Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Lord Havelock's List\Saved by the Viking Warrior\The Pirate Hunter (8 page)

Chapter Five

H
e held her hand, in the carriage, all the way home.

She could have tugged it free, she supposed, but then she would have to explain herself.

And she had no excuse. None. She couldn't very well claim Lord Havelock had forced those kisses on her. She'd put her arms round him and kissed him back. With some enthusiasm.

And Dotty and Lotty looked so pleased for her. Even Mr Morgan had a twinkle in his eye, and a smile that softened that stern mouth whenever he glanced at their clasped hands.

Her stomach clenched into a cold, hard knot. If she made any attempt, now, to tell them they'd all made a terrible mistake, then...well, she wasn't sure quite what would happen, but there was bound to be a dreadful scene. She'd upset everyone badly enough by shouting at a man in public. What would they make of her
kissing
one?

It would be better to wait till they got home. She'd beg a few moments alone with her aunt, and try to explain what had happened. And then...

And then the carriage stopped, and Lotty and Dotty leapt out and went bounding up the front steps, shrieking out the news of her betrothal.

And when Aunt Pargetter came to the front door, it was to Lord Havelock she held out her hands. Even when Mary made frantic signals, behind his back, to try to convey her need to speak with her, she paid no heed.

‘In a moment, Mary,' she said. ‘His lordship wants to have a private word with me first. Since Mr Pargetter is not at home just now. Though I can guess what you want to say,' she finished, shooting him an arch look.

‘No, no, I don't think you could possibly...' she said, though her voice was drowned out by Lord Havelock saying, ‘My behaviour has been a little unconventional. I should have approached you, that is to say, Mr Pargetter, first, and asked your permission to pay my addresses.'

‘Not at all,' said Aunt Pargetter, ushering him into her husband's study. ‘We aren't legally Mary's guardians, you know. She is free to make her own choices.'

‘Nevertheless...'

And then the study door closed on whatever he'd been about to say, leaving Mary on the wrong side of it.

Free to make her own choices! If only that were true.

And then Dotty and Lotty were shooing her into the front parlour and divesting her of her coat.

‘She's in a complete daze,' said Dotty, untying the ribbons of her bonnet.

‘No wonder,' said Lotty, pushing her into a chair. ‘His lordship swept her completely off her feet.'

‘No, he didn't, it was the opposite. He stopped her slipping over,' quipped Dotty with a giggle. ‘Got his arm round her waist and held her so tight she couldn't possibly have lost her footing.'

‘Oh, I've never seen anything so romantic.'

‘Romantic? No! I...'

‘Oh, but it was,' sighed Dotty, pressing her hands to her heart and flinging herself backwards on to the sofa as though in a swoon.

‘Aren't you cross with me? Why aren't you cross with me? When the whole purpose of going skating at all was to try and...and... Well, you were both trying so hard to attract Mr Morgan....'

Who was nowhere in sight, she suddenly realised. The moment they'd gone into the house, he'd slipped away, unnoticed in all the excitement.

‘Oh, that's so sweet,' said Lotty. ‘And so like you, to think of us, rather than yourself.'

Dotty bounced off the sofa, and flung her arms round her neck. ‘You mustn't feel bad because you got a proposal, today, and not us. And as for Mr Morgan...' She made an airy gesture with one hand. ‘When a man as wealthy as that, and single, comes your way you simply have to make a push to get him interested. But it's not as if either of us developed a
tendre
for him, did we, Lotty?'

Lotty shook her head so hard her ringlets bounced.

‘Yes, but...' As she floundered to a halt against the impenetrable barrier of her own behaviour, Lotty and Dotty both collapsed in giggles again.

And then they heard the front door slam, and Aunt Pargetter came in, beaming all over her face.

‘Mary, I'm so proud of you,' she said, enveloping her in a lavender-scented hug.

‘No...you shouldn't be. I didn't mean to...'

‘Well, I dare say that is what won him round. You are so very...modest. And...and, oh, everything a lady ought to be, I'm sure. A viscountess,' she exclaimed, sinking on to the sofa next to Dotty, gazing at her with starry eyes. ‘You will be presented at court...'

The girls both squealed with an excitement that passed Mary by completely.

‘And you will go to all the most
tonnish
events.'

‘But...' Mary attempted to protest.

‘And then,' she carried on, regardless, ‘once you are established, you will be able to invite all those
tonnish
people to parties you throw.'

Mary blinked, completely unable to envision herself ever throwing any kind of party.

‘And I just know you are too kind-hearted to forget my girls. This will be a foot in the door to a world they'd had no hope of entering otherwise. And with both of them being so pretty—no offence to you, my dear, but if you managed to land yourself a viscount, without even trying, only think what my girls could accomplish. I shouldn't wonder at it if this means an earl, or perhaps even a marquis....'

No wonder they'd let Mr Morgan escape without a twinge of regret. The girls now had visions of getting themselves a title apiece.

‘Aunt Pargetter, please! You don't understand. I never actually wanted to get married. I thought I would...find work as a housekeeper, or a governess, or something....'

‘Well, that is because you lived in such an out-of-the-way spot, and didn't have any prospects,' said her aunt complacently.

‘And she feels a touch guilty,' explained Dotty. ‘For stealing a march on us.'

‘Oh, we don't begrudge you your good fortune,' said her aunt kindly.

‘No, but...'

‘Well, I can see this sudden reversal in your prospects has overwhelmed you,' she said, tilting her head to one side. ‘And no wonder, if all you ever hoped for was to obtain some menial position. A good strong cup of tea is what you need.' She flicked her hand to Lotty, who went to the fireplace and pulled the bell to summon the maid.

‘And you are so shy,' she added with a knowing nod, ‘that having such a very...masculine man as Lord Havelock positively...bowl you over...'

‘Yes, he did, Mama. He kissed her quite passionately.'

‘Twice!'

Oh, if only the chair cushions would open up and swallow her whole.

‘Oh,' said her aunt with a sympathetic look as Mary's face heated to what felt like boiling point. ‘I see what this is. But, my dear,' she said, reaching across to pat her hand, ‘Lord Havelock must be very taken with you, to propose so quickly. You know, I saw there was something, that very first night at the Crimmers'. Why, he started at the sight of you as though...as though his ship had come in, as you would probably say. It is clearly a case of love at first sight.'

As though that made it all right.

Except that it was most definitely
not
love at first sight. The things he'd said made that crystal clear. Like, going their separate ways, for instance. And being glad she was no more keen to marry than he was. Immediately after he'd proposed.

She shook her head in complete frustration. There was no way she was going to be able to get Aunt Pargetter to understand her reluctance to marry. Or the girls, not now their heads were full of eligible titled men.

There was only one thing for it. She would have to tell Lord Havelock, to his face, that she couldn't go through with it.

And then—she glanced at the happy, glowing faces of her aunt and cousins—she'd have to endure their disappointment.

* * *

Lord Havelock was coming to call on Mary the very next day, Aunt Pargetter informed her husband over dinner that night. To talk about arrangements.

So Mary had all night to marshal her arguments. And the longer she thought, the more convinced she became that he wouldn't be all that bothered to have it all come to nothing. Hadn't he said he was no keener to get married than she was? He'd probably just thought he
had
to propose, after kissing her in such a public place. Especially as she'd made it crystal clear she wouldn't be his mistress.

It was the only reason that could possibly account for it.

Satisfied she'd reached the nub of the matter, and that Lord Havelock would be positively grateful when she let him off the hook, Mary finally drifted off to sleep. And if a few tears leaked from under her tightly closed eyelids, they were only a symptom of the extreme stress she'd been under all day. She was relieved, truly she was. And quite calm, now that the terrifying prospect of being shoehorned into a marriage she really, really didn't want was over.

* * *

It was strange, therefore, that the next morning she felt as though her limbs were weighted with lead.

It was worry, that was what was making it so hard to dress, or eat breakfast. Worry that she might not be able to persuade her aunt to let her have a few moments alone with Lord Havelock. The fear she might have to continue with the charade one moment longer.

So why did her heart sink still further when Lord Havelock was the one to ask if he could have some private speech with her? He was giving her the very opportunity she sought, to speak freely.

‘Won't you sit down?' It was the only thing Mary could think of to say. She'd never been on her own in a room with a man and this one seemed to fill it with his presence. It wasn't as if he was particularly tall, but he was so full of energy. She could still feel the strength of him as he'd guided her round the ice the day before, his arm effortlessly pinning her to his side. How immovable he'd been when she'd tried to push him away after the kiss.

The kiss. She shouldn't have thought about the kiss. It made every single inch of her feel far too...feminine.

He took a seat as close to hers as he could find, which didn't help. Now he could reach out and take her hand, if he wanted. Or she could reach out and take his.

Not that she wanted to. Absolutely not!

‘Thank you for agreeing to speak with me alone,' he said. ‘I know it is a little unconventional, but there are things we do need to talk about.'

‘Yes, there are,' she agreed. ‘I understand that you felt obliged to make me an offer of marriage, yesterday, after kissing me.' She couldn't look at his face. Not with his mouth right there, close enough that if she leaned forward, and he leaned forward, just the tiniest bit, they could be kissing again. She looked hard at her hands instead, which she was clasping tightly on her lap. ‘And I'm also aware that you do not truly wish to marry me. And so I release you—'

‘You jolly well don't!' He leapt to his feet again. ‘No wriggling out of this. You gave me your word....'

‘Actually, I didn't. You said a lot of things, and everyone congratulated us, but I never, not once, said I would marry you.'

‘Well, you are going to marry me and that's that.'

‘No.' She got to her feet, as well. She wasn't going to risk backing down simply because she felt intimidated with him looming over her like that. ‘It is better to end this engagement now than to take a step we will both regret for the rest of our lives.'

She'd seen, at close quarters, just how miserable two people could become when bound together by chains of matrimony that neither of them wished for any longer.

‘Our engagement will only end one way,' he growled, jabbing his forefinger at her. ‘In marriage.'

She flinched at the first physical expression of his anger, but held her ground.

‘I've already purchased the licence,' he rapped out. ‘And spoken to your uncle, and taken a light-fingered guttersnipe into my employ all on your account. We. Are. Getting. Married.'

As the volume of his voice increased, the memories of raised voices that led to clenched fists, and thence to bruised ribs, made her recall how dangerous it was to be some man's wife, some man's property to deal with as he saw fit. And she began to tremble.

‘If this is an indication of the way you mean to go on, whenever your will is crossed, then...'

His eyes widened. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

‘I didn't mean to scare you. Please...' he waved a hand at the chair ‘...sit down again and I will try to talk this over calmly.'

‘Only if you sit down, too.'

He frowned, then nodded.

Gingerly, she sat in the chair he'd indicated and he sat down, too.

‘Look, Miss Carpenter. I have a terrible, hasty temper. Bane of my life, actually, but I do try not to let it govern my actions, the way it once did. I am sorry I let it get the better of me this morning. Ungentlemanly of me.' He lowered his head for an instant, the picture of contrition, before lifting it, looking directly into her eyes, and saying, ‘Do you think you could find it in your heart to forgive my...outburst and start this interview again?'

She could hardly believe it. He didn't appear to believe, the way her father had, that it was his God-given right to harangue a female, when he had her behind closed doors. On the contrary, he'd said it was ‘ungentlemanly' behaviour. And had asked her to forgive him.

How could she do anything
but
forgive him? When she nodded, mutely, he heaved a sigh of relief.

‘Thank you. It is just that...this means so much to me. And I was so certain you felt the same way I did. That the fact you were a touch reluctant to get married would make us...allies. Then the cool way you talked about pulling the rug from under my feet just made me—' He broke off, shaking his head as though he didn't have the words to describe what he felt.