Page 63 of Wedding the Widow

Elizabeth sat before the crackling fireplace, uncomfortably aware of the man sitting beside her on the chaise longue. Mama and Papa had retired after the toast to her coming marriage, citing the need for her and Lord Robert to become better acquainted. A prospect she dreaded on several fronts.

Straightening her shoulders, she smiled tentatively at her companion. She really must pull herself together and accept that Lord Robert would be her husband. He didn’t seem a bad man, only rather self-absorbed and set in his ways. Of course, having been a bachelor all his life, he would be. Still, perhaps she could change those ways so they could be more comfortable together. To that end, she needed to learn more about him.

“Why have you never married, my lord?” She flicked her gaze from the fire to his startled face. “Surely, the son of the Duke of Ardlow would have been a most eligible catch.”

His quick smile held a rueful touch. “The first son and heir absolutely was, Mrs. Easton. The twelfth one, much less so.”

“Please call me Elizabeth.” She swallowed hard but kept speaking. “I think we should try to become more comfortable with one another.”

“I thank you, Elizabeth.” He sipped his champagne and visibly relaxed against the chaise. “And you must call me Robert.” With a sigh, he drained the last of the bubbling wine.

“Your father had twelve sons?” Goodness. She’d never heard of such a thing. Fervently, she prayed Lord Robert did not wish to follow in those footsteps.

“Well, there were twelve children, several girls in the mix, of course, but eight sons, of which I am the youngest.” His brows furrowed. “There are but three of us left now. James, the late duke, died ten years ago, Charles died as a child of the whooping cough, Henry in action during the war, and now Alfred.” His eyes took on a saddened aspect. “He was closest to me in age, two years older at fifty-one.”

“I am so sorry for your loss, Robert.” She carefully placed a hand on his arm. “You needn’t speak of it if it makes you sad.”

He covered her hand with his, patting it absently. “Thank you, my dear. It does make one reflect on one’s life. And as you can see, given the circumstances, I had very little to recommend me as a husband. I was always more interested in my studies, and then, of course, I had to make my way in the world. I truly had no means for taking a wife.”

“What did you do?” He had managed to touch a chord in Elizabeth, making her suddenly interested in this lonely man.

“My father’s influence got me a position with the Earl of Craigmont, in Shropshire, as his man of affairs. We rubbed along well together, and when he died several years ago, he left me a small, unentailed estate of his, not far from the primary residence. My inheritance, though small, is sufficient to maintain me there.” His face brightened. “So I’ve been able to devote myself to my studies at last.”

The fervor in his voice, the eagerness that leaped into his face when he spoke of his work, told her exactly where this man’s passions lay. He would never feel that way about a woman of his choice, much less her. Still, he was willing to sacrifice his hard-won solitude to rescue her reputation. The action spoke equally well of Lord Robert’s character and of his fondness for her father.

Stiffening her resolve, she vowed she would do her best to make him a comfortable home and see to his needs in exchange for the respectability he would give her and the name he would give her child.

“And here I am to come in and disrupt your well-ordered life. You are very good to do this. Why did you agree to my father’s proposal?” She hadn’t taken time to wonder at his motives, only her own circumstances, until now.

“Wentworth has been my closest friend for some twenty years. How could I say no?” He knit his brows, seeming quite puzzled that she would ask such a question.

Swallowing several times, she squeezed her hands together. “Did he explain my circumstances, Robert? Completely?” Assuming Papa had told the man would not do. She must make certain he knew everything before they wed. “He told you that I am . . . with child?” The shame of the words seeped into her soul, forcing her to close her eyes. “I was weak. I fell in love and then . . . he could not marry me.” Lord, she sounded like one of those lurid romances Bella liked so much.

“Do not distress yourself, my dear.” Lord Robert patted her arm, and she opened her eyes to find his kind. “Of course, your father told me of the predicament. Wentworth would never have kept such information from me. He also assumed, quite rightly, that if I could not have accommodated his request, the information would have gone no further. I have always kept his confidences and he mine.”

That brought her up short. What confidences could this man have ever had? Again, the feeling that there was more to Lord Robert than met the eye pricked her interest. “So you will have no qualms of raising the child as your own? He or she will be yours in the eyes of the ton and the eyes of the law, no matter if the truth eventually comes out.” She lowered her gaze. “If it is a son, he will be your heir.”

Robert shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Then he will be more of an heir than I would have had if not for our marriage.” He peered intently into her face. “I am under no illusions about this marriage, Elizabeth. It is a true marriage of convenience, although I hope we will eventually rub along as well as most couples. Your child will be treated as any other child we may have.”

Elizabeth tried to stifle the gasp that escaped her. Of course, she had understood that her marriage to Lord Robert would not be in name only, but the sudden realization that they would indeed be intimate—possibly by this time tomorrow night—hit her with the power of a blow to her stomach. She blinked several times, hoping to force herself to expel the breath she held.

“Elizabeth? Is something wrong?” Lord Robert ducked his head to peer into her face. He grasped her hand and chaffed it. “Are you quite all right?”

Slowly, she drew breath in and nodded vigorously. “I am well, my lord. A sudden faintness that I’ve been plagued with of late.” And would be for some time to come. “I’m certain you understand a woman feels differently at times like these.”

“Ah, well, yes.” Sounding like an exotic bird, Lord Robert cleared his throat. “I have heard such things from friends who have families. Nothing to worry about, though?”

“No, I shall be fine.” She would too. As soon as she could accept the idea of intimacies with this stranger. Odd that she’d thought the same thing of Jemmy after they’d first shared a bed. Perhaps it was a normal reaction, though she strongly doubted she would ever feel for Lord Robert what she’d felt for either Jemmy or Dickon.

“Once you are no longer unsettled by all this fuss, you will hopefully regain your full health. The house in Shropshire has quite the reputation for peace and quiet, which I’m certain you will enjoy and take full advantage of.” He rose and offered his hand. “Shall I see you to your chamber?”

Elizabeth nodded, grateful to think of the solitude her room promised for the night, although it would likely be her last night alone. Still, Lord Robert seemed very willing to accommodate her. Perhaps she could put off their “wedding night” for a time. He had lived alone for years, so the deprivation would be slight. They could get to know one another before taking that next, fateful step toward physical intimacy. “Thank you, Lord Robert. That would be very kind.”

“Robert, my dear.” Quite suddenly, he drew her to him. “You must call me Robert when we are alone.” Without any further warning, he pulled her flat against him, wrapping his arms around her, crushing her to his chest.

Stunned, Elizabeth could scarcely catch her breath before he tipped her head back. A sense of dread at what must be coming enveloped her.

His muscles were solid, hard as granite, in fact. Surprising, since she’d assumed his studies would have rendered him softer. Lord Robert obviously had kept his body as well occupied as his mind. Staring into her face with blue eyes almost black with desire, he whispered, “You are a very beautiful woman, Elizabeth. That was also a consideration when your father suggested we marry. I was a guest at your first wedding, though I doubt you remember me.” He ran his hand through her hair, gentle yet firm.