Page 7 of The Earl's Wild Bride
She had introduced herself incorrectly, her ‘masculine’ voice wavering here and there. Lionel had never had the ‘pleasure’ of being properly introduced to the real Martin Thorne, but he had witnessed the fellow speaking to the lady who now stood before him.
Surely, he has not sent her in his stead.It would be obscene. Itwasobscene, though Lionel was more concerned about how to navigate speaking alone with an unchaperoned woman.
“I have it on good authority that you are in want of a wife,” the woman continued. “I would like to offer my sister’s hand to you before the rest oftondescend on you tomorrow. Her name is Amelia Thorne, and… I think you could do far worse than her as your wife. She is quiet, she causes no trouble, she… knows how to behave.”
So, that is your name. Amelia Thorne.It did not take much to put those pieces together, but the rest of the puzzle eluded him. What was she doing there, risking her reputation in order to… offer her own hand in marriage to him?
He had not heard the conversation between the brother and sister, and he would not make assumptions.
“You think that these actions and that description would be enough to place your offer above those that might come, at a reasonable hour, tomorrow?” he replied drily, hiding his baffled amusement.
She floundered, toying with one of the buttons on her greatcoat. “I believe it shows determination and a greater willingness, My Lord. I am certain many excellent offers will be made to you, but none other than me dared to visit you tonight. There is… gumption in that. One cannot go wrong with gumption.”
Lionel struggled not to smirk, knowing he should not be enjoying the performance nearly as much as he was. However, he did have to admire her gumption somewhat. It was no ordinary woman who dressed as a man, tricked a butler, and gained an audience with an Earl to offer her own hand in marriage.
He pushed away from the mantelpiece and walked slowly toward her, noting how she kept her head down. She had done that in the Assembly Rooms too, as if that was her natural state, her eyes perpetually downcast. Almost like she wore a heavy yoke upon her shoulders.
“Who are you really?” he asked outright.
She swallowed loudly. “I told you; I am Martin Thorne.”
“No, you go by another name.” Lionel stepped closer, until he was right in front of her. Quick as a flash, he pulled her hat from her head. “Reckless.”
Long, honey-colored hair tumbled down. As it did, it unleashed the most intoxicating scent: a waft of sweet perfume, like burnt sugar and lemons, with a hint of something spiced that he could not quite place.
His eyes widened at the sight of her wavy hair as it fell all the way past her shoulders to her waist, for he had assumed that her hair would be pinned up beneath the hat. If he had known it would be loose, he would not have removed the hat at all. It was not his place to see her hair like that, so informal.
Is it as silky as it looks?Some of the locks had fallen in front, over her chest, and his fingertips longed to brush them back over her shoulders. To wind one tendril loosely around his fingertips, bringing that outstanding scent to his nose, to savor it.
A gasp escaped Amelia’s lips as her head snapped up, her pretty blue eyes even wider than his. Indeed, she stared at him in fleeting disbelief, as if he was not what she had expected. Recovering quickly, she tried to lunge for the hat in his grasp, but he quickly put it behind his back.
“Lady Amelia, you should not be here, doing this,” he said sternly. “You should be afraid of this kind of situation. Do you have any notion of what it could do to your reputation if you were discovered?”
And I should not be entertaining this, but…She was entrancing in a way he could not explain, so full of quiet fire. And that long hair and those big blue eyes, combined with that astonishingly beautiful face made it nigh-on impossible to even think of sending her away.
Amelia tilted her chin up in a small gesture of defiance. “It would be no worse than my current fate, My Lord.” She hesitated. “I am here this evening in order to change it. My fate, that is.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, genuinely curious, though his voice did not betray him. He kept his tone cold and indifferent.
“It means that I am in a dire situation, and I have come to… offer my hand because I cannot bear the alternative,” she repliedshakily, her face paling. “I know you are seeking a wife, so I thought I would do all I could to ensure that that wife ended up being me.”
Lionel frowned, putting a few more pieces into place. He was aware that something had been said between Amelia and Martin that had made her turn ghostly white, frozen in her chair—a fear that he recognized all too well—but he still did not have all the details. Perhaps, they were not necessary. Perhaps, her fear was enough.
If she has done all this to avoid something, then it must be terrible indeed.A woman’s reputation was, often, all she had. To risk it entirely was a sure sign of desperation.
“I require a bride of convenience, Lady Amelia,” he said stiffly. “I suspect that your situation has an element of inconvenience.”
She shook her head effusively, those blue eyes so wide and imploring that a man could drown in them if he was not careful. “Easily remedied, My Lord. No inconvenience to you at all.” She sucked in a nervous breath. “But I can be that bride of convenience.”
He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to get a better look at her. There was an innocence about her that, despite his reason and logic, made him want to keep that protected. She was someone in obvious need, someone desperately pleading to be rescued from something, and though he had left battlefields far behind him, he knew a wounded soldier when he saw one.
Is this madness?He suspected it might be, but she was offering him something he needed in return. And it would save him from attending endless balls and gatherings, which was not an unfavorable notion. Moreover, she was of good standing if she was a Duke’s daughter, so the match would not be outlandish by any means.
Still, he needed to know just how serious she was.
“You were foolish to come here in this manner,” he began, watching her face fall. “Did you think it would be so simple? Do you think I believe that you can be a bride of convenience when you have already inconvenienced me tonight?”
Her eyes flared, as he had hoped they might. “It is not foolish to save oneself from misery, My Lord. And I do not see how it can be an inconvenience when I have delivered exactly what you require to your door, without you having to exert any effort at all. As for thinking it would be simple—there is nothing simple about what I have done tonight, to meet with you.”
