Page 34 of Bound By her Earl

“Yes, Mother,” he said. The words came out impatiently which he felt was still better than she deserved. “I am going to marry her. That is what a proper gentlemandoeswhen he compromises a young lady’s reputation.”

“Proper,” she scoffed. “Who cares aboutproper?” This, Benedict supposed, was at least consistent with her character, if not her earlier objection to his being named in a scandal. “I suppose that father of yours put this nonsense in your head.”

Benedict’s blood turned to ice. “Do not,” he said in a deadly tone, “discuss my father.” He would not hear anything negative about the one parent who had loved him—and certainly not from the lips of a parent who only sought to use him.

Priscilla barely noted his admonishment, however, as she was already onto a new subject.

“No, Benedict, this won’t do at all. I don’t know the chit, obviously; I don’t associate with the unpleasantness of washed-up wallflowers, but clearly, she is an unacceptable choice. Do not proceed any further. Call off whatever farce of a betrothal you have concocted. There shall be scandal, of course, but we shall weather it, and then you shan’t end up shackled for life to some unwanted, discarded old maid.”

This relentless barrage of insults against Emily killed the remaining dregs of Benedict’s patience. Not only did Emily not deserve such comments for her own sake, buthedid not deserve to hear such disrespect regarding the woman he had chosen to be his wife, no matter the circumstances that had gotten them there.

“Enough!” he roared. He so rarely raised his voice with his mother—her penchant for screaming had left him disdainful of shouting, and honorable men, his father had always taught him, did not shout at women. Benedict felt, however, that his father would understand that sometimes exceptions needed to be made.

And, God help him, itworkedbecause his mother stopped speaking, turning instead to stare at him in openmouthed shock.

Benedict did not shout when he spoke again, but the words were no less forceful.

“I willnot,” he said, anger thrumming through him, “hear any such comments about Miss Rutley from this moment forward, Mother. I am marrying her. It is decided. I shall obtain a speciallicense, and in a week’s time, she will be my wife—and mistress of this house. Ifyouwish to continue living in this house, I suggest you find a way to show her the respect she deserves.”

And then, for the second time that day, Benedict turned on his heel and departed—only this time, he was left with the satisfaction that he had, for once, gotten the last word.

“Oh my goodness, Emmy, why onearthare you wearing that monstrous bonnet?”

Emily met Amanda’s horrified expression through the mirror of her dressing table.

“It’s not that bad,” she said.

This was, if you took anextremely,technical look at things, not a lie.

Because the bonnet wasn’tthatbad. It was worse.

But Emily didn’t care about what the bonnet looked like—or, at least, she didn’t caremuch.She wasn’t entirely without her vanity.

But looking attractive was not her primary goal that morning. It was, in fact, potentially antithetical to her main goal which was, no matter what happened, tonot kiss the Earl of Moore again.

“It’s terrible,” Amanda said flatly, inviting herself into Emily’s bedchamber. “Though I don’t think it’s terrible enough to make everyone forget about the scandal that led to your betrothal if that’s what you’re thinking. It just might make them think you also have scandalously bad taste in headwear.”

Emily peered critically at the hat, then her sister, then the hat again before snatching it off her head with a huff. She hadn’t considered the potential for further scandal. And while that would probably help herno kissingquest, it would also doubtless irritate the persnickety earl.

The wretched, annoying, stupidly good at kissing earl who hadnotbeen on Emily’s mind these past few days. Why would she think of someone who had kissed her, bullied her into an engagement, kissed heragain,and then run off like she was on fire?

She wouldn’t. Obviously.

And she wasn’t, moreover, worried, nervous, or upset in any way about her upcoming promenade in the park with the man.Obviously.

And if she patted her curls in a way thatsuggestedshe was nervous, that was merely because her hair was very annoying.

To wit, Amanda came up behind her, hands gentle and already armed with pins. “Here, let me,” she said, tucking in the locks that had come loose during Emily’s careless bonnet removal.

Emily sighed and slumped back, letting her sister fix that one spot on the back of her head that Emily could never properly reach. The sisters had a maid, of course, to help with such things, but Emily’s curls misbehaved so frequently that if she went running for a servant every time one came loose, she’d never have time to do anything else. The twins had learned to help, too, out of necessity.

Besides, Emily had shooed her maid off in an (evidently pointless) effort to answer any ugly hat-related questions.

“If he’s really that bad,” Amanda said quietly, “you know Rosie and I will help you, right?”

Emily looked up at her sister with such sudden, wide-eyed surprise that she nearly caused Amanda to yank out a fistful of her hair.

“What?” she asked.

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