Carol Arens - The Earl's American Heiress

It was not an easy thing to make a decision to marry a man when another fellow’s face was all one could see. What a shame Mr. Ramsfield was not the earl. Her outlook on the marriage might be slightly different if that were the case.

At the heart of it, Grandfather’s heavy spirit was not her fault. It was Madeline’s. Had her cousin lived up to what she had been groomed for rather than running off, Grandfather would be celebrating an engagement rather than fearing there might not be one. Also, he would not now be fearful that Madeline would come to a desperate end.

Yes, it was all completely Madeline’s fault. Clementine was only here in London facing a decision that might break Grandfather’s heart because of her cousin’s reckless decision.

“Life for a bastard child is—” Grandfather’s voice faltered. “I only hope that Madeline will remember and behave—”

He would know this since he had been one.

The circumstance of his birth was not something he spoke much of—not in words—but the struggles of his young life had formed the man he was.

To his mind, amassing a fortune was vital. At the same time he believed that no amount of money would keep his granddaughters secure.

After all, wealth hadn’t helped his mother. At eighteen she had made a brilliant match, at twenty she had become a widow, a year and a half later her solicitor had squandered her fortune and left her pregnant.

“Madeline will do the right thing, Grandfather. You raised her to be strong and resourceful. She will not make that mistake. I know she will not.”

For all that she said so, she knew her cousin had acted rashly and followed her heart as she tended to do. Clementine wondered if she had given more than a passing thought to what might happen to her by going off with—well, a stranger. No matter what Madeline might feel for the fellow in the moment, he was surely a philanderer.

“Maybe so, but she’s used to having money to rely upon and now she does not. She might cling to the wrong sort of man.”

Was he picturing the faces of the many wrong sorts of men his mother had clung to? If the faraway look in his eyes was anything to go by, he was remembering them.

“Madeline,” she pointed out, “is not your mother.”

“No, but she is a woman and thereby helpless.”

“Well, she does take after you in being resourceful. I’m sure she will be fine.” As long as the Pinkerton agent found her before she was not fine.

“A woman is only as fine as the man in charge of her funds is honest. You’ll know that a part of the reason we are here is because I’m going to earn a fortune in Scotland. You being titled will ensure the venture is a success. But Clemmie, my girl, it won’t be enough. Wealth on its own will not keep you secure.”

“So far it has.”

“Because I’m a man. All I ever earn will be mine. All I give you will belong to your husband. But a title will protect you.”

“But why is this business in Scotland so important to you? Surely there is money to be made back home.”

“Diversification. You’ll recall that I’ve lost a fortune and then gained it back again. By having ventures in more than one country I am not depending upon only one country to be prosperous. I’ll be more likely to stay afloat financially with ventures in other parts of the world.”

“If your business succeeds, I’ll be financially secure on both sides of the ocean and have no need to marry.”

“Did you not hear me when I said money can vanish in an instant? Look at your cousin. She was a wealthy young woman a short time ago, and now? You must marry well, Clementine.”

She must not have looked suitably convinced, for a worried expression flitted across his face, which made her more than uncomfortable.

Grandfather was the most confident man she’d ever met. She had never seen the anchor of the family defeated in anything. His strength had always been her refuge.

Many years ago—she’d been only three then—he had snatched both her and Madeline from certain death while a flash flood washed the rest of the family away. He had held them secure in his strong arms while hell surged all around. He would not give them over to the killer current. She vaguely remembered how his muscles trembled, how he groaned with the effort to keep them locked to his chest. Even though he was being pelted and cut by debris, he’d shielded them and refused to let death have them.

Afterward, those wounded arms had held them through the grief of losing their parents, even while he dealt with his own. Over the years he had kept them fed and clothed, despite being busy rebuilding the fortune he’d lost.

He’d raised them and loved them. Truly she and Madeline owed him complete devotion.

And now he was asking her to give up everything.

While she did owe him everything, could she really pay the price he wanted?

“We’ll have word of a good outcome soon enough,” she said, focusing the conversation on Madeline.

Someone came into the dining room and set a plate of bacon on the table between them.

Grandfather did not speak again until the servant had left the room.

“Do you understand the reason you will marry the earl?”

She understood why he wanted her to. Things from her perspective looked a bit different.

“You cannot assume that I will. I do have a say in it. For all we know the earl might be as greedy as most of the suitors I’ve already crossed paths with. You are aware that they wanted your fortune and not me?”

“I am, indeed. Still, you’ll need to marry someone. And have you forgotten that I’ve met Fencroft? I’d hardly arrange a marriage that was not in your best interest. I will not see you bound to a common fortune hunter.”

“But you would a titled one?”

“Yes, indeed, I would. Please understand that a title is more enduring than money. No matter what, your children will never face one day of humiliation. They will never go to bed wondering about their next meal or what might go bump in the night. The respectability that comes with being a peer will be a hedge about them.”

“My children! Surely you are ahead of yourself. The earl is a complete and utter stranger.”

And surely not half as compelling as the stranger in the garden last night. Given that she was here in London to consider wedding an earl, she was giving far too much thought to the intriguing fellow.

“He’s not a stranger to me. I spent considerable time with him during the negotiations. He’s a decent sort, and while not in the best of health, he enjoys his entertainment. In fact, he would have suited your cousin quite well had she given the union a chance.”

“And you truly believe I would be happy doing so?”

“I do, Clemmie. We would not be here if I thought otherwise.”

“While that assurance might be fine for you, I can’t simply hand my life over to some man! Why, I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Oh, he has a pleasant face. Fair hair and friendly brown eyes. He’s slight of build.”

Quite unlike the tall, muscular man in the pond whose eyes were—well she didn’t know the color, but they were quite mesmerizing.

“He seems a merry fellow who laughs easily and does not look at life in an overserious manner. He attends all the grand balls.”

“You know I dislike grand balls.”

“Yes, I do know that, Clemmie. The earl would have suited your cousin grandly. It’s why I picked the man for her. But here we find ourselves. Try to look at the good side of this. You will have a fine London town house—there it is. You can see it just out the window across the garden. If you don’t like that there is a lovely country estate, even a seaside cottage, I’ve been told. I’m certain that would be to your liking. A lovely spot by the seashore?”