“Relax, Lord Clarendon. I do not believe its direction will displease you.” She fiddled with her sleeves, adjusting the lace to cover her hands. “I hear that you will finally assume the care of your son from your sister’s home. A wife would be perfect, and I have just the person in mind.”
“Where do you get off—” he stopped and began again, his tone less heated. “Surely, you do not expect me to abide by—”
“I do.” She cut him off. “You compromised this young lady after almost running over her brother with your carriage on your way here. My man witnessed the episode. Had you not already been soused, you would have demanded your driver stop, but you drove on, leaving both the little boy and his sister injured.”
“How do you know of this?” he demanded.
“I have ears. Let us leave it at that. The young lady spent a lengthy period in your house without a chaperone just two days ago, and her mother is most aggrieved that she will be quite ruined in the eyes of the ton. Lady Charlotte Grisham will make a beautiful wife, and I believe over time, you may come to appreciate her attributes.”
He started to speak but stopped himself, realizing the prospect of the spirited woman becoming his wife excited him. “And if I agree to this, it will be a marriage of convenience. That is what she wants?” He could not believe it. The woman had beauty and wealth—at least he thought she did—was witty and did not speak of the weather as all other debutantes did.
“The young woman’s father did me a kindness many years ago, and I seek to do his family a good turn.” She let out a long easy breath. “You are willing?”
Evan remained silent for a few minutes with his gaze locked on the veiled woman across from him. “This appears to have been a setup.” She started to speak, but he held up his right hand in acquiescence and chuckled lightly.
“You find this is amusing, my lord?” she inquired in a serious tone, tilting her head slightly.
“No, I do not. Not really,” he began. “What I find amusing is something my valet occasionally tells me. ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ he says. This is one of those times I suppose I should have not wished for anything.”
“You wished for a wife?” she replied, incredulous.
“No. I assure you, that never entered my mind. I did, however, wish for a solution.” A rueful smile tugged at his lips.
“Ah.” She smiled, although it looked more like a sneer, and gave an abrupt incline of her head. “Then we have an understanding. The wedding will take place as soon as you procure a special license. Send word that you have it. It will be a private ceremony the day after tomorrow, at ten in the morning at St. George’s Chapel. I have already made arrangements.”
He sat stunned for a long minute. “You were sure I would agree to this,” he stated flatly, not expecting an answer. Yet rather than feeling his life continuing to spin out of control, he felt hopeful. Oddly hopeful.
The woman stood to leave but stopped and turned to him. “One more thing, my lord,” she said with firmness in her voice. “It is my advice that you do not discuss this wedding with anyone outside of those you trust with your life. I believe the lady’s uncle does not wish the best for her,” she said caustically, pausing. “Should this wedding become foiled by the uncle, please be advised that according to the wager you signed, the House may choose a wife. I may not be as generous with my next selection. This is a business.”
Chapter Six
Lady Charlotte lay in her bed with her covers pulled to her chin and stared up at her ceiling, thinking. She felt chilled, but not because of the cold rain outside her window. Rather, she was unable to reconcile how her life had changed so in the past two days. By this time tomorrow, not only would she be a wife to a man she had only just met, she would be a mother as well. Worse, there was nothing she could do but accept her fate.
Her mother had received a missive from Mrs. Dove-Lyon that all had been accepted and arranged. Charlotte would be Lady Clarendon, the wife of an earl, with all of the responsibilities she had seen Mama perform for Papa.
The visit with her mother to the Lyon’s Den had been eye opening. She had no idea there was a matchmaker in London, and not once had she considered her family was acquainted with such a woman. Further, Charlotte had never considered she would need such a service. Unsure of how Mrs. Dove-Lyon had accomplished it, all plans discussed on her visit with her mother were in motion.
For her part, Charlotte had made the poor decision to take matters into her own hands and confront the earl; consequently, she had only herself to blame for the predicament she found herself in. Mama had been the biggest surprise. For months, she had worried about her mother’s state of mind over the loss of Papa, only to realize her mother had been playacting to fool her uncle, whom no one trusted.
Charlotte glanced over at the pale lavender chiffon dress draped over the chair in front of her fireplace. The sleeves were trimmed in double rolls of white satin, and the lacy bottom fanned out like a flower on the pink and white rug, embellished in ecru Belgian lace. It was a lovely dress. She had first worn it for her introduction to society, and now it would be her wedding dress. He mother had told her she looked like a princess and assured her that Papa would understand her not wearing black to her wedding. Perhaps she would feel like that wearing it again.
It must do.
