Page 19 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
Ursula managed a small, weak smile. She kissed her friend goodbye and stood watching as she left, a lump coming to her throat.
“Lady Ursula?” Evans asked softly. “We must go. We shouldn’t keep your mother and father waiting. And our guest, of course.”
She stiffened. “Guest?”
Ursula paused outside the closed study door, composing herself. Evans stood by her side, tactfully pretending not to notice. There were no voices coming from inside, and she could almost imagine that the room was empty.
Breathing out carefully and slowly, Ursula pushed open the door.
Inside, Papa sat at his usual desk, tight-lipped, his hands folded together. Mama sat rigidly on a chair by the wall. A third man stood over by the window, his back turned to the room.
Something flickered in the pit of Ursula’s stomach. The breadth of his shoulders seemed familiar, somehow.
“Ah, here you are,” Papa said crisply. “See how quickly she came, Lord Sinclair? She’s a most biddable girl. And the Diamond of the Season, although…” he trailed off wisely.
Lord Sinclair turned around, his cool grey eyes seeming to pin her to the wall from all the way across the room.
“Lady Ursula,” he said, making a neat bow. “Thank you for joining us. Your mother has come up with a proposition which she believes will suit all parties.”
There was a taut silence between them.
“I don’t understand,” Ursula managed at last. “What proposition?”
“Lord Sinclair has made you an offer,” Mama spoke up, her voice a little thin. “He is embroiled in the same scandal which threatens to eat you alive. While he will likely come through it – gentlemen generally do – he is under a great deal of pressure to find a wife and produce an heir. I have suggested that he wed you. Matrimonies of convenience are so much tidier and cleaner, after all.”
The room suddenly wobbled around her, and Ursula felt unsteady on her feet. She reached out, steadying herself on the back of a chair. Nobody came forward to help her.
She met Lord Sinclair’s gaze squarely. His face was blank and impassive, giving away nothing.
How could I do this to him? This man has shown me nothing but kindness, and here Mama has made him guilty enough to offer matrimony to me. He could have a wife he truly loved. A worthy woman, not… not a woman he barely knows.
“This does not seem fair to Lord Sinclair,” she managed.
Mama shot her a warning glare which Ursula chose to ignore. She took a step forward, fixing her gaze on him.
“Lord Sinclair, do you truly have nobody else you would like to wed?”
“No one at all,” he answered clearly, never blinking or looking away. “You do not deserve to be tarnished the way have you have been. For my part, I require a wife but do not enjoy searching for one. I do not like Society, and I live in fear that my mother will somehow conjure up a plot to force me into matrimony. So, I will choose to exercise my own free will while I can. I believe we’ll get along well enough together.”
There was a silence after this speech. Ursula chewed her lower lip, glancing between her parents’ livid faces and Lord Sinclair’s cool eyes.
Abruptly, Mama got up and crossed the room, seizing Ursula’s arm in a pincer-like grip.
“What are you waiting for, you ungrateful girl?” she hissed. “You’ll never find a decent man to take you now, and Lord Sinclair is aviscount. We are not waiting for your permission. If you do not wed Lord Sinclair, your life is over. I dread to think what your Papa will do. If you are lucky, he’ll pack you away to the country to live out your days in shame, poverty, and infamy. If you are not, he’ll… well, best not to think about that. For mercy’s sake, girl, say something!”
Ursula stared down at her mother, eyes wide.
She’s right,she thought dizzily.There’s nothing for me to do. No other answer for me to give.
“Very well,” she answered aloud, pleased to hear that her voice did not tremble too much. “I agree to the match.”
Something like relief crossed Papa’s face, and Mama gave a long, slow exhale, sinking back into her seat.
Papa stood, beckoning both Ursula and Lord Sinclair closer to him.
“Give me your hands,” he ordered bluntly. Lord Sinclair offered an elegant, well-shaped hand which was a little rougher than a gentleman’s ought to be. When Ursula hesitated, Papa snatched up her hand, squeezing it a fraction too tightly. Without further ado, he placed her hand on top of Lord Sinclair’s, pressing them together.
“A special license will be procured,” Papa muttered. “You two will be wedded in three days. Until then, you are betrothed. Do you both agree?”
