The Rake's Arranged Marriage Read Free Page A

around were simply too much for Cara.
    "Make them go away," she whispered, praying that the plea would reach Lord Eliot's ears.
    "All of you – get the hell out and go home!" Eliot bellowed without a second's hesitation. Several of the guests' faces went white as a sheet. But in another moment, they were turning tail and fleeing, calling for their carriages as they made for the drawing room again. Only Lord Calloway and Frederick Simms remained, and as they stepped forward, Mrs. Cooper reappeared.
    "Come, we'll take her upstairs. I've a room all cleaned and aired, with fresh linens. The doctor can see her there. Poor child."
    "She's not a child, Mrs. Cooper. She's a merry mad widow," Eliot retorted, following the round, gray-haired housekeeper up the grand staircase. He was still clutching Cara in his arms, and he squeezed her a bit harder. "And she's caused me a lot of trouble today."
    "I never asked to come to your party, Lord Eliot," Cara bit out. It was quite a struggle to form the words – her teeth were chattering now and she was very nearly losing consciousness. But she was determined to go out on a high, sour note if she had to faint in front of Lord Eliot. "My attendance was not my own idea."
    But in the end, she didn't have the last word. For just as they reached the top of the stairs, Lord Eliot whispered in her ear.
    "Oh, I know it wasn't your idea, Lady Boyle. It was all your father's. He's trying to get me to ask for your hand in marriage. Very cunning, your papa."
    "You mock him."
    "No, I don't. In fact, I think it's quite a brilliant plan. You must admit, we're almost perfectly matched. In fact, I think it would be a damned sin if we didn't tie the knot in the very near future."
    "Oh yes, Lord Eliot," Cara managed with bitter sarcasm. "We'd be a perfectly loving pair. I say we marry as soon as possible!"
    "Next spring?" Eliot asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Cara couldn't bear to be mocked like this, especially when the damned fool was carrying her like a child and she was too weak to do anything but let him. The whole situation was infuriating and it made her even more determined to beat Eliot at his own ironic little game.
    "Next month! " she shot back.
    And then, the most shocking thing of all happened. Without waiting for a reply – and utterly without any warning – Lord Eliot stopped at the top of the staircase. He spun about recklessly on his heel. Cara felt sure that he was losing his balance and that they were both about to topple headlong down the stairs. But Eliot stopped with surprising agility, facing Lord Calloway and Frederick Simms who were following him up. Cara had a split second to take in their rather blank, stunned expressions.
    "I've just asked Lady Boyle to be my wife!" Lord Quentin Eliot barked out. "And she's set the wedding date for next month!"
    Cara just had time to see a very sincere expression of delight flash over her father's sallow face. And then she really did faint.
    ***
    Cara's lids fluttered open, but for a long moment she couldn't seem to make her eyes focus. She felt groggy and dull, and she was dimly aware of a throbbing pain in her right knee. She propped herself up on her elbows and swallowed hard, trying to make the dryness leave her throat and willing her vision to clear at the same time. But as it did, she was struck with a sudden confusion and fear.
    Where am I?
    She instantly judged that this couldn't be her own bedroom. The chamber she slept in at Boyle Estate was small and cozy, with flowered paper on the walls and thick, dark drapes to match her dark moods. In fact, it was one of the smallest, most modest guest rooms in Lord Boyle's vast estate. But it was the room in which Cara felt the most comfortable. When her father had moved in shortly after Lord Boyle's untimely death, he'd spent fruitless hours begging Cara to occupy the grand master suite to no avail. She enjoyed the tiny niche she'd carved for herself in the unfamiliar manse of her late