Page 9 of A Deal with the Earl (Necessary Arrangements 1)

Julie craned her neck just a little to the place occupied by the scandalous viscount. St. Clare was sipping on his wine and flirting with the women sitting on either side of him. Justine Thornton, Lady Supe, was whispering something in his ear, pressing her body scandalously close to his arm. No matter that her elderly husband sat several places down from them at the table. St. Clare was amicable toward both ladies by his side, even making time to wink or smile at those across from him. How was she supposed to spark his interest when every lady at the party seemed to vie for his attention?

Soon, the meal was over. Ladies proceeded to the drawing room, while the gentlemen remained in their seats to have cigars and port and resume their discussions of war and how they should have more of it. Julie turned to see the dowager duchess watching her closely. What could the older woman be thinking of her? Did she approve of her grandson’s courtship or not?

* * *

“Your bride is an abomination,” the dowager duchess said with a grim expression the minute Robert entered the room.

Robert had to swallow a bark of laughter. “Why do you say that?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” The duchess pulled a thoughtful face before tapping her fan on her opposite palm along with each item she recited. “She interrupted the gentlemen during supper to offer her unsolicited opinion on a controversial subject that is highly improper for ladies to discuss. She told the ladies in the drawing room that she thinks women are intellectual equals to men. She has an unpleasant disposition, and there’s a rumor going about that they have madness running in their family. Must I go on, or have I expressed myself clearly enough?” She looked disgusted to even speak on the subject. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way she talked down to you during dinner.”

“You think women are as intelligent as men, too.” Robert raised his brow in a parody of his grandmother, deciding to shift the topic from his unfortunate bride. Since when did his grandmother put any stock in rumors, anyway?

“No, my dear. I think women aremoreintelligent. But we should be wise enough not to show it and definitely not voice it. At least until after marriage.”

Robert gave her a sardonic look.

“Honestly, Robert, what was your father thinking? An arranged marriage.” The dowager duchess scoffed and turned away. She rarely called him by his given name, even in his childhood. It clearly showed her heightened level of distress.

“Both you and Father were married out of convenience. Both your marriages were arranged by your parents,” he intoned, his voice carrying an edge of stone.

“Well, your father wouldn’t have chosen wisely without my interference. You know how he is,” she waved her hand in the duke’s direction, “and he clearly hasn’t chosen wisely for you either. He should’ve asked me.”

“I agree. However, what’s done is done. The papers are signed. We are betrothed,” Robert stated with an air of finality. “Besides, whatever her shortcomings, I am certain she is no match for you.” Robert grinned down at his grandmother. “You can make anyone into a proper duchess.” He bowed to her and left her side.

Of course, his father wouldn’t choose wisely. He probably had never even met the lady, and he didn’t like the Norfolk fellow. He did what he always did: struck a handsome bargain. Well, whatever his reasons, Robert was glad for the outcome.

True, Lady Julie was not the wide-eyed young debutante he’d expected her to be. She had this look about her as if she’d seen much of life already and was not impressed. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, which he admired about her. Most importantly, his father hadn’t lied; she was indeed beautiful. He realized it the moment his eyes met hers in the parlor. She looked directly into his eyes, the way many of his peers avoided doing, and she did the same thing at the table. Her directness was as arousing as the rest of her. Her deep blue eyes, plump pink lips, and most of all curvy, feminine figure were a dream of every man. No, bedding her wouldn’t be a hardship at all.

Living with her wouldn’t be boring either, he guessed. If she continued confronting him, speaking her mind, and not keeping to the corners, their life could be interesting. For a moment, he remembered his maudlin dream of a happy family, a loving wife.

Robert’s gaze found his betrothed. She was standing close to St. Clare and leaned in even closer, rising on tiptoe to whisper something into the devil’s ear. Much too close for Robert’s liking. St. Clare laughed, and she batted her eyelashes at him seductively. With that one look, Robert took his not yet fully re-awakened dream of a loving wife and shoved it back to the deepest corner of his soul. That life would never be for him.

However, even if he came to terms with the reality that his would be a loveless marriage, he wouldn’t tolerate being made a cuckold. Not again. He made a step toward his intended and the viscount, when Norfolk appeared at his daughter’s elbow, grabbed her none too gently by the arm, and almost dragged her out of the room. Robert stared for a moment before following the couple out.

As Robert walked farther down the corridor, he heard voices from his father’s library.

“…Incredibly stupid to act like a complete wanton.” Norfolk’s voice was loud, almost shouting. “In front of your fiancé!”

“My—what?” Lady Julie’s voice was small and sounded as if she were terrified. Hadn’t the bastard even told his daughter she was betrothed yet? And this was how he broke the news. Robert had assumed her quiet hostility toward him earlier was due to their arranged marriage. Now he didn’t know what to think at all. He came closer to the library doors where they stood half open. He could see Norfolk towering over his daughter. She stood there, her arms wrapped around her body, looking small and scared, like a child.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Norfolk laughed unpleasantly. “Well, let me be the first to congratulate you, my dear. You are officially betrothed. You,” he paused for dramatic effect, “are the future Countess of Clydesdale.”

“What do you mean, officially betrothed?” She sounded as if she was choking on the words.

“I mean, we signed the contracts this afternoon, right before supper,” Norfolk answered smugly. “We are going to announce your betrothal in front of everyone during the Christmas ball. And you’ll be married come January.” The gasp of horror Robert heard from his intended’s mouth wasn’t exactly what one dreamed of when one imagined telling the lady they were to be married.

Granted, the circumstances were not altogether ideal, but it’s not like he was a monster. He was an earl, a duke’s heir. Robert took a step back. It wouldn’t do to be caught listening in to their private—if loud—conversation. He’d come here thinking the marquess wanted to harm his daughter. Which, given his stance, he still could do, but Robert didn’t want to intrude on their tête-à-tête. Not when she would regard him as an enemy as well.

He turned to walk away just when he heard her defiant voice. “I’m not marrying him.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not!” Her voice shook with rage.

Robert balled his fists. He wasn’t exactly expecting her to be enthusiastic about the arrangement, but this, however, was ridiculous.

“What do you think you are doing, you stupid cow!” the marquess’s bellow was followed by the sound of furniture falling and a muffled thud.

---