Defying the Earl (24 page)

Valerian scowled. He would throttle Jasper and enjoy every minute of it. What else had his brother divulged? Little wonder the coward hadn’t shown his face yesterday. Valerian glanced to the domed bracket clock on the sideboard. Wilhelmina would arrive soon. “You have fifteen minutes. Not a second more.”

“I suggest you pour us drinks and listen. You need me as much as you’d like to disregard the truth.” She met his eyes squarely and qualified her suggestion. “We can solve each other’s problems unless you’re comfortable with overseeing a near-bankrupt, neglected estate.”

The frankness of her tone underscored her intention. How dare she dismiss her transgressions as if minor inconveniences and elucidate his current financial distress? Disbelief surged in pace with his temper. Didn’t she realize how humiliated she’d left him with her flagrant display of disrespect and swift departure thereafter? He’d faced the rumors and bawdy puns while she fled to a new life. He could never forgive her, nor forget the social embarrassment he’d suffered. Society may have viewed him as the victim, yet the whole affair caused him to shudder with revulsion. Humiliation renewed with bright remembrance. The sixth Earl of Dashwood was no one’s victim. Not circumstance, finance, or Caroline.

She’d measured his worth by his bank account and discovered him not moneyed enough. The woman deserved only pity, yet he masked his reaction with an expression of insouciance. “What do you want?”

Her head flicked up, attention gained, although he was too smart to ignore the calculating glimmer in her eye. She still possessed a refined profile, the years apart having not detracted from her appearance; she remained a lady of demure composure, although her actions and words spoke a different language altogether. That she had destroyed any emotion he once harbored served him well at present. The lady was interested in no one other than herself. She hadn’t changed, and these faults precipitated their conversation.

“I always knew you were the smarter choice.” She smiled, as if her words erased her history.

“There shouldn’t have been a choice. Your—”
he struggled for the correct word as it could never be labeled love
“
—
attention should have been singular to me. Instead, once you learned of my father’s debt and the crippled status of our finances, you chose a different path aimed to fatten your purse and ensure a future filled with gowns and jewels. At the time I expected loyalty, as you had whispered words of affection and promise within my embrace. I also expected compassion. My father’s declining health led to his death soon after, yet you comforted my grief by executing a public jilt, your legs up and your décolletage down.” He couldn’t be more matter-of-fact. Of emotion, he had none of the kinder variety.

The blunt description caught her by surprise. He saw it in her face, the slightest flick of her lashes, the tensing of her jaw. He’d been a fool two years ago. Then, he’d wished to appear responsible, newly come to the title and ready to show the world he would exemplify the Dashwood heritage with esteem. Part of him sought to eclipse his father’s gambling habits and poor investments with a façade of respectability masked in societal obligation and marriage.

It hadn’t worked.

“I have a proposition.” She dared a smile.

“I can solve my own problems, thank you.” He exhaled and strove for patience, his voice an unaffected tenor.

“Solve your problems? As you’ve done thus far?” Her gaze bounced to every corner of the room, her expression bemused. “There are lords who dabble in trade I suppose, without tarnishing their reputation or damaging personal respectability. It becomes a matter of compromising pride and deciding how much a man will do to keep his heels out of debt.” Her words ended just short of insult although her voice was calm, unwavering, as if she’d practiced her little speech beforehand.

“Whatever you offer, I have no need.” He knew other aristocrats who dabbled in business and took a hand in trade. There was no shame in honest negotiation, yet Caroline made it sound of the basest choice. His eyes found the clock again and he did not stifle his scowl. “You have seven minutes remaining.”

“It would be a lucrative exchange. Hear me out before you decide.” She grinned and approached with supercilious sway. “Our mutual goals are aligned. I want stability, a family, a husband I wouldn’t mind keeping close at night.”

Her blatant attempt at flirtation left him cold, her words reductive. “You might have had that before, but you chose a different path.”

“My financial security allows me freedom and opportunity.” She angled her chin and lowered her lashes as she spoke. “You can repair Kirby Park, reclaim your status at White’s, take up where you left off or begin anew without the worry of impending poverty. You’re not likely to find an heiress who can offer you everything I’ve outlined. What’s more, you already know how well we get on together.” She arrived at his shoulder, her voice suddenly low and sultry, her lips pursed.

“I believe your time and my patience have expired.” Damn it all, if Wilhelmina arrived while Caroline remained, what explanation could he provide to erase the awkwardness? He doubted Caroline would adhere to civility after his frank rejection. Best he see her out. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“That’s all?” The two words composed utter disbelief.

“What else is there to say?” He smiled at the nip of sarcasm in his voice. “I’m not interested in your proposal, nor will it prompt me to offer one.” Caroline Worsley was a problem he would not invite into his life. Her coach remained in the drive. How convenient. “Please go.” He strode toward the hall with his arm extended. “Don’t come back.”

She appeared at a loss for words, discombobulated by his straightforward dismissal. Had she really believed it would be so easy to expunge the past? Still he was surprised at her lack of rebuttal. If anything she proved momentarily stunned. Caroline was not one to surrender easily and he heaved a breath of relief when she left without further engagement.

He returned to the drawing room, anxious to shake off the sullen mood Caroline had brought into his home. Then again the knocker sounded. “Aah, you’ve recovered your argument.” He strode to the foyer with purpose. “I told you not to come back.” He spoke to himself, although a tick of anger ignited the knowledge he wasn’t through with Caroline’s scheming. He swung the door wide.

“Wilhelmina.”

“Hello.” She smiled, although her greeting sounded hesitant.

“I’m glad you’ve come.” He dared a glance beyond her shoulder as she entered. The carriages would have had to pass on the drive. Had he wasted any more time with Caroline he’d have ruined his chance with Whimsy. At last, a stroke of luck in his favor.

He waved to the driver to continue the way he’d come. It made little sense to leave a hired conveyance waiting for what he hoped would become a lengthy evening. He glanced at the sky and noted the fast moving pewter clouds.

“Come in. The weather looks unpredictable.” Relief pulsed through him erasing the doubt he’d struggled to manage. A smile twitched and then succeeded.

“I wondered more than once if my visit was the wrong decision.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m sure you did. Let me take your cloak and gloves. The drawing room is warm and I’ll ring for tea.” He led her through the hall. “I’m pleased you’re here. I have much to tell you.”

She looked a little nonplussed and offered nothing but a slight shrug after she settled on a low back settee near the fire. “Your home is cozy.” She turned in his direction since he hadn’t taken a seat, intent on summoning Turner for refreshments. “I didn’t know what to expect as the hack brought me up the drive, but you must be proud to oversee such a large property and the tenants within.”

Did she not notice the lack of adornment in the room? The frayed hems on the curtains? The exposed stripe of threadbare confession on the Axminster carpet? A yawning stretch of silence pursued while the truth hit him with enough force to send him back a step. Wilhelmina didn’t measure the estate’s value by the spoils of the title, but rather by her appraisal of the man who held the earldom. His gaze melted into hers and his heart stuttered. The firelight cast a shaft of light across her profile, her hair illuminated like warm brandy, eyes bright with curiosity.

And then a second truth surfaced with the same pristine clarity as the first.

He loved her
.

It was true.

He likely fell in love the moment he saw her, his heart enchanted with some unknown spell beyond the bounds of awareness. But now, nestled in his home, and in his heart, he labeled the emotion for what it was.

He loved Wilhelmina.

If only to win her and convince her to offer another chance for friendship and a future beyond; there lay the challenge. He needed to re-establish financial security and court her properly. But first he must explain his actions from the other evening.

Not a simple proposition.

He shook himself mentally to discard his meanderings then eyed Wilhelmina, intent on changing her mind despite her expression portrayed pure equivocation.

Chapter Twenty

Indeed, it was a good decision to come calling. Valerian couldn’t be more handsome, his thick black hair appeared damp, combed back where it threatened a slight wave near his collar, his eyes twinkled with a gleam she labeled both mischievous and entrancing, and his clothing was impeccably pressed. It was difficult to notice much of her surroundings, never mind the furnishings of the room, when she couldn’t drag her eyes from the incredibly charming man in front of her.

Yet what of his meeting with Caroline? Wilhelmina had thought to interrupt their reunion and instead, found Lady Worsley exiting the drive, her impromptu visit only thirty minutes at most. Had Dashwood refused her at the door? Caroline had mentioned the possibility. Or was their agreement arranged and finalized with a few words of conversation? There was no way she could discover the answers at present and she’d be every kind of fool to vie for Valerian’s affection with Caroline as an opponent. The woman was beautiful, wealthy and entrenched in high society, no matter her mention of past scandal. Wilhelmina would do best to keep emotions under lock and key, her attitude purely indifferent.

“You seemed insistent I allow you time to explain.” She shifted so she could view him as he returned from the bell pull. “I’m ready to listen.”

Some unexpected reaction caused him a moment of hesitation. She noticed the fleeting furrow of his brow.

“Yes, and I thank you for this chance.” He sat in the Hepplewhite chair across from her, although she noted the seat cushion was worn bare. The firelight glossed his profile in warmth, his pose casual, his legs crossed at the ankles. “Turner will be in shortly with refreshments.”

The butler materialized as if by magic, making quick work of pouring tea and arranging the service before he left.

Wilhelmina watched his exit from the room.

“Turner has given his loyalty to the St. David family for nearly forty years, as long as I can remember and far before that. Kirby Park runs as well as possible under his watch which made it increasingly difficult when I realized I could no longer pay his wages or offer him the compensation he deserved.”

He’d captured her attention and she viewed him, his eyes impossibly clear.

“Let me continue.”

He went on in a brisker tone as if he feared she might interrupt, but Wilhelmina had no ready reply to his heartfelt confession, her condition too neatly in kind. She nodded in a broken movement, cautiously anxious for him to carry on.

“My father was a good man with a heart of gold, a pocket full of silver, and a lengthy losing streak. My brother has inherited these traits in the same order. When my father passed away two years ago, Jasper and I had inkling there would be little inheritance, but we had no idea of the insurmountable debt. As the new earl, I assumed all responsibility of the accounts, Kirby Park and of course, my brother. In that, I’ve failed. In all aspects, actually.” For an infinitesimal second he paused and glanced to the flames in the firebox. “When the situation became dire, it was decided that I would return to society and offer a service for those in need of an interruption in their plans…a
matchbreaker
of sorts.”

She abbreviated her gasp, but he heard it nonetheless.

“Do not despise me, Whimsy.” He shook his head in regretful response. “We needed food. We had no way to heat the house. The situation proved desperate and I was at a loss for any alternative or I’d never had agreed to one of Jasper’s scatter-witted schemes. We’ve no relative to borrow from, no more furnishings or valuables to sell.” He glanced to the portrait over the hearth. “I’d promised my father to do well by the title despite he left me an intractable challenge and a brother who flies through life on the tail of a kite.”

“Valerian…” She said his name in a subdued tone, her heart in a twist from his despairing emotion.

“No.” He raised his hand in a gesture of supplication. “I need to tell you the all of it.”

She nodded again, her eyes glued to his.

“It seemed a ridiculous idea at first and yet the only conceivable manner to raise funds. Jasper was confident he knew people who knew others who would benefit from the service and keep our association secret. I’ve had little use for romance, and I will not deny the notion of breaking apart lovebirds held a strangely attractive lure. I never considered the outcome or the distasteful emotion I would agitate. Debt, failure and a good amount of damaged pride blinded me to the repercussions of my endeavor. But then something changed.”

“You were caught.” Her whispered conclusion resounded in the silent room.

“I met you.”

A wave of apprehensive emotion fluttered through her chest causing a sharp inhale at his response. She blinked hard, and then shot her eyes to his, his expression as sincere as she’d ever seen him. Still her accusations burst forth. “But you actively worked against my efforts with a goal to thwart my plan. You knew what I meant to do, what I needed to accomplish and still you engineered sabotage. After the wine cellar, when I told you about Livie’s condition.” Her voice had changed mid-sentence, her tone demanding explanation. “You continued to meet with Lord Rigby and work toward ruining Fiona’s relationship.” Without thought, she gathered her hands in her lap, uncomfortably aware that while his words ignited affection, his actions spoke of a different emotion. She touched a fingertip to the charms on her mother’s bracelet and waited for his reply.