Undressed by the Earl by Michelle Willingham Page A

wedded to a duke.”
    She didn’t know what he meant by “settled,” but she resisted the desire to correct him. Their wealth had nothing to do with her father’s income and everything to do with selling naughty undergarments to ladies of the ton, though she didn’t say so. Over the years, they had amassed quite a lot of money from Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, and now she didn’t worry about their family’s funds. But maintaining that secrecy was critical.
    She swallowed hard at the thought of yesterday’s conversation with Lady Sarah. Something had to be done, but what? Clearly the woman needed help and was desperate enough to resort to blackmail. Her mood darkened with fear over what Lady Sarah might say or do. It could threaten all of them.
    “I’ve made some mistakes,” Lord Lisford admitted. “I’ve gambled more than I should have.”
    Now here was a rare glimpse at honesty. He knew his vices and was willing to be open about them. “Then stop playing cards,” she urged him. “Don’t even go into White’s.”
    “You don’t understand. It’s expected of me.”
    “Appearances are more important to you than protecting your family’s assets?” she inquired. Though it might be expected of a gentleman, she had the sense that his debts were growing steadily.
    Lord Lisford let out a heavy sigh. “Appearances are necessary for maintaining a standard to which others aspire.”
    In other words, he wanted to look good in front of his friends and was willing to bury himself in debt for the sake of it.
    Amelia took his arm again and said, “If you wish to marry an heiress, then you’ll have to give up such nonsense. Why would she want to let you control her money, if you’ve been whittling it away?” She didn’t give him an opportunity to answer, but continued, “Prove yourself responsible, and more doors will open to you.”
    “And what of you? Would you marry a reformed wastrel?”
    Amelia sent him a sidelong smile. “Only if he earned my heart.”
    Lord Lisford’s expression turned somber as he turned the corner. The phaeton moved smoothly as they continued down the opposite banks of the river. “I am sorry about what happened with your sister, you know. That was wrong of me. But it would have been worse to marry her.”
    “It was a dreadful thing to do,” Amelia said. “And you should make amends for it.”
    His mouth twisted. “There’s nothing I could say that would bring about her forgiveness. My actions were reprehensible.”
    “Once she is wedded to another man, she’ll put it behind her,” Amelia predicted. “And I know just the earl who would suit Margaret perfectly. You could help me make a match for her.”
    Lord Lisford listened to her plan, and by the time they had finished their drive, she was smiling. Before long, both the Earl of Castledon and Margaret would have their happily-ever-after.
    Amelia would see to it personally.

    Henry Andrews rose at half past eight, staring at the empty place beside him in bed. Though he knew it was fashionable for wives to have their own adjoining bedchambers, he rather missed Beatrice sleeping beside him. They had been married for nearly twenty-eight years now, but somehow in the past few summers, she’d become more distant.
    Part of it was because he’d been away at war for so long. Beatrice had been forced to fend for herself, making the decisions about their estates and the girls’ lives. It was to be expected that she would gain a stronger sense of independence.
    Yet after he’d returned, he’d thought their lives would resume as if he’d never left, like pieces of a puzzle snapped together. Instead, the edges wouldn’t quite fit. Beatrice was no longer the quiet, obedient wife. They’d had a terrible fight over the scandalous sewing business his girls had started. He’d demanded that they cease at once, and to his shock, Beatrice had refused.
    “You left us on our own,” she’d told him. “And you have no right to criticize