He admired her beauty as one would a stunning jewel, but she roused no feeling of passion in him, and that was what he wanted. Swift introductions were made, and she dipped into a graceful curtsy.
“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She paled after her father exited the library with vague murmurings. The man was careful to leave the door open a crack.
“Your Grace, I…I…” She took a deep breath and pasted an obviously uncomfortable smile on her face. Knowledge and distress gleamed in her eyes.
It was his turn to tug at his cravat. “Lady Evelyn.” Blast the man. Her father had certainly made a hash of things. Edmond had not envisioned the evening like this. He had expected the young lady to have been informed of his generous offer and be eagerly awaiting his presence. Where was he to start? The earl should have already laid the groundwork and prepared her for the responsibilities she would soon assume.
Lady Evelyn watched him with an air of anxiety. It was impossible for him to sprout the required foolish sentiments and artful flattery. Sudden impatience bit at him, and he wanted the encounter over. “I have asked your father for your hand in marriage, and he consented,” he said without any finesse.
She paled alarmingly and swayed.
He stepped forward with a muttered curse, alert in the event she swooned. Now he was making a hash of things. His mother would be appalled at his distinct lack of care for the lady’s sensibilities. There was no doubt she would blame his conduct on his deliberate and frustrating absence from the whirl of polite society.
Her throat worked on a swallow. “You wish to marry me?”
“Yes.”
Her lids lowered, shadowing her expressive eyes. “Why?”
“I am in need of a wife, and you are desirous of a husband.”
Her head snapped up and a startled laugh escaped her. One of her hands fluttered to her throat. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I have no need for a husband, and I am certain I can choose my own.”
He shrugged, unconcerned with coddling her delicate sensibilities and unable to pretend otherwise. He’d never been the one to be hypocritical. But I could be caring. “Then your father is in need of money.”
She flinched, but offered no protest. The lady was indeed aware of her father’s precarious finances.
“I see,” she said quietly. “And if my affections are otherwise engaged?”
Edmond took a swallow of his brandy and regarded her closely. “Your father told me you were without attachment for any young man. Are you saying your affections are engaged?”
Her throat worked, but she remained muted.
“You can refuse, Lady Evelyn,” he said softly, though he would hate for her to reject him without some thought. Edmond loathed the very idea of entering the marriage mart, wading through a gaggle of females and their ambitious mammas, the eventual speculation and gossips, the weeks of empty courtship, and then the plans for a wedding of the season. He had done it all with Maryann, and he would rather walk through the bowels of hell than repeat the experience.
But remember you would traverse any challenge, even slaying the devil himself for your daughters.
He closed his eyes briefly. Yes, he would. If the lady was so averse to his offer, he would reach out to the other lords with unmarried daughters on his mother’s list, or steel himself to immerse himself in a world full of artifice. It had taken him several weeks to decide on the top five families from the list his mother had provided. All had responded to his initial query with enthusiasm, but he’d selected Lord Gladstone because the man’s daughter was the only one above eighteen. Edmond already felt jaded and empty at thirty. He would loath to be aligned with a young lady he would constantly have to reassure, and one who would long for the outings and glamour society had to offer. He’d hoped for a young lady who had at least experienced several years of balls, picnics, and outings to the theatre and gardens, who would not weep uncontrollably at the thought of spending most of the year, if not all in the country.
“Is Mamma also aware of your offer?”
“Yes.”
She bit her lower lip. “I see. And how long is it since you made your intentions known to my parents?” Her eyes were wide and pleading for information.
Apparently Lady Evelyn was not swooning with joy at the prospect of being a duchess, as his mother had informed him any sensible young lady would do. “Your father and I have been in negotiations for eight weeks. I was led to believe you were aware of my offer.”
He walked to the sideboard and poured himself another generous splash of brandy. “Would you like something to drink?”
Surprise widened her eyes. “I…I…no. Your Grace, how long do you need until I give you an answer?”