Page 26 of The Mistletoe Countess
He squinted, the truth stinging afresh. “I do.”
“And do you or do you not have an agreement to marry adaughterof Henry T. Ferguson, which states that if you refuse, you will have a sum of money to procure at your precious estate’s expense?”
He almost growled. “I do.”
Her other eyebrow edged up to join the first, proud of her interro-gation. “And don’t you think it makes logical sense for both parties to receive what they agreed upon without any wasted time or funds?”
“I do.”
“See?” A faint light glimmered in her eyes as her pink lips slipped crooked. “You say those words quite well. Just in time for a wedding ceremony.”
Her humor nearly derailed his annoyance. “You’re young.”
“I’m almost nineteen. On Christmas Eve, in fact.”
“You were born on Christma—” He shook his head against the distraction, attempting to sort through this catastrophe. “And…and we barely know one another.”
“How many more conversations could you really have had with my sister?” She waved toward him with her hand. “We have some similar interests, can participate in successful, if not even enjoyable, dialogue, and have working minds, even if one has thoughts that wander unchecked at times. I think we could be compatible, at least.”
She was right on all accounts, so why was he fighting her? Lillias understood the world she entered. Grace? She had no idea. A house haunted by his brother’s death. His mother’s bitterness seeping through the halls like a poison. A crumbling manor house and an earl with a sullied past, not to mention centuries of aristocratic expectations. She didn’t deserve to feel the brunt of what he knew. To have that joy stolen. There had to be another way. “Youth isn’t always defined by age, but experience.”
“Which you can give me. Unless you haven’t the courage.”
“Courage has nothing to do with it. I’m actually thinking of you. My life, my world, is not one to enter unprepared.”
“And I’m thinking of you and your dear Havensbrooke.” She brought her palms together and graced him with a pseudo-angelic smile. “How very generous we both are already! What an excellent start for matrimony.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff.
“Come now.” She stepped forward, her expression pleading with him. “In all honesty, Lord Astley, just imagine how much worse you could have it.”
Those eyes, as bright and distracting as her hair, challenged him. Indeed he could have it much worse. In fact, he nearly did. Her honesty and her courage humbled him. She had more strength than he’d realized.
“I believe you underestimate me a great deal. Loving fiction, having an overactive imagination, and skirting along the edge of propriety at times does not make me weak. In fact, I may be prepared for many things no one else is.”
He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, then leveled her with a look. “We are two very different people.”
“As most are.” Her smile faded, and he immediately felt the loss. She lowered her gaze. “If you’re worried about my lack of qualifications at elegance, then I could understand your hesitancy, though I am teachable and—”
“Grace.” Her name slipped out so easily, too familiar. He waited for her gaze to meet his, and then his voice tempered to a whisper. “You shouldn’t feel forced into this.”
“I know what I’m agreeing to by my own will.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Now you are questioning my intelligence as well as my maturity?” She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed into slits. He certainly preferred her ire over her hurt. “I may be young, Lord Astley, but I am neither dimwitted nor oblivious. Choosing not to focus on certain things does not mean I do not see them.”
Her statement nearly derailed his train of thought again. Did she choose to see the good, even in the middle of this disaster? “Your compassion is admirable. Your zeal may be to your detriment in this case, however.”
“Mydetriment!” Her posture shot pencil straight. “Stubborn man, you seem bound to lose an entire estate.”
“Stubborn?” That was a bit of the pot calling the kettle.
She released a massive sigh and pinned on a glare just for his benefit. “No bride should have this much trouble convincing a groom to marry her.”
He almost laughed out loud. The woman was maddening. “Within the past few minutes, I’ve learned that my previous bride planned to marry me as a ruse for her involvement with her longtime lover, and her younger sister has offered herself as a substitute to save her father’s future.” He sent a look to pale-faced Mr. Ferguson, by all accounts as surprised. No, this seemed a rash decision on Lillias Ferguson’s part, which left the rest of the family piecing the situation together—especially Grace. “So I beg your pardon if I seem indecisive or abrupt.”
His mind spun, unbalanced. He needed some distance and a level-headed conversation with Blake for perspective. “I will give an answer by this evening, and then we can make plans accordingly.”
