Page 7 of The Earl's Heiress
Temple swallowed as that thought drifted through him. He was certain her tongue darting into his mouth was completely innocent. She was not conscious, so she couldn’t be tempted to kiss him, and it was just an unusual occurrence. He ought not to think about her in this manner, but his heartbeat quickened for the first time in months.
What a quandary.
Gossip was certain to rear its malicious head, and the lady—and her family—would be irreparably ruined. He did notwant that burden upon his conscience. He knew what honor demanded, yet he hesitated.
Perhaps it would not come to that. Perhaps those insufferable busybodies might be satisfied with his explanation and refrain from spreading rumors. But her father had vowed to call, and Temple knew precisely what the blasted man intended: to demand marriage for compromising his daughter, fully prepared to dismiss Temple’s protest that he had only sought to save her.
I could refuse them, he thought ruthlessly.Say no, and let them manage themselves. I do not know her. She is not my responsibility.
Yet could he truly abandon the young lady to the vultures? Refusing her would not leave him unscathed. His reputation was already tarnished, but this… this would destroy it utterly. His mother would be apoplectic. He would have lived down to the very worst of society’s judgments, and there would be no recovering from it.
No—he would do the honorable thing, because there was no other course. He would discuss it with his mother after arranging for the physician.
Bloody hell.
It rankled that his mother’s ceaseless urgings had forced him toward a marriage he had never desired, and now he must return to tell her he intended to wed a stranger.
A low, bitter laugh escaped him. He ought not to care what his mother thought, yet he knew well she would be displeased. The countess wanted him tied to an heiress who might mend their misfortunes and restore their fortune—not some unknown lady whose very connections and identity remained a mystery. It struck him only then that the young woman’s father had not even offered his name.
Anxious to reach Stanford Hall, he urged his horse into a steady, swift pace, careful not to startle the animal. Relief washed through him when the great house came into view. He dismounted, saw to the stable, and instructed the coachman to fetch the physician without delay and carry him to the Sterling hunting lodge. He prayed the young lady would recover. He would not allow himself to dwell on the alternative.
Once inside, he changed his clothes with the help of his valet and went directly to the library, where he had arranged for his mother to meet him. The countess was waiting, her face alight with hope as she smiled in greeting.
“You wished to see me, Temple.”
“I did, Mother,” he said, sitting on the sofa facing her. He explained the circumstances, watching as her expression shifted from eager hope to despair.
Her concerned eyes, shadowed beneath furrowed brows, fixed intently upon him. “You have no notion who this lady might be?”
Her tone suggested she suspected the circumstances to be all too convenient.
“None,” he answered flatly.
“And you are certain she did not feign the fall?”
He could not fault her for asking. Women had stooped to far worse in pursuit of marriage. The countess clearly feared that some unscrupulous young lady had ensnared him, ruining her carefully laid plans. “I saw what happened, and I am certain. She is fortunate to be alive.”
“I see.”
His mother grimaced. “Our family cannot withstand another scandal. There is little point in attempting to discover who they are when her father will call. We shall learn soon enough. Perhaps she will bring a dowry substantial enough to assuage our immediate concerns. I sincerely hope so.”
I am sure you do, Mother, he thought wryly.
“I have sent Dr. Percival to attend her, with instructions to keep me apprised of her condition. We may have word by this evening.”
“Very well. We must hope for the best.” The countess rose and withdrew, closing the door softly behind her.
Temple exhaled a weary sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. He might have to marry a stranger—a circumstance he had never imagined for himself. What would she think of it? What would such a marriage be like? A chill settled in his gut as honor warred with inclination. Every problem, he had always believed, could be met with determination and diligence. He would apply the same pragmatism to this marriage—if it came to pass—and pray it would suffice.
What a damnable mess.
CHAPTER 4
Saville Manor
Bella heard footsteps in the hallway, but she kept her eyes shut, feigning sleep. She wanted—no, needed—a little time without everyone fussing over her. Peace and quiet, to think about him. Temple Grey, the Earl of Stanford. The gentleman who had saved her.
She remembered little of the dreadful fall after the world had gone dark. What she did recall, however, was waking to the most extraordinary and alarming sensation—the earl’s warm breath filling her mouth. She had no notion why he was doing such a thing, only that she felt too weak to protest.
