Chapter One
“WhymustImarry that man?”
“Leeds is a good man,” Lady Harriet Hillstow’s father, the Marquess of Hatton, argued. “Wealthy in his own right. A good match.”
Define “good match,” Harriet thought darkly. But that was not for her to be troubled about, was it? Since she was nothing but the object of a business deal. It did, however, solidify one important fact in Harriet’s mind. The Marquess of Leeds was most certainlynota good match.
He was the very worst.
Firstly, he did not care one whit about her. And secondly, he was a peacock who gambled, kept company with lechers, and it was anyone’s guess how many skeletons could be dug up from his garden.
More to the point, why would he ever want to marry her? Somehow, Harriet found it impossible to grasp why Leeds, agoodcatch by everyone’s definition and wealthy in his own right, as her father had so eloquently put it, would agree to marry an invisible wallflower. Her father must have promised a lot more than her dowry.
This entire affair stank of something rather dubious.
Harriet placed her hands on her hips, the book she’d been reading when she marched from the library resting on her hipbone. She’d completely forgotten she’d been busy reading when she’d overheard her parents discussing selling her off.Though that might be stating it a bit cruelly, she could think of no other way to put it.
“What did you have to promise him to agree to the betrothal?” she demanded from her father. “Other than my fortune, of course, since he issowealthy and all?”
“I didn’t offer him anything.”
“And I’m expected to believe this?”
Her father sat back in his leather chair and regarded her as though debating whether to reveal the truth or not. An ominous foreboding slithered down her spine.
“Leeds approached me for your hand,” her father admitted.
Harriet’s jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“Yes,” she all but snapped. “The man has never spoken one word to me.”
“Then now is the time to rectify that, don’t you agree?”
“I don’t have to rectify anything. You, Papa, on the other hand, must end this farce of an engagement. Today.”
“Harriet, the betrothal has been agreed upon. It’s done. Signed. You are wedding Leeds. He is procuring a special license as we speak.”
What?
A special license?
Just when Harriet thought she’d heard it all, her father pulled the rug out from beneath her feet again. “What on earth does he need a special license for?” The dubious odor intensified.
“Enough. The engagement has been set.”
“If you want me to marry, fine, I’ll marry, but let me choose my husband.”
Her father sighed. “Harriet, I wouldn’t have engaged you to Leeds if I didn’t believe him to be an honorable man. Do you doubt my judgment?”
Yes, horribly so.
“If you thought him so honorable,” Harriet challenged, “why is this the first I am hearing of this engagement?”
Her father sighed. “This is not a plot hatched in advance, Harriet.”
“But it is a plot,” she shot back. “Why else procure a special license?”
