Page 57 of Temptations of a Wallflower
Her heart swelled at his words, but her father was more obdurate. “If that was the case, Mr. Cleland, you would not have married her.”
At this late, unfashionable hour, few riders were out on Rotten Row—only a handful of dedicated sportsmen and women too concerned about exercise to care much for the hours kept by polite Society.
Jeremy’s father was just such a sportsman, preferring to take his bay gelding out for a ride when there was little chance of actually meeting someone and wasting time with idle chitchat. This evening, Jeremy joined the earl. The conversation he was about to have wasn’t one he particularly looked forward to—but it had to be done.
Riding a spotted gray mare, Jeremy kept pace with his father as they trotted between the rows of chestnut trees, occasionally nodding at a passing rider but mostly keeping to themselves. With tension building inside him, Jeremy felt like a steam engine. He had to speak, but there was still something intimidating abouttalking with his own father. However, only that afternoon he’d faced the Duke of Wakefield. Surely talking with Lord Hutton couldn’t be as daunting. Or perhaps the task of speaking with his father was even more formidable. Jeremy cared for the duke’s opinion only as much as it affected Sarah. But his own father . . . he’d always been a large, insurmountable presence in Jeremy’s life, ever since childhood. Intimidation, threats . . . this was the currency of the earl’s realm.
Jeremy wasn’t a boy any longer, though, but a man. And a man who’d married that morning.
Before Jeremy could speak, his father broke the silence. “How fares your task?” he asked, making it sound more like a demand than a question. “The search for thatauthoress.”
Damn.Jeremy had been involved with his own life, rather than his father’s task.
“It proceeds,” he said instead. “She hides herself well. She’s extremely intelligent.”
“Wily and cunning, rather.” Lord Hutton exhaled through his nose. “Which only proves that she cannot continue peddling morally depraved smut.”
Jeremy wondered if there was any other kind of smut, but he decided it was best not to quiz his father on the subject. “Have you ever read her books?”
Lord Hutton looked appalled. “God, no! I’d never waste my time with such tripe.”
It seemed so easy to criticize something with which one had no experience. Yet this, too, was something that Jeremy opted not to voice.
He had to do it. “I do have some other news,” he began. They’d reached the end of Rotten Row and hadturned their horses around to begin another lap. “I’m married.”
His father pulled up so abruptly on the reins that his gelding danced sideways. “What?”
“I took a wife,” Jeremy explained. “Entered into the bonds of holy matrimony. Tied the knot.”
Lord Hutton looked uninterested in Jeremy’s attempt at wit. “To whom? When?”
“Lady Sarah Frampton,” Jeremy answered. “This morning.”
Now his father truly looked shocked. “The Duke of Wakefield’s daughter?”
“The same.”
For a moment, Lord Hutton seemed incapable of speech. He stared at Jeremy, the distance between their two horses seemingly as wide as the English Channel. In all his life, Jeremy had never seen his father appear so utterly at a loss, and it startled him a little to see the older man thus.
“I . . .” Lord Hutton cleared his throat. He never cleared his throat. “I wasn’t even aware that you knew Lady Sarah.”
There was a considerable amount about Jeremy that his father didn’t know. Much more, ever since he’d come to London.
“We’ve come to care for one another during the time that I’ve been in London,” Jeremy said. “We knew her father wouldn’t approve, so we married by special license today.”
For a moment longer, Jeremy’s father continued to stare at him with amazement. Then his expression shifted to one of reserved happiness.
“My congratulations,” Lord Hutton finally said, a small smile creasing his face. It was the first time Jeremy had ever received felicitations from his father—even when he’d been ordained as a priest, he’d gotten a handshake, but that had been all. Not today. A rising feeling of pride awakened in Jeremy’s chest.
“You’ve landed quite a rich catch,” Lord Hutton crowed.
Disappointment shot through Jeremy at his father’s words. So that’s what this was about. Seeing Jeremy not as a man capable of earning the love of a worthwhile woman but as a fortune hunter.
“Her dowry is not why I married her,” he said coldly. He nudged his horse into motion.
His father was quickly at his side, looking utterly baffled. “Why else?” he wondered. “The gel’s a wallflower of the first water. Hardly much besides her money and title to recommend her.”
Fury gripped Jeremy—he’d never felt such rage and disappointment toward his father, not even when he’d forgotten his birthday two years in a row. Those were minor slights, but to insult Sarah . . . that was intolerable.
