Loving the Marquess (6 page)

He wanted nothing more than to head for the stables and ride
off some of his anger. He needed to clear his head and think of a way to
dissuade his grandmother from her current course of action. Instead, he turned
and headed for the library. It would serve no purpose to ignore the fact that
his damned head still ached. He’d managed the ride home from the Evans cottage
because he’d ridden with care, but he was in no frame of mind at the moment for
such caution.

He collapsed into the armchair before the fireplace. It wasn’t
yet cool enough to light a fire during the day, so he stared, instead, into the
empty hearth. His lips twisted with wry amusement as he remarked how the lack
of warmth from the fireplace seemed an apt metaphor for his own life. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d been genuinely alive. Oh, he’d made a fine
show of it while in town, but his frivolity had only been on the surface. With
all the death that had surrounded his family, his newfound, never-expected
responsibilities, and now the threat of a similar death hanging over his own
head, he was as cold and lifeless inside as the dark ashes in the hearth before
him.

He’d recently decided he could never risk marrying. It was
clear some illness was striking down the men in his family and he didn’t want
to pass that illness down to his own children. He wondered if his grandmother
suspected he had come to such a decision. He’d never discussed marriage with
her before today, but she was astute enough to guess at his thoughts on the
subject. He wondered if she would release him from her schemes to marry him off
if he told her he was beginning to show signs of the same illness that had
already killed his father and brother.

He couldn’t risk having children. There had been women, yes,
but he’d always taken care so as not to sire any bastards. He was grateful now
for that caution.

His grandmother was right about Edward, though. He couldn’t
inherit. He was selfish and irresponsible, traits he had no doubt inherited
from his father, but they had flourished under his aunt’s cosseting. And he had
only grown worse with each passing year.

No, he had to take steps to keep his cousin from becoming
the next Marquess of Overlea, and he had to act before his own illness left him
incapacitated. His pride balked at what he knew had to be done, but he could no
longer afford to put it off.

His thoughts turned to the beautiful Louisa Evans and the
kiss they had shared that morning, and for one insane moment he wondered if he
should consider proposing to her. But then he remembered how stiff she had
become when she thought he was offering her charity. If she was determined to
refuse any assistance or thanks from him for her care of him the night before,
she would certainly never accept a proposal of marriage.

Besides, he knew he was being ridiculous. One shared kiss
did not mean they were compatible. Granted, it had been a very nice kiss, full
of passion and the promise of delights to come.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Given what he would
need to do to procure an heir, it was probably better to marry someone to whom
he was not quite so attracted. He wondered whether either of the ladies his
grandmother had mentioned would agree to the kind of arrangement he had in
mind.

* * *
* *

Louisa had nowhere else to turn. She’d tried unsuccessfully
to find more sewing to take in or to think of some other way to pay Edward
Manning the rent he demanded. His suggested alternative was too repulsive to
contemplate, let alone accept, and she wouldn’t allow him to approach Catherine
with his vile proposition.

In a moment of frustration she’d almost told her brother
about their landlord’s visit. The temptation to have someone with whom she
could share this burden was great. She knew, though, that John wouldn’t have
been able to help, and he was brash enough to do something foolish like
challenge Edward to a duel for the proposition he’d made. She couldn’t allow
that to happen.

She brought the horse she’d borrowed from a neighbor to a
stop at the end of the drive and looked across the manicured gardens that
spread out before Overlea Manor. Their former home, while respectable in size,
was not nearly as grand as the house before her now—three stories in height,
two wings sweeping out at the sides, and an impressive portico that rose up to the
roofline, all in a rich honey-colored stone. She could only stare at it in
wonder, the knowledge that she was completely out of her depth solidifying.

Asking for Overlea’s assistance had been the only path open
to her. She’d managed to maintain her equanimity during the ride, but now that
she was here, her heartbeat quickened. She took a deep breath in a vain attempt
to quell her nerves before starting down the drive to the front of the house.
When she dismounted, a groom was already headed toward her. She smiled as she
handed him the reins.

Back straight, feigning a confidence she was far from
feeling, she turned and proceeded up the short stairway to the main entrance.
She paused at the top, smoothing a hand over the dark blue skirt of her riding
habit. The style was more than a few years out of date now, but there was no
point in having a habit in the current style when they didn’t even own a horse.

She took another deep breath before lifting the heavy brass
knocker and letting it fall. The door was opened immediately by a footman. He
looked at her and then glanced beyond. She could see him stiffen when he
realized she was unattended. She could only imagine what he must be thinking.

“I am here to see Lord Overlea.”

The footman did not bother to hide his disapproval. “The
marquess is not in.”

He was actually going to close the door on her. Out of sheer
desperation, Louisa stepped into the doorway. He would have to physically
remove her if he wanted her gone.

“Could you please tell him that Louisa Evans is here to see
him?”

She was surprised when his demeanor changed almost
instantly. He opened the door wider and stepped back to allow her to enter, all
solicitousness now.

“Of course, Miss Evans.”

He led her to the drawing room and retreated, closing the
door behind him.

Louisa drew in a shaky breath. She’d crossed the first
barrier, gaining entrance, but her nerves were still unsettled. The toughest
part lay ahead. Asking Overlea for assistance she wasn’t certain he would
provide. Edward Manning was, after all, his cousin, and given the marquess’s
reputation he might see nothing wrong with the arrangement Edward had proposed.
It was, after all, very common for men of their stature to have mistresses.

She wondered if Overlea had a mistress and found the idea
bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Her thoughts were so full of her upcoming meeting with
Overlea that she barely took in her elegant surroundings. She perched on the
edge of a cream-colored settee and it took all her focus to keep from fidgeting.
As the minutes passed, she found herself growing more anxious. She had been
waiting a full quarter of an hour before it occurred to her that Overlea might
refuse to see her.

She waited another quarter hour before deciding to seek out
the footman. She had just reached the drawing room door when it swung open.
Startled, she took a step back.

She’d thought the Marquess of Overlea a handsome man before,
but the last time she’d seen him, his clothes had been rumpled from a night of
tossing and turning and dark stubble had covered his jaw. He had seemed
approachable then. Now, clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, he took her breath
away. He wore a coat of deep green that stretched across shoulders that seemed
broader now, a waistcoat in a lighter shade of that same color, and fawn
buckskins that molded to his muscled thighs and disappeared into boots she
suspected were the same ones she remembered removing from him. She was acutely
conscious, as she had not been before, of the difference in their stations.

That Overlea was surprised to see her was evident,
especially as she was alone. He couldn’t know, then, that her reputation was
already on the verge of being ruined. That she could very well find herself
with no alternative than to accept Edward’s proposition if he refused to help
her.

“Miss Evans,” he said, inclining his head.

She acknowledged his greeting but found herself unable to
speak for a moment.

“Please,” he said, indicating the settee she had abandoned,
“make yourself comfortable.”

She sat and watched as he settled himself into a chair
opposite her.

“I would ring for tea, but I sense this is not a social
call.”

“No,” she said, before lapsing into silence again. Now that
she was here she didn’t know how to begin. How could she tell him what his cousin
had proposed?

 “You appear well today, my lord,” she said in an attempt to
stall the inevitable uncomfortable conversation. “I assume that your illness
has passed?”

“Yes,” he said.

His posture was stiff and it was clear he didn’t wish to
discuss it. She had no alternative but to get straight to the reason for her
visit.

“I know you weren’t expecting to see me so soon.”

“I hadn’t expected to see you at all.” He shifted forward in
his chair, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth, and continued.
“You will excuse me for being direct, but what could possibly have happened in
the past two days to bring you here? You left me with the impression that you
didn’t wish to have further contact with me or my family.”

She resisted the urge to squirm under his intent gaze.

“It must be quite serious for you to come here unescorted. I
thought I would be dealing with your brother, if anyone.”

“My brother and sister cannot know I came to see you.”

His eyebrows rose at that. His gaze never left her as he
leaned back in his chair.

“I’ve had a visit from your cousin.”

“Mary?” he asked, his confusion evident.

She shook her head.

“No, your cousin, Edward Manning.”

His frowned. “Why would that bring you here? Are you not his
tenant?”

“Not precisely.” She hesitated a moment before continuing.
“How much do you know about what happened between my father and your uncle?”

“A fair bit,” Overlea replied, his features shuttered.

She was grateful to be spared having to relay the details of
what had transpired all those years ago.

“After… well, after what happened, we moved from our old
house to where we now live. I suppose after everything he’d taken from us your
uncle decided to show us some mercy.” She failed to hide the note of bitterness
in her voice. “The cottage is one of the larger ones on the estate. I remember
my father being worried about the rent now that he didn’t have the income from
the estate, but your uncle allowed us to live there without having to pay it.”

“And now?”

From his almost unnatural stillness, it was clear he
suspected what she was about to say.

“Your cousin has informed me that we are to start paying
rent immediately.”

“And you cannot afford it.”

“No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was several moments before Overlea replied. “Why are you
here, Miss Evans? I know you’re not here for charity. Would you like me to
speak to Edward? Convince him to give you more time? Or perhaps to continue to
allow you to remain in your home under the same conditions as when you father
was alive? If that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I don’t
have that much influence over my cousin’s actions.”

She would have to tell him everything. The subject was
already an uncomfortable one, but the kiss she and Overlea had shared on that
morning after he woke in her room made it even more so. Keeping silent,
however, might have grave consequences. Especially for Catherine.

“There is something else,” she said, her embarrassment
acute. Unable to broach the subject just yet, she stood and walked over to the
window. She gazed out at the perfectly manicured grounds for a full minute
before taking a deep breath and turning to face him again. Overlea stood, but
he didn’t say anything, giving her the time she needed. She was grateful for
that. “Your cousin did offer me an alternative to paying rent. One that would
involve using a currency of a different, much more unpalatable sort.”

It took him only a moment to catch her meaning. He scowled
and swore softly, but she continued before he could say anything. “John and
Catherine know nothing about this, and they must never hear of it. John is
hotheaded enough to do something foolish. And Catherine—” Her voice hitched.
“He offered to approach her directly and make her the same offer if I refuse.”

“Surely she would never agree to such a thing. Not if you
speak to her first and give her your support.”

“Mama died in childbed during Catherine’s birth. A part of
her believes she is responsible for the series of events that led us to where
we are today. That Papa never would have fallen into your uncle’s trap if she’d
never been born and Mama hadn’t died. Papa never would have turned to drinking,
never would have gambled away the estate and our home. Of course,” she added,
rushing to reassure him lest he think she shared that belief, “Catherine is not
to blame for our father’s actions, but she might accept your cousin’s offer as
a way of atoning for all that has happened.”

His dark eyes settled on her for what seemed an eternity.
She squirmed, uncomfortable being the sole subject of that inscrutable gaze.
Finally, he spoke.

“I believe I can help you.”

Intense relief washed over her and she had to close her eyes
for an instant. She started to thank him, but his words stopped her.

“You may want to hear my conditions first.”

An icy finger of dread snaked up her spine. Had she made a
mistake in coming here? Was it possible he was as despicable as his cousin?