Trials of Artemis Read online

  "How may I help you, sir?"

  Gideon offered his card. "The Earl of Harrington to see Mr. Walters, if you please."

  The butler accepted the card and bowed Gideon into the front hall and preceded him through the hallway. The townhouse was what Gideon would have expected for a gentleman of some connections and inherited wealth. A subdued decor, aged but with a timeless quality. The Walters were cousins of the present Viscount Whitemarch, if he recalled correctly, from the branch of a younger son some generations back. Certainly enough of a pedigree that no one should be surprised by the selection of his countess, provided they could keep the particulars of the reasons for the engagement from the society papers. He had been surprised when there had been no mention in the morning papers and had to credit the Lord and Lady Wynders with more discretion than he thought them capable. For a brief moment he had considered the danger passed and he did not need to offer for the chit, but the moment had been fleeting. Truth would often out, and the more unpleasant the truth the more likely that it would get tongues to wagging. Honor dictated that he couldn't leave any woman without the protection he could offer in such circumstances. If the story were to get out, at worst the true story, then not only would the girl’s reputation be ruined but perhaps that of her entire family. Nor would such a salacious tale help Gideon’s own standing, especially if he were to act without the honor expected of any gentleman of his class. Maintaining his reputation in Parliament dictated this action if nothing else did.

  The butler stepped into an open door and bowed to the occupant. "The Right Honorable Gideon Wolfe, Earl of Harrington, sir."

  Gideon's first impression of his future father in law was the voice saying, "Very good, Villiers. Show him in, please." It was a tired voice, resigned. Not the voice of a man delighted that his daughter had finagled an Earl by whatever means necessary. Villiers bowed Gideon into the room, a large study with maple-paneled walls and warm sunshine spilling in from tall windows. A figure stood by the desk, a slender man of perhaps forty years who stood at about the same height as his daughter, and shared her pale brown hair. The family resemblance was unmistakable. But where Miss Walters had forest green eyes, a detail Gideon had noted when she had turned to him in surprise at introduction to a duke, her father's were a watery blue. Gideon bowed. "Thank you for receiving me, sir."

  That caused Mr. Walters to quirk a small smile. "Yes, I'm famed for my tendency to toss out all the nobility that comes by."

  Gideon hesitated. When he had imagined this exchange it certainly hadn't featured a potential father in law who was both resigned and sarcastic.

  Walters waved a hand. "My apologies for the attempt at humor. Please, have a seat. Brandy?"

  "Yes, please." It was all he could do to not suggest that Walters hand him the whole bottle.

  Returning from the sideboard with two glasses Walters sank into the guest chair next to Gideon after handing him his drink, rather than sitting behind the desk. "So," he said without preamble, "you think you want to marry my daughter."

  Choking a bit on the swallow of brandy he had taken, Gideon managed. "Of course."

  Walters had crossed his legs and begun jiggling his foot while staring down into his own brandy glass. "I have to warn you that Jacqueline is not in favor of the marriage."

  Gideon frantically searched his memory. Was Jacqueline the daughter or the wife? He couldn't recall that he knew either name so stayed silent.

  "My wife is overjoyed of course. Her father was a merchant and now her daughter will be a countess."

  A-ha! Jacqueline was the daughter. His future wife and he hadn't known her name. Nor that her mother had come from the merchant class. And her father didn't seem inclined toward the match either. Perhaps Gideon would ask for the bottle.

  Walters' pale blue gaze rose to meet his own again. "From all that I've heard about you, Harrington, I wouldn't have thought you to be a man of few words."

  "I'm, ah, overcome with the event."

  "So, here I have a daughter who spent the whole of the night trying to convince me to reject your suit, and a potential son in law who behaves like a man marching to the gallows. Certainly not the recipe for a happy marriage, do you think?"

  Struck by that unexpected comment Gideon asked, "Is that important to you, that your daughter be happy?"

  Walters foot stopped jiggling. "Of course it is." He looked off toward the sunny windows and sipped at his brandy. "Perhaps one day when you have children of your own you will understand."

  "I can only hope so, sir."

  Walters looked at him again. "When you hadn't arrived by nine this morning Jack decided you weren't going to come and finally went to sleep. She was relieved."

  Gideon now stared down into his drink. "I didn't want to assume you would be up early."

  "On a day when our eldest daughter is to become engaged? I worry that you aren't showing a great deal of wisdom or insight."

  The man wasn't intimidated by rank in the least and his acerbic comments were getting on the earl's last nerve. "My apologies, sir," Gideon said stiffly. "I didn't think of it that way."

  Walters sighed. "So, the particulars. Jacqueline has a dowry of three thousand pounds which will be rendered to you upon the completion of the wedding vows."

  "If you don't mind me saying, sir," Gideon interrupted, "you don't seem enthused by the idea of this marriage."

  "Enthused? No. But is it necessary? Yes." Walters tossed back the remainder of his brandy and then his pale blue gaze settled on Gideon again. "Let me be clear about this. If I didn't think it would do more harm than good to her reputation I would have called you out this morning for even thinking of touching my daughter. As she does not seem inclined to this marriage, no, I'm not in favor of it. But I want my younger daughter Samantha to have a chance at a good match. I want my wife able to go out in polite society. Neither of those things will occur with the barest hint of scandal, our family simply isn’t important enough to withstand it. I will say that I’m disappointed in Jacqueline for putting us in this position, but there is very little choice in the outcome now, is there?"

  Gideon shook his head. "No, there appears to be no choice at all."

  Both men were startled from their brooding by the door crashing open.

  When Jack heard that the earl had arrived she raced down the stairs and threw open the door of her father's study. And there he was. Not to be inconvenienced by rising early, he had dragged his dissolute, arrogant carcass to her house on what had to be going on two of the afternoon, and now sat drinking her father's prized brandy for what probably served as his breakfast. If she had something close to hand to throw at his head she was fairly sure she would do it. After her shock had worn off the night before, she had spent hours trying to convince her father that the marriage wouldn't be necessary or a good idea. It was the one time in her life she had regretted her natural honesty. If she had kept the full truth of the situation from her father he might have been more pliable, but upon hearing even the sketchiest description of what had happened earlier in the evening he had been consumed with a cold rage, the likes of which she had never seen. Her frustration had led to crying and pleading, but her uncharacteristic behavior had seemed to make her father more intractable. Her only relief had come when Harrington hadn't arrived in the morning. No earl, not even a note. Surely he had realized that backing away from a hasty engagement made due to silly social pressures was the best course! Now he was here, cozened in the warm room as though he were a treasured family friend. It was outside of enough.

  He rose to his feet and bowed to her as though she weren't standing in the door breathing heavily from running down two flights of steps. "Miss Walters."

  She gripped the door handle tightly, a solid anchor in a world that was very much off-kilter. "Harrington."

  He raised a brow at her more casual use of his name. His gaze traveled up and down her length in an appraising way. "You look well today."

  She nearly snorted. She full well kne
w she was flushed, most likely with wisps of hair flying around from her headlong flight down the steps. It was tempting to return his bland compliment, but he truly was looking well. A man with such a dissolute reputation shouldn't look so... well. He had the physique of a horseman, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist leading to solid thighs encased in buff breeches. Realizing that her gaze had wandered to his breeches Jack felt herself blush. When she looked back to his face he smiled knowingly at her and she wanted to throw something at him all over again. Instead she took a deep breath and said, "Perhaps you would like to take a walk in the garden?" If she couldn't convince her father about the perfidy of this match then the next best course of action was to convince Harrington.

  Chapter Three

  Upon Miss Walters' invitation to walk in the garden Gideon looked to her father, who shrugged tiredly and nodded his consent. Offering the girl his arm she had looked at it like a snake, then after a deep breath had taken it without comment. At this point he was a bit put off by the Walters family. It wasn't like he was a pariah! Most young women would be beyond delighted at being offered marriage to an earl regardless of the reason. Once outside in the back gardens Miss Walters towed him down a path. Their destination became clear as she slowed at the sight of a stone bench under the shade of an old oak. The view included an arbor and a bed of roses still dormant for the winter.

  Stopping in front of the bench Gideon took both of her hands in his own. Not the easiest thing since she seemed disinclined to surrender them or to turn to look at him. Frustrated by her obstinance Gideon did something he hadn't expected to and dropped to one knee in front of her. "Miss Walters, would you give me the pleasure of being my wife?"

  She began tugging to get him to release her hands. "No."

  At her flat denial Gideon did release her hands and rose back to his feet. "No?"

  Miss Walters brushed some dead leaves off the bench before seating herself and carefully arranging her skirts. "No, I don't think we need to marry at all. I understand that a public engagement may be necessary, but after a suitable period I can beg off."

  Gideon remained standing since her voluminous skirts left little room for a companion on the bench. "That is not acceptable. Honor dictates we marry, otherwise your reputation, and most likely that of your family, will be ruined."

  She raised her chin to address him directly. "No."

  "No?"

  She seemed absorbed in smoothing her skirts again. "Simply that. No."

  Gideon held his breath for a moment. It wouldn't do to lose his temper. Just because neither of them wanted this match didn't mean that either of them was to blame. Miss Walters turned her head away from him to look at the arbor, her chin tilted at a defiant angle.

  "What do you expect me to do? Propriety demands --"

  She whipped her gaze back to him, her green eyes like chips of emerald. "To hell with propriety! I wasn't planning to marry at all, much less..." she waved her hand at him, from his Hessian boots to his barely tamed hair, "you. Life as a spinster due to my 'reputation' would be a far happier life than one where I am married to you."

  He stepped closer, crowding her with his height and bulk. "As though I would be getting the superior end of the bargain?"

  She huffed. "Undoubtedly! At least you won't have to worry about me planning assignations at social events."

  "Bloody hell, woman! Not just stubborn, but a harpy as well?" Gideon threw his arms out in exasperation. "This marriage is getting better by leaps and bounds."

  "Stating facts makes me a harpy?"

  "Facts? You do not know me madam. If you were a man and questioned my honor thus-"

  She poked a finger toward him. "You don't know me and-"

  "Zounds, woman!" he exploded out. "Will I ever be able to finish a sentence in your presence?"

  Miss Walters opened her mouth to reply and then shut it closed again. She went back to staring at the arbor as though the vine-wrapped structure were the ultimate source of their problems.

  Gideon straightened his cuffs. "If we are to get on you cannot constantly contradict me."

  This time she looked at him as though he had sprouted another head but her lips remained firmly sealed.

  "It wouldn't do to have a countess who cannot conduct herself appropriately," he added.

  That seemed to unglue her lips. "No one is asking you to!"

  "This is not a negotiation! We are getting married and you need to resign yourself to that!"

  This caused her to surge from the bench. She placed her fists on her hips and narrowed her eyes again. "Even if I do agree to marry you I will not become a simpering mouse and you will need to resign yourself to that!"

  Realizing that it was best to quit the field before he did something hideous, like throttling his new fiancée, Gideon sketched a stiff bow. "Good day, madam." As he walked away he could hear her irritated huff and something that sounded suspiciously like "bloody bastard." Stopping by her father's study briefly to ensure that the announcement would be in the morning's paper, Gideon took his leave of the Walters' home.

  For the first time in her life Jack retreated to her bedroom, threw herself across the bed, and wept like her best friend had died. All of this trouble because of her love of Greek? It was unfair! There seemed to be no escaping the engagement. But perhaps she could still avoid marrying him. If only Sabre and George were here they would help her come up with a plan. She wiped her tears and went to her writing desk.

  My dearest Haberdashers,

  I send you both a copy of this letter as I desperately need you here with me now. It seems that I am to marry soon. Yes, it is rather sudden. My betrothed is Gideon Wolfe, Earl of Harrington. Although I would be against the match myself, my family seems in favor of it. Father seems resolute, if you can imagine that. My mother is over the moon of course, and also sure that my elevation to countess will assure Sam making a good match. Meanwhile Sam, softhearted and dare I say softheaded girl that she is, has been trying to convince me that it could be a love match. Oh, how much I need you at this time! Sabre, you could help me to set and stay on the right course. George, you could help me see what all my options are. I have only seen two - rejection of Harrington which will lead to my ruin, or acceptance of his suit which will chain me eternally to what seems an overbearing, arrogant, uncompromising man. What am I to do? Fulfill my duty to my family to marry him? Or follow the best course for myself and reject him? I desperately need your counsel.

  Together forever,

  Jack

  For the next three days everywhere Gideon went someone wanted to congratulate him on his engagement. At his club, at Tattersall's, even at Gentleman Jackson's. It was enough to make him consider retreating to one of his country manors. And while it was difficult enough receiving the felicitations with grace, the comments... the comments would be his undoing. "Charming gel,” said the Marquess of Bath. "All that is demure and graceful." Then the diminutive Baron Hastings with his almost worshipful praises, admitting that he'd been too intimidated by her to ask her to dance. It was all Gideon could do to not shout at the man, "Then you marry her!" It was as though none of them had even met the same woman he had. Sensual and attractive, yes, but she was possessed with the tongue and humors of an asp.

  On the night of that third day he knew that he was to see her. They were both invited to the Wittier soiree and it would be their first event as an officially engaged couple. Gideon spent extra time dressing for the event, partially because he wanted to look his best and partially because every extra minute spent on preparation was another minute where his travel was delayed. Then he became annoyed as this was the second time he was avoiding dealing with what he was now calling "the Walters problem." His valet was tying his cravat for the second time when he heard footsteps from the hall, his butler Dibbs followed by another, familiar set.

  "Announcing his grace, my lord," Dibbs intoned from the doorway.

  "Hullo, Giddy," said the duke as he entered and flopped down on the lou
nge chair in Gideon's dressing room.

  "What are you doing out slumming, Quince?"

  "Slumming? Indeed not. With the announcement of your engagement you became as respectable as any earl might hope to be. Although I am concerned that this marriage disease might be catching."

  "Worry not, Quince, you will marry precisely the perfect woman at precisely the perfect time. Your perfection is part of your charm."

  "Yes, I think thirty is the perfect age to marry. That means I have at least another two and a half years of freedom."

  "By your theory I am marrying two years early? It feels a great deal earlier than that."

  "That's part of why I came to see you, old boy. There is talk afoot, what with your engagement being so sudden. It would do for you to at least hint at a sudden tendre for this girl."

  "Who is to say that we haven't formed a tendre? I don't remember talking to you about it."

  Quince fixed him with a droll stare. "Unlike the others I actually know you quite well. When you introduced me to her you were furious and, if I'm not mistaken, she was in shock. Now I come here tonight to intercept you and end up cooling my heels in your library for an hour while you fiddle with your cravat."

  "You were downstairs? Dibbs didn't inform me."