‘And how well did you know him? I thought you wanted the best for your child.’
‘I do! I would do anything for this baby…’ Her voice trailed away as she saw where this was taking her. ‘Anything.’
‘Exactly. I assume you mean that. You did not come here really expecting to marry Viscount Hadleigh, did you? If Rafe had been alive, he would have refused and you know it, so you had, most sensibly, planned your demands.
‘Now you will become a viscountess, move here, live in what—once I get this place into some sort of order—should be reasonable comfort. The difference is that you will be marrying me and not my brother. Is that such a sacrifice to make for your child or are you telling me you would prefer to live a lie in dowdy seclusion in some remote market town, bringing up a bastard?’
The sharp vertical line between his brows and the edge to his words told her quite clearly how little he wanted this.
‘Of course I would not,’ Bella snapped, nerves getting the better of shock and distress and even the remnants of good manners. ‘If I thought for a moment you meant it—’
‘You doubt my word?’
Now she had impugned his honour and he was on his aristocratic high-horse. It would be nice to be able to complete a sentence. Bella hung on to her anger—it was more strengthening than any of the other emotions that were churning inside her. She tried again. ‘I doubt you have thought this through. I have no desire to be married to a man who is going to bitterly resent it the moment the knot is tied. You would make an appalling husband.’
Judging by the way the corner of his mouth quirked, he appeared to find her completely unfair words mildly diverting, damn him. Bella had a momentary pang of conscience over thinking such a thing, but found she was beyond caring. This was a nightmare and somehow she had to wake up.
‘Don’t laugh at me!’
‘Do you think I find this amusing? Then let me explain something, Arabella.’ Elliott got to his feet, about six foot three of intense male at very close quarters. She did her best not to flinch away when he planted his hands on the table and leaned towards her, those deep blue eyes holding hers. ‘I am Hadleigh. I am head of this family now. But if Rafe had done what he should have done and married you before he died, then I would be sitting here, a guest in your house, acting as your trustee until the birth of that child.
‘And if it is a boy, he would be Viscount Hadleigh and I would be Mr Calne, his guardian, nothing more. Do you expect me, in all honour, to ignore that fact?’
Chapter Three
‘But you are the legal heir. You hold the title now. You cannot want to marry me,’ Bella protested.
‘For God’s sake, stop worrying about me or Rafe or anything else and worry about your child,’ Elliott snapped. ‘My brother should have left you alone or married you: one or the other. In fact, he should have married years ago. But he did not. Do you think I am grateful for his heedless behaviour because I now have the good fortune to inherit the title?’
He did not sound as though he considered himself very fortunate. ‘All I can do, in honour, is to ensure that if it is a boy he will one day inherit, as my heir. It might not be legally imperative, but it most certainly is morally. No one will suspect—a child is presumed to be the offspring of its mother’s husband. With any luck the birth will be full term or later—I believe that is not uncommon with a first child. We will have been assumed to have anticipated matters a trifle, however late it is.’
‘Then people will believe you had—’
‘I am Hadleigh,’ he interrupted her again. ‘After my brother, they expect that sort of behaviour from the viscount, I have no doubt. It will be a one-week wonder, the gossip.’
‘But the staff here,’ she protested, swept along by his vehemence, knowing she had capitulated but still protesting, ‘they saw me arrive on the doorstep, on foot, sodden, having obviously travelled on the common stage. That is not how you would treat your betrothed, surely?’
Elliott sat down again and reached for the claret. ‘Of course not, not if I knew you were coming. However, we simply use the truth about your difficult father, who does not approve of the immoral ways of the aristocracy and who has forbidden our marriage, despite the fact you are of age. His temper is such that you felt you had to run away to me before your condition became obvious and not wait for wedding preparations. You said nothing when you arrived to indicate that you were expecting to see Rafe and not me, did you?’
Bella shook her head. ‘No. I behaved as confidently as I could and I only used your title. I feared the butler would show me the door before I could get to Rafe if I did not.’
There had to be something wrong with this, somehow. Her child would be legitimate? She was going to become the Viscountess of Hadleigh after all, despite her shame, despite her ruin? Yes, there had to be some catch, something she had not seen. Things that were too good to be true normally were just that. This seemed the perfect solution—but it would be like a diamond with a huge flaw in its heart. She felt too tired and dizzy and confused to think it through and find that flaw.
‘You have had enough for one day, I suspect.’ Elliott was at her elbow and she had not even noticed him move. ‘You are in a delicate condition, you have travelled too far and you have had a shock.’
‘Yes.’ She was beyond arguing now; he was too strong to resist. And she should not resist in any case, but some voice kept nagging that she should not do this to him, that he did not deserve it. She had been prepared to make a sacrifice for her child; she had not expected the victim to be an innocent man.
‘I cannot think straight any longer. We must talk again, but I would like to retire if I may. Your great-aunt and your cousin—what will you tell them, my lord?’
‘Why, the truth, of course.’ He eased back her chair and waited while she got to her feet. ‘That ours has been a most secret and rapid courtship, and, given your father’s irrational opposition, I intend marrying you by licence just as soon as I can lay my hands on one. Which is going to involve an early trip to Worcester tomorrow to see the bishop.’
She ought to say something, but it felt like trying to walk into a strong wind. ‘You should stop calling me my lord,’ he added just before they reached the door. ‘We must appear to be on intimate terms.’
‘Elliott,’ she repeated obediently. It was a more solid name than Rafe, more real somehow. He was real, she realised. He was the only reality between her and utter ruin. Rafe was dead and she was safe from him, at least. But he had been the devil she knew. This brother she did not know at all. ‘This is…I don’t feel—’
‘And it would be as well if you were to come with me to Worcester, if you are up to travelling tomorrow. I expect you will need to do some shopping. Then back here by evening and we will be married the next day. Which reminds me, I must send a note down to Mr Fanshawe, the rector.’
‘Married the day after tomorrow?’
‘The sooner the better, don’t you think? I have met the bishop before, which is fortunate. George Huntingford. Bit of a dry stick, but not inclined to be awkward. He won’t have come across your father, will he?’
‘I have no idea. But, Elliott, I cannot just confront a bishop and pretend—’
