![Jo Beverley - [Rogue ]](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/598544/thumbs/152x264/jo-beverley-rogue.jpg)
boldness of her demands she had no leverage, and they both knew it. Moreover, this frank talk of children frightened her. Beth had not been raised in ignorance of the mechanics of procreation. At this moment, she wished she had been.
He stood again and walked over to stare into the fire. "There's no point in this, is there?" he asked bitterly. She hoped for a moment that he was rejecting the whole idea, but he simply turned and said, "Miss Armitage, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Beth stood, too, and swallowed. She considered a further appeal but knew it would do no good. If the de Vaux family wanted her chopped in pieces and served for dinner there was nothing she could do about it.
"I suppose I must," she said.
He produced a ring from his pocket. He would have put it on her finger, but Beth held out her right hand, palm up and after a moment he dropped the ring into it. It was a large diamond surrounded by emeralds and not new. Probably a family heirloom. She placed it on her ring finger herself. It looked utterly ridiculous there.
"What happens now?" she asked, trying to ignore the shackle. She suddenly realized he might expect a symbolic kiss and looked at him in alarm.
Such a thought had obviously not crossed his mind. "I see no point in delaying matters. Come with me now and I will take you to Belcraven."
"Tomorrow. I must gather my belongings."
"There's no need to bring much," he said with a dismissive glance at her attire. "We will buy you a new wardrobe."
Beth drew herself up. "I prefer my own clothes, thank you, Lord Arden. Your father said I need only marry you, live in your house, and bear your children. He said nothing of allowing you to dress me to suit your fancy."
"As you wish, Miss Armitage," said the marquess through tight lips.
Beth dropped him a straight-backed curtsy.
Insolently, he gave her a full court bow, then walked out of the room.
Chapter 4
The next day, waiting for the marquess to arrive, Beth was prey to a distressing degree of nervousness, not helped by Miss Mallory's poorly concealed anxiety.
"Are you quite sure, Beth? Do but consider. Once away from here anything could happen to you."
Beth summoned up a cheerful smile for the woman who had been like a mother. "Please don't fret, Aunt Emma. I have the twenty guineas you gave me in my hidden pocket. If anything goes amiss I will fly back to the nest. And when I have my philosophical salon established in London you must come and visit me and meet Hannah More and Mr. Wilberforce."
"Even that is not worth selling yourself for, Beth. The marquess is not a sympathetic man. I can sense such things. How will you endure it?"
"I think you malign him," said Beth, hugging Miss Mallory. It was not a total falsehood. The marquess might be a man of fashion, but he had been sensitive to all the awkwardness of their situation, and he had not forced any physical attentions or false sentiment upon her.
As the coach drew up, she saw he was showing his sensitivity further by riding alongside the luxurious chariot instead of inside with her.
After waving a last farewell to Miss Mallory and a few of the older pupils, Beth collapsed back against thickly padded silk squabs and rested her feet on an embroidered footstool. A soft woolen blanket lay nearby in case she should be cold and velvet curtains could be drawn to ensure her privacy. She admonished herself not to be swayed by such trifling luxuries, but she could not help feeling the contrast between this and her few other journeys, which had been taken on the public stage.
She leaned out for a last acknowledgment of the farewells and only realized as the coach carried her out of sight that one of the waving senior girls had been Clarissa Greystone, and she had been crying. Beth liked the girl and had talked with her from time to time, but she had not thought Clarissa would be so upset at her departure.
Then she remembered how Clarissa had tried to speak to her
He stood again and walked over to stare into the fire. "There's no point in this, is there?" he asked bitterly. She hoped for a moment that he was rejecting the whole idea, but he simply turned and said, "Miss Armitage, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Beth stood, too, and swallowed. She considered a further appeal but knew it would do no good. If the de Vaux family wanted her chopped in pieces and served for dinner there was nothing she could do about it.
"I suppose I must," she said.
He produced a ring from his pocket. He would have put it on her finger, but Beth held out her right hand, palm up and after a moment he dropped the ring into it. It was a large diamond surrounded by emeralds and not new. Probably a family heirloom. She placed it on her ring finger herself. It looked utterly ridiculous there.
"What happens now?" she asked, trying to ignore the shackle. She suddenly realized he might expect a symbolic kiss and looked at him in alarm.
Such a thought had obviously not crossed his mind. "I see no point in delaying matters. Come with me now and I will take you to Belcraven."
"Tomorrow. I must gather my belongings."
"There's no need to bring much," he said with a dismissive glance at her attire. "We will buy you a new wardrobe."
Beth drew herself up. "I prefer my own clothes, thank you, Lord Arden. Your father said I need only marry you, live in your house, and bear your children. He said nothing of allowing you to dress me to suit your fancy."
"As you wish, Miss Armitage," said the marquess through tight lips.
Beth dropped him a straight-backed curtsy.
Insolently, he gave her a full court bow, then walked out of the room.
Chapter 4
The next day, waiting for the marquess to arrive, Beth was prey to a distressing degree of nervousness, not helped by Miss Mallory's poorly concealed anxiety.
"Are you quite sure, Beth? Do but consider. Once away from here anything could happen to you."
Beth summoned up a cheerful smile for the woman who had been like a mother. "Please don't fret, Aunt Emma. I have the twenty guineas you gave me in my hidden pocket. If anything goes amiss I will fly back to the nest. And when I have my philosophical salon established in London you must come and visit me and meet Hannah More and Mr. Wilberforce."
"Even that is not worth selling yourself for, Beth. The marquess is not a sympathetic man. I can sense such things. How will you endure it?"
"I think you malign him," said Beth, hugging Miss Mallory. It was not a total falsehood. The marquess might be a man of fashion, but he had been sensitive to all the awkwardness of their situation, and he had not forced any physical attentions or false sentiment upon her.
As the coach drew up, she saw he was showing his sensitivity further by riding alongside the luxurious chariot instead of inside with her.
After waving a last farewell to Miss Mallory and a few of the older pupils, Beth collapsed back against thickly padded silk squabs and rested her feet on an embroidered footstool. A soft woolen blanket lay nearby in case she should be cold and velvet curtains could be drawn to ensure her privacy. She admonished herself not to be swayed by such trifling luxuries, but she could not help feeling the contrast between this and her few other journeys, which had been taken on the public stage.
She leaned out for a last acknowledgment of the farewells and only realized as the coach carried her out of sight that one of the waving senior girls had been Clarissa Greystone, and she had been crying. Beth liked the girl and had talked with her from time to time, but she had not thought Clarissa would be so upset at her departure.
Then she remembered how Clarissa had tried to speak to her
Similar Books
