An Earl for the desperate bride (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 1) Read Free Page B

herself and continued to lament.
    “This house is loathsome to me; Mrs. Clemens, his sister, took me on a tour of the rooms and truly, it’s as if she were a banker. She knows what every piece of furniture, every rug, every painting, every candlestick costs. Why would someone live in a house merely to show it off?”
    His eyes were thoughtful. “You’re not like most young ladies of your station,” he commented.
    “How many do you know?” she inquired, a trifle jealous at the thought that Stephen had been the stable hand for other houses where young ladies went riding. It was foolish, of course, to feel that way, but she couldn’t help it.
    His brown eyes were amused. “When you work in a stable, you learn a lot about ladies and gentlemen.”
    “What have you learned?”
    “I’ve learned that there’s one lady in London who is true of heart and honest of soul and beautiful, and that no other lady comes close to her,” he said sincerely. His eyes were not merry now. They were dark and intense, ringed with thick lashes that could conceal his thoughts when he lowered his eyelids. As he did now.
    She didn’t press him. She knew who he meant; there was no foolery between them. They had declared their affections already; not in the stylized flattery manner of the young bucks and the fashionable set, but from the heart. What would come of it no one could tell and God alone knew, if He had not forsaken her, what would be her fate… Their fate, for she and Stephen were allied in this trial.
    She wondered why God seemed closer in the country, where she went to Sunday services in the small parish church and sat in the Stanton family pew where generations of her ancestors had sat, than He did here in this cramped city. She had never given much thought to God before; it was enough for the vicar to join the family for lunch after services were over and to take comfort in the assurance that a divine Father, all-powerful and unseen, was looking out for her. She felt that she had left God behind in the country. He could not be here in this reprehensible house, while every minute ticked away closer to the day when she would be condemned to live here forever as Lord Sevile’s wife.
    “I’ve learned other things,” Stephen said, his eyes meeting hers. “I’ve learned from the servants why your parents are set on this marriage.”
    Impulsively Eliza took his hands in hers. “You must tell me why,” she begged.
    “Your father has gambling debts that he owes to Lord Sevile,” Stephen explained slowly. “He cannot pay them. If the debts are not paid, there will be a scandal.”
    Eliza stared at Stephen, her blue eyes enormous in the defined features that had caught Lord Sevile’s lecherous eyes. Stephen knew more than he intended to tell Eliza, but it was enough to know that the marriage should not have been countenanced. Eliza was being sacrificed, there was no other way to put it, so that the Stanton’s could maintain their social status and their son and heir, Mr. Harry Stanton, would be able to court an eligible heiress who would be able to restore the family fortune. Eliza’s marriage was to settle the debt.
    It was, Stephen thought, monstrous.
    Eliza gripped his hands between hers. “Stephen, you’re the only person in the entire city of London who has a thought for what’s to become of me. My family—how can they do this to me? I had nothing to do with my father’s debts.”
    Now she understood why her father had been avoiding her of late, even since she had arrived in London. It was shame. Lord Stanton was, like most men of his ilk, a father because nature ordained that a man and a woman should bear children. He had been, in his way, an affectionate father, praising her seat when she was on horseback, nodding approbation at her dance steps when they had guests for Twelfth Night festivities at the manor, and in general seeming to think well of her.
    Was it all a farce? Did he care nothing about her except