Page 75 of Deceiving an Earl
Her mother had half risen when Ellen rushed in, now she sank back into her chair. “Yes, I know,” was all she said.
“I can’t,” Ellen wailed. “I can’t marry him.”
“Of course you can, and you will. This is a great coup for us. Fieldhurst is a very respectable man from a long line of earls. And you will have a son who will someday be an earl as well.”
Ellen looked at her mother in horror. “My son? I don’t even have a son, and I’ll not have a son with that man.” She’d not even met Fieldhurst. She had no idea who he even was. She didn’t even know his first name!
“But you will, and you will be a countess.”
Why did she even think her mother would understand? Since the moment her parents realized that there would be no more children after Ellen, that their dream of having a son was dashed, they pinned everything on an advantageous marriage for her.
“I’m in love with someone else,” she said recklessly.
“What?” Her mother went pale.
“I’m in love with someone else. We are to marry. He was going to ask Father for my hand in marriage, but he was called away and couldn’t do it. But he will. He’ll be here in two days.”
“Ellen, dear, you are hysterical, and there is really no need to be. Fieldhurst is a nice man. You will get along famously.”
Ellen stomped her foot. Why would no one listen to her? Why were they brushing her objections aside?
“I am in love with The Viscount of Fairview. He will someday be the Earl of Armbruster. See, Mother? I’ve already made an advantageous match. I will be a countess and Oliver will be my earl!”
“Armbruster? Isn’t he young?”
“He’s my age. Seventeen. But we are in love. We’ve been meeting, and we’ve fallen in love.”
Her mother stood swiftly. The chair tilted back and fell with a muffled thud. In two strides her mother was in front of her, grabbing Ellen’s hands and squeezing them until it hurt.
“Ouch! Mother, stop!”
“What do you mean you have been meeting? Without a chaperone? Without my consent?”
“I…” Ellen realized her mistake. She should not have said that. Now her mother was furious.
“When did you meet? Where? By God, Ellen, if you have put your reputation on the line…” Her mother flung Ellen’s hands away and paced. “I need to know everything. Where you’ve been with him. What you’ve done with him. Please tell me you are not with child. Please tell me you were not that foolish.”
“No! Of course not. I would never do that before we were married. He’s going to ask Father for my hand.” She kept repeating herself, hoping her words would eventually make her mother understand.
“Good. Good. Hopefully this won’t get out and Fieldhurst won’t have heard.” She rubbed her temples. “This isn’t a disaster.” She seemed to be talking to herself rather than to Ellen. “We can manage this. There’s no need for your father to know. We’ll keep it between us.”
“Mother…” Ellen stepped forward, hands outstretched. “Please talk to Father. Tell him that I can’t marry Fieldhurst. That I will marry Oliver and I will still be a countess.”
“I will not tell him that. Your father worked hard to procure this marriage agreement, and you will marry Fieldhurst. You will forget this viscount.”
“Forget him?” The room tilted again. “I can never forget him. I love him.”
“A girlish infatuation. Nothing more. Foolish, but I suppose we’ve all had them.”
“That’s not the way it is.”
“You will marry Fieldhurst in three weeks’ time. We have a lot to accomplish, a guest list to draw up. And a gown to be fitted. By then you will have forgotten all about this boy.”
“Never,” she whispered, feeling her world fall apart in the face of her parents’ convictions.
She now knew that it didn’t matter if Oliver had approached her father two days ago or two weeks ago. This marriage to Fieldhurst had been in the making long before that.
They were never meant to be together.
