The Angel and the Aristocrat by Merry Farmer
Chapter 9
So much for living a calm, rational life where every action led to another, rational action and no one got upset about things. Rafe almost couldn’t believe the twists and turns his life had taken in the last eighteen hours, let alone the last five weeks, as he escorted Angeline to a sheltered corner of the garden, where they could have the conversation that was needed without being disturbed. By sweeping her into the hedge maze, he knew he was running a risk of causing a scandal. A gentleman shouldn’t be alone with a lady before they were married, no matter what the circumstances. But seeing as he fully intended to be engaged to Angeline before the end of the day, he couldn’t have cared less.
“Shall we dispense with the usual round of hurt feelings and accusations and leap right to the heart of the matter?” he asked once he had Angeline backed into one of the dead-ends near the beginning of the maze.
Angeline gasped and crossed her arms. “That was a terrible way to begin this conversation,” she said, glaring at him. “I am fully entitled to hurt feelings, under the circumstances.”
Rafe winced and took a step back. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re right,” he said. “I apologize. I was too harsh. But it was only because, after what you and I have shared, it wounds me as well to think that you would doubt me in any way.”
Angeline blinked. “Oh!” Her expression softened. “That was a rather lovely way to say that.” Her frustrated pout melted into an angelic smile, and she moved closer, smiling up at him.
Rafe’s heart suddenly felt like an arrow that been fired wildly off course, spiraling and careening into who only knew where. “Allow me to try again,” he said with overexaggerated gallantry.
“Yes, please do.” Angeline nodded with mock solemnity.
Her teasing froze him before he could do more than open his mouth to go on. God, he loved her. He wasn’t entirely certain when that had happened, but he was so deeply in love now that he wasn’t sure he would ever be free of it, free of her. And dammit, he didn’t want to be free of her. He wanted to be Angeline’s forever.
He rethought what he was about to say. Instead of blurting something that would reasonably and rationally explain away Lady Farrah’s appearance and his own callousness over the whole thing, he considered what Angeline would want to hear. Once he’d decided on that, he dropped to one knee before her and took her hand.
“Dearest Angeline, I love you,” he said, surprising even himself with his words.
Angeline gasped and clasped her free hand over her mouth.
“I think I began to fall in love with you from the first moment you ruined a perfectly decent pair of my shoes,” he went on, feeling his heart lift, though he deliberately stopped himself from smiling along with his silly words. “I didn’t want to fall in love, not after the thrashing my pride received though Lady Farrah’s betrayal, but you forced me into it.”
“Rafe,” Angeline laughed, her face going pink and her emerald eyes sparkling, “I’m not entirely certain this choice of words is any better than your previous one.” She couldn’t keep the giggle out of her voice, which was lovely, as far as Rafe was concerned.
“You dragged me into love kicking and screaming, my darling,” he went on, exaggerating his emotions even more. “You have turned me from a sane and rational marquess into a lovesick puppy who wants nothing more than to follow you to the ends of the earth and to curl up in your lap, slobbering and panting to be petted.”
“Oh!” Angeline exclaimed, laughing so hard she snorted, and going redder than ever. “I know what that means now,” she added with the sort of artlessness that made Rafe’s heart—and other organs—throb for her.
“My dear,” he said with a feigned sober look, “you have hardly begun to know what that means. But I fully intend to educate you in all things wicked at our soonest possible convenience.”
“Oh, dear,” Angeline said breathlessly, fanning herself with her free hand. “I think I should like that very much. Do you think Lady Farrah’s family would mind terribly if we appropriated that special license for ourselves?”
They were being silly, but Rafe took the opportunity of her mentioning Lady Farrah to grow serious. “My dearest, I was perfectly honest with you when I said I have no intention of entertaining Lady Farrah’s mad notion of marrying her, and I did not, at any point, return her letters.”
“I believe you,” Angeline said, grasping his hands over hers with her free hand.
“Lady Farrah came here of her own volition, which was both bold and reckless on her behalf,” Rafe went on. “I don’t expect you to know the reasons she is so eager to get herself married, but—”
“She’s with child, isn’t she?” Angeline interrupted.
Rafe blinked, taken aback by hearing Angeline guess the truth. Then again, if she and her wicked little boarding school friends had read salacious books that had given Angeline foreknowledge of sex, then she probably knew more than most misses what the results of sex were.
“Yes,” he said. “She told me as much earlier, after you stormed off.”
“I was only upset because you smiled at her,” Angeline said. “After I’ve spent all this time working so hard to tease you into a smile for me.”
Rafe’s brow shot up. “Did I?” he asked. He thought back on the situation and realized that he had. As soon as he realized his mistake, he felt terrible. But he also shook his head and said, “That wasn’t a smile, that was a rictus of distaste for a woman who thinks far too highly of herself.”
Angeline sent him a wry grin of her own. “It was a smile, Rafe. And you are a blackguard for dispensing one so cavalierly to a woman who did not deserve it.”
“I am,” he agreed, throwing her off-guard with his agreement. “And I promise that I will reserve all the rest of my real smiles for you for the rest of my life.” He paused for effect, then added, “If you can pry them out of me.”
Angeline’s mouth dropped open, and she stared down at him, eyes sparkling, as if he were the wickedest villain that had ever roamed England. “You do drive a hard bargain, Lord Rothbury.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said. He drew in a breath, heart suddenly trembling, and asked, “Will you marry me, Angeline?”
He might have been slow to smile, but Angeline burst into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen at his question. She squeezed her hands over his and said, “Yes, yes, of course, Rafe. And even though it was a given, since we’ve already done very naughty things, you’ve made me so happy by asking me outright. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Rafe stood, and before he even realized he was doing it, smiled from ear to ear, as though the heavens had open and the angels had burst into song to congratulate one of their own. He leaned in to kiss Angeline, but before he could, she gasped and let out a cry of victory.
“A smile! A smile!” she said, laughing. “I’ve finally made you smile.”
“You’ve done more than that,” he said. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”
She opened her mouth, probably to tease him, but he silenced her with a powerful, tender kiss that came from the very core of his soul. He molded his mouth to hers, drinking in all of her sunshine and warmth, feeling as though he would never be able to stop smiling for the rest of his life. He brazenly sucked her tongue into his mouth and splayed his hands possessively on her sides, drawing her against him. She was so free and open with her kisses, and he was certain he would never grow tired of them, or of the sounds of pleasure she made as she circled her arms around him and rested her weight against him.
“I don’t suppose we could get away with doing very naughty things in the hedge maze,” she said with an impassioned sigh when Rafe paused to take a breath.
He laughed. “Certainly not. I may be willing to bend the rules of propriety and anticipate our vows later, if you deem it worth the risk—”
“I do, I do,” she interrupted eagerly.
“—but not in a hedge maze in the middle of a Wednesday morning.”
“No?” The look of impish disappointment Angeline gave him was enough to leave Rafe beaming even more.
“No, my dearest,” he said, then kissed her lips gently. “Primarily because we have two major hurdles to leap over before we can race to the finish line.”
“My brother,” Angeline said, taking a half step back.
“And Lady Farrah,” Rafe added with an arch of one eyebrow. “The woman is persistent. No, she is desperate,” Rafe corrected himself. “And in a way that makes perfect sense. She has an extremely limited time to cover the mistake she made and to rescue her reputation in society. The fact that I want nothing to do with her machinations hasn’t seemed to dampen her enthusiasm. She wants what she wants, and she isn’t going to take no for an answer.”
“But we’re at a house party,” Angeline said, the light of inspiration sparkling in her eyes. “Lady Farrah has come to precisely the right place to find a husband, and soon.”
Rafe frowned. “Do you intend to convince her to marry someone else?”
“Do you think if she received a proposal that she’d accept it? No matter who it was from?” she asked in return.
Rafe stepped away from her and rubbed a hand over his chin to think about it. “I think she might be at a point where she would have to accept it,” he said. “No matter who it was from. But if you attempt to match her with anyone who she doesn’t think is worthy of her, she’ll balk at the idea.”
“Rafe, I have known Lady Farrah for all of five minutes, and I believe I can safely say that the woman doesn’t think anyone is worthy of her. She can balk all she likes, but she’s run out of choices.”
“Then I’ll leave the problem of Lady Farrah to you,” Rafe said. “And in the meantime, I will handle the problem of your brother and securing his consent to our marriage myself.”
“I know you can do it,” Angeline said, grasping his hands and gazing up at him with complete faith. “You must be firm, but kind.”
“I will be,” Rafe insisted.
“You must be certain to express how much you love me and that you will not be able to live without me,” she went on.
“I do love you, and I cannot live without you,” he said, pulling her into his arms again.
“Avery is a man, so he will want to hear rational arguments as well,” she continued. “So you must remind him you are a marquess. I seem to recall someone saying you are a man of means, so you must remind him of that as well.”
Rafe’s brow shot up. He’d somehow wooed and won Angeline, and she’d forgotten that he was as rich as Croesus? “I will enumerate everything,” he said, then kissed her, simply because she was too lovely not to kiss.
“You must use all of your powers of persuasion with my brother,” she purred, staring at his lips as if willing him to kiss her again. “Avery will resist, but you must triumph. Tell him that I love you dearly, and if he does not allow me to marry you, I will never speak to him again.”
“I will, my darling. I promise, I will.” He gave the kiss she was looking for, savoring every moment. It was hard for him to believe that just a few short weeks ago, he had been depressed in spirit and doubtful about any chance he might have for future happiness. Now, he didn’t know how he would ever stop feeling as though he were walking in the clouds.
“We must go,” Angeline said at last, sighing. “You must find Avery, and I will set my plan for Lady Farrah in motion.”
“Whatever you say, my heart.”
They indulged in one more kiss—which became another one, and then another one—and when they could finally drag themselves away from each other, they exited the hedge maze as though they had every right in the world to be secreted in there together.
Angeline veered off once they reached the archery field to have a word with Lady Farrah—who Rafe determinedly didn’t even look at—while he headed back into the house in search of Lord O’Shea. For all Angeline’s advice and planning, he had a much simpler way to raise the question of their marriage, one he was certain O’Shea wouldn’t say no to.
He found O’Shea with a few of the other gentlemen in the billiard room and asked to speak to him alone.
“Dear me,” Mr. Howard said, standing straighter and snorting like a boob. “I know what this conversation is all about. You’ve been nabbed, haven’t you, Rothbury.” The odious man laughed as though Rafe had stepped in dog mess.
“We’ll just see about that,” O’Shea said, clearing his throat and handing off his billiard cue to Wilton.
O’Shea fell into step with Rafe as they left the room to search for the closest unoccupied parlor to have their conversation in. “If this is about my sister, my lord, then you know my thoughts on the matter.”
“I do,” Rafe said. He paused as they located a suitable room and stepped inside, making their way to one of the windows so they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone passing in the hallway.
“I hear that Lady Farrah Beauregard has joined the house party,” O’Shea said with a mildly hostile look.
“I did not invite her,” Rafe said. “I have told her I am not interested in renewing our suit. Forgive me for being blunt, but the woman means nothing to me.”
“And my sister does?” O’Shea asked.
“Your sister means everything to me,” Rafe said, clasping his hands behind his back.
“My opinion about the match hasn’t changed,” O’Shea said, “I refuse—”
“I bedded your sister last night,” Rafe interrupted him. “And I intend to do it again as much and as frequently as possible.”
O’Shea stared at him, his mouth hanging open, his eyes bulging.
“But to prove my honorable intentions toward her,” Rafe went on, “I will agree to marry her as quickly as possible, this weekend, if that suits you.”
O’Shea shut his mouth and shook his head. “How do you propose to just marry her without all the proper licenses or banns being read or what have you?”
“I’ll obtain whatever license is necessary to make it happen immediately,” Rafe said, grinning inwardly at how flummoxed O’Shea was, but also knowing the man would capitulate without a fight. To ensure as much, he cheekily added, “That way, if I have an heir in nine months, no one will be the wiser. Oh, and your sister wanted me to inform you that she loves me, and if you do not allow her to marry me, she will never speak to you again.”
O’Shea’s shoulders dropped, and he let out a heavy breath. “That certainly sounds like Angel.” He narrowed his eyes at Rafe for a moment, then shrugged and shook his head. “The two of you have tied things up nicely without my involvement at all,” he said. “What’s the point of having a chaperone for a house party if I’m left out of the entire process?”
“You get to enjoy a summer living at someone else’s leisure,” Rafe said with a grin. He could tell he’d won Avery over, though he would have to put some effort into solidifying the friendship in the coming weeks.
“Then I guess, as Francis, my valet, was just telling me the other day, it’s about time that I had some fun.” O’Shea smiled.
Rafe raised one eyebrow. “Your valet told you that?”
O’Shea stepped closer, resting a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “You’re going to be family soon, so I can let you in on the secret. Frank isn’t just my valet, he’s my and Angel’s half-brother. The O’Shea family has been wicked for generations now, as Aunt Nora proved twenty-five years ago.”
“I see,” Rafe laughed. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d noticed Frank Crymble speaking a little too freely with O’Shea to be just a valet, and now that he thought about it, there was a definite family resemblance there. “Thanks for letting me into the secret. Now, if you will excuse me, Angeline has said she has a plan to get rid of Lady Farrah, and if you ask me, we both need to prepare ourselves.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” O’Shea sighed, his accent coming out particularly strongly. “We’re going to need to do more than prepare, we’re going to have to pray.”