilled and studied her.
“If I’m mistaken and it wasn’t your father who mistreated you, then tell me the
name of the bastard, and I’ll make damn sure he never lays a finger on you
again.”

His growled promise made her smile and
eased away the last of her lingering doubt. He seemed the perfect solution to
her problems. Charlotte insisted he had a fierce protective side. If Charlotte
was correct, that part of him would be the thing that swayed him to her cause. Lillian
rarely allowed herself the luxury of being honest with anyone, yet as she eyed
Lord Edgeworth she decided tonight was a night for indulgences. “Given your
threatening tone, I suppose it’s a good thing for my father he passed away several
weeks ago.”

Lord Edgeworth gaped. “Dear God. I’m
sorry. Though I must admit, I feel less sorry than I might have moments ago,
considering what I now know.”

Lillian shrugged. Offering truths in
exchange for what she desperately needed was one thing, but it was quite another
to become too personal with this man. She didn’t need his friendship. All she required
was his title and willingness to marry her. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. My father
was a despicable man who spent his life―” She froze. She’d been about to
spill the whole nasty truth of her life with her father.

The shock of everything must finally be
getting to her. The concern tinged with what appeared to be pity in Lord
Edgeworth’s eyes made her heart pound anew. She had to hurry through this
explanation and be done with it. “My father left me a good deal of money in his
will and also named me the inheritor of his theatre.” She could still hardly
believe it. Her father had never done anything nice for her when he was living.
She’d acquired her love of the theatre from the actors and actresses around
him. He’d never lived for the stage, the costumes or the excitement as she did.

Lord Edgeworth studied her as if he was
trying to decide exactly what to say. “I’m glad to hear he obviously recognized
the error of his ways and strove to make amends.”

Resting her arms on the bar, Lillian let
out a disgruntled sigh. They’d be here all night if the conversation stayed as
polite as this. She needed to get back to the theatre. Tomorrow was opening day
for
Macbeth
. “He wasn’t trying to make amends, as you so civilly suggested.”

Lord Edgeworth’s eyebrows shot up.
“Forgive me. I forgot we were speaking bluntly. I’m used to conversing with
women who like to dance around the truth, so I automatically begin the waltz.”
He surprised her by touching his fingertips to her hand. The contact of his
warm skin against hers sent a tremor through her body. Not caring what he would
think, she jerked away.

A sardonic smile tilted his lips, which
pushed away her unease and riled her temper. “Are you laughing at me?” Her tone
was sharp.

“No, my dear.” His words held
self-recrimination. “I’m laughing at myself. I’m normally the one retreating
from women and it’s unusual to find myself in a reversed position. Please forgive
me.
Again
.”

Her anger dissipated under his pleading
gaze. She hadn’t expected to like Lord Edgeworth, but in truth she found him friendly.
And fascinating.
The realization disturbed her. “You’re forgiven,” she
said tartly, hoping to steer them back to topic. When Lord Edgeworth smiled
wolfishly, her heart gave a funny little jerk that concerned her even more She
folded her hands in her lap and willed herself to concentrate. “My father kept
the theatre because it put him in the position of controlling people, and he
loved nothing better than control. So you see, he wasn’t making some grand
gesture of restitution from his grave. He left me the money and the theatre to
control me, from beyond.”

Lord Edgeworth frowned. “How can he
control you now?”

“The only way I can inherit the money
and the theatre is if I marry a lord.”

Lord Edgeworth’s gaze moved across her
face, slipped lower to her chest for the briefest of seconds―but not so
quick her face didn’t heat―and then his mocking gaze met hers once again.
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding a lord who wishes to marry you.
You appear to have a great many attributes to recommend you.”

Lillian pressed her lips together.
Charlotte had said he’d resist. That he not only blamed himself for his
friend’s injury but also for the death of some woman and had therefore decided
he was unworthy to ever be any woman’s husband. How a man who looked like he
did and came from the powerful family he hailed from could feel anything but
superior baffled her. Lillian leaned towards him, desiring as much privacy as
possible. “The problem is not an offer of marriage from a lord. I’ve already received
one, but he’s known for a penchant towards abusing women.”

Lord Edgeworth’s face set in an
expression of fury, and then his lips pressed together in a hard line. “I could
have the same proclivity.”

She snorted, thinking of the story of
his friend he’d just told her, and the pain in his voice. “I feel sure you
don’t.”

He frowned. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re not a stranger to me, in the
strictest meaning,” she admitted with reluctance.

“Explain yourself.” Animosity tinged his
voice.

Lillian took a deep breath and prayed
her words did not anger him. “Your cousin’s wife, Charlotte, told me about you and
your past when I confessed my dilemma to her.”

“You don’t say.” His gaze turned chilly,
his tone even cooler. “Apparently, Lady Hardwick needs to be reminded how much
I value my privacy.”

This was not an auspicious start. Not at
all. “She only told me of you because she thought we might be able to help each
other. She knows neither of us wants to marry, yet we are both being forced to submit
to the detestable state. Charlotte believes we could settle on a marriage of
convenience.” She paused and studied him to make sure he still listened. He’d
turned his gaze to his glass and was sloshing the liquid around the rim. After
a moment, he glanced up, his eyes devoid of emotion.

“Unless you can promise you won’t expect
any sort of emotional attachment from your husband, then I’m sorry to tell you
Charlotte is wrong. There can be no arrangement between us.”

He thought he was so clever. Lillian
smiled and was rewarded by a brief look of astonishment from Lord Edgeworth.
She patted his arm to further unsettle him. “I’m glad to hear we can come to an
arrangement.”