The Scandalous Proposal Of Lord Bennett. Raven McAllan

father. ‘And I won’t. It is not to be thought of. We will, of course, rescind the announcement as soon as possible.’

      He’d patted her cheek. ‘Silly girl. We will not do that to him. He saved you from ridicule, ruin and more.’

       There is more than that?

      ‘You could do a lot worse,’ her father continued. ‘Think of your mama and I. That is what I want for you.’ As her mama had been lovely, but perfectly content to let her husband take charge of everything, it was a highly unlikely scenario. Wherever Clarissa got her temperament from, it wasn’t her gentle mother.

      It seemed to Clarissa that her father was an unstoppable cavalry charge, and to her chagrin her fiancé was no help whatsoever.

      ‘I need a wife at some point,’ he said in an indifferent tone, when Clarissa taxed him a few days later. He’d called to take her for a mandatory drive in the park.

      As they were within sight and probably sound of a great number of their fellow members of the ton, she had to bite her tongue and resist the urge to slap him hard.

      ‘It might as well be now as later.’ What a stupid statement. And you’ll do as well as anyone, his tone inferred. ‘Plus I will not be made to look like a cad.’

      That was it. There was no swerving him from that stated course. She had always suspected he had a chivalrous side, and he had. Hadn’t she once heard that every rake had a redeeming feature, if only they cared to show it? This must be his. It was a pity he didn’t let her know if there was anything more to his desire to be wed to her, other than to help her out of the hole she was in.

      Her paternal grandmother came to town to help Clarissa purchase her bridal clothes, and the arrangements went ahead at dizzying speed. She sometimes felt as if she were in a bubble, and no one could hear a word she said. Indeed no one paid any attention to her pronouncements that she didn’t want to marry anyone, let alone a man with a reputation like that of Lord Theodore Bennett.

      Not unless he married me because I was his sun, moon and stars. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that. Life would be less than acceptable if he kept to usual ways.

      ‘He hasn’t changed one bit,’ Clarissa said one morning when the previous night he’d had one duty dance with her and spent the rest of the night squiring Lady Beaufort. A woman who, it was said, spread her favours far and wide. It was a repetition of most events they had attended together. So far Clarissa had bitten her lip and kept her mouth shut, but one moment alone with him and Clarissa feared his ears would ring. Either from her tongue as she gave vent to her feelings, or her hands when she boxed them.

      ‘He’s as arrogant and unfeeling as ever.’ Clarissa sat down on the chair the footman held out for her. She was conscious she had a flounce and a pout, and neither were becoming. Look what he’s reduced me to.

      ‘Why should he not be?’ her grandmother asked as she deliberated between two large pastries. ‘He’s a man and he’s not married yet, and your attitude would sour milk, my dear. Have you never heard that to keep a man sweet, you need to be sweet yourself? ’Tis a fact. Anyway, it’s better if your man has spirit and experience. It will make your life all the more pleasant.’ She didn’t say how, and Clarissa was in no mood to ask her to expand on her statement. ‘And you, my love, would walk all over a man with no backbone. You need a strong male to manage you. Whatever your dear papa thinks you are not made in the mould of your mama, God rest her soul.’ Her grandmother took a large bite of pastry, and ended the conversation. Perhaps it was as well. In the mood she was in Clarissa might well have flown into a paroxysm of rage that surpassed anything ever seen before.

      Instead she visited her friend Belinda, ostensibly to chat about anything and nothing, and then perhaps seek advice. On arrival it was obvious Belinda had problems of her own – even if she wasn’t openly sharing them all – and Clarissa chose not to tax Belinda even more. Instead she drank herself into a stupor with Belinda’s finest whisky, and Phillip had to be called upon to assist her home.

      After some thought, Clarissa appealed to her father, and begged him to let her cry off from the marriage.

      ‘Say I’m deranged, have consumption… oh, I don’t know, papa – say I’m dead if you like.’ He, poor man, had been appalled. An expression of dismay crossed his face and his lips turned down. Where had he gone wrong? It would have been her mother’s greatest desire to see Clarissa married to such a wealthy and eligible man.

      You are wrong. Surely she would have wanted me to be happy? In truth, Clarissa had no idea. She hadn’t known her mother at the sort of age you asked that. Her godmother, Lady Lakenby, yes, but Lady L was well known for being an individual, whose views did not necessarily mirror the majority.

      In her papa’s mind, Lord Theodore Bennett was everything a woman could want for in a husband. He begged her to be reasonable. ‘I feared so much you would be left alone when I die, with only Phillip to make sure you wanted for nothing.’

      As Phillip was as big a rake as Lord Bennett, that was not a sensible option. His comment on her forthcoming nuptials had been brief. ‘Poor Bennett. Does he know what he is getting into?’

      To Clarissa, it seemed completely wrong to say Lord Bennett was everything a woman wanted in a husband. There was a lot she didn’t want. A man who had a mistress, for instance. And although it was true she didn’t like being thwarted, she was a reasonable woman, wasn’t she? One prepared to listen and … maybe not. However, the thought of her beloved mama, and the obvious delight of her father, made her decide it was futile to protest any more. After all, unless she wanted to be an old maid, and the put-upon younger sister, always at the beck and call of her older brother – and any family he eventually had – she had to marry. It may as well be to Lord Bennett as anyone else. She chose to ignore the way her heart sped up when she was near him, and how many of her friends had admitted their envy of her altered circumstances. Apart from his one moment of chivalry, he had done nothing to show he had any regard for her whatsoever.

      With a heavy heart, Lady Clarissa Macpherson resigned herself not to accept any nonsense from him or anyone else. How she intended to do that she chose not to ponder over.

      The talk her with her grandmother about a woman’s duty had firmed her heart, and she vowed she wasn’t going to be a duty. Indeed it was lucky she and her friends at school had purloined some leaflets and read a little about anatomy. Even though the actual act of love, consummation, whatever you chose to call it, seemed nigh on impossible. Had the leaflet maker being playing a joke? It seemed she would not be long finding out.

      Before she had a chance to say bouquets and wedding breakfasts she was married. To a man with whom she had spent no more than half an hour alone, and who, it seemed, preferred to look at the bottom of a brandy glass than at her.

       Chapter Two

      Lord Theodore Bennett, known to his friends as Ben, and to his enemies – of whom there were several – as that bloody Bennett, rolled over in bed, and opened one brandy-bleary eye. No doubt if a mirror were handy, the eye would be as blood red as the wine he thought followed the brandy. Or was that before? Ben was more than a little hazy with regard to the previous night’s activities. The last he remembered was accepting a wager that he couldn’t empty the overlarge glass put in front of him, in one go. Had he? He had no idea, but it was a certainty someone would let him know if he owed them money.

      Ben sighed, winced as the noise set off a blacksmith’s hammer in his head, stretched, and froze. Why was a bolster down the middle of his bed? A soft squidgy flesh-covered bolster? He patted it cautiously and it moved. He dropped his hand as if it were scalded, and tried to bring his thoughts into some form of order. It wasn’t easy.

      A woman? He never spent the night with a woman. Never, ever. Bed them and leave them had always been his motto. And not in his own bed. That was a given. Everyone knew and accepted that. Didn’t they?

      Somewhere in the back of his fragmented