To Bed a Beauty (Courtship Wars 2)

“Because he sent me here to propose to you.”

Her heart wrenched, while her stomach suddenly felt filled with lead. Fighting a sick, hollow sensation, Roslyn could barely form a rasping reply. “He told you to propose to me? I should think that would prove just the opposite-that he does not love me.”

“No, sweetheart,” Haviland said gently. “Arden was willing to give you up to ensure your happiness. He’s making a noble sacrifice on your behalf. I think that shows exactly how much he loves you.” Haviland’s mouth curved. “In truth, he threatened my life if I failed to make you happy after we were wed. But I can see now that I never stood a chance. Your happiness lies with Arden, not with me.”

She stared at him in disbelief. How could Drew love her if he had given up any claim to her? Was he truly trying to be noble, hoping to make her happy? Was it possible that Drew loved her?

“You should tell him how you feel,” the earl repeated.

Roslyn could barely hear for her chaotic thoughts. What if she told Drew of her love? What then? Would he still want to marry her? And if so, what would her answer be? Did she dare risk wedding him?

She could wind up facing the same kind of pain Winifred had endured all the years of her marriage. She and Drew could end up battling bitterly with each other, destroying whatever tender feelings they shared now and turning passion to hate.

Yet did she really have a choice? If she hoped to achieve her he

art’s desire, she had to risk having it shattered. If she hoped to have a chance at happiness with Drew, she had to be willing to give up her impossible notions of a perfect, idealistic marriage for something that was real and honest and strong and lasting.

She had no choice. Because she had no future without Drew. No possibility of happiness. He filled the emptiness inside her, made her feel complete.

She didn’t know if she could ever mean that much to him. Didn’t know if he could return her love, but she knew she had to take the risk.

The thought that Drew might never love her the way she did him left Roslyn shaken, but she had to try. If he didn’t love her yet, she would have to make him love her. She could use the tricks of seduction he had taught her, which she had never really employed-

Realizing that Haviland was watching her silent debate, Roslyn suddenly shook herself. It was beyond rude to be plotting her pursuit of Drew when the earl stood before her.

“Thank you, my lord,” Roslyn said, her voice uneven. “I will take your advice and tell Arden how I feel.”

Haviland’s smile held regret as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “It will be my great loss.”

Warmth rose to her cheeks at the compliment. “I’m certain you will find a bride who can make you happy.”

“I trust so. I need a wife if I’m to have any hope of stopping my grandmother from hounding me into an early grave.”

There was a glimmer of humor in his eyes, which told Roslyn that she hadn’t wounded him too deeply with her refusal. But of course, she hadn’t, since his heart wasn’t engaged-just as hers was not with him.

Haviland gave her a considering look. “I might be more successful if you would aid my search.”

“You want my help in finding you a bride?” Roslyn asked in surprise.

He grinned that charming, rueful grin of his. “In all honesty, I do. I obviously haven’t managed very well on my own.”

She returned a self-conscious laugh. “I will be happy to consider it, Lord Haviland. But now…if you will please excuse me? I must go to London at once.”

“To see Arden?”

“No, to see a friend.”

She had to speak to Fanny immediately and seek her counsel. Fanny would know how she should proceed in trying to win Drew’s heart-or so Roslyn tried to reassure herself as she went to the bellpull to order the gig readied.

She only prayed she wasn’t too late.

Chapter Twenty

I will do whatever it takes to make Arden love me. I shall begin by employing every trick of seduction I have ever learned.

– Roslyn to Fanny

When Drew woke to find himself sprawled on the sofa, a host of drums pounded inside his skull, while his roiling stomach chimed a chorus of protest at the abuse it had suffered.