you have ruined her life. Eloping—spending the night on the road with a man who is not her husband—good God, man, the entire world will know she is a wanton. Her good name is destroyed. Are you such a mooncalf you don’t see that? No man would marry her now.”
“I will marry her!” Birkshaw declaimed dramatically.
“Over my dead body,” Ravenscar snarled. “You have ruined us with your silly posing! Do you understand me? Ruined us! Do you honestly think that after what you have done I would allow you to marry my daughter? And how do you propose to take care of her? Did you think of that before you swayed her to run away with you? Eh? What will you do, take her back to your bachelor’s rooms? Live on some paltry allowance you get from your father?”
“I will find employment, my lord,” the younger man replied stiffly.
“Oh, yes, of course! Secretary to some lord, no doubt. Hah! You couldn’t live on the pittance they pay, and even if you could, what man would hire you? Secretaries are responsible men, not the sort who run off with another man’s fiancée in the middle of the night. The same is true for any government job. If you had the sense God gave a kitten, you would know it. No one in the Ton would have anything to do with either one of you after this. You will be lucky if you’re able to find a job clerking. I know your situation. You have to marry money. I’ll wager you’re living on borrowed funds now. Did you think she had money? Did you think, if you blackened her name, I would have no choice but to allow you to marry her, and you would batten onto me for the rest of your life?”
“It was not like that, my lord.” Birkshaw’s jaw clenched. “I realize that my prospects are not very good….”
“Not good? They are miserable!” Ravenscar roared. “And you intend to drag my daughter into that? You propose to house her in some tenement in the East End? How will you feed her? How will you provide for the luckless children you will have?”
“I—I don’t know,” Birkshaw faltered.
“You don’t know,” Ravenscar repeated with heavy sarcasm. “And for that you have ruined my family.”
A little sob escaped Rachel at her father’s words. He turned his harsh gaze on her. “Well, miss, I never expected this of you,” he said bitterly. “I always thought that Dev would be the one who destroyed our good name. It was his licentious ways I feared. What a fool I was not to see that you were cut from the same cloth. You are a wanton! A trollop!”
“Father, no, please!” Tears streamed from Rachel’s eyes, and her entire body shook with sobs. “I have done nothing wrong!”
“Ravenscar!” Michael swung back around. “That’s hardly necessary.”
“It is the truth!” Ravenscar thundered, his eyes flashing with the fire of a biblical prophet. He pointed an accusing finger at his daughter. “For the sake of your fleshly desires, you have trampled the good name of your family. It is not only that you will never be received in decent company again. Neither will your mother. I will be too ashamed to set foot in White’s again. You are a stain upon the name of Aincourt.”
“I am sorry. I am sorry!” Rachel cried, looking at her father pleadingly. “I did not think! I was—it was just—” She covered her face with her hands, unable to go on.
“It’s obvious that you did not think,” her father retorted disgustedly. “Dragging both our names through the dirt just so you could have your pleasure with this boy! There is no way we can keep this quiet. The house is full of wedding guests. The entire Ton will know that you left Westhampton standing at the altar.”
Rachel’s hand dropped from her face, and she stared at her father with rising horror. It was obvious that until this moment she had not considered the consequences her actions would have for Michael. “No, I did not mean—”
“You have made him look a proper fool,” Ravenscar thundered on, disregarding her comment. “You have dishonored an excellent man, broken your trust—”
“Enough!” Michael exclaimed, striding forward. “That is enough, my lord. She will not be ruined, and I will not be dishonored. Because no one will know of this.”
“What?” Everyone else in the room turned to look at Michael in astonishment. Ravenscar frowned. “What are you talking about? We cannot keep this hidden.”
“Yes, we can. No one will know that Miss Aincourt jilted me if we are married two days hence, as planned.”
Ravenscar stared at him. “You would still be willing to marry her? After this?”
Michael carefully refrained from looking at Rachel. “If Miss Aincourt agrees to it. It is the only way to keep it a secret. I am sure Mr. Birkshaw, if he loves Miss Aincourt as he says he does, will ride away and never speak of this.” Michael cast a long, intent look at the other man.
Birkshaw’s gaze dropped, and he nodded.
“My servants will never breathe a word,” Michael went on. “They are loyal to me. I think we can count on you and Lady Ravenscar not to reveal it.”
“I should think not!” Ravenscar exclaimed.
“Then the only way it would be revealed is if I repudiate our marriage contract. If we return to the house quietly, and Miss Aincourt and I are married day after tomorrow, no one will be the wiser.”
There was a long moment of silence. Michael turned to Rachel. She was wiping tears from her cheeks, her face averted. “Well, Miss Aincourt? Are you willing to wed me Friday?”
“Of course she is,” Lord Ravenscar inserted quickly. “She should count herself a fortunate woman that you would even consider allying yourself with her after this.”
“No. Let the lady speak for herself,” Michael said firmly, his eyes still fastened on Rachel. “Obviously she accepted me unwillingly before. I do not want that to happen again. It is entirely your decision, Miss Aincourt.”
Rachel raised her eyes, still damp with tears, to his. “Yes,” she said in a low voice. “I will marry you Friday. I am so sorry. My behavior has been inexcusable. I—thank you for your generosity.”
Michael nodded once, gravely. He had spoken up because he could not bear to hear Rachel’s father harangue her any longer; the thought of her having to return to live with the man, forever the object of his anger and scorn, filled him with disgust. This was the only way, he knew, for Rachel to survive this episode with her reputation intact. But he was also aware, with a touch of self-disdain, that his motives had been largely selfish. He had made his offer because he could not bear to let her go. He had to bind her to him, even knowing that she loved another.
Birkshaw let out an inarticulate sound of frustration and pain and, turning on his heel, left the room. Rachel cast an anguished glance after him but did not move to stop him. Shortly after, the three of them left the inn and rode silently back to Westhampton, Rachel riding on her father’s horse behind him. On Friday, as scheduled, she became Lady Westhampton.
They had been married for seven years now, and she had never been truly his wife.
Michael had still hoped—foolishly, he soon found—that somehow, someday, Rachel would grow to love him, or at least to like him well enough that her innate desire for a normal life, with intimacy and
