Married to the Rogue Page 3

  “My employer moved abroad,” she said hastily.

  “Ah. I understand your family came to Coggleton only recently?”

  “After my father died. Obviously, we could not continue at the vicarage when it was needed by his replacement. Mrs. Copsley, the squire’s wife here, is an old friend of my mother’s, so she was glad to find a suitable house here. But I suppose you do not wish to know all that.”

  He blinked. “I did ask.” He sat back while Mrs. Briggs set down the coffee pot and cups, cream, and sugar.

  “Thank you,” Deborah murmured.

  Mr. Halland’s steady gaze disconcerted her. Determined to get the encounter over with as quickly as possible, she reached for the pot and poured out two cups. He took one.

  “And what reckless act have you committed recently?” he asked her.

  She blinked. “None. Unless you count traveling on the mail coach from London to Chester.”

  “We were discussing doing foolish things without intent,” he reminded her. “Like mine of yesterday.”

  She thought about it. “I don’t usually act out of temper.”

  His smile was twisted. “Then what?”

  She shrugged. “Thoughtlessness. Or too much thought and reaching the wrong conclusion.”

  “You admit to thought? Be careful, or you will confess next to reading a book – other than a fashionable novel – and then you will be ruined.”

  “I don’t believe such activities can ruin a governess,” she said, although she reflected with some despair that her actual ruin, if ruin it proved to be, would indeed stand in the way of her obtaining any respectable position. Perhaps everything really did have to come down to Lucy’s marriage, and if that did not happen…

  She became aware of the silence, and then, alarmingly, of his unblinking observation. Had she spoken aloud? Had he somehow read the ruin in her face?

  He raised his cup to his lips and drank. “Let me tell you my story,” he said unexpectedly, replacing the cup on its saucer. “I am a Member of Parliament, elected to the House of Commons nearly two years ago. I am independent, fortunate enough to have an income on which to live modestly. But I also have an estate and a much larger fortune through my mother, which I will inherit on my thirtieth birthday, or when I marry. My grandfather, who controls this property in trust for me, refuses to break the trust and give it to me even two years early.”

  This, she already knew from Sir Edmund, so she merely nodded politely.

  His lips quirked. “Don’t you wish to know why I want the property now?”

  “I imagine it is more comfortable in London with a large fortune.”

  “I already have enough to live comfortably in London,” he reminded her. He almost seemed disappointed in her.

  “Then why do you need more?” she asked obligingly.

  He said, “I want Gosmere Hall to entertain and persuade important people of my points of view.”

  She blinked. “Are there not less expensive ways? At least for two years?”

  “Yes, but that is wasted time. I want to prove the benefit to the economy of land improvements and decent wages for labor. But most of all, I want to endow a school on the grounds. There is a suitable building there already, although it is in need of repair and refurbishment. And teachers and staff.”

  Her eyes widened at the unexpectedness. She sipped her coffee, “I imagine that would be expensive,” she allowed. “But would you not be able to recoup from the pupils’ fees?”

  “The pupils I have in mind won’t be able to pay fees.”

  She set down her cup. “It is to be a charity school?”

  “With a greater purpose.” He leaned forward. “In all our growing cities—and in the country, too,—are poor children, children forced into work to earn for their families. They grow up with no education, no possibility of any other life. They have no choice. What if they were given a choice? To learn, to go on to university, become doctors, lawyers, bankers, anything they wished to be? Imagine a whole country full of educated children.”

  “You cannot educate the whole country,” she said practically.

  “No. But I can educate a few in a model school.”

  She smiled. “That you can then show to your important and influential guests?”

  He grinned, almost like a schoolboy himself, then added hastily. “I would not like you to think I came up with this notion by myself, that I am advocating it through mere idealism and little knowledge. In fact, it is the brainchild of my friend who has taught at several schools from Eton to a charity school in Manchester. Many people don’t even believe that the poorer classes can be educated or that it is wise to educate them beyond their station. But it is clear that—”

  He broke off apologetically. “Well, I won’t bore you with all that right now. Suffice it to say, my ambition stretches beyond just throwing a little charity at a church school.”

  “You have a point to make.”

  His eyes gleamed. He had extremely profound, intense eyes. A man of fervor and principle. “Oh, I have many points to make, so many that I cannot wait two years to begin.”

  “Then what is your solution?” she asked and took a mouthful of coffee.

  “Marriage,” he said regretfully. “Since my grandfather is intransigent, marriage is the only way to get my hands on the property now.”

  “Then I wish you good fortune.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” A smile flickered across his face. “Because I have a proposal to make.”

  She stared at him, unlikely suspicions swirling in her mind. “What kind of proposal?”

  “Marriage. A marriage of convenience.”

  Something twinged inside her, like an echo of disappointment, of a lost possibility. It came to her that she rather liked this intense, passionate man, who had already shown himself to be dangerously ill-tempered, yet thoughtful and friendly. And funny. That was probably what she liked.

  “Do you have a lady in mind?” she asked. Please don’t let it be Lucy. Or should it be Lucy? Would she not rather be Lady Letchworth?

  But surely it could not be anyone else when he had taken the trouble to tell her all of this?

  “Of course, I do,” he said. “I am trying to be perfectly honest with you, Miss Shelby. Would you please be so good as to consider becoming my wife?”

  There seemed to be no sound, no air in the room. As if the world had stopped.

  Deborah’s mouth had fallen open in what had to be an entirely unbecoming manner. She closed it again and swallowed, staring at him.

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  He gave a rather self-deprecating grin. “Why not? I am a gentleman’s son. You are a gentleman’s daughter.”

  She frowned. “So is Lucy.”

  “Lucy? Your sister? I don’t think Letchworth would forgive me if I married her. Besides, I don’t believe she and I would suit so well.”

  She searched his face. “You are not even joking, are you?”

  He scowled. “Why would I be joking? Look, I admit I am a bad bargain as a husband. I am obsessive and forgetful, opinionated, and inclined to temper. I don’t always behave well, and I’m not proud of everything in my past. But I can promise to treat you with every respect and never to interfere with your private life, provided you behave with discretion. As shall I.”

  Her head was spinning as she grasped the meaning of his words, which seemed to cast blows rather than the reassurance he seemed to intend.

  She pushed her cup and saucer away. “I have just been interviewed for the position of wife,” she said flatly.

  “I am prepared to be interviewed for the position of husband, although I hope I have given you all the salient facts.” He sat back, his fingers playing with the handle of his empty cup. He might have been nervous. She could not tell. “Except that I would naturally make sure your family is financially secure. The boys may go to whatever school your mother wishes, and she can even employ a real governess.”

  Financial security.
Even before her father died, that had been a worry in the family. In the last year…well, to have that burden lifted was no small thing. Lucy could marry Sir Edmund or not. Only…

  She raised her eyes from his hand to his face. “I am not the wife you seek,” she said bluntly. “I do not care for the company of strangers, and I cannot make small talk. I would be a shockingly bad hostess for your important friends.”

  “And yet, you are used to moving among the highest in the land,” he interrupted, snatching her breath away.

  “If you refer to my place with the Princess of Wales,” she managed when she could speak, “I rarely had to say anything and merely did as I was asked by Her Highness or her more senior lady. In truth, the princess is of such a lively nature that one need never feel uncomfortable—” Realizing she was babbling, she broke off and swallowed. “Besides, you should know that there was an…incident. By some mistake, four of us were summoned to Her Highness’s residence after she had already left London and spent the night unchaperoned in the house while a somewhat vulgar party went on under the same roof.”

  “Orgy,” he murmured.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Orgy is the word being used. Forgive me, because of your sister, the Letchworths asked me to look into your family. I received word yesterday about this…incident. The newspaper called it an orgy.”

  She closed her eyes. Dear God, this was worse than any of them had imagined as they’d crept out of the house in the cold light of dawn…

  She snapped her eyes open again. “Then you believe I have no other choice than to accept your offer?”

  “I think it might be difficult for you to receive others. In fact, if the word spreads, it will be difficult for your entire family.”

  “Does Sir Edmund know?” she asked hoarsely.

  He shook his head. “Not from me.” He smiled deprecatingly. “I am the grandson of an earl. If I marry you, the Letchworths will be more inclined to favor your sister. Or at least not to forbid it. For what it’s worth, Letchworth is a very upright young man. Unless there was fault on Lucy’s part—and I can’t see that there is—he is unlikely to blame her.”

  She let out a relieved breath, then frowned and caught his gaze once more. “And you? You have not even asked me what happened.”

  He shrugged. “That is your business. My hope is you were not harmed. For the rest, I am happy to listen, but you hardly seem the type of girl to fall happily into an orgy.”

  She shuddered. “I’m not perfectly sure what an orgy is, but if it is the vulgar racket that went on below us in the princess’s house, then I can assure you, I was not happy at all, and I spent most of the evening locked away from it all.”

  “You are an innocent,” he observed, “caught in a scandal, not of your making. You need a husband. I need a wife. I believe we could deal well together.”

  “On the basis of one interview? Sir, there must be any number of better born, wealthier, and more sociable women who would jump at the chance to—”

  “Are you trying to talk yourself out of the position, Miss Shelby?” he interrupted.

  She stared at him. He was joking about this as a position, of course, but perhaps that was the way to regard it. An extremely well-paid position, with benefits for her whole family.

  And a way out of the scandal.

  Pressure built behind her eyes so quickly that she rubbed distractedly at her forehead. “You are truly serious about this?”

  “I am, but I will not press you. Go home and think, if you like. But if you could give me your answer one way or another by tomorrow, I would be grateful.”

  “I would be relieving one set of problems,” she said slowly, “and taking on others.”

  “That is life.” His lips curved into a smile of pure mischief. “And it can be fun.”

  Her breath caught. A position with adventure was what she imagined she would have when she accompanied the princess abroad. This was an entirely different adventure and just as unknown.

  “Shall I call on you tomorrow?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to send a note to me at Gosmere Hall?”

  “There’s no need,” she said abruptly. “I accept your offer. I will marry you.”

  Dear God, what have I done?

  Chapter Three

  His eyes widened with excitement she knew had nothing to do with her personally.

  None of this was personal.

  However, he solemnly held out his hand, and she shook it because she didn’t really know what else to do.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I shall do my best to ensure you never regret this decision.”

  “Likewise,” she agreed.

  He released her hand, and she let it fall back into her lap. Shock and even fear at what she had just done surged within her, forcing her abruptly to her feet.

  “I should go home,” she mumbled. “If you will excuse me.”

  “I’ll accompany you, carry your basket.”

  “There is no need. I—”

  “I believe there is every need,” he said lightly.

  She had just agreed to marry this man. Instead of trying to shake him off, she should at least be getting used to his company. She could not explain to herself, let alone to him, why she suddenly found his person just too overwhelming.

  Inevitably, it seemed, they saw her mother’s friend, Mrs. Copsley, being driven along the village street in her gig. The lady’s eyes were agog, but Mr. Halland merely raised his hat and kept walking. Deborah dropped a quick curtsey and hurried on with him.

  She didn’t know if she was glad or sorry when the children merely waved from the square and didn’t run up to join them. Her mind was too busy for conversation, but she did feel his gaze upon her frequently. Perhaps he was appalled at what he had just done. Should she give him a chance to back out?

  “Did I say, Miss Shelby, that you have no reason to fear me?” he said abruptly. “I have a temper, but I could not hurt a friend, and I hope that is what we shall be.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she said at once, even as she wondered if it was true.

  “I forgot to ask you if there was someone else.”

  “Someone else?” she repeated blankly.

  “Some other gentleman whom you might have hoped to marry.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I don’t want to deprive you of happiness. Our agreement is that we may follow our own hearts, within the bounds of discretion. I shan’t force my attentions on you.”

  Her face flamed. “Thank you,” she replied in a strangled voice. I think… “What do we do now?”

  “Am I correct in thinking you don’t want to make a fuss over the wedding?”

  “Quite correct,” she said in relief.

  “Then, with your agreement, I shall see about having the bans waived. With luck, we may be married in the village church the day after tomorrow.”

  “You have a way of depriving me of breath.”

  “Too soon?” He almost sounded disappointed.

  “No, no, by all means, let us have it over with.”

  His lips twitched. “You really don’t like fuss, do you?”

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. That must have sounded terribly rude.”

  “No, I like that you say what you think. I hope you always will. If you are agreeable, we can move into Gosmere Hall immediately after the wedding.”

  “Will your grandfather not object?” she asked nervously.

  “Lord, no, He left yesterday, shortly after I galloped into you. I shall write to him today and tell everyone who needs to know. As should you.” He frowned suddenly. “You are more than one-and-twenty?”

  “Three-and-twenty. There is no one whose permission I need.”

  “Then I will make arrangements and let you know. Is this your house?”

  “Yes.”

  He opened the gate for her and followed her to the front door, where he held out his hand.

  Slowly, as though she were giving herself, she put h
er hand in his and watched his long fingers curl around it. To have and to hold. Was she truly about to give this stranger complete power over her? Terrifying. And curiously exciting. There was latent strength in the hand that held hers with gentle firmness. She did not mind his touch. She did not mind it at all.

  “You have not told me your name,” he observed.

  “Deborah.”

  “Deborah,” he repeated. “I’m Christopher, though you may call me Chris or Kit if you like. Until tomorrow.”

  She slid her hand free. “Goodbye.”

  He smiled, tipped his hat, and returned her basket before striding back down the path.

  Am I dreaming this?

  *

  Deborah decided on the blunt approach. When her mother and sister returned from Letchworth House, she waited until they were seated in the parlor and left a gap in their speculations as to when precisely Sir Edmund might make his offer. The children were playing and squabbling over aspects of their extended game but had also quieted for a moment.

  Deborah took a deep breath. “Mr. Halland made me an offer of marriage this afternoon, and I have accepted him.”

  All eyes in the room turned on her in astonishment.

  Her mother frowned. “I don’t think that’s a terribly tasteful jest, Deborah. You know how much we are depending on this match of L—”

  “Of course I do, and I’m trying to tell you not to be so anxious over it anymore. Mr. Halland has assured me that he will arrange for your financial security as well as school for the boys, and a governess.”

  “But what are you talking about, Deb?” Lucy demanded. “Do you mean Mr. Christopher Halland at Gosmere? You only met him once!”

  “Twice,” Deborah corrected. “I ran into him in the village this afternoon.”

  “And on the strength of that, he made you an offer of marriage?” her mother said in disbelief. “Deb, have you considered that he was jesting? Gentlemen can be cruel, particularly if he had heard of your…trouble. He did not mean it, my dear, and I’m surprised you do not see that.”

  “I did consider the possibility,” she allowed. “For I was at least as astonished as you. But he was honest with me. He did not pretend any tender feelings that I would not have believed. He knew of my trouble, as you call it, and pointed out I was truly in need of a husband, and if he marries me in full knowledge of the trouble, Sir Edmund could have less reason not to offer for Lucy.”