Page 19 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

Lady March’s eyes narrowed.

Florence leaned forward. ‘I know you would tell us if you could, Lady March, and I thank you for your kindness in seeing us.’

‘Ha! Kindness. I didn’t have much choice.’ Her gaze turned on Blackdown. ‘The only hope you have of restoring your family’s reputation, if they ever had one, is to marry one of the Dearing girls, the beautiful one, and give the land as a wedding gift. That’s how we settled things in my day.’

Blackdown’s shoulders stiffened.

Florence’s stomach pitched. Marry Primrose… But wasn’t that sort of what she had wanted all along? She swallowed. ‘I think we will continue our search for the truth a while longer.’ She hated how thin her voice sounded.

Lady March regarded her intently for a moment and the wrinkles in her cheeks shifted as her lips drew back in a smile. ‘So that’s the way the wind blows, is it?’

‘I don’t know—’

‘Marry one of the Dearing girls. That’s my advice. Ring the bell for Ginny to show you out. You young folks make me tired.’ She closed her eyes and leaned back. Soon, a gentle snore issued from the back of her throat.

Florence glanced at Blackdown, who had an expression like thunder. ‘We can show ourselves out,’ she said softly and, once Blackdown had returned the chairs to where he found them, they crept out of the room.

Ginny was waiting anxiously down the hall.

‘I will meet you outside, Lord Blackdown,’ Florence said. ‘I need to speak with Ginny for a moment.’

Graydon’s back teeth ached from clamping shut his jaw. He stalked out of the house, barely containing his anger. Don’t speak, she said. Do this. Don’t do that. Who in the devil’s name did she think she was, ordering him around as if he were some sort of lackey?

Not to mention Lady March’s suggestion; where had that come from? Marry Miss Primrose Dearing? If that wasn’t some sort of underhanded ploy, something those women had cooked up between them, he didn’t know what was. He would sooner put his hand in a fire.

And he was no closer to proving his family blameless than he had been when he started. What if he was wrong? What if his great grandfather had stolen the land? He had been a privateer, something he had always been proud of.

He paced the drive in front of his carriage, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. Yes, he did not deny his father had been a ne’er do well, and his grandfather not much better, but Uncle Robert had assured him that his great-grandfather had been a man of honour and that Graydon would restore the lustre of a once honourable family name.

His horse’s ears pricked as he walked towards it. He stroked his nose, regaining some of his usual calm. Calm under fire was what Uncle Robert had always recommended in a difficult situation. He’d been a soldier before he’d gone into commerce and had always said that business was a battle and military precepts had served him very well. But Uncle Robert had been a bachelor all his life and Graydon could only wonder what he would make of Miss Dearing and her plots. Oddly, he had the feeling Uncle Robert would admire her zeal.

The sound of the front door closing had him turning away from his horse to watch her cross the drive. She had a brisk no-nonsense step, yet it was utterly feminine. Her slender skirts fluttered at the hem, revealing a pair of well-turned ankles above her practical walking shoes. The slight sway of her curvaceous hips and the straight carriage of her shoulders spoke of a woman who rejected artifice. Her unstudied femininity stirred his blood in ways he would not have imagined, while all the time she seemed completely unaware of her allure, making her all the more attractive. For some odd reason, he liked that her distinctive eyebrows were drawn down, as if she were deep in thought.

Damn it all. What was he thinking? He strode to meet her.

She started when she saw him approach. ‘I am sorry I took so long.’ She sounded breathless. ‘I had to convince Ginny she had to admit the doctor no matter what Lady March said. I have never seen her look so poorly.’

He was struck by her kindness to the irascible old woman. Somehow, he had not thought of her as kind. Bossy, organising, protective of her sisters…but kind?

He helped her up into his carriage before climbing into the driver’s seat. Picking up the reins, he glanced over at her sitting primly with her gloved hands folded in her lap. ‘Had you primed Lady March to make that suggestion?’

She blinked. ‘What suggestion?’

She knew what he meant. He was sure of it. ‘That I marry into your family.’

She stiffened. ‘Certainly not.’

Surprisingly, her shock seemed genuine. Perhaps he was wrong to assume they had been plotting. He suddenly felt less irritated. He did not like to think she would try to manipulate him; he preferred to think of her as straightforward and painfully honest.

Thinking back, he recalled the way Eloise had used her beauty to try get him to do things he had thought were not the best idea. Was that why he now had such an aversion to women who plied him with their wiles?

He started off and turned out onto the road. She seemed busy with her own thoughts and, now that his anger had subsided, he could not help but continue to mull over the old lady’s advice.

Marriage to one of the Dearing women would be an easy way to put paid to this local rumour about his great-grandfather’s theft of the land. But did he really want to take the easy way out?

It occurred to him that marrying far beneath him would certainly put Eloise’s nose out of joint. After all, as a countess his wife would take precedence over a mere viscountess, no matter her background. Eloise would not like it one bit. Indeed, it might be the perfect revenge.

He stilled. He had never quite thought of his plan as revenge, merely a matter of proving how wrong she had been.