Page 13 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“Bradwood House, my lord,” the coachman called, rousing Andrew from a daydream of riding over the moorland.
“Thank you,” Andrew murmured, jumping down. “Return for me in an hour, please.” His throat was tight, and he could barely get words out.
“Very good, my lord.”
Andrew strode up the stairs and knocked at the door, swallowing hard. His hands were damp, his mouth dry. He was a brave man, but this scared him. This was an immense decision. It had immense consequences, too—he would either break someone’s heart, or break his own. He becameaware that he was twisting the cuff of his shirt between his fingers and made himself stop.
“My lord?” The butler appeared, frowning. He seemed to recognise Andrew.
“I would like to speak with Lord Bradwood. Alone, if you please.” His tone was hard and brooked no argument. He was trying not to show his discomfort.
Andrew walked in and waited in the hallway, hanging his top hat on the stand beside the door. He glanced down at his jacket. He had chosen a dark grey one and his best new shirt, and he studied the jacket thoughtfully, focusing on the velvet. Was it really new enough to look respectable? Would someone notice the pulled threads here and there? He tensed his spine. He was an earl. They should not care about a few pulled threads in his jacket when his pedigree was at least equal to theirs.
“His lordship is ready to see you. Pray, allow me to escort you upstairs.”
Andrew followed the butler upstairs, looking down at his own boots. The carpet on the stairs was rich and colourful and his heart twisted. Miss Amelia was used to luxuries. Bradwood House was small but well-furnished. She would be terrified at Rilendale, where the house was falling apart and there was little comfort to be had. Guilt twisted in his belly.
“My lord,” Lord Bradwood greeted him formally from the doorway to the study, interrupting his thoughts. “Grand to see you. Come in. Come in.”
Andrew followed Lord Bradwood to the big desk.
“What brings you to call on me?” Lord Bradwood asked. His blue eyes sparkled, and Andrew guessed that he must have understood the reason for the unannounced visit.
“I think you are in no doubt, my lord,” Andrew said coolly. He did not have any need to flatter or lighten his tone.
“Oh! Oh. Of course, my lord. I had thought that...” Lord Bradwood began, his round, peaceful face furrowed with a frown.
“You had thought that I might wish to wed your daughter. Yes, that is the reason for my visit,” Andrew interrupted.
“My lord?” Lord Bradwood blinked. Perhaps he had not guessed after all, Andrew thought impatiently.
“I do wish to marry your daughter. If you could arrange it as soon as possible?” he asked lightly.
“My lord!” Lord Bradwood exclaimed, his voice rising in shock. The lack of decorum, the absence of any prior understanding or proper courtship—It was nothing short of irregular. The abruptness of Andrew’s proposal had left him floundering for a response.
Andrew drew a breath, about to explain that they needed no fuss to be made, that his grandmother could not travel from Rilendale to attend the ceremony in any case and that something simple would suit him. He was just straightening out the words in his mind when the door burst open.
“My lord!” a red-haired woman shouted. It was Amelia’s cousin—he recognised her instantly. She was wearing a brown dress and brown riding cloak, her hood cast back. Her long hair was loose about her shoulders and hung down to her waist like careless fire. “My lord! You cannot do this.”
Andrew gaped in astonishment as she fell on her knees before Lord Bradwood.
