How to Marry a Highlander (12 page)

Apparently word had flown to Cheshire via Mrs. Biddycock’s gossipy London cousin that Teresa had been seen in the company of the penniless half sisters of the scandalous Earl of Eads. Mr. Waldon insisted that the situation was unacceptable and warned that if she did not relent in her pursuit of social ruin he would inform her mother and father who were as yet ignorant of her
mésalliances
.

Teresa ignored his threats. Even if he sent a letter to Brennon Manor, her parents could not force her to return home unless they actually came to town themselves, by which time the wager would have already come to an end anyway.

Nevertheless he remained in town, insinuating himself into nearly every outing with the Eads sisters and regularly urging Teresa to return home at once. After days of resisting telling him exactly what she thought of this presumption, when he deigned to sit in judgment on the joyful announcement of Effie’s betrothal to Lieutenant Caruthers, and used Lady Elspeth’s disapproval of the match to support his case, Teresa exploded.

“It is insupportable,” she said between gritted teeth to Sorcha and Una as they walked along the Serpentine. Lily, Moira, and Mr. Baker-Frye strolled behind them, with Lieutenant Caruthers’ grandmother on Lord Eads’s arm. Teresa practically felt the earl’s gaze on her. She’d spent a horrid sennight longing for more caresses that he would not willingly give her. Being infatuated with a fantasy from a distance had been tortuous in its own manner. But that was nothing to being in love with a man at close range and coming to the conclusion that she should not be.

“No everybody thinks marriage is the be-all to life,” Sorcha said, her steps on the path like everything she did, firm and confident. Teresa envied her attitude.

“But when the parties involved are so ideally suited”—unlike her and the Earl of Eads—“it seems criminal to discourage it.” The earl did not want her and she did not now know what she wanted, but it wasn’t this feeling of helplessness. “The lieutenant is an excellent person and he and Effie are besotted with each other.” Their union was proceeding precisely as it should, from tea with his grandmother to walks in the park, while Teresa was foundering in confusion. “He adores her spirit and she is eager for him to haul her across the oceans to God knows where for the rest of her life. They are thrilled with each other.”

“Elspeth thinks Effie’ll make a poor sailor’s wife,” Una said, her parasol shading her cheeks from the sun.

Teresa came to a halt. “I think marriage to him will in fact be the making of her.”

“Agreed,” Una said. “She needs adoration, amusement, an a firm hand all at once. Lieutenant Caruthers is weel suited to give her those.”

“Gird yer souls, leddies.” Sorcha folded her arms. “Here come the righteous.”

Ahead, Mr. Waldon and Elspeth passed Effie and Lieutenant Caruthers on the path. Lieutenant Caruthers tipped his hat, took Effie’s hand securely on his arm, and drew her away. Effie’s light laughter tripped behind her.

“Miss Finch-Freeworth,” Mr. Waldon said as he approached. “As Lady Elspeth desires a moment’s rest, may I take you on my arm now?”

She could not decline. They moved away from the group.

“I am disappointed that you have not yet returned home, Miss Finch-Freeworth,” he said.

“I have not yet finished what I came to London to do,” she said honestly. Lately it was not amusing to tell tales. Telling tales, after all, had gotten her here: confused and aching. It was not that the tales did not still occur to her, only that she was coming to see that they were much better confined to her stories for Freddie than spoken aloud.

Dreams were quite another thing altogether. She could never shut them away in a drawer. But they were not reality. The clergyman standing before her was reality. The future. Her future.

“I see,” he said pensively. “I had hopes for you, Miss Finch-Freeworth.”

She clamped down on the nausea in her stomach.

“I knew you to be lovely and well bred,” he continued, “and although the childish stories with which you enjoy amusing our neighbors caused me distress and concern, I knew that in time I could mold you into an enviable wife. But now my mind and heart have taken another turn.”

She released his arm but could not reply; her astonishment was too great.

“Lady Elspeth informed me of the matchmaking program upon which you have embarked,” he said. “I have visited some acquaintances in town this week who assure me that this program has brought you under unflattering scrutiny in society. In my position as leader of our humble community, I must choose my wife so that she reflects upon me in the greatest light. It is with regret, therefore, that I must inform you that I have transferred my affections to a more worthy candidate, a lady of moral and social rectitude who will add to my happiness and consequence rather than subtract from them.”

Teresa struggled to find her tongue. “Mr. Waldon, I wish you the very best in your newfound happiness.” She refrained from shouting in joy. She was free! She would live with her parents for the rest of her life. But
she was free
!

Mr. Waldon frowned. “I had hoped for more than that.”

“I assure you, I know that feeling well.”

“Lily! Everybody!” Effie came skipping down the path, dragging a smiling Lieutenant Caruthers by the hand. “Joseph has asked me to marry him!”

Teresa’s gaze met the earl’s. She saw in his beautiful eyes that he already knew.

Four sisters betrothed. With six days left to the wager.

He knew she could not win. He liked her. He liked her lips and he liked to touch her and he seemed to enjoy her company. That only she felt an ache in her chest when they were together and an equally fierce confusion over it was a fate she must accept.

But
must
she?

He was a lord. He needed an heir. She didn’t see why she couldn’t be the one to help with that.

As though he knew her thoughts, his eyes narrowed. She looked at his three un-betrothed sisters. Lady Elspeth’s lips were predictably tight as the others celebrated Effie’s news. And Sorcha had resisted every opportunity to meet eligible bachelors. But Una . . .

Tomorrow when she met Tobias for lunch she would finally broach the subject. She had respected his silence on the matter but she hadn’t the time for playing his game now.
Her
game was about to come to an end, and she intended to win it.

T
eresa was taking breakfast the following morning when the footman opened the door and Sorcha strode in.

“What a lovely surprise.” She went to her. “May I offer you tea or breakfast?”

“I’ve come to talk,” the Scotswoman said with her usual forthrightness.

Teresa’s stomach did a somersault. “All right.” She dismissed the footman then went to the sideboard and poured two cups of tea. “Do sit.”

Sorcha’s face was grim. “I dinna wish to marry, Teresa. I think ye ken it, but ye’ve niver asked me why.”

She had avoided doing so. Knowing Sorcha’s reason for avoiding marriage might make her task more difficult, and her brother intended her to marry anyway.

Just as her parents had intended her to marry Mr. Waldon.

An obstruction seemed to lodge in her throat. She shook her head.

“I’ve so many ideas for our family’s land. We anly lack the capital to make the improvements.” Sorcha sat forward till she was on the edge of the chair. “But that’s all changed nou. Mr. Baker-Frye wants to invest in ma brither’s estate. He says he’s always had a yearning to be a gentleman farmer, but his family’s business came to him an he’s got to keep it going. Moira told him aboot the troubles we’ve had an he’s gone to talk wi’ Duncan this morning.”

“This is wonderful news!”

“But dinna ye see? I wish to continue as steward o’ our family’s lands. I’ve worked so hard. To be sent away nou to be housewifie to some laird . . .” She shook her head. “I canna do it.”

Teresa nodded slowly, heaviness surrounding her heart. “You must tell your brother.”

“I’ve long since told him. He willna listen. Ye’ve got to convince him that he mustn’t force me to wed.”

“He thinks I’m too meddlesome. My intervention would be more likely to hinder your case than help it.” But looking into Sorcha’s entreating eyes now she knew that even if the earl did not relent in his wish for his sister to wed, she must change her course. She could not be the reason that any woman did not live her dreams, even if it meant abandoning hers.

“’Tis no as ye say, Teresa. Ma brither thinks highly o’ ye. He’ll listen to ye if ye speak for me.”

She drew a long breath. “I will try to help you.”

Sorcha clasped her hand for a moment only, her grip strong and certain. “Thank ye, friend.” She stood, then she paused. “But . . . I’ve no told ye all.”

Teresa’s stomach tightened. “Oh?”

“’Tis for no small purpose Duncan wishes me to wed. The Eads title an lands can descend by the female line. He wants me to inherit from him. He wants me to wed an bear sons so that ma sister Elspeth, next in line, will niver come into the land.”

“But why doesn’t he—”

“He’ll no marry again.” A crease formed between her dark brows. “I think ye care for ma brither, an it pains me to speak nou. But if he didna wed an heiress to save his lands, Teresa, he’ll no wed anyone for any reason. When our sister Miranda died, then anly months later the birthing took his wifie an wee son, I think he died inside some too.”

“His . . .
son
?”

“Aye. Nou do ye see?”

She nodded. Finally she saw all too clearly.

A
t lunch she did not encourage Tobias’s confidences. If he and Una wished to fritter away their chance at happiness, she would not stand in the way of that tragedy.

She’d made an appointment with two of the brides-to-be, so to lift her spirits she dressed in her favorite walking gown, a frock of pink pinstriped muslin with tiny puff sleeves and a net fichu, and went to the hotel.

None of the Eads ladies were to be found in the parlor or their bedchambers, so she ducked into the servants’ stairwell and went below. The kitchen was quiet, with only Monsieur Le Coq and Lily by stove. Lily stirred the contents of a pot in slow, wide circles.

“Guid day, Teresa!” She hefted the pan and set it on the counter. “I’ve been teaching Marcel hou to cook taffy. Ye’ve come just in time.”

“Mm. Delicious.” Teresa settled on a high stool and watched Lily scrape her treasure into a flat pan.

“Care for a taste, mademoiselle?” The chef snagged a thick dollop of sugared butter from the bowl and proffered it to her with a bow.

She had no heart for confections at present. But the taffy was rich and sweet and stuck to her fingers, then somehow to her cheek and brow too. She set her elbow on the counter and her chin on her palm. “So much for donning my finery for the modiste’s shop.”

Lily giggled. It lightened Teresa’s heart. Joy could be found in little things. She would take comfort in that when this adventure was over and she was home again.

“Have you seen Moira or Abigail about?” she asked. “I was to go with them to the modiste’s.”

“Didna Moira’s message find ye at home? The modiste hasna finished the gowns, so they all went aff to the tea room wi’ Mrs. Caruthers.”

“Leaving you here to cook?”

“’Tisn’t a penance.” She offered a twinkling smile to the Frenchman. He lifted her hand and placed a fervent kiss upon it. “They hoped ye’d join them,” Lily added over her shoulder.

“Perhaps after I have another bite of this delicacy.” Perhaps not at all. Perhaps she would go straight home, pack her portmanteau, and return to Harrows Court Crossing and the remainder of her life there. At least it wouldn’t be spent as Mr. Waldon’s wife.

That notion at least made her smile. Her smile widened as the lovebirds stared into each other’s eyes.

She was seizing the moment of their distraction to lick taffy off a forefinger when Lord Eads appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her finger slid from between her lips with a pop.

A slow grin curved up one side of his mouth.

Annie had once told her that men liked to imagine things in women’s mouths—for what reason, Teresa never quite discovered. So, because she would not again have the opportunity to test this, she slipped her middle finger into her mouth and sucked on it.

His grin disappeared.

“Duncan!” Lily said. “Do come taste the taffy.”

He strode into the kitchen. “Forgive me for declining, but I’ve need o’ Miss Finch-Freeworth upstairs.” He grasped her hand and drew her toward the door. She tossed a shrug to Lily and the chef and allowed him to pull her into the narrow servants’ stairwell.

“What is happening upst—”

He caught her mouth beneath his.

It was a hungry kiss, and she met it with all the desperate desire she felt for him but had thought she would never again be able to satisfy. Her hands found his arms then his chest. When she slipped them beneath his coat to explore the contours of muscle through his shirt she thought he would stop her. Instead a deep rumble of encouragement sounded in his chest. It set off a throbbing ache inside her. His hands cupped her behind and he dragged her against him.

She gasped and broke free of his mouth. “Are you doing this only because I licked my fingers?”

He replied with a series of kisses that grew increasingly deep and culminated in her moaning softly and struggling to press even closer to him.

“Five,” he said against her cheek.

“I only licked two.” He stroked the tender inner crease of her thigh and pleasure swamped her. “Clearly I should have found a batch of taffy weeks ago,” she panted.

“Elspeth is five.”

The import of his words penetrated her pleasure. She pushed him away with her palms.

“
Elspeth
? Are you certain?”

“Yer parents will be disappointed.” The grin that lurked at the corner of his delicious mouth nearly got the best of her. Mind whirling, she fought against desire

“My parents? Whatever—” Her mouth dropped open. “Mr. Waldon!”

“Aye, Waldon.” He seemed to search her face. She supposed she looked as stunned as she felt. She could not fathom it.