Pride and Fire (7 page)

She’d chosen a dress of bronze silk today. She wore her hair in a simple style, most of the curls left loose, as she preferred when at home. Michelle went downstairs to the breakfast room where she found a very anxious Lady Helen.

“There you are, Michelle!” her mother said. “I’ve been waiting and waiting.”

“Good morning, Mother. How are you this fine morning?”

Lady Helen waved her hand in the air. “Never mind that. Tell me what happened last night.”

Michelle brought her plate to the sideboard and served herself breakfast. She sat across from her mother and took her time pouring a cup of tea. She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped delicately.

“Michelle!”

She’d tortured her mother long enough.

Michelle set her cup aside. “Lord Leed is coming here this afternoon to ask you for my hand in marriage.”

Lady Helen drew in a breath, her hand coming to rest over her heart. “Oh, my dear! This is wonderful news!”

Michelle nodded her agreement. “Isn’t he the most gallant, most handsome man, Mother?”

“Certainly, dear,” the older woman nodded. “And apparently you’ve learned to keep your opinions to yourself in his company. Well done, child.”

Michelle laughed at that. “Quite the contrary, Mother,” she said. “I’ve done no such thing.”

“But, if Lord Leed—”

“Paul isn’t put off in the least by my having opinions. And voicing them.”

“Truly?” Lady Helen blinked in astonishment. “Then he is most gallant. I daresay the man must be quite taken with you.”

“And I with him, Mother.” Michelle grinned as she recalled their heat in his carriage last night. “And I with him.”

* * * *

Paul awoke with a strong sense of determination. He would get to the bottom of his father’s financial problems today. While he was able to support himself, he wasn’t certain he could support Michelle in the manner to which she had become accustomed. His home, while comfortable, wasn’t as large as the one Michelle shared with her mother. His was equipped with a parlor, a study, a breakfast room and a dining room, as well as rooms abovestairs, but he had no salon or drawing room for entertaining. It was well-suited to a man living alone, and there was no way at present for him to purchase or lease a larger one. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose.

He saw to his morning toilette and dressed with care. He tied his cravat and shrugged into his dark blue jacket. God, he’d almost lost Michelle with his foolish pride. Much to his delight, Michelle had a forgiving nature despite her fiery temper. She was passionate in everything. He was a bloody lucky man.

He hoped Chester was right, that she wasn’t as concerned with money as most women of her station. Praying his father would set his financial fears to rest, Paul went down to breakfast. He didn’t dare face this problem on an empty stomach.

He arrived at his father’s townhouse at ten o’clock. The home was large, nearly as large as Lord Kanewood’s. The Earl of Talbot, as was his father’s title, had significant holdings. His country home was magnificent, if in need of repair. Paul wouldn’t think about what that might mean to today’s matter.

He rapped on the door and the butler answered, surprise on his face.

“My Lord.” He bowed. “Is the earl expecting you?”

“No, Reese,” Paul said. “Is he in?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Reese said. “He’s in the breakfast room.”

Paul nodded and strode down the hall to the breakfast room. His father sat at the table, a large plate of eggs and ham in front of him.

“Good morning, Father.”

The Earl of Talbot looked up in surprise, then smiled. “Paul, my boy! Do come in.”

They exchanged a hearty handshake and Paul sat. His father gestured to the sideboard. “Help yourself, son.”

“Thank you, I’ve eaten.”

His father nodded and patted his mouth with his napkin. He set it aside and lifted his cup to his lips.

“Are the girls about?” Paul asked.

“They’re still asleep, the little slug-a-beds,” his father said. “So what brings you here so early in the day?”

“I have some news, Father.” Paul smiled. “News that couldn’t wait.”

“Hmm,” Talbot said, eyeing his son closely. “News, eh?”

The two men looked very similar, but for the eyes. All of the earl’s children had their mother’s beautiful blue ones. The earl’s were a deep shade of brown which now watched Paul with interest.

“Well don’t keep me hanging, boy,” he laughed. “Out with it.”

“I plan to offer for a young lady’s hand, Father. Today.”

“What? Why, this is splendid news, son. Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Lady Michelle Thomas.”

“Thomas,” his father said to himself. “Thomas… The Earl of Thomasham’s daughter?”

“The very same.”

The earl raised his brows. “Well. I hear the girl was left quite well-off.”

Paul leaned forward. “Her money isn’t important.”

“Yes, yes,” his father allowed. “But it can’t hurt, can it?”

Paul swallowed a sigh and let the matter drop. “I wish to speak to you this morning, Father. Concerning my finances.”

“Your finances?” Talbot asked, his brow furrowed. “What has happened?”

“Nothing has happened,” Paul said. “May we discuss this in your study?”

“Yes, certainly,” his father nodded, pushing away from the table. “Lead the way.”

Paul walked down the hallway and into his father’s study. Two leather wing-backed chairs faced the desk, and Paul settled into one of them. His father closed the paneled doors leading from the hallway and walked behind his desk. He sat down and faced his son, worry creasing his brow.

“It’s nothing dire, Father.” Paul could only hope. “I assure you.”

“Well what is it, then? Are you having difficulties?”

“No, sir,” Paul said. “But I feel with my plans to wed, I have need to know precisely what my prospects are.”

His father set out a heavy sigh. “Son, I thought you understood this. Your title and the land attached to it are all you can expect at the present time.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Paul tried to keep his irritation in check. “I was referring to my inheritance.”

His father’s gaze skittered away. “Your inheritance?”

“Yes,” Paul said. “How does it stand, looking into the future?”

His father faced him. “Paul, you have to understand. All I have left is this house and the country estate.”

Paul’s stomach dropped to his boots. “What?” He surged to his feet. “What happened to… to all of the land? To the leased properties?”

“I no longer have access to them. I… I own them on paper only.”

The room tilted and Paul splayed his hands on his father’s desk. “But, what will you pass down to me? To my sisters? To my children, damn it?”

His father rubbed his hand over his face. “I have your sisters to dower, Paul. You’ll have to provide for your heirs on your own.”

“I can’t believe this.” Paul paced about the room, his stomach churning. “How could you…? What the hell happened to it all?”

His father’s silence pressed against his back. God, he’d thought at least his future was secure. But now it appeared he had to make his own fortune. Bloody hell!

“I’m sorry, son,” his father said at last. “Perhaps if you increase your government work…”

Paul turned to glare at him. “What happened to all of it, Father?”

His father pulled back, suddenly looking all of his fifty-three years. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

His father closed his eyes, his skin ashen. Swallowing any pity, Paul let out a grunt of frustration and stalked out of the townhouse.

What the bloody hell had happened to all of his father’s deeded properties? How could he marry Michelle now, with his prospects so cloudy? He needed to be certain of his ability to provide for her and any children they might have. And if last night’s passionate display was any indication, it wouldn’t be long after their wedding before he had another mouth to feed.

He leaned his head back and took a deep breath. Well, he’d have to increase his government work, now. Damn, he could think of more pleasant ways to spend his time. More clients meant more speeches, true. And that meant more money in the long run.

The wedding would simply have to wait.

“Forgive me, Michelle.”

He wouldn’t put off his engagement, however. He’d die before he’d let another man have the chance to win her away from him.

* * * *

It was tea time, and Michelle stood in the parlor. Her mother waited with her, her needlework in her lap as she kept up a steady stream of instructions for her daughter.

“Now, Michelle,” Lady Helen began, “when Lord Leed arrives, you’re to remain here with me. If your father was still alive, you would leave the room.”

Michelle simply nodded, knowing no response was expected. Her mother had begun her recitation twenty minutes earlier, and was now repeating herself.

“But seeing he’s no longer with us, God rest his soul, you must remain here with me,” Lady Helen continued. “You should sit over by the window while the gentleman informs me of his intentions. When he arrives, you should—”

“Mother, please,” Michelle cut in. “I understand your instructions fully.”

Lady Helen blinked at that. “Are you certain, dear?” she asked as if she were speaking to a very small child.

“Yes, Mother.” Michelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m quite certain.”

“Well, despite your assurances that Lord Leed finds your opinions palatable I advise you to keep quiet when—”

“Mother, please!”

Lady Helen held her tongue and returned her attention to the piece of needlework she worried in her hands.

The butler soon announced Paul’s arrival. Michelle sat in the chair by the window, unconsciously following her mother’s instructions.

Lady Helen told the butler to show Paul in and set her needlework aside. “Good afternoon, Lord Leed.”

“Good afternoon, Lady Helen.” He bowed and turned to his intended. “Lady Michelle.”

Lady Helen spoke to Paul as Michelle ran her gaze over him. When she brought her eyes up to his face he quirked a smile at her. Ooh, that dimple. She recovered herself and bowed her head in answer to his greeting.

He turned back to her mother. “I would like a word with you, Lady Helen.”

“Certainly, Lord Leed.”

Paul sat on the settee facing Lady Helen. He cast a glance at Michelle, who immediately feigned interest in the pleats of her skirt. Her ears pricked as he began his request.

“Lady Helen,” he began, “it would do me a great honor if you would give me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Lady Helen waited a beat, and Michelle’s heart nearly stopped. “Oh, yes, Lord Leed,” she said at last. “I would be delighted to do you the honor!”

Paul grinned, standing to bow low to his future mother-in-law. He strode to where Michelle sat and grasped her hands in his. He placed a chaste kiss on her fingers. She looked up at him, into his sparkling eyes, and to her delight he gave in to one temptation. He pulled her up out of the chair and kissed her. Her mother gasped, the sound drawing his attention.

Paul broke off the kiss with a chuckle. “Do forgive me, Lady Helen. I couldn’t resist.”

Lady Helen smiled and fanned herself with her hand. “Oh, that’s quite all right, Lord Leed.”

Paul tugged on Michelle’s hand and brought her to join him on the settee. Lady Helen rang for tea and they sat.

“Lord Leed,” Lady Helen began, “when can we expect the wedding to take place?”

Paul bristled, and a tingle of unease crept down Michelle’s back. He set his cup aside and looked from the woman to her daughter and back again, his eyes hooded.

“Paul?”

“I thought the wedding would take place next Season,” he said.

Lady Helen blinked rapidly. “I… I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Did you say ‘next Season?’”

“Yes,” he said in a low voice.

“But,” Lady Helen went on, “Michelle is twe—well, she’s passed the age to wait—”

“Next Season?” Michelle asked, coming to her feet.

Paul winced.

“Next Season!?” she repeated, her hands in fists at her sides. “Why on earth would we wait until then?”

He stood and reached for her hand again. “Michelle, I—”

“You don’t care for me. By next Season you’ll find a new girl to taunt and tease.” She pulled out of his grasp. “You… you only offered for me to soothe your guilty conscience!”

“Guilty conscience?” Lady Helen wondered aloud. “Why on earth would he feel…? Oh, my!”

Paul’s head turned sharply. “Lady Helen, she doesn’t mean what you’re—”

“You don’t care for me,” Michelle cried again. “You could never love me.”

She couldn’t face him, certain that the cold man she’d known before would simply dismiss her hysterics and consider himself lucky to be rid of the obligation. Not caring a whit, she ran from the room.

Paul could only stare at the doorway, shocked. He slowly turned back to Lady Helen. The expression on the woman’s face gave him pause.

“Lady Helen.” He took a deep breath. “I assure you I have not compromised your daughter’s virtue in any way.”

Lady Helen studied him for a moment. Thankfully he could see she believed he spoke the truth. She gave a nod of her head, at which his shoulders slumped in relief.

“I promise to remedy this,” he assured her.

Paul took his leave then. He stood on the sidewalk outside, gazing up at the fine house. He caught movement in one of the upper-story windows, the one farthest on the left. Michelle stood there, her face pale behind the glass. He opened his mouth to call to her but she turned away. The hurt in Michelle’s eyes had cut him to the quick. “I’ll find a way out of this mess,” he softly vowed.

He climbed into his carriage, bound for his townhouse.

Chapter 7

Michelle turned from the window and fell on her bed.

“Why does he want to wait until next Season?” she murmured into the coverlet she soaked with her tears. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t want to wait more than a few weeks!”

She sniffled and let the tears flow. She was twenty years old. Both of them had resided in London for much longer than the required fifteen days. All that was necessary, really, was for Paul to secure a license from the local clergyman.