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Fanny was rendered speechless. “Without the benefit of courtship?” she was uncertain why she asked the question for there could be no contemplation of his outrageous offer. They hardly knew each other.
“Do you want courtship? I never imagined you would since you have been through it twice already, to repeat it must be unpalatable.”
How oddly fascinating they were having this conversation. “You are in earnest, my lord?”
His mouth tilted a little at one corner. “I am Lady Fanny. I also find I do not wish for you to slip through my fingers again and I must act with more haste than what is considered proper.”
Her eyes widened. He had never expressed the hope that they might become better acquainted. And now…marriage? Was he in want of a fortune? Though he did have a title to recommend himself to her family, she did not think his offer would be entertained. His background was too dubious, and his title did not render him wholly respectable. Why, he was hardly invited to the best drawing rooms or balls. And when he did appear, it was quite evident his presence incited speculation and uncivil rumors. More than once mamma had remarked she pitied the lady he would take to be his wife and had thought it better if he looked to secure an alliance with one of the many American heiresses who hankered for any title.
“I…I cannot marry you.” Her instinctive rejection felt wrong.
He moved scandalously close, his eyes searching her face with studied intensity. Fanny almost expired when he reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his knuckle barely grazing her cheeks. That touch, so light it was scarcely a breath of sensation, pierced her like a well-aimed arrow.
“I ask you not to dismiss my offer without some consider
ation,” he murmured. “At least sleep on it.”
There was a peculiar weakness in her heart, and Fanny could do nothing but stare at him. Lord Shaw was sincere, and she was…terrified. She jolted as the awareness simmered through her. Not even when Lord Trent had offered for her had she felt this out of sorts, this breathless. An achingly terrifying sensation that she was powerfully attracted to Sebastian Rutledge tore through her. She went very still, hardly daring to breathe.
“What madness is this?”
She whirled about, her hand pressing against her chest. “My goodness, Colin, you startled me.” Had he heard the viscount’s absurd offer?
From the thundercloud brewing in her brother’s eyes, she surmised he had. “Lord Shaw has come to call. I…I fear I have a previous engagement to attend,” she said and winced at the blatant lie. Even Sebastian Rutledge would suspect they’d had no caller, but he had stolen her composure. “If you will both excuse me.”
Without waiting for their reaction, Fanny hurried from the drawing room closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, unable to believe the last minute had taken place. She was about to move away when her brother's shocked tones floated in the air.
“Did you just make an offer for my sister?”
Fanny stiffened, turned around and shamelessly pressed her ear flat against the door. It was unforgivably rude to eavesdrop, but that was the least of her sins.
“I wanted to assess how she would feel about the notion before I approached you.”
“You are not entirely serious?” her brother demanded.
“I’ve heard rumors that only fortune hunters will now offer for her hand, and that you are seeking suitors for her.”
Fanny trembled in reaction to that unwelcome news. How dare her brother act with such rank disregard for her feelings.
“I thought you would want better for your sister. There is even a bet at White’s going that you are so desperate you will accept the first offer that comes your way.” Lord Shaw’s tone was questioning and throbbed with an undertone of emotion she did not understand. How she wished she was still in the room to see his eyes.
“I will check the book at White’s when I next visit,” Colin said stiffly.
She was being discussed in the clubs. The very idea had humiliation cramping through her stomach.
“What are your designs on my sister?”
The anger in her brother’s voice was alarming.
“I would like to marry her,” Shaw said unapologetically. As if he were not low in connections and birth, a businessman asking for the hand of an earl’s daughter.
Her prejudice left a sour taste in her mouth, and she did not like that she was painted with the same brush as the rest of society. Fanny had never found him rude or inconsiderate. As it were, the very idea of any man who wasn’t hunting a fortune asking for her hand in marriage after the calamity that was her reputation was preposterous. The notion that it was Sebastian Rutledge was even harder to comprehend.
“My sister is a lady with well-bred sensibilities,” her brother said stiffly. “How dare you even think to approach me for her hand?”
She’d never heard her brother’s voice so cold and dismissive. Fanny frowned, for she had thought Sebastian Rutledge, a friend of Colin’s.
“I’m not hunting her fortune.”
