her if marriage to him would be all that bad. She couldn’t imagine anything worse, because clearly she could not keep her wits about him when he kissed her. And their marriage wouldn’t be about kisses. It was about him getting his hands on his money.
He didn’t even want children.
The lawyers in London must have told him there was no other way.
She went hot, then cold. Embarrassment. At him being forced to marry her. At his pretence of desire. Although it had not felt like pretence. Not at all. It had felt deliciously wicked and enticing.
Which was his whole purpose. To entice her into a marriage neither of them wanted.
If only she could get to the bottom of why the old earl had placed them in this ridiculous predicament, perhaps it would help them find a way out of it. Sally Ladbrook was the key. She was sure of it. Should she tell the earl where his friend might look for her, since it seemed unlikely she could go looking for herself any time soon? It was a question she would have to ponder carefully.
It would mean trusting him.
* * *
She did not see the earl at all the next day. Likely he was plotting his next move, after her refusal to succumb to seduction. After a night of restlessly tossing and turning, she’d spent most of the day wondering why she had.
He did not join the family for dinner, either. He was closeted with the lawyer, Mr Savary, and his steward, Manners said. He had requested a tray in his study for all three gentlemen. Not something an earl would normally do, Mrs Hampton announced in arctic tones.
Perhaps he was avoiding her. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as in control as he made out. Perhaps he regretted last evening’s encounter as much as she did.
So much for getting all dressed up for him. Mentally she gave herself a reproving shake. She was glad he had not come for dinner. Imagine the embarrassment of having to converse with a man whose body her hands had roamed the day before. She should be grateful for his consideration. Not that she thought he cared about her feelings.
He was no doubt busy trying to find a way to break the will.
Conversation throughout the meal was desultory, hinging around the visit the two young men had paid to a neighbour that afternoon and catching Mrs Hampton up on local gossip. Since none of it meant anything to Mary, she listened with only half an ear.
The meal was just about done and she was beginning to think she could retire to her chamber unscathed when Gerald turned his angelic-blue eyes in her direction. While he looked utterly angelic, she often had the feeling that the glimmer in his eyes was vaguely malicious. She braced herself for what might come out of his mouth.
‘Did you find out anything about our ghost in that history, Miss Wilding?’
She frowned.
‘The history of the house. I saw it on your bedside table when I brought you more books.’
She hadn’t looked at the book, preferring the novels instead. She had set it aside and forgotten all about it. ‘I did not.’
‘I can’t believe there isn’t something in there about her,’ he said, sounding disappointed.
‘Let me give you the book, so you can look for yourself,’ she said calmly.
The sly look was back. ‘I would far rather you tell me what it says.’
‘I say, old chap,’ Jeffrey drawled. ‘If Miss Wilding ain’t interested in reading about ghosts, then she ain’t. It is all speculation and gossip. I’ve never once seen hide nor hair of a ghost and I’ve explored every inch of the place.’
Including the tunnels behind the walls? He’d pooh-poohed the idea earlier, but he could have been trying to mislead her. And where had the heir to the title been when the barrel tumbled down that hill?
Could he be the one who wanted her dead? And not the earl?
Or was that her body’s wishful thinking, a hope she could absolve the earl, so she could what? Encourage his seduction? Let it sway her common sense? Did she have no shame any more? No intelligence when it came to her thoughts about this man just because he had set fire to longings she had no business thinking about, let alone having?
‘Would you care to take tea in the drawing room with me, Miss Wilding?’ Mrs Hampton asked.
The woman sounded almost friendly, not the least bit condescending.
‘I could fetch your book,’ Gerald offered.