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“His lordship is an exceptional man. He is handsome. He is wealthy beyond imagination, with a family name that dates back to—”
“What do I care for that? Mama, you are asking me to marry a man I have never met!” Cherry, now pacing frantically, screeched.
“Yes, dear, but often those matches turn out very comfortably.”
“I don’t want comfort!” Cherry snapped. “I want love … passion—”
“That may come as well. When your dear father proposed to me, I scarcely knew him … but after we were married, all those things came—”
“No, Mama—I want those things first!”
“Cheryl, you know nothing—”
“I know I won’t do this,” she said with a snort.
“You will meet him, and this will be done. Darling, I rather think you will even like him immediately. He is most charming and has experience enough to—”
“Ah! No doubt he is ancient.”
“Not quite ancient.” Lady Elton’s tone was dry. “Eight and twenty, and you, my dear, are one and twenty … nearly past your prime. You are certainly past your first bloom and still on the town. It is, considering your exquisite looks and dowry, most odd.”
“Odd? It is what I want, and I am very willing to remain single forever. Mama, this is completely ridiculous.”
“No, darling, it is not ridiculous. I don’t know exactly what prompted him to offer for you, for quite honestly, he has never seen you either … but offer he has, and I have accepted.”
Cherry’s mouth dropped, and it took a moment for her to recoup for the attack. “Indeed!”
“Dearest daughter, don’t you know that I fell in love with you even before I did with your father? I want the best for you, and believe me, this is. Some of the best marriages are created in this fashion.”
“And some of the worst. Marriage of convenience—for me? Never, Mama … never.”
“No? Well, I am afraid you are out there, my love. His lordship will be by tomorrow morning to present himself to you, and, darling, mark me, you will marry him.”
“I won’t.” Cherry stomped her foot and felt terror fill her mind. What was happening to her world? It was all falling around her ears. Could her stepmother force her to the altar? “This is monstrous of you!”
“I know you think that, but, darling, it is not what you imagine. He will treat you with respect. He is wise enough to handle you gently, tenderly. Why, you will hunt with him in the North, where he has a hunting box, and you will—”
“Mama!” Cheryl interrupted sharply. “I can’t believe you are doing this to me. You have always stood my friend. Now … before my eyes, you have turned into a stranger. Worse, you are nothing more than a … a stepmother from some horrid fairytale.” And so saying, Cherry fled the room.
~ Two ~
SKYLER WESTBROOKE STOOD at his bow window, the cozy warmth of his richly appointed study at this broad back. He turned and regarded himself in the mirror, staring into his own deep blue eyes. What was he doing?
He turned again and looked out onto the quiet London street. His right hand had formed a fist at his lips, for he was in deep concentration. His left hand unconsciously rubbed his muscular thigh where he had sustained a minor injury the day before.
He was consumed with agitation. The time had come to make his decision final. He had asked for the hand of Miss Cheryl Elton, and he would go through with it. He would wed the unknown chit and be done.
It was his only logical choice. At least one could not fault her heritage, her upbringing, her family connections. Hers was a fine, aristocratic line. Her father had been in politics; he had been
a Whig like himself, and this was a plus. Miss Elton was reputed to be a lovely creature—in fact, several good friends had told him she was exquisite—though he’d also heard talk about her ‘too high spirits’, but he would curb that. Marriage would bring her in tow.
She was already one and twenty, so he wasn’t robbing the cradle. It was a good age, beyond schoolgirl notions, old enough to mother his young brothers and sisters. He had been told she had a good head on her shoulders, which was well, for she would need it when she found herself with such a large ready-made family. And Miss Elton would understand what it was to lose one’s parents, having lost both herself.
There it was; though he had never met her, he had thought it all out and chosen her to carry on his name and his household. As to the ‘love’ he had always looked for … it just wasn’t meant to be.
The one woman he had thought he loved had turned out to be a faithless, money-hungry, man-eating—never mind. He flicked it out of his head. The year had given him perspective. Love was not in the cards for him. He would be a good husband, and if a pretty ankle turned his head, he would be discreet …
He walked over to his Regency writing desk, where an impressive collection of miniatures reposed in ornate silver frames. One was a portrait of his mother. On either side was framed a portrait of a man, the one on the left his father and the one on the right his stepfather. Then in order of their ages were one of each of his siblings—two half-brothers and two-half sisters. First was Freddy, seventeen and away at Eton. Next was Mary, fourteen and also away at school. The twins, Felix and Francine, were eight and totally wild. They had managed between them to dispose of one governess after another, three in the last year. Damn, but they needed a woman’s hand. They needed someone who was young enough to take them in tow … and hopefully grow to love them as he did.
