Page 10 of The Earl's Heiress
That heavy sadness pressed once more against Bella’s chest. “If the earl agrees to marry me, it is he who will be fortunate to claim my inheritance. I cannot call myself lucky when condemned to a loveless marriage.”
“Perhaps love will come in time.”
Naïve though her sister was, Bella had no wish to chasten her. “Or perhaps he will refuse my hand. I hope he does.”
“You cannot mean that!” Winnie cried, rushing to the bed and sprawling beside her.
“But I do. This is not what I want for my marriage. I long for companionship, for mutual affection—for love. Better not to marry at all than to marry without it. I wish to choose my husband, not have him chosen for me.” Her voice trembled with passion.
Winnie sighed, her mischievous gaze softening with sympathy. “I agree. I would wish the same for myself.”
A raw sound escaped Bella. “A man and woman should spend time together before they wed, so their hearts may entwine. In my imaginings, we would exchange tokens, portraits, letters of affection… take long walks together… steal a kiss.”
“You are such a hopeless romantic, Bella.”
A knock interrupted them; the refreshments had arrived.
“I shall leave you to eat,” Winnie said, rising. “I will return later to check on you.”
As her sister left, Bella wished with all her heart that she had never gone hunting. If her father and Lord Stanford struck an agreement, she would be married and her family would return to America, leaving her behind. She could see no advantage to marriage. None.
And despite her vow to remain calm, Bella buried her face in the bedclothes and wept.
CHAPTER 5
Stanford Hall
Mr. Henry Anderson was already seated across from Temple in the library. Temple could not fault the man; he was, after all, only striving to secure his daughter’s future. Still, it was ironic—only days ago, Temple had railed against the notion of marrying against his will, and now here he was, considering precisely that.
His man of affairs had already reported whispers in the village. Temple could well imagine what the scandal sheets in London might say should the matter spread:
A certain Miss A, newly arrived from foreign shores, was discovered in a most compromising state with a certain Earl of S. The drawing rooms are abuzz with speculation of a hasty wedding.
“Thank you for receiving me at such short notice, Lord Stanford,” Mr. Anderson began, his tone reverent. “I am obliged to you.”
“How fares your daughter?”
“Thank heavens, only bruised and not gravely harmed. The physician advises she remain in bed for a few days, but with rest she should recover fully.”
The knot in Temple’s gut loosened somewhat. He had been unable to banish thoughts of the young lady, silently praying she had suffered no lasting injury. “I am pleased to hear it.”
Mr. Anderson drew a steadying breath. “You are no doubt aware of why I am here. I believe we may reach an understanding. Are you willing to discuss it?”
A humorless smile curved Temple’s mouth. “By all means. But let me assure you, the situation occurred precisely as I described—upon my honor.”
Mr. Anderson cleared his throat. “I know what is expected of a gentleman when he is perceived to have acted improperly—” he stressed the wordperceived—“and I am firm in the belief you did not attempt to take advantage of my daughter. The physician explained the matter of the kiss of life, but society will care nothing for such a distinction.”
Temple met his gaze steadily. “I understand what is at stake, most especially for your daughter.”
“Then you will agree it is wise that you and my daughter should marry?”
The man’s question carried an edge of nervousness.
“Permit me to know the lady’s name you ask me to wed,” Temple replied coolly.
Mr. Anderson flushed. “She is my eldest, Miss Arabella Anderson—though we call her Bella.”
A silence lingered before Temple said at last, “I am a principled man, Mr. Anderson. I will do what is required.”
