Edward stared at the words and discovered that his heart was beating too hard and too fast. He crumpled the note in his hand as anger flooded his system. I am in the most dreadful fix and can think of no one else in whom I might confide. Why those words should make him so utterly furious, he simply couldn’t fathom. Especially as the whole thing was a hum, in any case. She just needed a device to manoeuvre Nibley into position, and this was it.
He gritted his teeth and refused to acknowledge what had really burned him the most badly. But after all, if she was going to be so underhand and manipulative as to trap a man into marriage, why not go for the prize? Surely, a marquess was a far greater achievement than a mere baron? And surely, he was a more attractive option than Percy Nibley? Nibley, for the love of God! If you stood the man in a strong breeze, he’d likely fall over.
Edward paced, totally uncomprehending as to why he should be so bloody irritated. It wasn’t as if he wanted to get married. He must, at some point, of course, to produce an heir, lest the title go to whatever deviant offspring his mad cousin managed to produce. But not yet, and certainly not to Miss Belinda Holbrook!
He hauled in deep breath, only too aware that the wretched creature was even now awaiting Nibley in his library. His lips thinned into an unpleasant smile as he relished the idea that she must be quaking in her boots. Well, he’d damn well give her a reason to quake, and to regret that she’d ever had the audacity to try to serve such an underhanded and wicked turn on one of his friends. Telling himself severely that this was the only reason for what he was about to do, he set off to find the dreadful Miss Holbrook.
Chapter 13
“Wherein our heroine gets rather more than she bargained for, and our hero is hoisted by his own petard.”
Belle paced the library with her heart thudding an uneven rhythm in her chest. What on earth was she doing here? Of all the low, despicable things to do, trapping a man into marriage had to be one of the lowest. To think she had become such a creature. She wanted to cry.
Crecy was depending on her though, and the loathsome Aunt Grimble would see them on the streets before she lifted a finger. Besides which, she wasn’t giving Lord Nibley such a bad bargain, was she? She would be a good and kind wife, she would make sure his household ran smoothly, that he was well-fed, and she would not interfere with his work. She would be a good mother to any children and ... and ...
She ground to a halt with such a well of emotion in her throat that she could barely swallow. Oh God, she didn’t want to do this. Not just because it was immoral and dreadful, but because she was about to commit herself to a man she knew she could never feel anything but mild affection for.
Was this to be her life?
Belle hauled in a breath to steady her nerves. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that a love match was a rare thing, and certainly not a hope she could possibly entertain, let alone hold out for, but still she had hoped ... had dreamed ... But there would be no more hoping, no more dreaming, not after this.
She stared at the door, knowing Lord Nibley would come through it at any moment, and then, shortly after, her dreadful aunt would purposely bring witnesses to secure poor Lord Nibley’s fate.
That was possibly the worst part of all of this, that she had been forced to go to her aunt and ask her help with this odious, wicked scheme.
Nausea swirled in her stomach and a wave of panic so intense that she could hardly breath gripped her chest. She couldn’t do it. Oh God, she couldn’t do it!
Forcing her horrified mind to make her body react, she took a step towards the door in the hope of escaping, only to see with alarm that the handle was turning. Well, she would warn him. She would waste no words, but tell the unfortunate Nibley to turn and run before it was too late.
Except it wasn’t Nibley.
Belle froze. Of all the misfortunes that could befall her in this ill-conceived scheme, and she’d thought of every one of them in great and horrifying detail, this one had escaped her.
The Marquess of Winterbourne filled the doorway, his towering figure somehow bigger and more impressive than usual because he was quite obviously utterly furious.
Belle gasped and took an unwilling step backwards.
He knew!
With great deliberation, the marquess closed the door behind him and turned to stare at her.
“Lord Nibley will not be joining you, Miss Holbrook,” he said, his voice far too calm, too even.
Belle swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say as shame and humiliation burned. She wanted to tell him that she had changed her mind, that she wasn’t going to go through with it, but the words wouldn’t come. The idea that he should think her the kind of manipulative woman who would act in such an underhand fashion made a knot of misery form in her throat, and she could say nothing, do nothing. All she was capable of at this moment was staring at him in a kind of mute horror as she wondered what her punishment would be. Would he shame her before everyone, would he tell the world the dreadful plot she had hatched?
Her cheeks were burning, her eyes prickling with unshed tears and still she could say nothing.
The marquess was likewise silent, and she wished he would just get on with it. She wished he would shout at her, berate her, anything but this dreadful quiet, filling the room like a weight, pressing down upon her, smothering any remaining hopes for the future.
“You have nothing to say?” he asked, moving towards her, his dark green eyes never leaving hers.
Her breath hitched, but she determined to say something, anything.
“I-I know what you must think of me,” she said, the words barely audible. “And I do not blame you, but ... but I was desperate. I am desperate.”
Winterbourne nodded, and she wondered at the fact the room seemed to shrink in direct relation to his proximity. He was getting closer, a dark, glittering expression in his eyes now.
What did he want her to say?
“My aunt will throw us both on the streets at the end of this season, my lord,” she said, holding onto any remaining dignity by a thread as her voice trembled. “Surely, you can have some pity, some understanding? You know what kind of fate will await us both, then. My sister would never survive that.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed with a nod, though she could detect no sympathy in either his voice nor his expression. “But I think you would, Miss Holbrook.”
She gasped at that, hurt and appalled by the words, despite the fact that she deserved them. Oh, how she deserved them.
He snorted and shook his head. “It was not meant as an insult, merely an observation. You are not the kind of woman to take life lying down.” His mouth quirked at that, a rather sly smile settling upon his lips. “No pun intended,” he added, his voice low.
Belle backed up, thoroughly unsettled now. There was a glittering look in his eyes that disturbed her. She realised with a jolt of shock that she knew what the price would be for his silence.
She put up her chin.
“I am no whore, my lord.”