A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement #2)(31)

She also recalled all too vividly the way her pulse had raced just seated beside Nick in the carriage. Tiny shivers had coursed down her spine when he'd caressed her gloved hand. And the memory of his heated kisses were imprinted in her mind forever.

The earl's touch, on the contrary, had virtually no effect on her. No spark, no connection of any kind when they had danced. She didn't understand how she could be so affected by one man and then feel nothing at all for another. She fervently wished it were not so.

Stealing a breath, she raised her chin and forced a welcoming smile to her lips, and then nodded to the footman to open the drawing room door. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting, my lo—" The rest of the sentence froze on her tongue.

Though he stood looking out the window with his hands clasped behind his back, she would know Nicolas Needham anywhere. Her stomach did a somersault as he turned to greet her. "Y-you?"

"Lady Mariah." The man who stepped forward with a bow was unquestionably Nicolas, but there was something very changed about him. It wasn't just the silks and velvets he wore or the bronzed skin that gave him a faint look of a Barbary corsair. His manner was unusually formal and reserved, almost as if they were strangers.

"I-I don't understand," she began. "The footman presented me Lord Rochford's card." Her gaze desperately searched the room for the elusive earl.

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you," he said dryly, "but I am indeed come on Lord Rochford's business."

"And what business might that be?" she inquired, tight-lipped.

"May we sit, my lady?" he inclined his head to the settle.

Mariah feared her legs might give out before she made it to the settle. What was he doing here? "H-how long have you been back?" she asked as she sank into the silk damask cushions.

"Two days only," he replied. "I believe I arrived on your heels." His mouth twitched. "Or perhaps you arrived on mine."

"Why did you write me that letter if you knew you were returning?" she asked, her throat so dry that she barely managed a whisper.

"I did not know I was returning until well after I posted the letter."

"I see." She swallowed. "But now you are here."

He extended his arms, palms turned upward. "In the flesh."

Half of her wanted to throw herself into those arms and kiss him madly while the other half wanted to shout and thrash and rage. She willed herself to do neither. "Why have you come here?"

"I am on a mission from Lord Rochford."

"And what has that to do with me?"

"You, my lady, are the mission."

"I don't comprehend you."

"The earl wishes to wed. Her Grace the Duchess of Bedford wishes to help him achieve this desire. She selected ten eligible, well-bred maidens. Of the ten, the earl chose to pay his respects to you."

"But I met the man only once!" How could this be happening? How could he be so cold and aloof after all they had shared? She felt as if her heart was breaking all over again.

"Nevertheless, he remembers you favorably."

"And I barely remember him at all," she replied coldly. "How could he possibly think that I would be an appropriate helpmeet for him?"

"He believes you would have sufficient compatibility."

She shook her head, barely stemming a flow of hysterical giggles. "I am at a loss as to how he possibly could have come to that conclusion. I can't think of a single thing we have in common."

"Rochford is suitable. As his wife, you would have every advantage the world has to offer. Did you not come to London to seek a husband, Lady Mariah?"

"Yes." She forced herself to meet his gaze straight on. "I did." He appeared to wince, or had she imagined it? "What precisely does his lordship seek?"

"He desires a bride of noble breeding and good character. Your family is one of the oldest in England. He is assured by the Duchess of Bedford that your reputation is impeccable, your dowry is considerable, and that your lands produce a highly respectable income."

“And that is all he desires in a wife? What of compatibility?" she asked, her gaze searching his. "And affection?"

"'Tis hardly a prerequisite for people of your station. He has no reason to believe you shan't get along. As to affection, he does not consider that a requirement from a wife."

The implication was clear. If wed, her husband would seek affection elsewhere. "I see. The offer he puts forth is purely for convenience. But convenient for whom, Mr. Needham? What about my desires and needs? Are those not to be taken into account?" Although she had accepted how it would be, she nevertheless found the reality of a loveless future disheartening.

"Lord Rochford offers a highly respected family name with close connections to the king and queen, as well as a house in Berkley Square and estates in Suffolk, Essex, and the Utrecht province of the Dutch Republic. You would have a life of great comfort in return for bearing his offspring. Should you accept, you would go to him in Turin and remain there until an heir is born. After that, you would be free to choose where you wish to reside."

"Separate lives, Mr. Needham?"

"That is often the way of it," he replied. "The earl would only expect an appropriate degree of . . . circumspection on your part."