Page 12 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
She and Arial were clearly friends, despite the age gap between them.
Would she remain with the household when Arial married? Peter, thinking back to the lively discussion over dinner, hopedshe would, then caught the trend of his thoughts. Had he decided to offer for Arial, then?
His disgust at marrying for a fortune was no less. He had to ignore his pride, though, and protect his sisters. This was the only quick way to secure safety for his sisters, and the surest.
It helped to further soothe the raw hurt of being a fortune hunter that the lady needed the protection of his name and title. The idea of a convenient marriage had become a lot more palatable in the past hour or so.
She would not have been a beauty even without the scars he could see, and he shuddered to imagine the damage she kept hidden. That was all to the good. His stepmother and her younger daughter were beauties, and they were shrews.
He had not expected—did not even want—a love match. He had his father’s example to show that romantic love was a fleeting thing, burning brightly for long enough to draw a person into foolishness, and leaving a lifetime of regret and problems.
He wanted a wife he could respect; a wife who respected him. Arial was kind, clever, and capable. Those were qualities that would wear much better than surface beauty. He could not quite picture them as lovers, but he could imagine them being friends.
Chapter Five
Arial, at hermorning ablutions, was hoping that her third candidate would be more promising than yesterday’s two, for she dreaded a future as Peter’s wife. In her mind, her ideal husband was tolerant, intelligent, and kind—Peter was clearly all three. She had envisaged a relationship of mutual respect, in which she lived much as she had before, but with the added bonus of another person in the household, to meet at meals and perhaps to share an evening of music or cards with, on the occasions that he chose to stay home. A man with whom she might, in time, become friends.
She could never have that comfortable future with Peter. If only his outer beauty had covered an inner ugliness of spirit! A silly thought, for if he’d been arrogant or cruel or mean she could not afford to marry him. No point in exchanging one persecutor for another, and one, furthermore, with absolute legal rights over her.
Peter had begun to impress her when he swallowed his pride to ask for her help on behalf of his sisters, when he had, without hesitation, offered his left arm in lieu of his right, when he had greeted Clara with such remembered affection.
Then he had returned with the two girls and their governess. Watching his loving care of them had softened her still further. After seeing her guests settled in, she had gone up to bed feelingmore hopeful about the future than she’d been since her father died.
But a night’s thinking had brought wiser counsel. Peter might be everything she dreamed of in a husband, but that made it all the more likely she would fall in love with him. Mr. Richards had reported he was reluctant to marry for money, but she thought he would come to it. She had learned enough to know he was driven by a strong sense of responsibility, and by love for his two half-sisters.
To marry someone whom she loved but who could never love her. Wouldn’t that be a kind of living hell? Far more comfortable and less immediately dangerous than the one her cousin threatened, but lacerating to the soul, nonetheless.
At breakfast, Arial told Peter that she had another candidate to interview before she saw him. “The appointment is made, and it would be rude not to keep it.”
He inclined his head. “Of course. And you would be foolish not to consider your options.”
“Whatever I decide, you and your sisters are welcome to stay until you have had time to consider your own.” It was an impulsive offer and a foolish one. If she married someone else, her husband would have the right to throw him out of the house.
He thanked her, but his reserve suggested he was thinking the same thing.
He would have every right to stay if I married him.
Afraid the insidiously welcome thought might show on what he could see of her face, Arial changed the subject. “Why not take your sisters sightseeing this morning? You can use the coach, and Cook can pack some food to take with you.”
By mid-morning, they left Arial to wait for candidate three, who proved not to be her salvation. He had inherited family property from a brother who had been the most recent in a succession of bad managers and gamblers and was cheerfullyopen about his belief that finding a rich wife was a kind of gamble. He assured her he had abjure all wagers and games of chance since finding the mess his brother had left behind him, but sporting language peppered his conversation.
When she thanked him for coming and told him that she’d let him know, he shrugged and commented, “Which is a polite way of saying, ‘thank you but no thank you.’ Never mind, Lady Arial. I thought it was a long shot, for who in their senses would take a chance on a St. Aubyn? But something will turn up, I’m sure.”
Arial told him she hoped it did, and watched him stroll, untroubled, out of her study and out of her life. Such a happy-go-lucky approach to life had its appeal, but not in a husband.
She refreshed herself with a cup of tea, taken at her desk while she tried to work her way through correspondence from her business managers. Her unsettled mind could not focus as it should, and so she put the papers away and instead pulled out a blank pad, which she ruled into two columns.
In one column, she listed the things she knew to Peter’s favor. He had been a nice boy. Kind to a younger female child when he was not off tagging after the adult men or playing with the boys from the village. He was still kind—brave, too. She did not discount how hard it must have been to approach a stranger for the favor of accommodation for his sisters. According to Mr. Richards, he was thrifty, hard-working, and determined to do better by his land and his tenants than his father had before him.
At the top of theagainstcolumn she noted his exceptional good looks. It was small of her, she knew, but she would have preferred a husband who did not attract admiring stares wherever he went. The contrast between her ugliness and his beauty could not fail to provoke stares and comments.
His kindness went into this column, too. She must, at all costs, guard her heart against reading too much meaning into good manners and an unwillingness to hurt.
His obnoxious relatives counted against him. They were not his fault, of course, but they were a factor that needed to be considered.
She sat for a long time, staring at the sheet of paper. One side was covered with points in favor of the match. The other had only those three points. It would depend on the interview, then. Perhaps he would turn her down, and then she would have to send Mr. Richards to hunt out another batch of reluctant fortune hunters. And she could not escape the conviction that she was running out of time.
She heard the sightseers return half an hour before the interview was due. A tap on her door heralded Clara, come with a message to say Peter had gone to freshen up, but would be at her disposal at the appointed time.
