Free Joan Wolf by Fool's Masquerade Page A

other way. No one would hire a girl.”
    “Not to look after their horses at any rate,” he said dryly.
    I began to feel better. “No. And I really was not in the market for the only job I could have gotten otherwise.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Eighteen, my lord.”
    “Christ, you don’t look it.” He moved to his favorite seat and said to me, “Sit down.”
    I was feeling much better. He wasn’t angry and he hadn’t contacted my grandfather. Or had he?
    “You do still understand why I didn’t want to live with my grandparents, don’t you?” I asked cautiously.
    “Oh, I understand that, all right. I’ve met your grandfather, you know.”
    “Is he awful?”
    “He’s perfectly godly, righteous, and sober.”
    “He’s awful,” I said. “I knew it.”
    “At any rate, he’s not your kind, Valentine.”
    “No,” I said complacently. “I’m like my father.”
    “I’m very much afraid,” Lord Leyburn said slowly, “that you are going to have to remain here.”
    “Oh, thank you, my lord!” I leapt to my feet, and before I quite knew what I was doing, I was kneeling next to his chair. “I’ll be good, I promise you I will be. I’ll do everything you ask. Truly.” His hand was lying on the arm of his chair and impulsively I picked it up and kissed the hard masculine fingers.
    He looked at me very gravely. “You don’t quite understand the situation, Valentine. You are going to have to marry me.”
    I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly. “What —what did you say, my lord?”
    He turned so that I was kneeling upright in front of him. He took both my hands in his and said, “You have been living in my house for months, unchaperoned. There is no way your reputation can survive that, sweetheart. I’m afraid you have no alternative but to marry me.”
    “But—but no one knew I was a girl.”
    He shrugged. “Who will believe that? Looking at you now, I wouldn’t believe it myself.”
    I knelt there, my hands in his. So this was the problem Mr. Fitzallan had alluded to. “Marry you?” I said dazedly.
    “Yes. You have no choice in the matter, Valentine. Ned offered, but you and Ned would not do at all.” He smiled. “Poor Ned, it’s enough that he has to put up with me. He doesn’t need a wife who’ll do his thinking for him as well.”
    “But you’re going to marry Lady Barbara Bevil,” I said.
    “Not anymore, I’m not.” He leaned forward and kissed me, very gently, on the lips. “As I said before, Valentine, you have no choice, and neither do I. Perhaps if you were younger, but eighteen . . . No, there is no way out of it but marriage.”
    He had kissed me as if I were a child. My kiss on his hands had been far more passionate. He didn’t want to marry me; he only thought he had to. I pulled my hands away and stood up.
    “No,” I said. “It’s—it’s ridiculous. I never meant anything like this to happen. I feel as if I’ve—I’ve trapped you. I won’t do it. It’s ridiculous.”
    “Unfortunately, it is not ridiculous. It’s the way of the world.” He stood up as well. “It won’t be so bad, sweetheart,” he said confidently.
    Won’t be so bad! If only he knew . . .
    “My lord,” I began.
    “You may as well call me Diccon,” he said easily. He patted my cheek. “No more discussion, now. The matter is settled. I’ve been to see the archbishop about getting a special license. I think we’d be wise to notify your grandparents after the wedding. I’ll think up some tale to satisfy their puritan consciences."
    "But..."
    “Just think,” he said. “You’ll be the first countess whose servants are all on a first-name basis with her.” He laughed and went to the door. “You still look very peaked,” he said from the doorway. “I’ll take you out for a drive this afternoon. At three. Be ready, please.” He was gone.
     

Chapter 11
     
    I went upstairs to my room, sat down on the window seat and stared out at the beautiful day. I had never felt