Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,11

hope and suspicion of resentment that her older sister might have eclipsed her by this sudden marriage coup. “Why would he suddenly do this for us when he does not even pretend to love you?”

“Be fair, Lucy,” her mother said. “How could he love her when he only met her yesterday for the first time, and most of that was spent trying to ride over her. Or not.”

“Love has nothing to do with it,” Deborah said calmly. “It is to be a marriage of convenience. He needs to be married to obtain his inheritance early, and I need to be married for reasons we are only too aware of. Especially now, when I understand the trouble has been reported in at least one newspaper. Mr. Halland knew I was at the princess’s house.”

Her mother sprang up, wringing her hands with conflicting emotions as she began to pace the room. “But this is wonderful! At least it would be, but none of us know Mr. Halland, and I am not sure I like him. He is quite wild and unconventional, you know, full of radical ideas that would turn everyone against him were he not an earl’s grandson. And then, women…”

“Since I do not love him, his past, or indeed present, does not concern me,” Deborah said. “We have agreed upon respect and discretion.”

“It sounds a very…cold marriage,” her mother said anxiously.

“It is,” Deborah agreed. “But frankly, it seems the best way out for all of us.”

“You mean you’re going to live at Gosmere Hall?” Stephen said, his eyes wide. “But you can’t, Deb! It’s haunted!”

“No, it isn’t,” Giles scoffed. “We only said that because it was so big and quiet when it was shut up, and that old servant loomed out of nowhere. But I went up there the other day when the earl was in residence, and it looked quite different—bustling. I don’t think Deb needs to be frightened of ghosts.”

“Well, that is comforting,” Deborah murmured.

“And Gosmere Hall is close, so we can visit all the time,” Lizzie said eagerly. “It will be wonderful! If Lucy is at Coggleton House and Deb at Gosmere, it will almost be the same as now.” She smiled brilliantly at her older sisters, then shivered with delight. “And only think of the hide-and-seek possibilities at Gosmere.”

This seemed to catch even Stephen’s imagination, and they all began to talk at once.

Deborah’s mother sat down beside her, searching her face. “Deb, are you sacrificing yourself for us? Do you even like this man? This stranger?”

Deborah thought about it with some reluctance. Intense blue eyes, a determined mouth, quick laughter, stormy temper, and unexpected care for others, not even of his class. Thoughtful and curious. Intriguing. And handsome, that, too. Her stomach gave a funny little flutter.

“Actually, I do,” she said, “in so far as it is possible to like anyone on such short acquaintance. It is hardly a love match, but I believe we can deal together reasonably well.”

“I imagine it will be agreeable for you to have your own home,” her mother said, “even such a dark one as Gosmere. But I suppose you will be in London while Parliament sits.”

“We have not discussed such matters.”

“You can’t have discussed very much at all,” Lucy said, staring at her. “When do you mean to be married? If it happens at all!”

“The day after tomorrow,” Deborah replied.

Lucy’s eyes widened. “The day—”

“Pass the smelling salts,” their mother said faintly.

*

Deborah rose the following day restless and on edge, suspicious she might just have imagined the whole unlikely tale. What she really wished to do was walk by herself up to Gosmere Hall, either to get a glimpse of her new home or to find out from Mr. Halland if their agreement was indeed serious.

However, a day of summer drizzle and her mother’s unusually close observation combined to keep her indoors. She spent some time reading and playing with her siblings, and listening to Stephen coaxing rather beautiful music from an old guitar that had been a gift from the bishop.

And then, around midday, a knock at the front door paralyzed her. Her heart beat so fast she was afraid it might jump out of her body, and she stared at the parlor door.

Beside her, Giles said intensely, “If you’re frightened of him, Deb, don’t marry him. Nothing is worth that.”

“I’m not,” she said in surprise. “I’m just not quite sure how to behave.”

It turned out not to matter at that moment, for their visitor was Mrs. Copsley, the