Page 32

A ndrew was led into Lord Hartford’s study for the second time that day. The earl sat at his desk, a glass of brandy in his hands and a distant look on his tense face.

“Please sit, Your Grace.” He stood, poured him a drink, and handed over the glass without asking. Andrew didn’t mind. He could use a drink or two. It had been a very long day already.

Taking a sip of an excellent brandy, he examined the shuttered look on the earl’s face more closely. The back of his neck tingled. Something was wrong.

“I’m glad you returned.” The earl downed his drink. “I have a problem. Baron Godfrey admits to a flirtation with my daughter but doesn’t love her, nor is he free to marry her. He has an understanding with Lord Berry that when his daughter comes of age next year, they will marry.”

Bringing his glass to his lips, Andrew drained the contents. “What are you going to do?”

The earl closed his eyes and groaned. “Forgive me. I am at my wit’s end.

I’ll call in some favors and hope to have my daughter married by special license within a few days.

I don’t want to marry her to just anyone, though.

I’ve increased her dowry in hopes of attracting a decent man. I’m waiting on some answers.”

“Can I help to persuade someone? Perhaps a second or third son from an upstanding family who can be attracted by the money?”

“Perhaps.” Once again, the earl appeared distant.

No doubt, he had many thoughts fighting for purchase inside his brain.

Andrew didn’t envy him trying to save his daughter from ruin.

She deserved happiness in her marriage and future family.

But even if she could not find happiness exactly, perhaps she could be content.

“Do you think Mr. James Caldwell would consider marrying Lady Beatrice? Or what about his brother, Baron Latham?”

Andrew tamped down his shock at the suggestion.

“Truthfully, neither seems ready to settle down. Caldwell has been courting Lady Chesterfield, although it is probably not serious. As for the baron, he doesn’t socialize within the ton much.

He prefers visiting clubs and gambling halls.

What of Lord Hollingsworth? He is actively looking for a wife. ”

“I sent word to Baron Latham and await hearing back from him.” He grabbed the brandy decanter off the sideboard and refilled both their glasses.

“He has gambled heavily of late and is in debt. He would be wise to accept my offer. But Hollingsworth? I don’t believe he would suit my daughter. I don’t believe he likes women.”

Andrew couldn’t help it; he chuckled. “Trust me, Hollingsworth likes ladies just fine. I know the rumor exists about him, but it was all a misunderstanding. But Baron Latham worries me.” He became serious. “How did you learn of his debts?”

“By chance. I overheard a conversation between the brothers at White’s the other night. It got heated. James Caldwell raised his voice and swore he would not give the baron another pound toward his gambling debts. I wasn’t the only one there who overheard them.”

Andrew sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and wondered how often Caldwell had bailed out his brother.

Baron Latham wasn’t all that bright, so he could imagine Caldwell coming to his rescue quite often.

“Forgive me if I offend you, but if the baron agrees to marry Lady Beatrice, the decision could be something you come to regret. He’s not likely to change his ways upon marriage.

He will go through Lady Beatrice’s dowry quickly. ”

“I know. I already told myself I wouldn’t marry her to him unless I were prepared to be bankrupted, bailing out my son-in-law so my daughter’s life isn’t ruined. But I don’t know what else to do. From what I recall, you changed your ways. Why not the baron?”

He had him there.

“What I’m going to ask of you next,” the earl continued, “is not something that is easy to do. As a father I must protect my daughter at all costs. I know this is not your business, but I beg of you to agree to form a temporary, fake engagement with my daughter. It will give me time to find a gentleman for her and alleviate some of the pressure. When the time comes, she will break the engagement, and her reputation will be intact when she marries.”

Andrew’s pulse soared. “That is much to ask a near stranger.”

“I agree. But I’m a desperate man. I understand you hating my wife for what she did, but she only acted for the good of our daughter. I know you don’t care about my daughter’s ruined reputation, but someday when you have a daughter of your own, you will understand and be glad you helped her.”

Andrew was shocked the earl could even partly condone his wife’s behavior.

Though a part of him understood why he asked this of him.

After a long pause, he responded. “If you guarantee the pretend engagement will last no longer than one month, I will agree. But do not expect me to dote on Lady Beatrice. I will spend as little time as possible with her, and never in the company of the countess. Meanwhile, please wait until tomorrow before posting the banns. I need to speak to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.”

“I’m sorry to do this to you and Mrs. Fitzpatrick.”

How could he return to Emmeline and repeat this after seeing how sad, afraid, and upset she had been only a short time ago? It would upset her to no end. And yet, he must.

Andrew returned to Emmeline’s home for the third time that day. This time, he found her sitting with her mother in their private parlor. As soon as the baroness saw him, she excused herself, closing the door behind her as she left.

“Can I pour you tea?” Emmeline looked at him with exhaustion.

Sitting beside her on the settee, he replied, “Yes, please. I fear the brandy I drank with Lord Hartford has gone to my head since I’ve eaten nothing today.”

“Would you like me to ring for something to eat?”

Snagging several biscuits off the tray, he said, “No. These will suffice.” Leaning back on the sofa, he ate and drank silently until finished. “There is something I must tell you.”

He couldn’t put it off as tomorrow was Sunday, and the banns would be posted.

“The gentleman Lady Beatrice is in love with is promised to another. To give Hartford more time to find a suitable husband, I have agreed to enter into a false betrothal.” She gasped.

He reached for her hands and gently squeezed them.

“It gives Hartford several weeks to procure a husband for Lady Beatrice. When he does, she will break our betrothal.” He waited for Emmeline to say something as his heart pounded inside his chest, trying to escape.

“I would be lying if I said this is acceptable, but I have no claim on you. We are not engaged to be married. You may do as you wish. A part of me understands why you are doing it.” She paused and sniffed.

“You are a good man. It’s too bad there aren’t more like you.

You will put off your happiness to save a young lady you hardly know, regardless of how much you dislike her mother.

You are the epitome of a true gentleman.

I only pray this plan doesn’t fail and you find yourself married to Lady Beatrice. ”

“I promise it will not. Not with Hartford agreeing to the plan and Lady Hartford safely ensconced in the country. And if the worst happens and Hartford can’t procure a husband for Lady Beatrice, you have my promise I will not marry her.”

“If you say so.” The numbness in her voice startled him. It was as if she had given up on them.

Turning to her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, never wanting to let her go.

The rapid beat of her heart thumped right along in time with his.

They would be together. He would see that nothing failed, even if he had to spend every waking hour of every day hunting down a husband for Lady Beatrice himself.

Nothing would come between him and Emmeline.

“I love you. I will die without you. So believe me when I say we will get through this.” He kissed her. “I must go.”

“Andrew,” she said as she reached for his hand. “I’m not going to the Tremont Ball tonight. I can’t possibly...”

He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her fingers. “I understand, my dear. I will call upon you tomorrow.” The last thing Andrew wanted to do was attend the Tremont Ball himself, but he knew he must.

Since the Waterfords’ house party, a dark, ominous cloud had followed Emmeline and him.

Would it ever release its hold so they could walk in the sunshine again, hand in hand?

He prayed for the day that the rest of the world would no longer intrude on their lives, threatening their love and future—for the sake of Emmeline’s and his sanity.

When he arrived home, Lord Hartford’s note awaited him, informing him that the engagement would be announced right before the dancing began at the Tremont Ball that night. The idea of it had Andrew leaning over the chamber pot, emptying what little contents his stomach held.

As soon as he received the message from Hartford, he penned off two notes, one to Langford and one to Caldwell, warning about the engagement announcement and explaining it was fake and not to discuss it with anyone.

Without their support and understanding, he wouldn’t survive until it was concluded.

He would talk to them tonight about a potential list of marriageable men for Lady Beatrice—this business needed to be handled quickly.

He didn’t think he would survive for long without Emmeline.

And by the way she’d looked and acted today, she wouldn’t survive without him either.