Page 9 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Beast
Lady Crestwood lifted her shoulders and then let them fall. “But all the same, it is awisesuggestion,” she said, quietly. “If the lady is not disagreeable then why would you throw aside the idea without so much as a single thought? You are required to marry and to produce the heir and your choice of brides may be a little more… limited than they were in the past.”
Arthur’s stomach roiled and he turned away.
“I do not say such things to hurt you but only to be honest.” The gentleness of his mother’s voice did a little to quieten Arthur’s upset but all the same, the truth of her words tore at his heart. “Will you at least be introduced to the lady? If she is pleasing then mayhap it would be wise to think on the suggestion a little more. You have a great deal of wealth and though it seems to be more of a barter than a true arrangement, it would still bring you both a sense of contentment. You would not have to worryany longer about finding a bride and Lord Townsend would be free of his burden.”
“And what if he is a gambler, Mother?” Rounding on her, Arthur threw up his hands though his mother did not so much as blink. “What if he has accumulated debts due to his own foolishness and selfishness?”
Lady Crestwood took a step closer, put a hand on his arm and looked up into his eyes. “That is all for you to ascertain, Crestwood,” she said, firmly. “I leave that entirely with you, knowing that you will make the right decision… about all of this.”
Chapter Four
Abigail blinked, her heart pounding furiously. “I beg your pardon, Father? You wish me to meet Lord Crestwood?”
“Otherwise known as the Beast of Crestwood Hall?” Charlotte asked, her eyes wide as Lord Townsend merely nodded.
“Yes, that is what I expect from you this evening. You are to be on your very best behaviour, you are to speak to him calmly and clearly and without any unwillingness. Do you understand?”
The fears which had been growing in Abigail’s mind as regarded her father’s desire to wed her to Lord Crestwood grew to such a large amount that she could barely breathe, putting one hand to her heart as she fought to find some sort of composure.
“Lord Crestwood is an excellent gentleman in terms of his standing and his title,” her father continued, walking about the room and gesturing to her as though she ought to be grateful for such consideration. “He has more than an abundance of wealth, a large estate and though his mother and sister reside with him, I presume his mother will remove to the Dower House should he marry and his sister will, likewise, seek out a husband for herself.”
Abigail shared a look with Charlotte but her sister merely shrugged, seemingly entirely unaware as to why their father would be informing her of such things.
Mayhap I am overthinking this.
Looking back into her father’s eyes, Abigail waited for that thought to bring her a little comfort, but it did not. Instead, there was a heaviness to her father’s gaze that, to her mind, confirmed what his intentions were for her.
“That is the carriage, my lord.”
Lord Townsend nodded to the servant and then returned this gaze to Abigail. “You will do as I have asked you, Abigail. Do you understand?”
“I do, Father.” Swallowing hard, Abigail fought back the tears which began to prick in her eyes as she followed him to the door of the drawing room. Was this what her future was to be, then? She was not to be permitted to find her own match, then. She was to be told what she was to do, who she was to stand up with and, should things go as she expected, who she was to take as her husband also. A great and terrible fear knotted itself around her heart. She did not know anything about Lord Crestwood but if his character was as dark as his expression had been, then what sort of husband would he be to her?
***
“As I promised, Lord Crestwood.”
Abigail trembled but she lifted her chin and looked straight into Lord Crestwood’s eyes.
The gentleman did not look back at her.
“This is your eldest daughter, then?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “The one you cannot find a husband for.”
Flames shot heat into Abigail’s face and her hands curled into tight fists as she fought to keep herself steady rather than drop her head and look away. Instead, she looked back at Lord Crestwood steadily, waiting for him to return her gaze but still, he would not look at her. Her breathing grew a little quicker, her heart pounding as she waited for her father to speak, wondering if he would confirm what the Earl had said or if he would come to her defense.
He did the former.
“Yes, this is my daughter Miss Abigail Townsend, the one who is as yet unwed,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “It has been rather difficult these last few Seasons for there is no reason for disinterest and yet the gentlemen of London seem to be entirely disinclined towards her! Yes, she is quiet and at times, much too shy but such qualities ought to be delighted in rather than ignored. After all, which gentleman wishes for a bride who talks too much? Would it not be better to have a bride who keeps quiet and who only expresses her thoughts when she is asked for them?”
Abigail closed her eyes and dropped her head, releasing her hands as tears burned in her eyes. It was not that she was quiet and did not wish to share her opinions, she wanted to cry, but that her father was so entirely disinterested in what she had to say and in what he thought of her that she had learned not to say a single word unless he asked her specifically. Yes, she would admit to being a quieter soul than her sister but that was not a trait she felt the need to apologise for or to alter.
Perhaps she had been wrong in that.
“Abigail, this is the Earl of Crestwood, as I am sure you already know.”
Hearing her father’s less than formal introductions, Abigail dropped into a curtsy but chose to say nothing, doing as both her father and Lord Crestwood might have expected by remaining silent.
“She is fair to look at, at least.”
