The Earl’s Bluestocking Bride (Unconventional Brides #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Andrew’s mind was alive with curiosity as he arrived outside the Harts’ residence. When Boden had informed him that he’d received a note from Miss Hart, he’d been surprised. After reading her brief request to meet with him in private, he’d become intrigued.

This was not the sort of thing unmarried misses did. It wasn’t the behavior he’d come to expect. But then, when it came to Miss Hart, perhaps he ought not to have any expectations. After all, she seemed to flout them at every turn.

Regardless of that, he’d spent most of last night and this morning pondering what the chit was up to. Thinking about that prevented him from dwelling on the unfortunate news he’d received last night.

The ship Mr. Smith had supposedly boarded had docked in Spain. Officers of the law had awaited him, but he hadn’t disembarked, and upon searching the ship, they’d found no sign of him.

Mr. Smith had slipped away, taking the last of Andrew’s fortune with him.

The bastard.

Yes, it was infinitely preferable to concentrate on Miss Hart than on the sorry state of his financial affairs. He’d yet to break the news to his mother and sister, and he dreaded having to do so. He knew that Kate, especially, still clung to hope.

“My lord?”

Andrew jerked into motion. Good God, how long had he been sitting there, staring into space?

He stepped briskly out of the carriage, marched up to the Harts’ front door, and rapped loudly on the wood. The door opened to reveal the potbellied butler.

Andrew passed him a calling card. “The Earl of Longley for Miss Hart.”

“Just a moment, my lord.”

The butler strode through the foyer and vanished through a door on the other side. Andrew hovered awkwardly in the open doorway until he returned with Miss Hart and her maid in tow. Blessedly, Mrs. Hart was nowhere to be seen.

He bowed and took Miss Hart’s hand. “You look especially fetching today.”

Once again, she was wearing a dress of simple design. It was a muted shade of blue and paired well with the sapphire resting at the base of her throat. Attraction sizzled low in his gut. If they married, he would very much enjoy kissing the length of her long, pale neck and sucking marks onto her delicate collarbone.

He drew in a shallow breath.

Get a grip.

He forced himself to lift his eyes to her face, only to see she was frowning. He thought back over his words. All he’d said was that she looked fetching. He didn’t know how that could have upset her. Perhaps something else was on her mind.

“Are you looking forward to the exhibit?” he asked, drawing her alongside him and out the door.

“Yes, thank you.”

Now, it was his turn to frown. Something was definitely not right with her. On Friday, she’d been excited to learn and see everything she could. What had changed between then and now?

He assisted her into the carriage, did the same for her maid, and got in himself. Rather than leaving him the seat beside her, as she’d done when they visited Hyde Park, she’d sat alongside Mary, forcing him to take the bench opposite.

“How much do you know about it?” he asked.

“A little. Not much.”

He grimaced. She wasn’t giving him a lot to work with. He’d had the impression that she was the sort of person who researched everything ahead of time, but if that was the case, she didn’t seem inclined to share.

She didn’t even seem to want to engage with him. She was staring ahead. Not at him, but somewhere above and to the left of his shoulder.

“From what I understand, the exhibit is focused on the period from 753 BC to AD 324 and covers the foundation of the Roman Empire,” he said.

One of her eyebrows twitched. Her eyes darted his way. He got the feeling she wanted to comment but was forcing herself not to. Why?

“There are several key historical pieces within the exhibit, including a collection of tablets that detail the everyday lives of people from that time period. Those are mostly dated between AD 50 and AD 200.”

Another facial twitch.

“I have heard of the tablets,” she murmured.

He grinned. A response. That was progress. “What else have you heard of?”

She pursed her lips and seemed to be considering whether or not to answer. “I’ve heard that there are items retrieved from some of the sites that the museum will not display because of their startling nature.”

At that, he laughed. “Indeed.”

He was surprised she’d mentioned it. They couldn’t discuss the nature of such discoveries now, but perhaps if they were married….

The idea appealed more than it ought to.

The carriage stopped outside the museum gates. Andrew waited for the door to be opened and got out, then offered his hand to Miss Hart and then her maid to help them down in turn.

He linked his arm with Miss Hart’s, and together they passed through the gates. She stopped walking just inside and stared at the building rising before them. Andrew guided her to the side, out of the way of other visitors, so she could admire the view without being disturbed.

“I haven’t ever visited the museum,” she breathed without looking away. “It’s beautiful.”

He followed her gaze and considered her words. He supposed it was a rather impressive building, with its Roman-style marble columns and dozens of ornate carvings set into the facade.

“Given your interests, I’d have thought you’d have been here before,” he said.

She sighed. “When I was young, my father considered it too risky to take me in case I damaged anything. As I grew older, my mother decreed it an inappropriate place for young women to occupy themselves.”

He didn’t understand. How on earth could a museum filled with years of world history possibly be considered inappropriate?

“Yet she allowed you to come with me,” he mused.

She shot him a sidelong look. “Of course, my lord. You’re an earl. She would gladly put aside her own opinions if they differ from yours. ”

“In that case, I will insist you simply must visit every time there is a new exhibit.”

She turned toward him, her eyes sparkling. “That would be most welcome.”

He nodded toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

She inclined her head in acceptance, and they crossed to the doors together. Andrew paid their admission and accepted a sheet of paper with a map of the exhibition printed on it.

He passed her the map. “Where would you like to start?”

Her eyes widened momentarily, and then she focused on the map, starting at one side and working her way across to the other. “There are so many fascinating things to learn. Can we not just set off in one direction and loop through all the rooms?” She deflated slightly. “Perhaps we haven’t the time?”

His stomach swooped. “We have all the time you need.”

How could he possibly deny her when she was so adorably eager?

He gestured toward a door on their left. “Shall we begin through there?”

“Yes, please.”

Slowly, they worked their way through rooms containing collections of books, medals, and other historical items.

He realized he’d severely underestimated Miss Hart’s interest. She read the information attached to every single display. It made progress slow, but he loved to watch her face as she took in everything around her. Her expression hid nothing.

When they reached the statue hall, her pretty pink lips parted, and she made a sound of delight. She rushed to the one closest—a statue of a man carved from marble, wearing a toga and a laurel crown.

“It’s incredible,” she breathed. “The detail is exquisite.”

She hurried to another and reached out as if to touch it, only dropping her hand at the last minute. She looked around, perhaps expecting someone to chastise her, but when no one did, she cocked her head and studied the figure of a woman in a dress clutching an infant to her chest.

Warmth blossomed in his chest as he watched her scurry to another statue, her eyes alight, her cheeks pink with pleasure. Attraction simmered in his lower abdomen, and he was struck by the urge to kiss her.

Her obvious passion rendered her incredibly enticing.

A voice in the back of his mind told him that he didn’t really want to kiss her. It was just that doing so would move their courtship forward. After all, he’d never have looked at her twice if not for his somewhat unfortunate financial situation.

But he wasn’t quite sure he believed that.

“I say. Longley, is that you?”

Andrew turned slowly, a pit of dread in his gut. Mr. Norton Falvey stood behind them, smirking as if he’d caught Andrew stealing cookies from the kitchen.

“Hello, Falvey,” he said levelly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Honestly, the only place he usually encountered the man was at their club, the Regent, although he knew Falvey also spent a great deal of time at the horse races.

Falvey glanced at Miss Hart, who’d abandoned her study of the statue to join them. He inclined his head in a way that would have been respectful if not for the slight curl of his mouth. “Miss Hart.”

She dipped into a curtsy far more respectful than he deserved. “Mr. Falvey.”

Falvey returned his gaze to Andrew. “I heard rumors you were bound for the parson’s noose, but I didn’t believe it. Perhaps I dismissed the rumors too swiftly, though?”

Andrew gritted his teeth. How dare Falvey make such a comment in front of Miss Hart? She deserved better than to be referred to in such a way.

“I intend to wed this season,” he said, sidestepping Falvey’s insulting terminology. Perhaps once, he’d have used the same phrase himself, but never in front of a marriageable miss.

“It seems you’ve been quick off the mark.” Falvey’s gaze swept over Miss Hart from head to toe. “Perhaps a little too quick?”

Andrew crossed his arms. “Now isn’t a good time. I’ll see you in the Regent.”

Falvey chuckled and sauntered past them, heading through the statue hall and out the other side.

Releasing a long breath, Andrew hoped Falvey hadn’t ruined this for him. “I’m sorry about him,” he told Miss Hart. “He was completely out of line.”

To his surprise, she just shrugged. “Don’t worry yourself over it. I’m well aware of how some men view marriage.”

His eyebrow rose. He’d expected a more negative reaction. Regardless of his reason for pursuing a courtship, he doubted any woman wished to be made to feel unwanted or inadequate compared to her peers.

“Are you sure? I can—”

“Quite,” she cut in firmly. “Let’s continue.”

She resumed her study of the exhibit. As they moved through the hall and into the next room, he observed her for any indication that she was bothered by the exchange with Falvey, but she seemed to have put it completely out of her head.

Eventually, he allowed himself to do the same. He chatted with her over the ancient tablets, wondering out loud about the people who’d created them and the lives they’d lived. The maid had long since stopped staying close to them, instead opting to sit on a bench and watch until it was time to shift from room to room .

They didn’t emerge from the museum until hours later. He summoned his carriage and waited while the footman helped both women into the back. He asked the driver to deliver them first to the Hart residence.

During the drive, Miss Hart’s earlier reticence returned. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was related to whatever she wished to speak to him about. He tried to engage her in conversation to no avail, so he settled for watching London pass by the window.

When they came to a halt, Miss Hart turned to him. “Will you come in so we can speak in private?”

“What is it regarding?” He’d go with her whatever the case, but he’d prefer to have at least a couple of minutes to mentally prepare himself for what was to come.

She shook her head. “I’ll explain inside.”

“Very well, then.”

They disembarked and approached the house. He knocked, and after a moment, the butler held the door open for them to enter.

“Come this way.” Miss Hart led him past a staircase and the drawing room where he’d called on her previously, then into another drawing room. This one was painted predominantly yellow, with a green door, green boards above the fireplace, and a massive bookshelf along one wall. “Have a seat. I’ll be just a moment.”

He sat on a comfortable brown leather chair. Mary hovered in the corner, keeping her head down so as not to engage with him while her mistress was gone.

Miss Hart returned only a minute or two later with a sheaf of papers clasped in front of her. She kept the papers against her skirt, a blank side toward him, as she claimed another brown leather chair and angled it toward him.

She cleared her throat. “It has come to my attention that you’re seeking a bride with a substantial dowry. ”

His chest squeezed, and blood rushed to his head. “Excuse me?”

She frowned. “A dowry. You need a wife with a large one.”

“N-no,” he stammered, completely caught off guard.

Her nostrils flared. “Don’t deny it. I know that is the reason you are… courting me. If that’s what this is. I have money, and you need it.”

Guilt curdled in his gut. He’d never intended for her to know that. Whatever his reason for pursuing her, he liked her as a person too. He didn’t want to hurt her.

“You have plenty of attractions beside your wealth,” he protested.

Her mouth pressed into a grim line. “Please be honest, Lord Longley.”

She passed him the sheaf of papers. He read the top line and froze. The document was entitled “Marriage agreement between Andrew Drake and Amelia Hart.” He skimmed down the page. It was handwritten and looked like a legal contract.

His brows knitted together. “What is this?”

She rearranged her skirts, and the scent of peppermint wafted toward him. “My parents wish me to marry into the aristocracy. You are an aristocrat. You need money. I have money. Or, at least, my future husband will. Rather than endure a farce of a courtship, I’d prefer to come to an agreement.”

He lifted the papers. “You want to marry me?”

She looked down at her hands. “For convenience only. Although I will, of course, do my best to provide an heir.”

He tried to ignore the flare of interest that statement roused in him. He could scarcely believe this was happening. He’d been prepared to go through the usual courtship rituals with her, and strangely enough, he felt robbed of the opportunity to do so. Yet she was offering him everything he wanted. He should be pleased .

She shifted closer and tapped the top paragraph of the agreement with her forefinger. “These papers set out the conditions of our potential marriage. I advise you to review them carefully and perhaps have your solicitor do the same. Essentially, I will agree to wed you and ensure you receive my full dowry provided you meet my terms.”

He leaned toward her, intrigued. “What are your terms?”

She sat back, creating more space between them. “Read the agreement. We can discuss them after. I would prefer for you to take it home to review at your leisure rather than doing so here. I haven’t mentioned this to my parents, and your prolonged presence is likely to draw their attention.”

Andrew gaped at her. First, she’d absolutely stunned him with this cold-blooded offer of marriage, and now she was effectively dismissing him from her presence. He didn’t know whether to be offended or impressed by her sheer audacity.

He stood, careful not to stumble. “I’ll see myself out.”

She nodded. “I appreciate your cooperation.”

Cooperation?

He doubted he was intentionally cooperating at all. He was simply too shocked to do or say anything else. The world spun around him as he walked back to the house’s main entrance and let himself out.

His carriage was waiting for him.

Good gracious. Miss Hart really had thought this through.

Amelia.

That was the name she’d used on the contract. He rather thought it suited her. Nothing as plain as Jane, nor as fanciful as Lydia. It was strong, but a little unusual.

He climbed into the carriage. During the drive to Longley House, he tried to focus on the papers that Amelia had given him. The text was very official. Had she written it herself, or had someone else prepared it? He suspected the former. She was, after all, a very intelligent woman.

As far as he could tell, she had few major stipulations. First, he must provide her with a weekly stipend. He’d always intended to do that for his wife anyway.

Second, he was never to use violence against her. The fact that she felt the need to make that a condition of their marriage rocked him. Did she believe him capable of violence?

He wasn’t naive. He knew that certain members of the ton were reputed to raise their hand against their wife, but that wasn’t him. He didn’t even like to squash bugs unless he had to.

Thirdly, he was not to attempt to control her behavior. This made him curious. At first, he thought it might be a general clause because some husbands treated their wives like servants, but in conjunction with the fourth clause, he suspected there might be more to it than that.

What did she mean by “the husband agrees to allow any and all personal literary endeavors undertaken by the wife”?

Did she intend to start a book club? Write poetry? Or did she just wish to spend all day reading and not participate in any social outings he might arrange for them?

He would require clarification.

Unfortunately, the fifth and final clause required no clarification.

“The husband will employ a new man of business who meets the approval of the wife’s father, Mr. Walter Hart.”

That single phrase bruised his ego until it was black and blue. Clearly, Miss Hart had no confidence in his financial acumen. But then, why should she?

He rubbed his temples as the carriage slowed. What on earth had he gotten himself into?