I only hope I don’t manage to destroy her or turn her against me like I have everyone else.
Though doubt clouded the valet’s eyes, he said, “What of your mother? Your family? Will they have a say in this?”
“Absolutely not. They will have a letter, and right now I’d rather not hear their opinions.” Again, he took up his pen, dipped the nub into the inkwell, and then continued to write, the words flowing. He was the master of his own fate; this felt right.
Silence reigned in the study for the space of several heartbeats before Barton spoke.
“What prompted you to make this decision?”
“I didn’t wish to have that duty hanging over my head any longer.” With a strong hand, he continued the letter until the short missive had been finished. Then he rested the pen in its holder and blew upon the ink. “I should finalize that business.” Urgency compelled him to move things along, but the tingle of anticipation buzzing at the base of his spine spoke of a different story. Was he truly looking forward to seeing Sarah again? He shoved the thought from his mind. “Please tell Dalton to show Miss Copeland into my study.”
“I will.” The valet nodded. “Should I give you congratulations or commiserations?”
“That remains to be seen.” He offered a wry grin to his friend of near ten years. “But I appreciate the sentiment all the same.”
Barton left the room without another word.
Drew frowned as he folded the letter and then stuffed it into an envelope. Was the betrothal careless? He melted a bit of wax from the stick. Perhaps it was. After putting a glob of the green goo onto the envelope’s flap, he then pressed the official Hadleigh seal into the wax. Would his father have approved of the match? He pulled the seal away and set it back into the tray with the wax stick. Categorically, no. His mother would be hurt by the exclusion, and his brothers would never miss an opportunity to chide him about the decision.
Well, too damn bad. This is my life. A quick wave of hot anger rose in Drew’s chest. He could handle himself but knowing he would disappoint another person—and probably Sarah too, eventually—only added to his growing ire and uncovered a yawning, deep trench of cold fear.
Ultimately, he would end up alone, and it was his own fault, but he didn’t know how to stop a stone from rolling downhill once it started.
When Sarah arrived, Drew rose to his feet. Under no circumstances would he let her see his weakness… at least not until after they’d said vows. Clad in the same brown dress she’d worn the first day they’d met, she immediately met his gaze with no hint of demure attitude in her posture.
“Good afternoon, Lord Hadleigh.” Her tone suggested efficiency and no nonsense.
A trace of disappointment went through him. Could she not find a modicum of joy in the upcoming arrangement? “Good afternoon, Miss Copeland.” If she wished for formality, so be it. “The draft of the contract has been written. Once we agree to terms, I’ll send everything to my solicitor in London. He’ll then draw it up for official signatures.”
“Thank you. I’m anxious to start.”
When he glanced closer at her, slight shadows beneath her eyes stood as a testament to either worry or a poor night’s sleep. “Very well. I don’t wish to cause you undo anxiety, so this should be a straightforward process.” He came around the desk to stand at her side.
“I appreciate that.” She offered a slight smile. The scent of violets and clover drifted to his nose. “It’s been a whirlwind week.”
“Indeed.” Suddenly, he didn’t wish to discuss contracts, or anything related to the business side of the betrothal contracts. He wanted to take tea with her and discuss, well, her. It would behoove him to learn about her history before they wed.
She eyed him with suspicion. “Do you still wish to do this?”
“Do you?” Would she back out of their arrangement and leave him to flounder? Anxiety pulled tight through his chest, and he ignored it.
“Yes, actually. Though I tossed and turned about it last night, once this morning arrived, my decision was clear. I’ll marry you, come what may.” Briefly, she touched his arm. Tingling awareness climbed the limb from the point of contact. “Thank you, again. It’s a rather freeing feeling to know that my future is taken care of.”
What did such freedom feel like? For he labored beneath a mountain of responsibilities, and he would add another once he wed her. “You’re welcome.” Perhaps marriage wouldn’t be the disaster he assumed. Drew spread out four sheets of handwritten paper over his desktop. “As I’ve stated before, by wedding me, you will have security and the ability to move about the ton as you please. You may take up charitable causes, volunteer with various organizations, and perhaps you’ll have a child.”
She nodded. “And you will have done your duty to the title.” Her inquisitive gaze found his. “I would like to hope that this eases some of the stress you seem to labor under.”
“Yes.” He had no idea to which statement he replied, but he clenched his jaw so hard, he feared his teeth would crack. “Finally, I can have done with this portion of my responsibilities.”
One of her eyebrows rose in question. “Do you think your duty is finished merely by marriage or begetting an heir?” She shook her head. “You have tenants, income to make and distribute, as well as obligations to Parliament. No doubt there is more than that involved in being an earl, so please do not pin all your hoped-for success on me. I am but one person.”
How the devil did she assume he was? Anger flared, hot and swift, in his chest. This woman could irritate him like no other. “Don’t presume to dictate to me what I’m doing or why. I’ve had enough of that in my life already.” He tapped a finger to the first paper. “I will give you all the gowns, jewels, fripperies, and baubles you wish in order to outfit yourself in the manner of a countess.”
“I appreciate that.” The tiny catch of excitement in her voice intrigued him. Why? Clothing a spouse was what any man worth his salt would do.
Drew brought her attention to the next item on the paper. “In the matter of living arrangements. While Parliament is in session, of course we will reside in London. However, should we find we don’t get on, you may have the London townhouse. Or, if you’d rather, you may live here at Hadleigh Hall, for you might find that the city doesn’t suit.”
“My mind is spinning.” Then a frown pulled the corners of her mouth down, and he stared at her lips while his musings delved into all the wicked things she could do with them once they’d wed. “Are these the only two properties you own?”