Compromised into Marriage Read online

  ‘Yes, I know we’re a nuisance, but the young miss would appear to have lost a jewel when she was here before,’ Mavis stated. ‘Lord Everleigh about?’

  ‘I will see.’ The man left.

  ‘I should have just brought a few lengths of rope for you,’ Mavis said, staring at the high ceiling, and the lamps, though unlit, glittered. ‘Simpler to just tie him up and wear him away with your persistence—and you are persistent.’

  ‘Mavis. Lower your voice,’ Vivian insisted, moving nearer to her friend.

  ‘Well, after today I’m sure the man will have us worked out.’

  The butler came for them, leading them to the drawing room.

  At the doorway, Mavis didn’t proceed. ‘I’m going to speak with Mrs Rush,’ she said to the butler. ‘I need to see if she saw a handkerchief I could have lost here. I know the way.’

  She darted down the stairs.

  Vivian entered the room and Everleigh stood, a dark warrior in a dim room.

  He spoke, bemused. ‘After your visit this morning, I never expected your father to allow you here again.’ Everleigh strode to the window and opened the curtains to their full width, the fabric rustling. The light brightened the room, but not the man. ‘Why are you here?’

  The sight of him made her insides flutter.

  ‘Everleigh. I appreciated the kiss. The dance. I truly agree that you do not want to court me and I am in total accord. But I have a solution for us both that might be beneficial.’

  She saw the flicker in his regard. Shock, possibly. Disbelief for certain.

  He gave a small shake of his head. He didn’t seem to think the question worth a full response or explanation. ‘Your father will not like this.’

  Vivian held up a hand, almost in the same pose she might adopt to grasp the handle of a teacup. ‘I have a plan. Just a few public outings with me would help Alexandria realise you aren’t going to marry her...’

  She met that sapphire stare, which sent spears of longing to the pit of her stomach, where they fizzled away in despair. She did feel she was making a deal with a dark angel. But she didn’t care. ‘Just for a short time. In the meantime, I will be at soirées and having many chances to dance. I will make it obvious to everyone that we will not suit.’

  ‘You are persistent, too...’ He sat on the arm of an upholstered chair, one hand on his knee. ‘I’m fond of you, but I need some time to think about this.’

  ‘We do not ever have to kiss again. This is not about that. While it was wonderful, I am recovered now and have my mind in another direction. You would be a disguise for me. It would seem as if my heart is taken. I could dance.’

  ‘Vivian.’ His voice became gentle. So did his observation of her. ‘You’ve been ill and you spent a pleasant hour or two with me when you began your recovery. That’s all it is. You may somehow believe my presence made you well, I suppose. But it’s not true in any way.’

  She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. ‘But you could use me to keep women like Alexandria away. I’m of passable appearance. No scandal about me.’

  ‘I can only think you’ve escaped scandal because of illness,’ he inserted.

  She continued as if he’d not spoken. ‘It would be just an arrangement between us. A game. Like billiards. Nothing personal, binding or lasting.’

  ‘And the fairies will dance around with their songbooks and diamonds will rain from the sky. I cannot use you to keep Alexandria at bay. I would not put you in such a position. She is most persistent, although it is revenge as much as anything. She has a wicked sense of what is humorous and she is like a cat who toys with a mouse before it gets bored, and goes on to something else.’

  He stood up and walked between her and the open window, causing the shadows to darken him again. ‘If Mavis rushes in and says we are in a compromising position, she’ll be wasting her time. The door is open and I have servants about.’

  ‘I would never do such a thing. Never. Ever.’

  ‘I told you I am not a man who believes in love and I have no wish to marry you.’

  ‘I’m only asking for a pretence. We do not even have to speak. My father explained the difference between martyrs and poets, and I’m not asking you to be either one. But I completely understand you’re not a poet. Never will be.’

  He shut his eyes. ‘It must be something in the water that addles women in this town.’

  She raised her hands out. ‘Everleigh, I have all the qualifications you need. You’ll be hard pressed to find someone as biddable as I am for a temporary courtship, for appearances’ sake only.’

  ‘I’m certainly feeling hard pressed, and you—biddable?’ He moved his head to the side. ‘Are you sure of that?’

  She nodded. ‘You could outline the type of sweetheart you wish for. Take several days to think about it. Make a list. I could examine it and follow the requirements. If any concern me, we can then discuss it. A pretence. Just a pretence. That is all I ask for.’

  ‘Vivian.’ He walked towards her and put both hands on her shoulders. The caress silenced her.

  This could not do. Must he stand so near? Because when he did, she forgot the business part of her discussion and savoured the awareness.

  She grasped the sides of her skirts and pirouetted out of his reach. ‘You could never touch me, though. I must insist on that.’

  He studied the ceiling, before clearing his throat. ‘You have been ill. You need to fully recover before you consider any conversations without your father present. It’s for your own good.’

  ‘Blast it, Everleigh. You are heartless. You really are. And conceivably conceited. I could not make myself any clearer that I am not interested in a courtship. Yes, I did ask you for a kiss, but that was before. Not now.’

  ‘Vivian. You are a dear. But you are not to visit me again.’

  She took a breath. Ella Etta frightened her. And she claimed to be able to hurt Vivian’s mother. ‘You sentence me to death.’

  ‘No. I sentence you to living.’ He spoke softly. ‘I am more wed to my work. I can’t let anything stop me because I can make a difference in so many lives.’

  He didn’t understand.

  ‘I’m asking you to make a difference in my mother’s life. It means a lot.’

  ‘I will discuss it with her, then.’

  She saw the chill in him. He would tell her the curse was nonsense. He wouldn’t understand.

  ‘The butler will see you out,’ he said.

  Before she could close her mouth, he was gone.

  Later, she would find Ella Etta and tell her that the courtship had failed. Vivian had tried. But Everleigh would not co-operate. She’d done her best, but he’d refused.

  She would go home, take whatever curses were hurled her way and accept them.

  But her mother could not be harmed.

  She ran her fingers over the place he’d clasped her shoulders. No, he could not ever hold her. He just couldn’t.

  Chapter Nine

  Everleigh held the small miniature of his grandfather, staring at the picture, but not seeing it. Waiting. He’d told his butler to get Mrs Rush and he’d see that she communicated to Vivian’s companion that she might need the physician again.

  He must keep away from her. She was too distracting.

  He’d thought them in agreement.

  Then she had appeared asking him for a list and a temporary courtship.

  The illness had addled poor Vivian. He had inspected her, searching her eyes for a difference. But she appeared perfect.

  Vivian had blossomed. He would have had to have been insensible not to have noticed how she’d changed. Her dress had probably weighed more than she had at their first meeting.

  She’d reminded him of a bird he’d once found fallen from a nest—mostly skin and feathers. But she’d looked at him as if he could vanquis
h all the evil of the world. Innocence. She had no idea of the mare’s nest the world was in.

  He’d kissed her. The kiss had been his most virtuous—in a sense. He’d concentrated strongly on bringing a response from her. He’d wanted nothing but her pleasure in it. A lady’s first kiss, and maybe her last, should be memorable. He’d tried. He’d put more effort into it than he’d put into a whole term at Oxford.

  And from Vivian’s reaction, he’d not failed. No. Not failed.

  The effort to please her had set off something in him. Something different from any kiss he’d felt before.

  He didn’t want to think of it and he couldn’t risk repeating it.

  She’d some day find a proper man and settle into a proper life, and have proper children and a proper governess.

  She would become like every other wife. The thought thickened the air and made it harder to pull breath into his lungs. Vivian would be in some man’s bed.

  Any man in the market for a wife would see her now and the trim shape of her dress, with the hint of bosom peeping from the top and the creamy skin shouting of innocence, and would be ready to promise whatever it took to get a ring on her finger.

  He pulled himself tighter when he heard a rap at the door.

  The rap sounded again. ‘You sent for me?’ Mrs Rush spoke, entering.

  ‘Yes.’ He would have to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to hurt Vivian’s reputation.

  ‘Miss Darius... Is she well?’

  Then Mrs Rush took a deep breath—too deep, too long and full of portent. She could have shouted and Everleigh’s attention would not have focused on her more.

  ‘I thought you and Miss Vivian’s housekeeper might have discussed Miss Vivian’s health,’ he said.

  ‘We have.’

  ‘She is recovered?’

  ‘Most certainly.’

  ‘Today, she seemed jittery. Are you certain?’

  ‘There is the little matter of the curse concerning you.’

  Everleigh scrutinised Mrs Rush’s expression. ‘Curse?’

  Mrs Rush’s nod was brief. ‘I am correct in this disclosure. It is a curse directed at Miss Vivian. It seems she must marry you or die.’

  Everleigh scratched his jaw. A certain vagabond had once told him how easy it was to gammon people. She’d explained it almost in the same terms Grandfather had used when he taught Everleigh how to handle business transactions and how to bluff.

  ‘I sent Miss Vivian for a medicinal. Ella Etta charged her much more than I ever expected.’ Mrs Rush wrung her hands. ‘I never thought the vagrant would do such a thing.’

  ‘Ella Etta?’ Dread entered his body. He wouldn’t have suspected she would mislead Vivian.

  ‘Yes. Miss Vivian has to marry you in order to be given more medicine. If she doesn’t, she will die.’

  ‘What a choice.’

  ‘I fear it would flummox me.’

  Everleigh raised a brow and waved the servant away.

  Then Everleigh left the room, taking the longest strides of his life, his hands in balled fists at his sides. Memories flooded his thoughts, pushing his feet forward and his mind into the past.

  He could toss Ella Etta from the land.

  But she’d fed him and Daniel and let them sit by the fire on cold days while she told them tales of boys’ bravery. Chased them with a broken stick when they’d hidden inside the woods and jumped out at her. Made their time together an adventure and a respite from the severity of his father and the loss of his mother. She’d not instructed him constantly as his grandfather had, gathering promises of how Everleigh would continue the responsibility of using the influence he had been born with. She’d provided a haven.

  And now she’d told Vivian she had to marry him.

  He shook his head.

  Then, he felt his pride deflate. It would have been nice if Vivian had wanted to court him of her own accord. Not only because she needed him in order to continue living.

  * * *

  After he remembered to watch for people standing too near the carriage, Everleigh jumped from his vehicle when it arrived at Vivian’s house.

  Her father wasn’t at home, which didn’t distress Everleigh.

  Vivian arrived in the drawing room, her hair swept up, with loosely flowing waves escaping the knot. She appeared elegant and proud, except for the wariness of her footsteps.

  ‘I think you threw me out of your house.’ She stared forward. ‘I received the impression you never wished me to be near you again.’

  ‘I did not throw you out.’

  ‘Figuratively speaking, you did.’ Her lips formed a line.

  ‘My heartfelt apologies.’

  ‘I would prefer not to accept them, but I fear I must.’

  ‘I’ve been told you have a dilemma. Does the reason you would court me have to do with Ella Etta’s words?’

  ‘Why would you think otherwise?’ She moved to a chair, sitting down. ‘Of course I would consider you an interesting prospect for a suitor under regular circumstances...possibly. Before I got to know you. But...’

  She indicated the chair near her, but when he declined, she rose.

  ‘I did promise Ella Etta I would marry you,’ she said. ‘I was ill at the time. Near death. Could barely sit, hardly think and was getting smoke in my eyes.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I’d seen you. You’d been gracious enough to kiss me.’ Her brows furrowed. ‘I had no preference in the matter since I was expected to die. My intended might as well be a man of kindness, instead of someone I’d never met.’

  ‘So, you thought I might be gracious enough to throw in a marriage along with a kiss.’ He had an urge to rail at her. Why had she not told him?

  ‘I’d not truly met you. Nor yet been tossed from your sight.’ She said the words as an accusation and her voice increased a notch. ‘I consider myself someone a man should joyously accept as a wife.’

  ‘If he was of a mind to marry.’

  ‘I would think,’ she grumbled, ‘if he realised he might have the opportunity of a wife as fine as I am, he might become inclined to wed even if the idea hadn’t occurred to him before. The opportunity to acquire a treasure should never be missed.’ Her chin moved up.

  ‘A treasure is a fine thing, but some men are best left in poverty.’ He noted Mavis silently at the door and a glower sent her scurrying.

  ‘I realise my recent illness might put some suitors off—but I am of good family. A baron’s daughter. Who has a respectable dowry, is pleasant-natured—’

  ‘You do not have to write me a journal,’ he assured her. ‘I can see enough of your attributes myself.’

  ‘It is not obvious you do.’ A twinge of hurt passed behind her expression. ‘You could have pretended chagrin when sending me from your house.’

  ‘I have not found that to work in the past. And I thought you appreciated honest speech.’

  ‘Very well.’ She paced between the chairs. ‘I would have appreciated some feeling of regret from you. I had, after all...’ she lowered her voice ‘...done the unthinkable. I had kissed you and mentioned marriage to you. Two crimes, apparently.’

  ‘No. Not the kiss. Yours was not the first such offer I have received of late. Alexandria had also done the same. It is not such an unthinkable topic for women as you might imagine.’

  ‘We both know she is daft,’ she said. ‘All this attention has made you high on the matrimonial instep.’

  ‘While I admit you are of suitable appearance and agreeable conversation—’ he said, then rapidly stopped. ‘I am not high on any instep. I don’t wish to marry. End of discussion.’

  He stepped so close he could have kissed her again.

  ‘Please sit. You’re towering over me. I don’t like it.’ She had her arms folded over her chest and regarded a sp
ace behind him.

  ‘Nor do I.’ He lowered himself into the chair.

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Miss Darius, please sit. I will be able to solve your problem. Painlessly.’

  ‘I will accept my fate. Mavis and I have talked. She said it is utter nonsense. But, if there are any repercussions, I will make sure the old woman knows they are to fall on me.’

  He stood, walking towards her.

  ‘I shouldn’t have taken the first kiss from you. It was wrong of me. I know how much it can mean. How it awakens something within a person. I do ask forgiveness.’

  ‘No. We are—were—friends. A friend doesn’t apologise for doing a kindness.’

  His shook his head the merest bit. He could see her lips in front of him and it would be no crime to kiss her again. Except it would. He could not be in her thoughts. But he was already there and would remain there, until someone else kissed her.

  ‘Vivian. You must attend those soirées you wished for.’

  Her jaw tensed.

  Holding her shoulders, he touched too much thinness, but he absorbed warmth, too, and smelled her flowery scent, which reminded him of springtime fields. He commanded her attention by slightly pulling her towards him.

  ‘Dance and laugh and find a gentle sort. You would have your pick of all the unmarried men interested in marriage.’ He smiled, speaking just above a whisper. ‘After all, you are worthy of love and sonnets every time the sun rises. I am not able to provide that.’

  She put her hand to his chest, but didn’t push. Her words burst from her. ‘I don’t want to die. And I don’t want my mother to be under any curse.’

  He stepped back, taking her hand and lifting it. Her fingers curled softly, but she opened them when he kissed her palm.

  Lowering her hand, he said, ‘Ella Etta will release you from the curse. She won’t dare not.’

  Vivian made him feel bigger somehow. His anger at her for trying to manipulate him disappeared. His old friend had tricked Vivian.

  For Ella Etta to take food from the estate was one thing, but she’d overstepped her bounds.