Page 4 of The Trouble with a Dare

The butler looked at her father, who nodded in agreement.

“I’d make no decision without you, Jem, love,” Papa said, once the butler had closed the door. “Surely you know that.”

“Of course I do,” Mama replied, looking a little indignant. “I just wanted to save you the trouble of thinking about it.”

A look of such understanding passed between them that Grace felt her heart ache, but then there was another knock at the door and her heart was pounding for quite a different reason. Mr Oak strode in, and Grace felt her breath catch. As ever his expression was fierce, his bearing that of a man who would take his leave the moment it was possible. He put her in mind of an untamed horse, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. A stallion, she corrected herself as she took in the sight of him, remembering all over again how large he was, a lifetime of working the farm having built powerful shoulders and strong limbs.

“My Lord Rothborn, Lady Rothborn,” he said, giving a stiff bow. “I don’t doubt you’re not best pleased to see me, but I mean to do right by Miss Weston. I know I’m not what you’d look for in a son-in-law, but—”

“Why would we not be pleased to see you, Mr Oak?” her mother asked, her grey eyes watchful.

Mr Oak faltered and Grace had the distinct impression that he had rehearsed his part carefully and her mother’s question had thrown him off balance. He stared, his dark brows knit.

“She’s with child,” he said, blunt as ever.

Grace winced.

He noticed her reaction and his face darkened further. “I’m sorry for it, but we must marry at once.”

“Yes, but… the child is not yours,” her mother persisted, staring at him with interest.

Mr Oak’s gaze flew to Grace, full of accusation.

“What did you tell them?” he demanded.

Grace gazed at him in shock, so surprised by his obvious annoyance that for a moment she did not respond. “The truth, of course. Surely you did not think I would let them believe the worst of you?”

His face darkened. “Better that,” he said, his voice terse as he turned on her father. “She was taken advantage of and if I ever discover who the bas—blackguard was, he’ll wish he’d never been born. Miss Weston had no defence against such a man, no experience to—”

“I know that,” her father cut in sharply, his expression rapt as he stared at Mr Oak. “And if there is any retribution to be meted out, I shall be first in line, but you… you would have had us think you responsible, perhaps even suspect you of being a fortune hunter?”

Grace watched, startled to see colour flare high on Mr Oak’s cheeks.

“I’m hardly penniless,” he said, his jaw tight.

Interest flickered in her father’s eyes and his voice was apologetic when he spoke. “I meant no disrespect, I assure you. I only wish to understand why you would do so.”

“None taken,” Mr Oak replied gruffly. “And because Miss Weston needs protecting.”

To her surprise, a look of mingled pain and regret settled upon her father’s strong features. “I am culpable, and I know it.”

“No!” Grace exclaimed in horror.

“I did not mean to imply….” Mr Oak said, both he and Grace speaking at once.

Her father held up his hand. “You did not need to imply, Mr Oak, and Grace, darling, if I had guarded you closer—”

“You ought not need to keep watch on me every hour of the day, Papa! I am young, perhaps, but not a child. You both taught me right from wrong, and I knew I was doing wrong and I… I am ashamed. I regret it very, very deeply, but the deed was mine, the decision was mine, and I kept the truth from you. I sneaked out of the house at night. What were you to do? Lock me in my room?”

Her father sat heavily, one hand going to his thigh and the war wound that still caused him such pain. He massaged the muscle, his expression taut.

“Why did you seek to protect our daughter in such a way?” her mother asked him. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, self-contained and calm although her eyes were still red from weeping. Her voice was gentle, as though soothing a fractious child. “Why not just tell us the truth? Grace has a significant dowry. Surely you knew we’d think the worst of you, believe that you had seduced her on purpose?”

“I didn’t know about the dowry, and I don’t care either way. I’ll not have you treat her as though she’s done wrong when she knew no better,” Mr Oak said, folding his arms.

He looked belligerent and unhappy, and Grace fidgeted on the sofa, uncomfortable in the unsettling atmosphere, quite at a loss for what to think of her husband–to-be. It touched her that he would defend her so fiercely, but she found herself irritated that he believed her so witless. With a rueful sigh, she had to admit that she had hardly given him reason to think anything else.

Her parents studied Mr Oak with open curiosity, clearly as baffled by him as Grace.