Bedding Lord Ned (28 page)

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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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Ned dropped his eyes to his glass. His shoulders tensed, hunching up closer to his ears, and his foot jiggled faster. He was very nervous.
“We are old friends, are we not, Ellie?”
“Y-yes.” She took a gulp of brandy. Where was this conversation going?
He smiled at her fleetingly. “I don't know that I ever said it, but I very much appreciated your support after Cicely and the baby died.”
“I was happy to give it.” She leaned toward him and touched his knee. “Their deaths were a terrible tragedy.”
He nodded. His hand covered hers and her pulse jumped. She loved his touch.
“Yes,” he said. “It's taken me a long time to get over it, but I think ... well, I suppose I'll never be over it completely, but I've decided it's time to remarry.”
Her heart leapt up into her throat, and her head began to throb so hard she was afraid it might explode.
Ned was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. She shook her head to clear it.
“No?” He looked surprised and somewhat crestfallen.
“No, I mean I didn't comprehend what you said. I'm sorry.” She withdrew her hand and glanced down at her brandy glass, but decided she'd better try to marshal her wits instead of drinking any more. “Was it something about”—she swallowed—“remarrying?”
“Yes.” He looked her in the eyes now, so intent and sincere. “I want children, Ellie. An heir and others as well.”
“Ah.” She wanted children, too, so badly she ached with the desire.
“And I thought—” He glanced down briefly before meeting her eyes again. “Forgive me if I've misconstrued the situation, but I thought this year you might be open to the idea of marriage.”
“Ah.” She was such a brilliant conversationalist, but it took all her effort to keep her heart and lungs and ears working. Perhaps Ned
had
meant a marriage proposal.
Would he profess his undying devotion? Would he perhaps
kiss
her?
“This year you haven't stayed by Ash's side as you have in the past, and you've shown at least a little interest in the men Mama invited for you.” He frowned. “Though you must have noticed Humphrey and Cox both seem to have found other matches.”
Ellie nodded. “It would be hard not to notice.” But who cared? She wasn't interested in them; she was interested in Ned, and she'd swear he was on the verge of declaring himself. All her dreams were about to come true.
He smiled. “So I thought since I want a wife, and you appear willing to take a husband, it would be sensible and practical for us to marry.”
“S-sensible?” Where were the words of love, the bended knee, the “make me the happiest of men” bit? “P-practical?”
“Yes. I did think to ask Miss Wharton, since she seems to be in desperate need of a mate, but I suspect Mama will make her one of her matchmaking projects this Season. I'm not too worried she'll actually be forced to wed her elderly neighbor.”
“Y-you are p-probably right.” Surely he'd mention love in a moment. She took a quick swallow of brandy.
“Yes, I think I am.” He smiled at her. “And there are so many advantages to marrying you instead. You'll be happier at Linden Hall than I think Miss Wharton would be, even though she did say she likes the country. But still, Linden Hall is far from her home; it's close to yours. You'll be able to visit your family regularly. And Mama loves you like a daughter already.”
“Ah.” He was talking about the vicarage and his mama. This couldn't be happening. Her dream was turning into a nightmare.
Be reasonable,
a small voice in the back of her mind said.
This is your chance to finally marry Ned.
Ned was still smiling. “You and I have known each other forever; I think we could rub along fairly well. And as for your marital duties”—
Good God, was he blushing?
—“I hope you won't find them too onerous. Once you are with child, I promise to leave you alone until it's time to try again.”
Yes, a nightmare. This was definitely a nightmare. In a moment she'd wake up.
“So what do you say, Ellie?”
Yes,
the little voice shouted.
Say yes. Marry Ned. Live happily ever after. This is what you've always wanted.
But he doesn't love me.
He'll come to love you,
the voice said. And then a little nastily,
It's not as if you have anyone else asking. You want children, don't you? This could be your last—your only—chance.
“Ellie? Will you have me?”
Something elemental and completely irrational surged in her then. The little voice screamed in horror but couldn't stop her. She jumped to her feet. “I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on earth.”
And in case he missed her meaning, she tossed the rest of her brandy in his face.
 
 
Ned was mopping up when Ash and Jack came into the library.
“What did you do to Ellie?” Jack sounded angry. “We just passed her in the corridor.”
“She had her head down and looked to be on the verge of tears.” Ash's voice was also harsh. Both his brothers were glaring at him, damn it. “When we tried to stop her to see what the problem was, she dodged us. In fact, she just about ran away. That's not like Ellie.”
Zeus, did they think he'd beaten her? “I don't know what's the matter with her. All I did was suggest she marry me.” He tried to blot some of the brandy from his cravat, but it was a hopeless endeavor. Likely nothing would get the stain out; he'd have to throw the neckcloth away. “And she threw her brandy in my face in answer.”
Jack's eyebrows shot up. “Perhaps she was drunk.”
“I don't see how she could have been. She only had one glass.” Well, and a few sips more, but not enough to count.
“What were you doing giving her brandy in the first place?” Ash asked, coming over to help himself to the decanter.
“I wasn't trying to get her foxed, if that's what you're suggesting. She asked for some. I tried to dissuade her, but she said she was chilled from her tumble in the snow.” Ned shot Jack a pointed look. “I still don't understand how she came to go flying into me. She said you pushed her.”
Jack took a glass of brandy from Ash and dropped into the seat Ellie had just vacated. “She slipped.”
Ned believed that as much as he believed the moon was made of cheese. “Right.”
Jack waved away his obvious skepticism. “I can't understand why Ellie would reject your proposal. She's madly in love with you.”
Ned snorted even as an odd flame flickered to life in his gut. Ellie loved him? No, the notion was absurd. “She has an odd way of showing it then.”
“Jack's right.” Ash cradled his brandy glass and leaned against the mantel near Jack's chair so they were both facing Ned. “Ellie's been hopelessly in love with you since we were children. Everyone but you saw it.”
Ned looked from one to the other. They did not appear to be joking. “You're both mad. Ellie's a friend.” He balled up his soiled handkerchief; it would also have to go on the ash heap. “Or at least I thought she was.”
Jack snorted. “She feels far more than friendship for you, you blockhead. Why do you think she's ignored all Mama's choices and clung to our married brother here?” Jack grinned up at Ash. “Not that you aren't a fine fellow, of course.”
Ash inclined his head. “Of course.” He looked back at Ned. “Jack's right. I've spent hours talking to Ellie at these damn house parties, and I've watched how she watches you. It's not mere friendship I've seen in her eyes.”
Good God, they couldn't be right. Ellie didn't love him ... did she?
He felt as if the room was spinning, and this time he hadn't had too much brandy.
But no—she'd said she wouldn't marry him even if he were the last man on earth.
“Perhaps the more important question,” Ash was saying, “is what do you feel for Ellie? Do you love her, Ned, or do you really consider her just a friend?”
Ned glared at his brother. “There's nothing ‘just' about it. I value Ellie's friendship very highly indeed.” He didn't have many friends—perhaps none besides his brothers and Ellie. He was a solitary creature, living a comfortable, but solitary existence.
Which was exactly the way he liked it. His life was orderly and well-planned—just as his next marriage would be. He wanted no unpleasant surprises. No messy emotions like love to shred his heart and destroy his peace.
“Wait a moment.” Jack shook his head. “You said you ‘suggested' Ellie marry you. You didn't really say that, did you?”
“Of course I did. It's an arrangement that would work to both our benefits.” His kaleidoscope of emotions finally settled into the hot colors of anger. A hard knot tightened in his chest. “I don't know why you both are making such a fuss about this. I want children, so I need a wife. Ellie's not married and seemed willing this year to consider changing that state. She
is
twenty-six. She's running out of time.”
Why the hell were Jack and Ash both staring goggle-eyed at him?
“Please tell me you didn't say
that
to her,” Jack said, horror tingeing his voice.
“What? That I wanted children? I thought she should know that, though I suppose she could easily have inferred it.”
Jack shook his head. “No, the part about her age.”
“Of course not.” Not that he mightn't have got to it if the conversation had progressed. Perhaps he was fortunate that it hadn't—he'd admit Ellie might not have taken that part well. But it didn't matter—she hadn't taken any of it well.
“And the bit about children?” Ash looked almost as if he wanted to laugh. “Did you say that as bluntly to her as you just did to us?”
What the hell was he getting at? “I don't know—perhaps.” Ned flushed. “But you can be certain I reassured her that I wouldn't take advantage of my marital rights beyond the necessary task of getting her with child. I'm not a brute, you know.”
“No, you're an ass,” Jack said, his expression twisting with disgust.
Ned's fingers tightened and his arm muscles bunched, but he took a breath and gathered his composure. He would
not
fling his drink in Jack's face. There had already been too much brandy wasted in this room. “You bloody well had best take that back.”
“Why? It's the truth.”
Self-control was overrated.
The brandy hit Jack's face a split second before Jack grabbed Ned's shoulders. Then they were both down on the floor trying to land punches.
“Good God, stop! Have you two lost your minds?”
Ned ignored Ash; he needed to focus all his attention on Jack. His little brother was much stronger than he'd been as a boy and far more skilled. At least he was fighting fair at the moment, but Ned suspected Jack had been in more than one scuffle where, by necessity, winning—or survival—trumped obeying any rules.
Something hit his backside hard.
“What the hell?” He jerked his head up to see Ash hit Jack on the leg with the fireplace poker.
“Hey!” Jack kicked out, but Ash jumped back in time to avoid being taken down.
“Good move,” Ned said, sitting up. He and Jack both glared at Ash.
“And I'll hit you both again,” Ash said, “if you don't stop fighting. You've already broken a brandy glass and that hideous china dog that was on the occasional table.”
Jack ran his hand through his hair. His brandy-spattered cravat dangled from his neck. “Mama won't care.”
“Perhaps not,” Ash said, “but she'll care very much if either of you show up at dinner with a cut lip or black eye.”
Ash was correct, blast it. Ned pulled himself to his feet, wincing a little as he straightened. “Where did you learn to fight like that, Jack?”
Jack shrugged—and Ned was delighted to see him wince as well. So he
had
done a little damage. “Gentleman Jackson's mostly and, er, well”—Jack stood—“I don't always stay in the good part of Town.”
Ned frowned. “Damn it, Jack, what is the matter with you? Have you a death wish?”
Jack grinned. “Not at all.”
He wanted to shake some sense into him, but that clearly was impossible. “Will you at least be careful?”
“I'll certainly try, Lord Worry.”
Perhaps he would just hit him again—

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