Page 84 of Her Lion of a Duke
He was searching for a young, blushing bride. Unsuspecting, moldable. He was searching for Clara.
“Why are you here, Lord Renshaw?” Cecilia asked bluntly, before turning to the ladies. “This is my husband’s cousin.”
She was hoping that her aunt would hear the warning in her voice. Alas, her eyes lit up. The Pridefields were incredibly wealthy, and that had to extend to the Renshaws.
“I heard that there was a jewel to be found in London.” Lord Renshaw smirked. “One that would convince me to marry. I had to see it for myself.”
Clara’s distaste showed plainly. She did not want to speak to a man who could have been her father, nor did she feel any particular attraction toward him.
Cecilia knew what her cousin was searching for: kind eyes and a gentle nature. Lord Renshaw did not possess either.
“Do take a seat,” Aunt Margaret urged. “My niece and I shall be over there.”
Cecilia shot Clara an apologetic look and then followed her aunt away.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Clara could not possibly marry him.”
“It is not right to turn him away. Besides, it is as you said. He is related to a duke, and that can only be a good thing.”
“But he is?—”
Cecilia was going to sayold,ancienteven, but then she thought better of it, seeing as her aunt was of the same age.
“He is not the right sort,” she said instead.
“You do not know that. I have known Lord Renshaw for years, and he comes from a respectable family. He runs several successful businesses, and he has high standards for both himself and those around him. If he deems Clara worthy, I can hardly refuse his offer.”
“But Clara could.”
“Yes, well, Clara would do well to remember her situation. She is well-liked for now, but that could easily change.”
Cecilia gaped at her aunt. She could not believe that her aunt was considering something so awful for her daughter, but she knew that not all families were like her own.
Aunt Margaret had always wanted more for Clara, and she had made it clear that the final decision would be hers to make. She had to be both a mother and father to Clara, and that came with a terrible amount of responsibility, but Cecilia could not bear watching her dear cousin be chained to a man who would ruin her.
“Let us look at you, then,” Lord Renshaw said silkily, pulling Clara to her feet and circling her. “Your posture is very good, and you are pretty enough. Do you play any instruments?”
“The pianoforte and the harp, My Lord.”
“And your languages?”
“Four, My Lord.”
“He is treating her like cattle,” Cecilia whispered.
“And that will be a good thing for her. She will be able to tell him what he wants to hear.”
“And how many children do you want?” he asked.
“As many as my husband wishes.”
“Good. Very good. Of all the ladies I have met, you are the least objectionable.”
He crossed to where Cecilia and her aunt were sitting, leaving Clara behind.
“I shall write to you soon, Lady Punton,” he declared with a bow. “But you should know that I am very interested.” Then he turned to Cecilia. “I will see you soon, Your Grace. Though I must say that I am surprised to see you in London.”
“I shall be here for a while,” she said firmly, slightly baring her teeth. “I am helping my cousin.”
