The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride

The noise he made sounded to Beth like the growl of a furiously angry bear, beset by slavering dogs.

‘If I am a virgin, I cannot have been married before. And I…I would not be dishonouring you by accepting your proposal. My plan provides the only sensible solution.’

‘And how do you propose, sensible Miss Aubrey, that I should establish your virginity? I take it you have a plan for that, too?’ His voice was very hard, very cold.

Beth shivered at the sound, but she would not give up now. She was mortified enough and already scarlet to her hairline, she knew. She had nothing more to lose. ‘I believe the only reliable method is the…the natural one. I…I will come to your bed and let you…let you-’

His string of curses included mostly words that Beth did not recognise. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said at last, recovering his control, though not his colour. He was sheet white under his tan. ‘You are proposing that I should deflower you in order to prove you are fit to be my wife? What kind of cold-blooded devil do you take me for?’

‘If you do indeed discover that I am a virgin, then I will marry you. But if you do not, if I am already…er… deflowered as you call it, I will not marry you, for that could be bigamy. It seems simple enough.’

‘Simple?’ He was having even more trouble controlling his temper now. That one word was a howl of rage. ‘Has it not occurred to you that, as a result of this plan of yours, you could end up carrying my child? Virgin or no, would you marry me then?’

‘I…I…’ In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘I am not totally ignorant of such matters, sir. I know how children are got. I do not know precisely how they are prevented, but I have heard that there are ways of…of ensuring that-’ She stopped and swallowed hard. She knew she had to go on with this, no matter what. She mustered all her remaining courage and dared to meet and hold his stormy gaze. ‘I know you to be a man of the world. I assumed you would know the way of it. Was I wrong?’

Chapter Nine

At that moment, Jon could have strangled Beth Aubrey, even if he had to swing for it. Luckily for her, his hands were fully occupied in controlling his horses. They had sensed his anger and were becoming extremely restive. He must calm them, or they would probably bolt.

It took more than five straining minutes to ensure that his pair-and his unruly temper-were back under control. He did not dare to speak until they were. In fact, he did not dare to speak at all. What an extraordinary proposal, from an innocent young lady. And yet…

And yet her logic could well be less flawed than Jon’s. How could he truly be sure she was unspoilt on the basis of one single kiss? Beth’s test was a surer touchstone than Jon’s. How much courage it must have taken for her to propose such a thing. And to go further, to speak of preventing pregnancy… It was utterly outrageous.

It was one of the bravest things he had ever heard.

It appeared she was indeed willing to accept Jon, but only if there was no risk to his honour. His honour, not hers! As if she cared more for Jon’s honour than he did himself.

He risked another quick sideways glance. Beth’s shoulders had not drooped even a fraction from her normal upright carriage, and she was staring down at her gloved hands. She was implacable. He could see that in every line of her tense body. Either he accepted her offer-her extraordinary plan-or she would be lost to him. That must not happen. In the course of this summer and autumn, Beth Aubrey had become the woman he wanted. He would not part with her. He needed her beside him. And so he was going to have to accept her terms.

She would come to his bed and let him-

Poor Beth. She had been unable to say the word. Yet it had taken courage to go as far as she had. She was as brave as any comrade he had served with.

She would come to his bed…

Oh dear. He laughed aloud, his black doubts disappearing with the sound. Poor Beth, indeed. Her carefully constructed plan was going to be her undoing.

‘You find my question amusing, my lord?’ Her tone was frosty.

‘No, Beth. Forgive me. I was not laughing at you, but at the extraordinary predicament in which we find ourselves.’ He slowed his horses for the sharp bend in the track. The right fork led round the back of the stable block to the furthest parts of his land. The left fork led to the lake and the tamer parkland beyond, where the folly lay hidden. ‘You asked me about…er…prevention. Yes, I do know how it can be done.’

‘Good.’ She nodded. ‘Then there is nothing to stop us from following my plan, is there?’

The die was cast, by her own hand. Jon turned his horses towards the lake.

She glanced sharply up at him, her eyes questioning, but she did not speak. Unlike most of her sex, she would be content to wait in silence.

‘Your plan, ma’am. I think it needs to be…er…fleshed out a little. You said you would come to my bed. Believe me, I am honoured by your offer. Might I ask, though, how you were…um…planning to manage it?’ He was having trouble keeping the laughter out of his voice. His mind was filled with the ludicrous image of his butler announcing Beth at his bedchamber door. Miss Aubrey is here, my lord. To be deflowered.

Beth gave a gasp of horror and began to cough, trying to cover her acute embarrassment. If he had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed a lady could turn that particular shade of vermilion.

Yes, the die was cast. And the play was his.

Jon relaxed and let the horses have their heads up the gentle slope. The path was clear. Beth would have her assignation. On Jon’s terms.

‘Someone is living here!’

The folly consisted of a single square room. Beth would have expected it to be empty, or to contain a few chairs, at most, where guests might sit to recover after the long climb up from the house and past the lake. Instead, it looked like the cluttered living quarters of some rich young buck with an extremely idle servant. There was a fireplace, with a kettle suspended, but the fire had burned down long ago, and the ashes had spilled out over the small hearth. In front of it were comfortable chairs and a table strewn with used plates and glasses. There was at least one empty wine bottle on the floor.

Beth turned away. She had seen quite enough. The only part of the room that was not at sixes and sevens was the desk, where a neat row of books stood propped against the wall. Next to them were several leather-bound notebooks, a pile of writing paper and an inkstand. The desk was so tidy, it could have been in the rector’s study. But the rest-!

‘No. Not living.’ He gazed round, apparently trying to view the chaos as Beth had just done. ‘I use this place from time to time for…er…my own pleasure. It is totally private. The servants are not permitted to enter, even to clean and restock it, without special leave. And as you can see-’ he waved a hand in the direction of the tumbled cushions and the dirty plates ‘-I have not yet given them leave today.’

‘You were here last night?’

‘Yes, I was here. I prefer solitude when I want to think. Besides, it was a splendid night.’

She frowned. A splendid night? What on earth did he mean? Glancing round again at the mess and at what, she now realised, was a kind of bed in the far corner, she decided that she did not wish to know.

He was smiling down at her. It was the kind of superior, knowing smile that made her want to slap him. He was waiting for her to ask. Well, she would not. Whatever his splendid nocturnal activities might be, he could keep them to himself. ‘Might I ask why you have brought me here, sir? It is barely minutes since you said you would drive me to the marshes. The marshes you have promised to drain,’ she added, with emphasis. That wiped the superior smile from his face, she was glad to see.

From mocking to serious in an instant. ‘I brought you here to make plans. I understand now-forgive me, I did not understand before-how strongly you feel on the subject of our…er…possible union. I understand, too, that the condition you have laid down is absolute.’ He took her right hand in his, holding it lightly. ‘But I think you must now realise, Beth, that meeting your condition will be far from easy. I cannot simply walk into your bedchamber, nor you into mine.’

Beth felt herself colouring yet again. It seemed she had done nothing else since the moment he had arrived at the rectory door. But he was right that she had been a fool. Society, especially in villages like Fratcombe, was