Page 4 of The Baron Without Blame
And yet. She had said no. It had welled up from somewhere deep inside her, hot and red and demanding. It had nothing to do with Lord Preston and everything to do with the way Papa hadn’t even cared whether a kiss had actually happened or not.
Lord Preston cleared his throat, a staccato cough that resounded through the room. “May I ask why you refuse? I am sure you know that we were compromised last night.”
Compromised. Lolly wanted to laugh. If only he had compromised her. That would be worth all this excitement. Instead, they were in this mess over a little dash of petticoat. “Yes, you must regret ever offering to help me.”
Lord Preston did not immediately respond. Lolly heard him move further into the room. She braced her hand on the windowsill.
“I do not regret it.” His voice was so deep and soft. It wrapped about her like a velvet cloak. “I am a gentleman, Lady Rosalind. I could not in good conscience leave you alone on that balcony, when someone with worse motives than I could easily find you. It is perhaps unfortunate that the rest of Society is jumping to conclusions, but I do not mind accepting the consequences.”
The consequences being her. Lolly knew he was trying to be kind. And she did not particularly care for romance. But she hated that this, her first proper proposal, was only predicated upon her being a yoke around Lord Preston’s neck.
“Perhaps you would like to know more about me,” he continued. “My seat is in Berkshire. It is not grand, but it has ample land and a comfortable home. I have one younger brother, who resides in Calcutta. I have recently returned from traveling in India and Africa. As my wife, you would have a generous allowance, and I imagine we could sort out living arrangements to suit your tastes.”
He didn’t stop speaking so much as he trailed off, as if realizing his words didn’t sum up to an argument. Or perhaps realizing his argument wasn’t working.
“Lady Rosalind, while we do not know each other, circumstances have thrown us together. One might presume destiny – or an omniscient hand – has seen fit that we should be together. I promise to be a kind and dutiful husband. Mightn’t you reconsider and make me an honorable man?”
“You are already kind and dutiful.” Lolly turned to face him. It was the least she could do, though she regretted it almost immediately. He was so perfectly handsome, even with his hands clasping the back of a chair and his eyebrows knit in frustration. Her heart stammered a little at the sight. “It is not you, my lord, that I protest. It is the situation. You may believe in this omniscient hand. I believe in my principles. I have done nothing wrong, therefore I see no reason to react. One must make decisions for good reasons, and the fact that Phoebe Leighster is making a fuss seems to me the worst reason in history.”
Again, Lord Preston was silent for a long moment before responding. He drew his hands behind his back as he contemplated her. Lolly resisted the urge to turn back to the window. She had no reason to hide from him. The most any person could ask from another was honesty, and that was what she offered him now.
Finally, Lord Preston spoke. “I must admire your conviction. Too few people in our set live by principles alone.”
“Thank you.” Her fingers, clasped carefully behind her back, began to tremble. She hadn’t been sure what to expect from his reaction. She didn’t know what to do with acceptance.
“It is for the best, I suppose,” he continued. “I will not make a typical husband.”
Lolly opened her mouth to ask what he meant, when he had just promised to be kind and dutiful. She closed it. The question was bait, surely, and she would not be the fish who nipped at his hook.
And then – of course – a dust mote caught in her nose. She was so surprised by the sneeze that it was all she could do to catch it in her hand.
Lolly turned back to the window, mortified, trying desperately to think of what to do with the slime of snot that had dislodged into her palm.
“Bless you,” Lord Preston said. “I hope you are in good health.”
“It is only allergies. I am plagued by them in the city.” Sometimes in the country, too, but Lolly didn’t feel she needed to embarrass herself any further by making Lord Preston think her a constant mucus drip.
“Yes, the air here has its own peculiar properties.”
Pulling her handkerchief from the depths of her skirt pocket, Lolly wiped her palm as surreptitiously as she could, then her nose, before turning back to face him. For some reason, he was smiling. Lord Preston’s smile was the least perfect thing about him: it thinned his lips and slanted them to the left, in addition to revealing a set of crooked teeth. And yet his whole countenance was so much more handsome with it on his face.
He sobered once more. “Lady Rosalind, what does your family think of your resolution against marrying me?”
Lolly ran the handkerchief beneath her nose again, if only to find more time to answer the question. Lord Preston thought her refusal premeditated. She supposed there was more honor in putting hours of thought behind it, and so she didn’t admit that she was guided only by instinct. “I haven’t spoken to them about it. I did try to tell my father the truth about what happened last night, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.”
She wasn’t sure if Papa didn’t believe her or didn’t care about the truth; either way, she had tried to tell him the whole story all morning, and he only held up a hand and decreed it didn’t matter.
Her decision would change things. Refusing Lord Preston amid scandal was as good as declaring herself unmarriageable. Lolly would have to come up with a plan, one that would shield her family from damage as much as possible.
And even then, Papa might never speak to her again.
“No, the facts don’t have much import to the larger world. Which is why I would propose an alternate plan. One which will satisfy all parties: gossips will see a happy ending, your family will be saved from disgrace, and you will not end up married to me.”
Lolly couldn’t imagine what he had in mind.
“Accept my offer. I will invite your family to spend the Easter holiday at my home at Northfield Hall with the understanding that you and I are getting to know each other before planning an autumn wedding. Thetonwill be satisfied we are serious and move on to the next salacious gossip. Then, you may jilt me in the quiet of summer, by which point there will hardly be any scandal at all.”
It was a ridiculous concept. Lolly could not lie. Not to theton, and certainly not her family. And yet, was it more ridiculous than signing her whole life away simply because a kind man helped free her skirts from a bit of iron?
