Marriage to a Mister (A Daughters of Regency #1) Read online

  "I'll have a word with Craigs. Now, shouldn't you still be at home, listening to Lady Blackburn scold you for coming home in the wee hours?" Julian asked. "You really overdid it at White's last night. I haven't seen you drink that much since we celebrated old Barnby's marriage, and that was twenty-five years ago or more. We really must stop celebrating his birthdays — they always end in a week of misery to my head."

  "I don't know whether you realize it, but you're the one that looks the very devil, and it's already past noon." said Charles. "It was certainly you who was foxed last night, but we have not the time for this. Why aren't you more distressed? I feel positively ill at what we've done."

  "Blackburn, stop acting like an old scold," Julian interrupted with a scowl, perplexed and annoyed at his friend's alarm. "If I wanted someone to nag me to death, I would have remarried long ago. Tell me what this is about."

  Charles stood from his chair, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. "You dog, you don't remember," he said, as he begun to pace the floor. "You don't remember, and Maddie is extremely angry — with the both of us I might add, not only me. She's had Edward and me up since before the breakfast hour coming up with a plan to mend this ... this chaos! And you know she's right, it's the only plan that makes any sense. Our children must marry and quickly. Should we start the banns this Sunday? Or wait 'til the house party? That may be better," Charles muttered to himself.

  "Banns?" Julian asked in a shamefully high-pitched voice before swallowing hard. "Charles, I have come to think of your penchant for babbling as an endearing quality over the years, but you usually make sense. I haven't the slightest idea of what you are referring to. Sit down, be quiet, and let me think."

  Julian held Charles' defiant gaze as he looked his friend straight in the eye. When he broke, he picked up the glass before him and downed the drink in one swift gulp, feeling dread creep upon him instead of relief from the soda tonic.

  He hurriedly tried to recall the night before. There was brandy, talks of dowries, brandy, discussions of grandchildren, and again, the cursed brandy. He remembered his friends cheering and congratulating them, shaking their hands and passing around more celebratory drinks as they all talked of a wedding.

  Oh hell, thought the duke, his dark eyes widening and snapping to Charles' blue.

  "Cottoned on, have you?" Charles asked flatly, miffed at being ordered into the chair, a chair he was standing next to and most assuredly not sitting in.

  Julian groaned and laid his head back upon his desk with a hard crack, not even minding the dull throb as it intensified. It seemed — in their unfortunately drunken state the night before — the duke and the earl discussed a betrothal between their children. No, discussed was too mild. Announced.

  They announced a marriage between their households to God and anyone else who would listen.

  "It cannot be that dreadful," he said, looking up at Charles, hoping against hope his memory served him ill. "Who will have remembered? We were all jug-bitten. Furthermore, not one of our friends care for such news, so will they even remember?"

  Charles glared. "Of course they don't care, but that is not the problem here, Julian, their wives do and you can rest assured that they will remember once they hear. Besides, more than just our room was privy to our drunken antics. The entire club heard."

  Julian snorted. "How would you know? You could not possibly —"

  Charles removed his gloves one at a time, throwing them down on Julian's desk with a slap before sitting. "I know, dear friend, because my wife came into my bedchamber this morning and boxed me about the ears whilst I was still sleeping — a terrible way to wake, mind you — and told me that whilst she'd been out that morning she was congratulated by no fewer than three people asking when the happy occasion was to be held and which of our children were to be married. My wife, being the clever woman she is, escaped without confirming any of the story, only conveying an announcement would be made soon. She instantaneously knew we'd done something foolish and came home to confront me. I confessed to the whole damned thing."

  Julian hung his head and blinked. "This is what young Hamilton was talking about. Why he thought Fleur was betrothed. Good God, you're right. It must be all over London." Julian thought back to his encounter with the boy. His repeated questions on if Fleur was betrothed and to whom. "Charles, no one knows which one of your sons is supposedly marrying one of my daughters? Now that I think about it, Hamilton seemed to be unsure. The boy was almost hysterical."

  "Hamilton? He was here? I assume you refused him."

  Julian nodded, his mouth a grim line as he wondered what they were to do. Two sons and two daughters, none of whom were attached, though two must form a rushed betrothal.

  Julian could not believe his own idiocy. He'd spent years -- years – shooing away men he deemed inappropriate for his daughters — men he knew they did not love — and in one reckless move he sealed one of their fates to be matched in a loveless pairing.

  He closed his eyes and knew within himself that wasn't altogether true. At one time Fleur did love one of the earl's sons, he was sure of it, but that had been many years ago, when she was but a girl.

  The earl had two children, the eldest being Edward Woolf, Viscount Ravenbrook. A very good catch and at the age of thirty, he would make a fine husband for either of his daughters as Charles' heir. He was, by all accounts, Julian's preferred choice in both situation and temperament, but unfortunately, the earl did have one other son.

  Evander Woolf, a standoffish and stubborn man with a name that suited none other so well as he. He was six and twenty, also of good marrying age, but in the duke's eyes he was quite ... unsuitable. Yes, definitely unsuitable. The man was practically a recluse since the days they would visit Blackburn Hall, and Julian had heard he speculated wildly in new, and quite frankly, dangerous and unsound investments.

  Evander – Evan, as they called him – had been Fleur's playmate as a child. Many summers had they spent at Blackburn Hall only to return again for Christmas, especially after the passing of his own beloved wife. His daughters retreated into the arms of Lady Blackburn in their grief, and Charles was there to comfort and distract him during his own time of sorrow. It was almost as if they never left, only returning home to see to Norfield's needs during the spring and fall.

  He knew during their time together Fleur and Evan had formed an attachment to one another, but he found out too late just how deep it ran. Not until he and Charles pushed the boy by trying to match Fleur with his elder brother did he discover the depth of their feelings. Evan reacted by leaving Blackburn Hall, fleeing back to university, breaking Fleur's heart in one cruel move after a vicious quarrel Julian wished he had never witnessed. She was but sixteen when they parted, and they had not met each other since.

  She had cried for days, been melancholy for months, and when she finally emerged from her rooms he had sworn to himself he'd not return to Blackburn Hall. He would not put his daughter in the middle of those memories, not when he had fled Norfield for so many years to forget his own.

  For a moment Julian became unnerved, angry that Charles and Madeleine may try to pair Fleur and Evan, to right past wrongs. He could not find it within himself to forgive the boy, not for his cruel words, or for his leaving not only Fleur, but all of them. He calmed when he recalled that Charles said Maddie had spoken to him and Edward this morning, nothing about Evan.

  Julian breathed a sigh of relief. "What did Maddie say?"

  "She said we were both old fools and —"

  "Not that. I can imagine what she would have said on that subject, but what does she think we should do? How are we to address this?"

  "A marriage between the families. We cannot recant, not when it was us doing the announcing. Anything else would be a scandal of the first order, and the ton would shout with mirth and drag both your girls through speculation and gossip. They would be merciless."

  Julian's face drained of all color, the reality of what they had done settling in. "G
od help us."

  "Yes." Charles agreed, pulling out his golden watch from his fob pocket, checking the time. "Maddie thinks the marriage should be between Edward and Fleur, as they are the eldest. Not to mention I have not seen that younger son of mine for more than a month — he comes and goes as he pleases. She's already spoken to Edward and he is coming here to address Fleur within the hour, if you are amenable. And Julian, you must be."

  Julian nodded, feeling as though the sense and order that ruled his life had run away from him. "How many times will we cause our children grief? Why do they have to pay for our assumptions and our mistakes?"

  Charles bowed his head, knowing Julian talked about the past as much as he did the present. "We can only hope Edward and Fleur will grow to love one another. They already do to some extent, you know this, having been raised together should make the transition a little easier, one would think."

  Julian grasped the letter opener on his desk, his knuckles turning white. "How does your son feel about the betrothal?"

  Charles paused. "He was very accepting."

  "Not exactly a confession of love, is it?" Julian asked, his jaw tight.

  "He wouldn't want to see your girls come to harm any more than Maddie or I."

  "We tried pairing them off before, Charles, and look what happened."

  "There is always Evan," Charles said slowly and carefully.

  Julian's eyes hardened, his voice rough. "No."

  "It might make things — "

  "I said no."

  Charles nodded, not willing to bring up the old argument of his younger son, knowing Julian would never relent. "Then try not to worry. Maddie has thought of everything, brilliant as she is. Within the last few hours, she planned a house party and sent off invitations. Everything has been arranged and instructions sent to the staff at Blackburn Hall. The two can be married at the end of the gathering in a quiet ceremony surrounded by family and a few friends. They will have time to come to know one another, Julian, after all, the banns still have to be called."

  The duke nodded — it was a good plan, considering the circumstances. "I suppose we must announce the betrothal tonight. Everyone's tongues will be wagging. I am curious though, what would you have done if I had refused your plan?"

  Charles huffed but made no move to answer. Julian suspected he had none.

  "You said Ravenbrook would be here within the hour?"

  "Yes, of course. The sooner the better I think. We should not delay, don't you agree?"

  "I do, but I must to speak to Fleur immediately and at least give her some time to prepare herself." Julian said while turning, if possible, a shade more puce.

  "Do you think she will take it badly?" Charles asked, sinking further down into his chair at Julian's glare to such an obtuse question. He rubbed his face in frustration. "Edward will be here any minute."

  "The more reason for you to get out of that chair and delay him so I can speak to my daughter," Julian said through gritted teeth. "Tell him to come back in a few hours, or better yet tell him the whole thing is off! Sod the plan and sod the entire British aristocracy," he shouted, chagrin settling in. "Besides, this is entirely your fault, Charles. Who in their right mind speaks about such matters of import when they're drunk at a birthday celebration? Of course we made a scene."

  "You must see sense, Julian! The last thing we want is for Lady Fleur to feel cornered, but they must marry —." The earl was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, followed by Craigs walking in with the tray. A small card was placed on top to announce the visitor, Viscount Ravenbrook.

  "He is here," stated Charles.

  "There really is nothing to be done," said Julian, standing from his chair and looking towards the door.

  "Have your man show my son in here while you prepare your daughter. Having a minute's notice is better than having none at all. Really it's more than some fathers give their poor daughters."

  "Those fathers ought to be shot," Julian seethed, though he was no longer certain he was any better. "Right, I'll have your son see her in the drawing room after we have spoken. I don't foresee any difficulties — Fleur is a reasonable girl and I think she will see sense in the match. They have at the very least considered one another with all the hints we have dropped over the years. It won't be too much of shock to her, will it? And they have grown up considerably since then, so perhaps they will see each other differently now?"

  "You're stalling, Julian," said Charles, his voice soft.

  Julian nodded and left the comfort of his library. He wanted what was best for his girls, so why was he always making these careless mistakes? He did not know, but he would see her happy, and he felt she had more of a chance to be content with Edward, than she did with the other suitors who were veritable strangers compared to Ravenbrook.

  Feeling somewhat better about the situation, he made his way upstairs, hoping all the while his youngest would not be with Fleur when he tried to explain the situation. If his headache was terrible now he didn't want to think how he would feel after that confrontation.

  A LOVE REQUITED

  Evan Woolf stood by his mahogany desk in his small library and shuffled through his papers, a smug smile on his face.

  He decided he was feeling rather content, and for Evan, that was saying something. Having only reviewed his latest investment a moment before, his spirits lifted at the good news from his solicitor. Though mostly he lent his high spirits to the thought of telling Nathan that he'd been right, because that meant that Nathan had been wrong.

  How delicious, he thought, smirk still in place.

  He picked up the letters again, ready to reread the pleasing news, when he heard a knock on his front door.

  "Damn," he said, throwing the papers down with a great smack and moving to the window to see who had arrived uninvited. Unable to see, he shrugged and left the unknown person to knock.

  He walked around the desk to sit down and start his day's correspondence when the knocking became more rapid and forceful. Only one person in all of England could knock in that persistent manner, Nathan Carter.

  Smiling again, he bounded from his library to the front entryway and shooed his cook away from the door. "I will answer, Eliza," he said, swinging open the door as she shook her head in what he knew was great displeasure at having to tend to the door at all.

  Nathan stood in the doorway, straight-faced and impatient. "I've been knocking for ages, what have you been doing?" He walked inside, tripping over a fraying carpet, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. Evan nodded to Eliza her dismissal, who then hurumphed and went back to her kitchen.

  "I've been working, Nathan. It's that thing people do in order to make a living or satisfy one's need for growth. Not that you'd understand."

  Nathan looked around trying to find a place to set his belongings. Every surface was filled with papers and books, so he settled for throwing his hat and cane in the corner of the entryway before turning to a mirror and righting his hair.

  "And why wouldn't I understand?" Nathan asked, his preening finished. "I have my own interests too."

  Evan shook his head. "You'll definitely be interested in this, come and have a look," he said, walking back towards his desk.

  Nathan groaned and moved carefully through the mountains of books that had crawled their way out of the library doors and into the hallway, piled high on the floor.

  "When are you going to organize all this?" he asked, waving his hand around and stepping over a growing hill of science tombs.

  "When I have the time, I suppose," said Evan, already in the library, having maneuvered the piles with ease.

  "You do realize if you hired some help they would take care of this for you, along with answering the door," Nathan said slowly and deliberately. "I'm sure Eliza would appreciate it as well," he added when Eliza came in with a tray and slammed it on the small table in the corner.

  "Hello, Eliza," Nathan said cheerfully.

  She grunted once more and Evan looked ove
r at her. "She doesn't mind, do you Eliza? Besides I'm only one person and hardly any trouble at all."

  Eliza mumbled what Nathan heard as No trouble at all, indeed, and flew out of the room. It was frightfully amusing to him. "So what is it that you wanted to show me?"

  Nathan watched Evan as he shuffled through paper after paper and mumbled. "Sometime today perhaps?"

  "Here it is!" Evan boomed. "Look at this, look at it," he said as he shoved the letter in Nathan's face so he had only the choice to take it. "I told you, didn't I? The cylinder press was bound to be the only way for the print world to succeed in mass production. We can now print eight hundred times faster than with the older models. John Walter has agreed to purchase, you know, and others will follow suit once they see his production speeds."

  Nathan's face soured as he read over the letter. "John Walter, as in The Times, John Walter? Well congratulations, you'll now be rich as Croseus, not that you weren't doing well before."

  "Says the man with a trust bigger than my entire portion. Some of us need to produce and not just exist."

  Nathan shrugged.

  Evan gave up and walked over to his chair, moving papers he had slung around moments before into messy little piles. "So, what brings you here? If it's about tonight's ball I've already conveyed my regrets to the hostess and my mother. I don't know why she insists her friends invite me. I haven't said yes once in all these years."

  Nathan clucked impatiently. "Because she hopes you'll relent and come, you idiot, but that's not why I'm here. I received this early this morning." Nathan reached into his pocket and removed an invitation. He waved it around before sliding it back into his coat.

  "Ah, yes, that," said Evan, his face drawn and clearly annoyed. "I was planning on visiting my mother this afternoon to convey my regrets. A house party? Can you imagine? And not a word of it until this very morning. If I hadn't had such good news along with the invitation, I'd be in a very foul mood.

  "There can be no doubt on that subject," said Nathan, smiling and shaking his head.