The Earl of Davenport: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club #7)(4)
His lips twisted in a mocking grin that made her tremble. She refused to let that stop her from speaking the truth. “You have always been kind to my family, and it is that kindness that I am appealing to now.”
She felt his hesitation, almost as though his instinctual mockery and disbelief were tempered by curiosity. Maybe even concern. She let herself be buoyed by that hopeful thought. “You see, my lord, my family is in dire straits. We are on the verge of losing everything and most of my siblings have given up any chance of saving our home or our land, but—”
He finally interjected, his voice droll and his eyes revealing nothing. “But you think that I could swoop in and save you. Your entire family. The whole incongruous lot of you.”
She felt blood rushing to her cheeks at the scorn in his voice. Anne was used to hearing derision when it came to her family, particularly her and her younger siblings. But to hear it from him—from the man who had shielded her from the ton’s mockery years ago. From the kind neighbor who she’d always thought of as friend, in an odd sort of way.
It hurt more than she cared to let on.
So instead, she did what she’d always done when her family was the subject of derision. She lifted her chin with pride. She might not be able to defend her father’s actions or her eldest brother’s, but there was at least one member of her family who was above reproach. “My eldest sister, Claire, is the perfect lady, she—”
“Which one is Claire?” he interrupted.
Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared as a surge of annoyance swept over her, and this time she failed to contain it. “You know very well who she is,” she snapped.
His brows shot up and his eyes filled with laughter as he stood and walked toward her. “Ah, there she is. I’d been wondering who this meek, demure young lady in my drawing room was, but now I recognize you clearly, my little hellion.”
Her cheeks warmed again, but this time with something close to pleasure. So he did remember. He’d been teasing her, after all. Little hellion was what he’d called her when she was young and chased after him and her eldest brother. He and Jed had terrorized the villagers with their pranks and hijinks and she’d done her very best to tag along.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, my lord. The little hellion is in your midst, I’m afraid.”
His lips tilted up in a grin that made her heart race.
“If you remember me, then surely you must remember Claire. She’s the eldest daughter, and the loveliest by far.”
“Says who?” he interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“What powerful deity declared Claire the fairest Cleveland of them all?”
She scowled at his teasing and carried on. “As I was saying, not only is she lovely, but she is the perfect lady. Genteel and polished, she is beloved by the ton.”
He gave an exaggerated yawn.
When she blinked up at him, he waved a hand for her to continue. “Do go on. Genteel, polished, etcetera, etcetera….”
He was mocking her. As he walked away she squelched the urge to stomp her foot to regain his attention. She settled for letting out an exhale that was louder than necessary. Then, when he still did not turn around, she blurted out her request. “I’d like you to consider Claire for a wife, my lord.”
That made him turn around to face her, at least, though his expression was one of droll amusement.
She hated that look—it reeked of condescension and entitlement. She was used to seeing that expression on the faces of the ton, but she expected more from this man.
Which was ironic, really, since the rest of society expected so little of him.
“Tell me, little hellion, are you really asking me to marry your sister as an act of charity?”
Her eyes widened and her hands clenched at her sides. It was through gritted teeth that she finally managed to answer. “Not at all, my lord. Any man would be lucky to have Claire as his bride.”
His smirk had her taking deep breaths to remain calm. Lord, he could be infuriating when he wanted to be. “Yes, it would benefit my family as well,” she conceded. “But just think what this marriage could do for you.”
He fell back onto the settee once more, looking as though his patience was reaching an end. “And what exactly would Claire provide for me that all the other demure, genteel debutantes could not?”
“Honesty, respectability—”
His brows arched. “You cannot be serious. Respectability from the Clevelands?”
She rose to her full height, tilting her chin up once more. “Say what you will about me, but Claire is as respectable as they come.”
“And by that you mean, there’s no suspicion that she’s a bastard.”
His words were spoken so casually it made their impact that much more dramatic.
She gaped at him, speechless. No one used that word around her. She was certain it was used behind their backs regularly, but no one had the gall to say it to her face. For a moment she was offended, then horrified, and then… amused.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle an entirely inappropriate laugh, emitting a rather unladylike choking noise instead.
His eyes laughed at her, those dark gray eyes filled with knowing amusement.
She sobered instantly. It had been shock, that was all. And perhaps just a bit of relief that for once someone in society said what they meant. After a lifetime of being spoken about in whispers, it was almost refreshing to hear the insult aloud and to one’s face.