The Thoroughly Compromised Bride Read Free

might think of a dozen cases where love did not enter into the matter at all, and really, such couples manage to rub along together quite tolerably!”
    “As happy as grigs, in fact, but be that as it may, I no longer look for love, and I do not intend to marry!”
    “But, Elizabeth...”
    “Oh, the devil! I do not wish to speak of this any longer!”
    “I wish you would not use that language, my dear. Not that I blame you. Had your father not taught you to speak so— Yes!—and then laughed when you did—but, you should not—”
    Miss Godwin was interrupted by Wiggons, their elderly butler, who entered the room to announce that Lord Braxton had arrived to pay them a morning call, and he enquired regally, “Are you at home to visitors, miss?”
    Elizabeth’s relief at this interruption of what was, to her a most distasteful discussion, was offset by irritation upon hearing Lord Braxton’s name, but after a brief hesitation, she answered pleasantly enough, “Why, of course, Wiggons. You may show him up.”
    The man who entered the room a short time later was of stocky build and medium height. He was somewhere between thirty and forty years of age, with sandy-coloured, thinning hair, slightly protuberant eyes of a faded blue, and rather heavy features. He was dressed with propriety, but not modishly, for the points of his shirt collar rose no higher than his jaw line, his neckcloth, while neatly tied, was not remarkable, and his coat, though undoubtedly well made, fitted too loosely to be entirely fashionable.
    Lord Braxton considered himself to be the region’s greatest matrimonial catch, but never, until the advent of Elizabeth, had he met a female whom he thought worthy of becoming his wife.
    He was obviously in no doubt of his welcome, and going immediately to Emily, he bowed over her hand and said, “Ah, Miss Godwin, you become prettier each time I see you. If I am not careful, I shall be losing you to another beau!”
    Emily tittered bashfully. “Oh, my lord, do stop fanning me! You are such a rogue!”
    “Now, dear lady, you must know that I was not funning you. It is always a delight to see you.”
    “And I you, my lord,” she said coyly.
    These pleasantries out of the way, he judged it permissible to turn to Elizabeth, and carrying her hand to his lips, he bestowed an unwelcome kiss upon it, saying fervently, “My dear Miss Ashton! I need not tell you, I feel sure, what happiness it gives me to see you.”
    Elizabeth forced a smile as she retrieved her hand. “How good of you to call, sir.”
    “Yes,” he agreed, “but not having seen you for the length of a whole day, my dear, I could not stay away. You will allow me, I know, to tell you that you are more lovely each time I see you.”
    “Thank you,” she said coolly, and to forestall any more of his fulsome compliments, she asked quickly, “How is your mother. Lord Braxton?”
    Lady Braxton, who lived with her son, was a robust woman who thrived on infirmity, going from one alarming malady to another.
    “I am very much afraid that she is not at all well,” said Lord Braxton somberly, and he launched into a lengthy description of his mother’s most recent sufferings.
    Nothing could have been more delightfully interesting to Emily, and she spent some time discussing a variety of cures and remedies with his lordship.
    With that topic finally exhausted, he entertained them with the newest on-dits from Town, and then favoured them with a detailed account of his latest improvements to his estate. Aunt Emily flattered and encouraged him throughout all this, while Elizabeth endured it stoically. By the end of the requisite half hour, when he stood to take his leave of them, she felt sure that had she been forced to listen for another moment to his prosing, she must have been provoked into screaming.
    “I shall call again tomorrow,” he promised them, “for I know you will wish to hear how my mother goes on.”
    “Oh, yes! We certainly shall!”