Miss Winthorpe's Elopement. Christine Merrill

been a throne as a common wooden chair, for he held his position with the confidence of a man who could buy and sell the inn and the people in it, and not think twice about the bills. He stared at her, unsmiling, and even though he looked up into her eyes it felt as though he were looking down upon her.

      The man in front of her was obviously a peer. How could she have missed the fact yesterday?

      Quite easily, she reminded herself. A day earlier he could manage none of the hauteur he was displaying now. Unlike some men, the excess of liquor made him amiable. Drunkenness had relaxed his resolute posture and softened his features.

      Not that the softness had made them any more appealing. Somehow she had not noticed what a handsome man she had chosen, sober and clean, shaved and in fresh linen. She felt the irresistible pull the moment she looked at him. He was superb. High cheekbones and pale skin no longer flushed with whisky. Straight nose, thick dark hair. And eyes of the deepest blue, so clear that to look into them refreshed the soul. And knowing the mind that lay behind them, she grew quite weak. There was a hint of sensuality in the mouth, and she was carnally aware of the quirk of the lips when he looked at her, and the smile behind them.

      And now he was waiting for her to speak. ‘Your Grace…’ she faltered.

      ‘It is a day too late to be so formal, madam.’ His voice, now that it was not slurred, held a tone of command that she could not resist.

      She dropped a curtsy.

      He sneered. ‘Leave off with that, immediately. If it is meant to curry favour, it is not succeeding. Your servant explained some of what happened, while he was shaving me. It seems this marriage was all your idea, and none of mine?’

      ‘I am sorry. I had no idea who you were.’

      He examined her closely, as though she were a bug on a pin. ‘You expect me to believe that you were unaware of my title when you waylaid me to Scotland?’

      ‘Completely. I swear. You were injured in the street before my carriage. I was concerned for your safety.’

      ‘And so you married me. Such a drastic rescue was not necessary.’

      ‘I meant to marry someone. It was the intent of the trip.’

      ‘And when you found a peer, lying helpless in the street—’

      ‘As I told you before, I had no idea of your title. And I could hardly have left you alone. Suppose you had done harm to yourself?’

      There was a sharp intake of breath from the man across the table from her and she hoped that she had not insulted him by the implication.

      ‘I am sorry. But you seemed insensible. You were in a vulnerable state.’

      ‘And you took advantage of it.’

      She hung her head. ‘I have no defence against that accusation.’ She held out the mock licence to him. ‘But I am prepared to offer you your freedom. No one knows what has occurred between us. Here is the only record of it. The smith that witnessed could not read the words upon it, and never inquired your name. I will not speak of it, nor will my servant. You have but to throw it on the fire and you are a free man.’

      ‘As easy as that.’ The sarcasm in his voice was plain. ‘You will never trouble me again. You do not intend to reappear, when I choose to marry again, and wave a copy of this in my face. You will never announce to my bride that she has no legal right to wed me?’

      ‘Why should I?’ she pleaded. ‘I hold no malice towards you. It is you that hold me in contempt, and I richly deserve it. Do I wish to extort money from you? Again, the answer would be no. I have ample enough fortune to supply my needs. I do not seek yours.’

      He was looking at her as though he could not believe what he was hearing. ‘You truly do not understand the gravity of what you have done. I cannot simply throw this on the fire and pretend nothing has happened. Perhaps you can. But I signed it, with my true name and title, and sealed it as well. Drunk or sober, for whatever reason, the result is the same. I am legally bound to you. If my name is to mean anything to me, I cannot ignore the paper in front of me.’

      He stared at the licence, and his eyes looked bleak. ‘You are right that no one need know if I destroy it. But I would know of it. If we had been in England, it would be a Fleet marriage and would mean nothing. But by the laws of Scotland, we are man and wife. To ignore this and marry again without a formal annulment would be bigamy. It matters not to me that I am the only one who knows the truth. I cannot behave thus and call myself a man of honour.’

      She willed herself not to cry, for tears would do no good. They would make her look even more foolish than she already did. ‘Then you shall have your annulment, your Grace. In any way that will suit you. I am sorry that scandal cannot be avoided, but I will take all the blame in the matter.’

      ‘Your reputation will be in ruins.’

      She shook her head. ‘A spotless reputation has in no way balanced my shortcomings thus far. What harm can scandal do me?’

      ‘Spotless?’ He was eyeing her again. ‘Most young girls with spotless reputations have no need to flee to Scotland for a hasty marriage to a complete stranger.’

      ‘You thought I was…’ Oh, dear lord. He thought she was with child, which made her behaviour seem even more sordid and conniving then it already was. ‘No. That is not the problem. Not at all. My circumstances are…’ she sought a word ‘…unusual.’

      ‘Unusual circumstances?’ He arched his eyebrows, leaned back and folded his arms. ‘Tell me of them. If we have eliminated fortune hunting, blackmail and the need to find a father for your bastard, then I am out of explanations for your behaviour.’

      He was staring at her, waiting. And she looked down into those very blue eyes, and, almost against her will, began to speak. She told him of her father. And her brother. The conditions of her inheritance. The foolishness over the book. ‘And so, I decided that I must marry. It did not really matter to whom. If I could find someone on the way to Scotland… And then you fell in front of the carriage.’

      He was looking at her most curiously. ‘Surely you hoped for better than a total stranger.’

      ‘Once, perhaps. But now I hope only for peace and quiet, and to be surrounded by my books.’

      ‘But a girl with the fortune you claim…’

      It was her turn to sneer at him. ‘A plain face and disagreeable nature have managed to offset any financial advantages a marriage to me might offer. Only the most desperate would be willing to put up with me, for I can be most uncooperative when crossed.

      ‘Since I know from experience that I will refuse to be led by my husband in all things, I sought someone I could control.’ She looked at him and shook her head. ‘And I failed, most dreadfully. In my defence, you were most biddable while intoxicated.’

      He laughed, and it surprised her. ‘Once you had found this biddable husband, what did you mean to do with him?’

      ‘Gain control of my inheritance. Retire to my library and allow my husband to do as he chose in all things not pertaining to me.’

      ‘In all things not pertaining to you.’ He was staring at her again, and it occurred to her the things he might expect from a woman who was his wife. Suddenly, the room felt unaccountably warm.

      She dropped her eyes from his. ‘I did not wish for intimacy. But neither did I expect fidelity. Or sobriety. Or regular hours, or even attendance in the same house. I had hoped for civility, of course. But affection was not required. I did not wish to give over all of my funds, but I certainly do not need all of them for myself. If they remain with my brother, in time I will have nothing at all. I have thirty thousand a year. I should suspect that half would be more than enough for most gentlemen to entertain themselves.’

      Again, there was an intake of breath from the man across from her. ‘Suppose the gentleman needed more.’

      ‘More?’