Page 36 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“Anne!” Michael stepped in front of her. This earned him a frown. “The point is these men are unsuitable. You don’t want to dance with a great bully, nor someone whose estate is insolvent.”
“I will admit that Lord Scudamore’s schoolboy behavior sounds regrettable. But people can change. Today he is hailed as a paragon of charity and virtue. Why, just last month he organized a subscription sermon for the Ladies’ Society that brought in forty-seven pounds. And as to someone whose estate is insolvent”—she gave a dark laugh—“I have to marry someone, Michael.”
He blinked at her. “I should like to know what you mean by that.”
She was back to scanning the crowd. “Papa structured my marriage contract with Lord Wynters such that, if we didn’t have any children, my dowry reverted back to him. Now he’s re-dowered me, which means I come with thirty-five thousand pounds. It gives me hope that I might get a proposal or two.”
“You are not marrying any of these scoundrels,” Michael said, biting back the words, the only man you’re going to marry is me.
Anne looked up at him, exasperated. “It’s no use pretending that my dowry won’t serve as an inducement.”
He took both of her hands in his. “Your dowry is not your greatest inducement. Only a fool wouldn’t want to marry you. Anne, I—” He glanced around. The foyer was packed; not exactly the romantic prospect he had envisioned for his proposal.
He drew in a slow breath. It wasn’t as if Anne was going to accept someone else in the next hour. He could be patient. His opportunity would come. Soon.
He held her gaze. “You deserve a husband who understands your worth. Which has nothing to do with your dowry. You deserve someone who’ll treat you like a queen, who will dedicate his life to making you happy. And I’m going to be honest, Anne, I know those first few men on your dance card, and not a one of them is worthy of you.”
Her annoyance melted away. “What a kind thing to say. But I must be practical, Michael. Not that I think he’s truly interested in me, but I don’t think it’s fair to judge Lord Scudamore based on his youthful foibles. After all, you’re the one who once walked around all morning with a bladder of cherry brandy in your mouth so you could pop it and make Harrington think you were bleeding.”
“You know full well I only did that because he wouldn’t stop stealing up behind me, grabbing my waistband, and yanking my trousers up to my ears.”
Anne shook her head. “Your shirt was soaked with it. I’ve never seen him in such a frenzy. He thought he’d killed you.”
“Yes, well, the point is, he never tried that maneuver again now did he?”
“Then there was the time you drizzled Mrs. McGillicutty’s Tincture of Aphrodite over everything in his trunk. Edward said he went around Eton for a week smelling of apricot and orange blossom.”
Michael groaned. This was the problem with falling in love with someone who knew everything about you. They knew… everything about you. “Harrington deserved that one, too. And he later agreed it was hilarious. But still, there’s a difference between a childish prank and cruelty.”
“I don’t disagree. My point is merely that we have all done regrettable things in our youth that don’t necessarily have any bearing on who we are as adults. And I’ve got to be realistic. My dowry is an inducement. If I should receive a proposal from some man whose debts are not too great and who is otherwise suitable—”
He squeezed her hands. “Say no. You’ll receive a better offer. I promise you will.”
Anne bit her lip. “I don’t know, Michael. I might have to settle for a fortune hunter. I might not get another offer, and you know how much I want to have children—”
“You won’t have to settle,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”
She sighed. “I’ll think on it. Oh!” Anne was looking through the doors leading to the ballroom. “There’s Mama. Over by the refreshment table.” She pressed Michael’s hand and slipped away.
He was watching her weave nimbly through the crowd when someone slung an arm around his shoulder. “Morsley! By gad, it is you!”
It proved to be Andrew Tomlinson, an old friend from Eton.
Michael sighed. Well, he had done his best. Hoping Anne would heed his warning, he turned to greet his friend.
Chapter 13
“Mama,” Anne said, “I need your help. Whose crest features two wild boars?”
The Countess of Cheltenham heaved a dramatic sigh and looked heavenwards. “I tried. I really tried with you, Anne.”
“Do you know whose it is?”
Her mother shook her head. “I tried to get you to study DeBrett’s. But it’s difficult to make any progress with a pupil who spends all her time running wild with the boys—”
“I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“—more often than not wearing a pair of your brother’s old trousers so you could ride astride. Oh, yes. I knew all about the trousers.”
