Page 13 of Married to the Earl

Henry would be here at The Arc tonight. It was their custom to have a drink together in the evening, before the club’s main rush of business began.I’ll ask him then, Conor said.And I must commit myself to following his advice. If he says it would be wrong to pursue this marriage, that I must decline the offer and leave the girl alone, that’s what I’ll do.

He was surprised, though, by the pang of regret he felt at the thought. He hadn’t realized he had any strong feelings about the matter, but suddenly the thought of passing up an opportunity to spend time with Astrid seemed unthinkable.

Strange. I knew I found her appealing, but perhaps it took an offer of marriage to make me realize how much I truly wanted her.

There was still the fact that he had never spoken to the girl before. Perhaps, upon meeting her, he would find her company repellent. Perhaps he would no longerwantto marry her. That would make this dilemma much easier to resolve.

But it seemed unlikely.

Keep a level head, Conor admonished himself as he dried the scotch glasses and put them away.Whatever happens, don’t get carried away with your emotions. She’s a very sheltered girl.

He would have to be very careful not to do any damage to her in the course of whatever came next.

Chapter 6

Astrid was slicing a loaf of bread to serve with the stew she had made for dinner when her father came through the door.

Immediately, it was clear that something was wrong, and for a moment she almost though he had been accosted on the street by bandits. He walked as though he carried a massive weight on his shoulders. He stumbled across the kitchen and fell into a chair, resting his head on his arms.

“Father?” Astrid asked, alarmed. She hurried to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Father, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Astrid.” To her horror, he sounded like he might be about to cry.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked him, hoping that the answer was yes. As much as she didn’t like to see her father overindulge, she would have preferred to think that he was falling apart because he was intoxicated, rather than because something terrible had happened.

“Only a little,” he said.

She trembled. “Let me get you some stew,” she suggested.

“That would be welcome. It smells wonderful,” he said, but the sadness in his voice remained.

Astrid busied herself ladling the stew into two bowls. She brought them to the table, along with the bread, and set a portion down in front of her father. “Eat,” she encouraged him. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

He nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I know you’re right. You’re young, Astrid, but you’re smart. So smart.”

How smart was it to suggest that eating would make a man feel better? Astrid frowned, but she didn’t say anything. She took her seat at the table and waited for her father to explain what was going on.

After a long time, he drew a breath. “I went to the Earl of Middleborough today,” he said.

“Did you?” Astrid didn’t know what to make of that. Had her father thought the Earl might help him out of his predicament with the Baron? “What happened?”

“I offered Lord Middleborough your hand in marriage.”

Astrid felt as if her blood had frozen. “What?” she choked.

“I offered the Earl your hand,” her father repeated. He made a study of his bowl of stew, and Astrid got the feeling he was afraid to look at her.

“Father, I’m not ready to marry,” she whispered.

“You’re twenty-one years old,” her father said. “You’re certainly old enough. You’re more than old enough.”

“I’ve never even…” she trailed off. What could she say that would adequately make her point? What hadn’t she done that a woman ought to do before she became a man’s wife?I’ve never doneanything. That’s the end of the sentence.

She had never been courted by a man. She had never danced with a man. She had never had aconversationwith a man, not really. She had spent her life in this house, only stepping outside on a few rare occasions, and always in the company of her father.

And now she was to be married.Married!

She forced herself to draw a breath, to slow her thoughts. “What did Lord Middleborough say?” she asked.

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