A Hasty Betrothal

Worry raced through her in uneven clops, like a startled horse galloping without restraint.

“You understand how close you are to being ruined, do you not?” Mother slid into the chair opposite Elizabeth. “If this becomes fodder for the gossips, it will damage John’s position in the House, his career aspirations and our family’s reputation. This is disgraceful.” Mother took a shaky breath and Elizabeth wondered how she could breathe at all when a steel vise had tightened around her own ribs, making inhaling almost impossible.

She did not want to marry, but that did not mean she wished to be ruined. Not to mention the damage she might cause to her family’s reputation, sullying all that they’d worked for... She squeezed her eyes tight and tried hard to think.

“Are you sure it is me they refer to? There is no mention of—” the words hurt to emit, but she forced them out “—my birthmark.”

“There will be. Soon enough.”

Elizabeth winced at the defeat lacing Mother’s answer.

Venetia rubbed her brow. “I must ask—are the rumors true? Was there a dalliance with a man last night? Who could it be? Is that why you claimed a headache and practically forced me to bring you home early?”

Elizabeth pushed her plate away. “Dalliances are the furthest thing from my mind. Trust me, I want nothing more than to return to Windermar and take care of Grandmother. This Season is a farce. I’m an heiress, not a fatted calf.”

“Elizabeth.” A sharp edge tipped her mother’s tone. “Every young woman deserves a home of her own, children and a stable future. Accept your responsibility as the daughter of an earl, the granddaughter of a duke. We will have to decide what to do with this.” She tentatively tapped the edge of the paper as though it were a hot plate. “Your father must be told at once.”

Her lids fluttered as if the colossal import of the situation weighed upon her. “Have you perhaps considered Lord Wrottesley? He has expressed interest in you.”

Elizabeth flinched. “He is the last person I’d ever marry. Besides, he is a fortune hunter.”

“You do not know that.”

“I suspect it.”

Mother sighed in a way that suggested Elizabeth was a great drain on her energy. “You cannot afford to be picky now. I shall speak to your father. Perhaps we can arrange terms.”

Elizabeth swallowed back a retort, for she knew no way of escaping the rumors that had forced her into this situation.

Despite her brave words to Miles, she found that deep within, she truly could not subject her family to such a scandal. A betrothal might put the gossip to rest, but could she put aside her own happiness for the sake of her family? Every fiber of her being shouted no. Martyrdom lacked appeal. Especially with Lord Wrottesley.

Who else would want to marry her, anyway? A reclusive heiress with an unsightly birthmark?

She was going to have to give up her dreams of love because of one foolish action. After returning from the gardens, she’d entered the ballroom, gone straight to her mother and they’d left immediately.

Who would have spread such tittle-tattle about her? Perhaps a man out for revenge? A man who had discovered a way to put his greedy hands on her money?

Wrottesley.

She shuddered. Had he succeeded in ruining her?

Chapter Three (#ulink_08398376-ae82-5545-8cd6-0c2e8a35f41a)

Wrottesley was not home.

Annoyed beyond reason, Miles rode back to his house with the urge to box the cad itching his knuckles. When he arrived home, he saw John’s carriage.

He had barely gotten in the door when John appeared in his hall. “I suppose you’ve heard the news?”

Miles handed his coat to his valet. “News?”

“Regarding Elizabeth.” Her brother pivoted, disappearing into Miles’s study.

Biting back exasperation, he followed John. This was not how he’d intended his morning to go. He hadn’t intended to tell John of Wrottesley’s perfidy against Bitt either, but since he was here, perhaps he already knew.

Did he want Miles’s assistance? He rubbed his palms together, anticipating the moment Wrottesley learned the consequences of assaulting Elizabeth. He entered the study. As he made his way inside, his mahogany desk greeted him like an old friend, staid and reliable in the familiar room. He’d inherited this office from his late father. Sighing, he sank into the plush chair accompanying the desk.

John watched him steadily from his own perch on a less comfortable chaise at the side of the room.

“What’s this about Bitt?”

His old friend leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Expression serious. “She has been compromised. But I suppose you know that already.”

Miles felt his brows lift. “She has been in London only a month. What happened?” His mind raced. Last night, the cut direct he’d received, Elizabeth’s disheveled state...still, that should not be enough to get tongues wagging so quickly.

Unless someone started the gossip. Someone intent on making her look bad.

“It’s in all the papers. Not her name, specifically, but it might only take a few days for the ton to realize who this heiress is, and once that happens, she will be ruined. She was seen in the company of a factory owner.” John’s mouth tightened. “You were at that ball last night.”

“What are you saying?” Miles asked flatly. But he knew. How foolish he had been.

“No one knows that I am whatever man was described in the papers. And you say her name is not mentioned? There is no reason for you to be here, John. You’re distraught. Give it a day or so. The gossip will die down.” Though they had been good friends since childhood, they rarely saw each other now that John stayed busy with his estates and his work with the House of Lords.

“I am here to demand honor for my sister.”

“You believe I dishonored her?” Miles straightened in his seat. Shock curled through him. “I would never treat her in such a way.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” John’s laugh was dry. “But according to that article, the ton believes you have.”

“My name is not mentioned. I fail to understand how Elizabeth’s predicament is my concern.” And yet, even as Miles spoke, he realized that he did indeed see the part he had played. For if she really was on the verge of ruination, then his actions last night had partially caused the problem. He should have insisted she straighten herself. Or perhaps he should have returned to the ballroom by a different way.

It had been so long since he’d attended a ball or paid any attention to society’s strictures. Not since Anastasia...and he would not have gone last night if it were not for the personal invitation.

John dragged in a deep sigh. “I have come to insist you marry Elizabeth, should the need arise.”

Panic, sharp and visceral, sliced through Miles.

“Politics have turned you daft,” he said in a casual tone, hiding the terror rushing through him. He knew he owed John a great deal. He had been a bastion of support for Miles years ago when Anastasia died. As the powerful son of an earl, John had made sure the circumstances of Anastasia’s death were kept quiet and out of the gossip rags.

But he could never marry again. He simply could not.

“I know that your marriage was less than ideal,” John continued. “I would not demand this of you if I did not think it necessary.” He shoved a hand through hair a shade lighter than Bitt’s. “There is a chance the gossip shall pass. I have not spoken to my sister as of yet, but from what I’ve garnered, there is little to support the accusations.”

“Speak to Elizabeth. It could be that she will happily retire to Windermar with the dowager duchess.”

“Grandmother left for her estate this morning. She doesn’t stay in London long. I can’t imagine the uproar that would occur if she heard of this. Things are not so simple as you imply. There are other factors to consider.”

“Your reputation?” he asked drily.