A Countess of Convenience (4 page)

And he would surely offer. He couldn't afford to bring more scandal down on the family name, could he? Neil felt a bit of a tremor run down his own spine. Malvern had taught him everything he knew about dueling pistols. Could the student best the master?

Malvern had been pacing in his mother's downstairs salon for at least thirty minutes. Did she keep him waiting just to irritate him? By God, how much was a man expected to bear? He had a good mind to simply barge up the stairs bellowing.

Before he could follow his impulse, the butler marched haughtily into the room. “The countess will see you now, my lord."

"Where?” Malvern barked and started for the doorway.

"Her personal sitting room."

He took the stairs two at a time and entered the room adjacent to his mother's bedroom without knocking. She sat on a divan, still in her dressing gown, but with her hair neatly coiffed. As he'd expected, a tray with tea and pastries sat on a table in front of her. Looking at him with disdain, she said, “I trust you have a very good reason for disturbing me at such an hour?"

"It's nearly eleven o'clock,” Malvern replied.

"You know I'm not an early riser."

"I also know you don't like surprises, so I had to get to you before your gossiping friends."

She placed her hand against her nearly wrinkle free brow as though suffering from a headache. “What now? No, wait. Let me fortify myself first.” She reached for a cup of tea.

Malvern sat in a chair across from her and forced himself to take deep breaths. Years ago he had accepted the fact that the Countess of Malvern always made the most of life's dramatic moments. If he hoped to win her cooperation, he had to exercise patience.

Finally, she lowered the cup to the saucer and turned her full attention on him. “And what will the gossips be saying?"

He looked her in the eye. “Last night I was seen in a private dining room of the Metropolitan Hotel in a compromising situation with the half-sister of Neil Weathersby. He has challenged me to a duel."

The countess blanched, and the cup and saucer clattered to the floor. Despite the thick carpet, the delicate china shattered. “Just like your father!” Her voice rose to a shriek. “I warned you your reckless lifestyle would lead to ruin. Why didn't you confine your debaucheries to actresses and slatterns as you usually do? How could you let this happen?"

When she paused to take a breath, he took the opportunity to speak, deliberately keeping his voice low, hoping to calm her by example. “How it happened doesn't matter. It has happened, and I will do the only honorable thing and offer for the girl."

"Oh.” A bit of color came back into her cheeks. “You said she's Weathersby's half-sister. Who is her father?"

"The man is deceased. He was a tradesman named Crump."

The countess groaned and placed her hands over her heart. “A tradesman's daughter! And you could have married into the finest families. Why didn't you listen to me? I begged you to marry early."

"Like you and Father did?” He knew that was a cruel thing to say. His father's death had been the great tragedy of her life, but he had no intention of letting her continue this tirade. He didn't have the time or the patience.

She drew a perfumed handkerchief from her cuff and sniffed at it.

Hoping to forestall a fainting spell, he hurried on. “Even if she isn't from a fine family, at least I'll have a wife and can produce the heir you're always harping about."

A rosy glow rushed into her cheeks, and she drew an indignant breath. “Harping? You bear an old and—until your father's debacle—honorable title. You are the last male heir. I don't consider urging you to live up to the responsibilities inherent with your position
harping
."

He waved his hand impatiently. “To save the Malvern name from further scandal, I'm about to go into a marriage I do not want. I can think of no greater sacrifice for the family honor. Now, will you help me?"

Malvern had made it a practice since reaching his majority to never ask his mother for anything. His sudden request for aid obviously surprised her. “You've already decided on your course of action. What do you want from me?"

"The gossips will still make much with this sudden marriage. Your apparent approval will help douse the talk."

A thoughtful expression deepened the wrinkles around her eyes. “Do you intend to get a special license?"

"I'd rather not. Miss Crump's mother passed away six months ago. She's still in mourning. I thought we could use that as an excuse to have a private wedding. Read the banns at Malvern village church."

"How soon?"

"Immediately."

She shook her head. “I can't possibly have Malvern Hall ready for a wedding in four weeks."

"There's nothing to prepare, Mother. The cleric and a few witnesses are all who need attend. Miss Crump has only been in London for a few days. Aside from her brother, she knows no one here. Other relatives live somewhere in the north. There's no need to invite them."

She waved her handkerchief as a signal of distress. “But you are an earl. People will expect—"

He interrupted her. “This is no love match. I want no violins played or doves released. Understood?"

She nodded reluctantly. “Can I at least prepare an announcement for
The Times
? What is this Crump person's full name?"

"Prudence."

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “An obvious misnomer."

Malvern couldn't withhold an indignant huff. “It depends on how you define the word. For a tradesman's daughter with no dowry, she'll be marrying quite well."

His disgruntlement obviously brightened her mood. “Is she just too terrible?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"If she were terrible I wouldn't have gotten myself into this fix. There's something else I'd like to ask of you. Miss Crump is staying with her brother in rented rooms in Chelsea, hardly a fitting address for a future countess. I wondered if she could move in here until we leave for the country."

"Hmmm.” His mother pursed her lips in thought. “The poor girl's manners are probably lacking, not to mention her wardrobe. I suppose the sooner I get to her the better."

"This is only a marriage of convenience, Mother. No need to put yourself out over it."

Her chin firmed with determination. “Convenient or not, she'll still be the Countess of Malvern. I won't have her disgracing the title I've carried with dignity despite the most trying of circumstances. Get her to me as soon as possible."

Assured of his mother's cooperation, Malvern breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, she'd complain every step of the way, but there was nothing the Countess of Malvern liked better than correcting other people's faults. Miss Prudence Crump would pay a price for the riches she was about to acquire. His mother would see to it.

Now all he had to do was inform those scheming siblings of his plans. He didn't imagine they'd raise any objections. Forcing marriage on him had obviously been a carefully thought out plot. At least on Weathersby's part. Prudence had seemed as genuinely distressed last night as Malvern had been. Although, she could have been acting. If so, she'd missed a brilliant career on the stage.

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Neil kept his expression blank as Cartland delivered Malvern's message. Then he nodded and said, “Very good. I'll look forward to settling the matter this afternoon."

He could see by Harry's shifty eyes that the man was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay in the hopes of gathering more gossip. Neil didn't consider Harry a particular friend. He'd only included him in his plan because Harry's reputation for carrying tales among the ton would destroy any hopes Malvern might have of keeping last night a secret. Deciding Harry now knew enough to win him a month of dinner invitations, Neil stood, signaling the meeting over, even as he continued to thank him.

After showing Harry out, Neil leaned against the closed door, finally able to breathe deeply. It was working! His plan was actually working. He had failed so consistently in the past it was hard to believe he was succeeding this time.

Of course, he still had Prudence to handle, but surely the girl would recognize a golden opportunity. Squaring his shoulders, he turned toward her room. Better start now. He didn't want her to say something stupid when Malvern arrived.

He found her sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands tightly clenched, anxiously awaiting news of the duel. At least he could put her mind to rest on that score.

"Is it arranged?” she asked in a trembling voice.

Neil grinned happily. “It appears there is to be no duel."

Her head snapped back in surprise. “He—he has refused to fight?"

Hiding the humor he found in her disappointment over her lover's apparent cowardice, Neil sat down beside her. “Cartland informed me Malvern will call on us this afternoon to discuss different arrangements."

Her brow wrinkled with confusion. “What does that mean?"

He could no longer contain the good news. “What else? He'll offer for you."

Prudence stared at him in obvious confusion. Finally she said, “Surely not. We just met last night.” She paused as if in deep thought and then said, “Of course, he did seem greatly taken with me."

Neil laughed at her naivete. “Pruddy, this has nothing to do with attraction. As a man of honor, he must choose either a duel or marriage. He's undoubtedly picked the latter because of the scandal his father's death caused."

"What do you mean?"

"His father was killed in a duel when Malvern was just a child."

Prudence gasped and pressed a hand against her chest. “Oh, Neil, I don't want to marry a man who is being forced into it."

The very thought that she might refuse to cooperate sent a spurt of anger through him. “Think of your good fortune. Little Pruddy Crump will be the Countess of Malvern. When I promised Mother I would see you comfortably settled in a good match, I never dared hope for this kind of success."

"But I'll be married to a man who, at the very least, will resent me for keeping him from a love match."

"Oh, Pru, aristocrats don't marry for love. With them it's all about position and money."

"And I have neither."

"But Malvern has plenty of both. You should be thanking me for risking my life to ensure your future."

"There are more important things in life than security."

Now he was truly disgusted with her. “Wake up. Don't you realize the precarious position your father left you in? Even if he had provided a dowry, which he did not, he left everything under his brother's control. To make a truly good match, you need at least one season in London with all the necessary frippery. Something miserly Oscar Crump would not agree to. And even if he had, Mother's lengthy illness dangerously delayed matters. You're twenty-three now, past the prime age for marriage."

He realized from her shocked expression that he had made his point, so he forced his voice into a more moderate tone. “If I could provide for you, I would. But I'm sure you can see I'm barely able to provide for myself. None of my grand dreams for investing my inheritance have materialized. I'm truly sorry, dear sister, but without this marriage your future will be in ashes."

Her eyes grew watery. “But—but to marry a man who hates me..."

He didn't want her to start blubbering and have a puffy, red face when Malvern arrived, so he leaned forward and patted her hand. “Malvern is not a cruel man. I wouldn't let you marry him if he were. He's against marriage because of his parent's disastrous example, but marry he must to supply the prerequisite heir. You can be just what he needs, a wife who will fulfill his responsibilities to the earldom but leave him free to pursue the life he enjoys. In return you will have a comfortable—no, a luxurious life. Both of you will benefit. What more can anyone ask of marriage?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Apparently she'd run out of arguments. Good. He regretted being so hard on her, but she had to learn what life was really all about. Money. The wealthy and the very poor could blather on about love, but to people like Pru and himself marriage was their only chance to survive.

Finally she muttered, “You don't know he'll offer for me."

Amused by her childish attempt to avoid the obvious, Neil chuckled. “Just be sure your hair is properly groomed this afternoon. Gads! I wish you had something to wear besides dreary black."

Malvern turned the key to Weathersby's bell and waited tensely. He was not looking forward to facing his deceitful, former friend, but told himself he would remain calm no matter what happened.

Weathersby opened the door. “Please step into the parlor,” he said with a formal gesture toward the room.

Malvern marched to the nearest chair and sat stiffly, keeping his hat and gloves on one knee. He'd promised himself he would not lose his temper but just the sight of this traitor set his blood boiling. “You've undoubtedly surmised why I am here."

Neil sat across from him with a grave demeanor. “I think it best if you state your purpose."

At least the bastard was hiding the glee he must be feeling. One of his cheeky grins would surely send Malvern's control up the chimney. “In light of last night's events at the Metropolitan Hotel, I feel obliged to ask for your sister's hand in marriage."

Neil nodded. “As her closest male relative, I give my consent. However, there is no dowry."

Malvern waved his hand impatiently. “I didn't expect there would be. To avoid further scandal, I will make her the Countess of Malvern and provide for her for the rest of her days, but she must sign an agreement to protect all estate properties."

Weathersby frowned at Malvern for several moments before saying, “I know you are angry with me at the moment, but I hope you will come to realize I did this for your good as well as Pru's."

Malvern jumped to his feet, sending his hat and gloves flying in different directions. He took a step toward Neil before forcing himself to stop. “You betrayed our friendship."

Weathersby quickly rose and stepped behind his chair. “I—we— You need a wife."