Carlow pushed from his chair in a swift movement and braced his hand on the arm and back of the couch, his nose mere inches from hers. “When you say I do at the altar, you will be saying I do in my bedchamber. This marriage will be consummated and posthaste. I will have some small token for all this trouble. Now, think very hard, Miss Blasington. Is this the hill upon which you will cast your lot?”
“I have no choice. You have Henbury Hall.”
He pushed away and stood tall.
Nora thought she had steeled herself against every claim, accusation and dodge. Still, tears burned in her eyes and her throat grew tight, fearing she had no more answers.
“Finally. You are out of words. I have a different wager to place before you, Nora, daughter of a thief. I will give you Henbury Hall in six months.”
She took a deep breath, a small fire of hope revived. “Why six months?”
“Because in six months, you will be in love with me.”
“No.” She jumped to her feet. “No!” She didn’t have to think about it. She didn’t have to entertain his proposal. She would never have any affection for an heir of Carlow. Never. “Six months or sixty years, I will never love you. But you can try. You have one month.”
“I have my charms, but one month seems severely limiting, even for a man like me. Let’s think this through. We marry. We have a two- or three-week honeymoon…”
“One week.”
“We have a two-week honeymoon. We return to London to finish the season…”
“We go to Henbury Hall,” she said.
He hesitated. “If it is your desire, we go to Henbury Hall for four weeks.”
She couldn’t be displeased with that concession. It was where she wanted to be.
“We arrive at early August on the calendar. Parliament’s session will have ended, and we will need to have a round of country parties, say through mid-September. Let’s say Harvest Festival. If you are not in love with me by then, Henbury Hall is yours.”
“We will not have to leave Henbury Hall during these house parties?”
“I would prefer we did that in London. Or perhaps the Carlow estate in Wiltshire.”
“No. Henbury Hall. Until the end.”
“Invite anyone you want then. Throw parties as lavish as you wish. Yes, we can stay there. Unless you change your mind.”
“So, around three months?”
His gaze should have frightened her, but there was hope. Real hope that she would get their home back. Carlow took her hand and pulled her with slow determination until she stood face-to-face with him. She hadn’t felt a moment of intimidation from him until now. Inadvisable was the word Lady Fortenay had used, but Nora had ignored her mentor and guardian in favor of revenge and recompense.
“Let’s seal the bargain, my love.” He wrapped one hand at the back of her neck and kissed her with hard passion, opening his mouth over hers and devouring her and her protests and schemes and lies.
She licked her lips as he pulled away.
“Well, we have a room full of people who want a wedding. I’d better fetch this special license before your brother shoots me.”
* * * * *
The Reverend Wright was the one who knocked on the archbishop’s door. He did all the talking. Archbishop Manners-Sutton tolerated their intrusion, asked who the principals were and sighed when the Weatherby Ball was mentioned. An earl and the daughter of an earl were quite able to marry at their leisure, provided Gabriel paid the requisite sum.
“Is she of age?” the archbishop asked.
“Oh, yes. Yes,” the reverend said. Gabriel was superfluous, his only obligation to be standing at the bride’s side when it was time. Oh, and the twenty guineas.
The special license seemed to relax Reverend Wright and he was downright chatty on the return to the Weatherby manse.
A cloying worry hung about Gabriel’s neck. He had made several promises and declarations about Henbury Hall that were at best an outright lie, and at worst, would be the thorough destruction of a woman’s childhood dreams.
Carlow knocked on the carriage roof and then instructed his driver to stop at his home. Reverend Wright was torn between accompanying him and napping in the carriage. Gabriel was glad the minister settled with his arms over his chest, the license tight in one hand and eyes closed.
Mother was usually up with the sun. She’d need to know about this turn of events. He waited in the drawing room for about forty minutes but was served tea and a few leftovers from last night’s supper.
She arrived fully dressed for the morning hours. “My boy, what a surprise,” she said. He kissed her cheek. “I wasn’t expecting to talk with you until well after noon.”
“We missed you at the Weatherby Ball last night.” He waited until she sat before he took his place then poured tea for her.
“I’m too old for such mischief. Besides, I no longer keep feathers in my wardrobe.”
“I have news,” he said. His early morning arrival was announcement enough, but he wanted to be the one to break the peculiar tale. While they lived in the same house, they came and went at surprisingly opposite schedules.
“Oh, dear! That doesn’t sound particularly joyful.”
“There’s a long story, but the short of it is that I’m getting married in a few hours.” That he felt no alarming sense of doom over this change of events was astonishment enough, but he enjoyed a sense of contentment and certitude. He could say he did not love her, but by God, he wanted her, and wanted to know all there was to know about her. Who knew temporary insanity could be so enjoyable?
Her brows winged. “I’m past the age of surprise, as you well know.”
“I assumed your lack of
