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Her heart pounded and she twis
ted her hands in her lap. “No, Father. I don’t believe it is the best thing for me. I don’t know Mr. Faulkner-Jones at all, and the one time he called on me in Bath he didn’t seem at all someone who I feel would suit.”
His face flushed and he pointed his finger at her. “Young lady, I’ve had to tell you since you were a girl what is best for you. It was quite disappointing when you were born, and your mother presented me with yet another girl.” He shook his head in disgust, as if his wife had purposely birthed only girls to annoy him.
Rayne stopped herself from rolling her eyes since she’d heard the story so many times before. Father was disappointed with a third girl. The story was the same, and the disappointment the same. Rayne oftentimes wondered if her mother had died shortly after her birth to avoid Father’s constant criticism.
“I know Father. I appreciate how much you’ve done for me. I am happy with my life and work. However, if I were to marry, I prefer to choose my own husband.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and had her squirming. “That degenerate, I’m thinking? Is he the one who’s caught your eye?”
Rayne drew herself up. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
He thumped the floor once more. “Yes. You do. And don’t try to pull that innocent act with me. Mr. Faulkner-Jones has already visited and told me about Lord Sterling falling all over you when he visited.”
He glared at her. “I am no one’s fool, daughter. I had Lord Sterling investigated and it’s not good news.” He leaned back in his chair, his color returning to normal. “The man is no one you should be associating with. He is trouble. His young sister died under suspicious circumstances.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that Lord Sterling had something to do with his sister’s death?”
“Why shouldn’t I suggest it? Shortly after she died, your Lord Sterling closed up his London house and moved to Bath where he proceeded to drink the city dry. He’s a carouser, a libertine, a rake, and unworthy of any woman’s attention. Especially my daughter.”
Rayne shifted in her seat. Disagreeing with her father was simply not done. He had always been larger than life to her, and the thought of going against his wishes and desires was not something she’d ever done before. But this she could not allow.
“Father, Lord Sterling is an honorable man, I can assure you. He stopped drinking once he became my patient. When he was sufficiently healed, he limped around the infirmary, helping me. He’s also taken over my books, so money is coming in again.”
Father leaned forward, glaring at her. “You can hire someone to do all that for you. And certainly, any man who is a member of the Upper Crust is not working at your infirmary out of the goodness of his heart. He is looking for something, and as your father, I am sure I know what that something is.”
She hoped her father assumed the flush rising from her middle to her face was from anger and not guilt. Although, at her age a couple of kisses was nothing to feel guilty about.
“You are wrong, Father. Lord Sterling has been nothing but a gentleman.”
He snorted.
“Dr. Stevens, Mr. Faulkner-Jones has arrived.” Bessie entered the drawing room, with Mr. Faulkner-Jones on her heels.
“Good to see you,” her father said. “Please have a seat and we’ll get this taken care of.”
Mr. Faulkner-Jones took the seat next to her on the sofa, and she edged away to allow more space between them. Now that she’d made up her mind that she didn’t want to marry him, she found him almost repulsive.
“Good afternoon, my dear,” he said as he took her hand. She smiled and slowly dragged it away. She tamped down the urge to wipe her palm on her skirt. “Good afternoon, Mr. Faulkner-Jones.”
He immediately switched his attention to Father. “I’m thinking a wedding date no more than two weeks hence, since I must get back to my team.” Her fiancé leaned back and rested his foot on his bent knee. “That will give me a few days of a honeymoon.”
“Yes. Yes.” Father nodded, all smiles. “I can arrange for the church here in town. If we are looking at only two weeks, we will need a special license. Are you able to procure one?”
Rayne’s head moved back and forth between Mr. Faulkner-Jones and Father, like she as watching a game of lawn tennis. “Just a minute, please.”
Both men looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was in the room.
“I do not wish to—”
Father cleared his throat and glared at her.
“—make the wedding so soon,” she finished lamely. She still had to convince Father that she and Mr. Faulkner-Jones were not well suited, and he was not someone to whom she could imagine herself married. And the marital bed? She shivered just thinking about it.
Perhaps if she could drag it out a little longer, she would be able to think of something to get her out of the entire mess. “I would need more time to ready myself. I have patients to attend to, and surely you realize I must find a proper dress, and—”
“—Three weeks at the most,” Mr. Faulkner-Jones interrupted. “That will eliminate a honeymoon, however.”
