Mutual Consent (4 page)

However, in the end it was his lordship’s face that caught and held her interested gaze. Her eyes flew fleetingly to the portraited gentleman and back again. The present Earl of Chatworth owed much to his ancestor, possessing the same heavy-lidded eyes and aquiline nose, as well as the same half-smile. Babs decided that the knowing arrogance of that smile was particularly unsettling.

“You are safe here, m’dear. There is truly no more need of the veil,” said Lord Chatworth, studying his visitor with at least equal interest. The woman was dressed in the high kick of fashion in a well-cut green pelisse and matching bonnet. Except for the unmistakable message of the veil, she might have been one of his cousins come to call upon him with another of their constant entreaties to spend more time dancing attendance on the young debutantes at their boring soirees.

“I would prefer to keep it for the moment, my lord,” Barbara said.

The earl’s brows drew together in a slight frown. The woman’s husky, well-bred voice was not one that he readily recalled. He cast about in his memory for a lady with whom he had had some sort of tryst, but came up with nothing. He shrugged and moved to lean against the mantel. There he stood at ease, playing with his fob. Undoubtedly the lady would herself jog his lamentable memory. “As you wish. To whom do I owe this mysterious visit?”

“Miss Barbara Cribbage, my lord,” she said quietly. She awaited his lordship’s reaction with dread anticipation. It was all that she could have expected, and worse, and her courage nearly deserted her.

Lord Chatworth abruptly straightened, dropping his fob to dangle on its black riband. “You are Miss Cribbage?” he asked. There was a mingled note of distaste and incredulity in his voice. His eyes had sharpened and his stare raked over her with a boldness that would have been insulting at any other time.

Babs assured herself that she was not shocked or embarrassed by his inspection. His lordship had as much right to his interest in her as she had to hers in him. After all, she had just moments before made much the same assessing examination of his person.

“Yes, I am Miss Cribbage. You are undoubtedly surprised, my lord. However, do reflect a moment. I could hardly consent to marriage without first meeting my intended,” Babs said with a credible assumption of calm. But her fingers were tight on the strings of her reticule. This interview was proving every bit as difficult for her as she had dreaded.

Lord Chatworth smiled thinly at her words. His eyes had become extremely hard. “Quite. Naturally you wished to inspect the goods your father has so very kindly purchased for you.” He stared insolently, trying to penetrate the heavy veil. The woman sounded cultured and she possessed a youthful figure, yet he could not be certain of her breeding or her age. Those things were apparent only in the eyes and one’s countenance, he thought irritatedly.

Babs had flinched at the earl’s words, but even as she did, she discovered that his scorn also served to anger her. She said coldly, “Not very elegantly put, Lord Chatworth. However true, you should also know that my father and I disagree vehemently about some of his methods.”

“So I see,” Lord Chatworth said contemptuously. He picked up his fob again, to swing it from the end of its black satin riband from negligent fingers. “Yet you are willing to be the prize in this farce. You would marry a man you know nothing of for the sake of a title. Pray forgive me for my lack of credulity, m’dear.”

It was too much. She had hoped for an alliance of sorts and to reach an understanding, but this haughty ridicule could not be borne. “Lord Chatworth, have you never thought there may be others as equally unwilling as yourself to dance to the piper’s tune?”

Babs pressed a gloved hand against her mouth, appalled by her outburst. She was desperately near tears. She fought to regain control of herself, taking deep, measured breaths. Tumbling about in her mind was the clear thought that she should never have come. She had made a horrible mistake. She could never make this arrogant nobleman understand even a particle of what she was feeling, or of her circumstances.

Lord Chatworth watched the woman’s rigid figure, at last made sharply aware of her inner distress. He recalled suddenly the cit’s aura of overbearing power. “Not even your father can force you into a distasteful marriage, Miss Cribbage,” he said gently.

She shook her head. Her hands came together to clench in her lap. “It was so very difficult to come,” she said under her breath. She was unaware that she spoke her thoughts aloud.

Lord Chatworth heard the barely audible admission. He moved to sit down beside her on the settee. He took hold of her hands, noting their slender bones even as he gently pried them apart. “My dear girl, your father may be unnaturally hard, but he is no ogre,” he rallied in a light tone.

She turned her head, apparently considering him from the concealment of her veil. Dimly through the net he saw a fine-boned face, and was more than ever convinced that Miss Cribbage was indeed a young female. It relieved him of the sneaking horror that she might have been a good deal older than himself. Her fingers moved in his grasp and he released her hands at once.

“Lord Chatworth, what hold does my father have on you?”

The abrupt question and the bald way in which it was phrased took him off-guard. Lord Chatworth drew back, without conscious thought allowing his mouth to fall into its arrogant half-smile. “I cannot see where that concerns you, Miss Cribbage,” he said icily.

Barbara had been given hope by his lordship’s unexpected display of pity. She was desperate that he not withdraw once more behind his haughty mantle, where he would become once more unapproachable and unreasonable. “But it does, my lord! If I am to marry you, I must know whether you can escape him.” Uncaring how he might construe her boldness, she placed an imperative hand on his sleeve. She said urgently, “Neither you nor I must allow ourselves to be trapped into circumstances of eternal dependence upon him.”

“I see.” Lord Chatworth glanced down at her gloved fingers before his frowning gaze returned to her veiled face. “But your father informed me that you are a wealthy young lady in your own right, Miss Cribbage. I fail to understand your claim of dependence.”

She rose hastily from the settee, once more unable to control her agitation. “My fortune has certain restrictions placed against it, my lord. I suppose my father did not inform you that I cannot touch a penny until I am wedded. Even then, I shall be barred from my portion if I marry one who does not meet with my father’s approval. If I refuse his choice of husband for me and I remain unmarried at five-and-twenty, my portion will automatically go to a nunnery in France. I will then have the choice of following it to the cloister or of making my own way in the world.”

She stopped in her restless pacing to turn toward him. “I do not fancy entering service, my lord, so which do you recommend as the more enviable fate—that of governess or as someone’s mistress?”

“My word,” Lord Chatworth said, stunned.

Babs gave a small ironic laugh. “You see, Lord Chatworth, my father is indeed the ogre. He regards me of very little consequence except as a tool of sorts. Barred from polite society himself, he will go to any lengths to see his seed in the
ton
and thus gain a form of recognition. It was a bitter disappointment that I was not born a male. Then I could have perhaps earned a knighthood in orders or won a title by distinguishing myself in the army.”

There was a strained note in her voice that the earl was not unfamiliar with, given his large experience with women, and he realized that Miss Cribbage was very near tears. He loathed hysterics, and in an attempt to stem any such display, he said harshly, “Do you think you could cease your nervous pacing, Miss Cribbage? I have a great dislike of dramatic females.” To his satisfaction, there was a sharp intake of breath from his visitor and her head jerked up with the straightening of her carriage.

“I was not aware that I was boring you, my lord. Obviously I should not have come. Pray forgive me for my temerity,” Babs said icily. She swept a bare curtsy and turned toward the door. Her elbow was caught abruptly by a firm hand. She glanced up quickly at the earl, surprised that he had detained her.

He looked down at her, his expression grown somber. “Miss Cribbage, pray be seated. I believe you came here to discuss business, and so we shall,” Lord Chatworth said.

Barbara hesitated. He gestured toward the settee. Slowly she nodded and returned to the settee, to sink down on the striped cushions. She was somewhat disconcerted when Lord Chatworth chose to seat himself beside her.He placed an arm across the back of the settee so that he faced her.

“In answer to your previous question, Miss Cribbage, your father holds the mortgages to all but one of my estates, including that of my family’s ancestral home. Also, vowels for several thousand pounds lost at cards,’’ Lord Chatworth said shortly.

Babs was appalled, as much by the amount as by the disclosure that the earl was apparently a hardened gamester. “But how ever could he have managed to gain possession?”

“I was told by my man of business that by employing several agents your father bought the mortgages from the unsuspecting holders. He apparently used the same tactics in redeeming my debts for their worth,” Lord Chatworth said. He paused fractionally. “Your father has offered clear titles to my lands and possession of my own vowels as bride settlement.”

“I go dearly, then,” said Babs, not at all gratified by the knowledge. Her clasped fingers twisted painfully. “I have never been more to my father than an investment, I’m afraid.”

There was a wealth of unhappy undercurrent in her voice, and that more than anything else brought to light for Lord Chatworth with forcible clarity the parameters of her relationship with her father. Lord Chatworth’s mouth tightened a moment. He had suddenly a measure of respect for the woman seated beside him that he would not have thought to have been possible only several minutes before.

“We neither of us can afford to indulge in self-pity, Miss Cribbage, if we are to win free of your dishonorable parent,’’ he said coolly.

Babs’ pulse jumped in her throat at his collective term. His lordship understood, then, and he meant to fight. She stared at his cold expression, noting the firmness of his mouth and the obstinate cast of his jaw. She commented, “I believe you could be as hard as he.”

Lord Chatworth leaned closer so that his keen eyes could better penetrate through the veil. “Does that frighten you off, Miss Cribbage?”

“No. It would take a strong man to win over him,” she said. She searched his lean face and his alert gray eyes, liking and at the same time shivering at the implacable determination she saw.

“Must you continue to hide, Miss Cribbage?” the earl complained. “I hardly think that I can be expected to strike a bargain with a swarm of dark net.”

She gave the slightest of laughs before she lifted the veil and tossed it back over the brim of her bonnet. She turned to meet his interested gaze.

Lord Chatworth was treated to his first glimpse of her attractive face. A fine sprinkling of pale freckles crossed a straight nose and highlighted flecks of gold in her large green eyes. Her gaze was steady and met his without flinching.

“Does the filly please you, my lord?” she mocked lightly.

Lord Chatworth was unpleasantly reminded of his interview with Cribbage and the man’s insulting likening of his daughter to a valuable brood mare. “I do not wed you for your face, Miss Cribbage,” he snapped.

“No, it would be for convenience,” said Barbara quietly. She smoothed the veil up over the brim of her bonnet. She felt curiously vulnerable without the veil’s concealment, but she knew that she must now be able to lay all of her cards on the table if she was to win the full partnership that she so desperately needed. “We both have much to gain. The means is forced upon us, but for success we must use it in tandem and to a common end.”

“A marriage of convenience,” Lord Chatworth agreed. “And when the purpose is accomplished, the marriage is to be dissolved or not at either of our discretions.’’ He smiled faintly at her nod of agreement. Perhaps this payment of the devil would go far easier than he had first anticipated. The daughter seemed far more reasonable than her parent, and he put his impression to the test. “Further, during the course of the marriage I would not interfere with you nor you with me.”

“Excepting in the event of social obligation, of course. Then a mutual agreement of conduct must be negotiated,” she said.

His lordship’s pleasantness of expression disappeared and he regarded her warily. “Meaning exactly what, Miss Cribbage?”

She smiled and lifted her hands. “Only that I shall be open to your lordship’s suggestions if my conduct as your wife does not strike the proper note.”

“Agreed, and I shall grant you the privilege of telling me to go to the devil whenever the occasion warrants,’’ said Lord Chatworth. He smiled suddenly. “I like your prosaic attitude, Miss Cribbage. It bodes well for a successful partnership.”

Babs laughed, aware that she had both surprised and pleased him. But she swiftly sobered because there was one important point that they had not yet covered. “My lord, there is one other consideration. I do not know how to put it delicately. There is the question of an heir, Lord Chatworth.‘‘ Faint color rose in her face as she met his expression of open astonishment. She said somewhat unsteadily, “If you agree, my lord, either of our bastards would be eligible to succeed to the title. Or perhaps you would prefer some relation of yours.”

Lord Chatworth stared speechlessly at her. His eyes suddenly narrowed as he recalled Cribbage’s bland refusal to take insult when he had questioned the daughter’s honor. Anger rose in him along with his suspicions. He said softly, “Your bastard, Miss Cribbage? Are you breeding, by chance?”

Babs recoiled, her face flaming. “No, of course not! I only meant that . . . My lord, we do not know how long the arrangement between us must exist. I thought in the instance that one of us should become attached outside... if the affair were discreet ...”