Do You Want to Start a Scandal
Page 7Go upstairs and rest, Charlotte. I’ll take care of everything.
“Go upstairs and rest, Charlotte.” Lord Granville rose and crossed the room. “I’ll take care of everything.”
No, no, no.
That was the wrong man.
And why was he addressing her as Charlotte? As proper as he was, he ought to know better. That degree of familiarity was reserved for family.
Or couples who were betrothed.
She stared at the carpet. “We are not engaged, my lord.”
“I suppose not. But that won’t take long.”
Colin kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll leave the two of you alone.”
“Don’t,” she hissed at him, reaching for his sleeve. “Colin, no. You can’t leave me.”
But her efforts were in vain. Her brother-in-law escaped her clutches, deserting her.
Left with no other choice, she turned to look at the marquess. Judging by the weariness around his eyes, he hadn’t slept any more than she had last night. He had, however, found the time to bathe and shave, and change into a dark blue morning coat, paired with immaculate buff breeches and polished boots.
Charlotte never trusted people who looked this good first thing in the morning.
She tucked an uncooperative strand of hair behind her ear. “You can’t possibly mean to propose marriage to me.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “This situation is intolerable.”
He made no reply.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that to sound quite so insensitive. It’s not as though you’re the last man on earth I would choose to marry. I’m not stupid enough to assert anything of the sort. I always find it ridiculous when ladies say such a thing. The last man, truly? I mean, the world has a great many criminals and dullards in it. And even eliminating those, there must be millions who scarcely bathe.”
“So you’re saying I rank above the median.”
“In the top quartile, solidly. But that’s precisely why you deserve better than marrying the first impertinent girl who literally flung herself at you.”
His lips quirked in a subtle smile. “What makes you believe you were the first?”
Oh, dear. There he went, being likable again. It was much too early in the day for his subtle humor. She hadn’t readied her defenses.
“You’re a marquess and a diplomat.”
“But not an amnesiac. I do recall who I am.”
“Then you should recall this: You need a wife who is elegant and accomplished. The consummate hostess.”
His gaze settled on her in a most unsettling way. “All I truly need from marriage, Miss Highwood, is an heir.”
She swallowed, audibly.
“I have no need to marry for money or connections,” he continued. “You, however, could benefit from mine. On my part, I require a young, healthy bride—preferably an intelligent and good-natured one—to bear me children and ensure the succession of my line. This situation we find ourselves in, though unexpected, can work to our mutual advantage.”
“That’s a rather crass description.”
“Is it an honest one?”
Perhaps he truly didn’t need a worldly, elegant partner. Perhaps he found his needs of companionship met in other places, and all he wanted was a fertile bride without the inconvenience of a courtship.
All the more reason to get out of this.
He led her to a pair of chairs and motioned for her to sit. Charlotte’s body felt numb.
“Although this is not the match you might have envisioned,” he said, “I suspect you will find it a satisfactory one. As Lady Granville, you will have a fine home. Several of them, in truth.”
“Yes,” she said weakly. “I seem to recall the number five.”
“You will also have pin money, a legacy, and entrée into the highest echelons of society. When children come along, you need not be a servant to their upbringing. In short, you will have everything you could possibly desire.”
“With one rather notable exception,” she said.
“Tell me, and it will be yours.”
How could it not be obvious? “I would like to fall in love.”
He paused, considering. “I suppose that might be open to negotiation. After you’ve given me an heir, of course, and only if you can promise to be discreet.”
She was incredulous. “You’ve mistaken me, my lord. I would like to fall in love with the man I marry. And what’s more, I would like to be loved by him in return. Don’t you want the same when you wed?”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those bullheaded men who refuses to believe in love.”
“Oh, I believe love exists. But I have never desired it for myself.”
“Whyever not?”
He looked aside, as though he were choosing his words carefully. “Love has a way of rearranging a man’s priorities.”
“I should hope it does,” Charlotte said, laughing a little. “If it’s done right.”
“That’s precisely why love is the one luxury I can’t afford. I have duties and responsibilities. A great many people depend on my clear judgment. There’s a reason the poets say ‘falling in love,’ and not ‘climbing.’ There’s no controlling it, no choosing where one lands.”
She supposed he was right, in a way. But even if she could bring herself to disappoint Delia, endure the gossip, and give up everything she’d thought she wanted . . . she couldn’t imagine agreeing to marry without love.
You can’t eat love, she heard Mama’s voice insisting. But then, she couldn’t hold a conversation with a heap of coins. She couldn’t find tenderness or passion in a vast, empty house. Or even five houses.
She knew herself too well. A polite marriage wouldn’t remain polite for long. She would try to make her husband love her, and if that attempt failed, she would grow resentful. They would end up despising each other.
This was why—no matter what her mother schemed and planned—Charlotte had promised herself she would only follow her heart.