The Demon's Bride

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Authors: Jo Beverley
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you recording that?”
    “I record everything. That’s the way it’s done. One never knows what might be of interest. And it does say ‘dim.’”
    “Still obsessed with our local demon? If you want to be a Demon’s Bride, be mine.”
    Mrs. Hatcher came in at that moment and put the tray down with a thump.
    Rachel turned to her. “Mrs. Hatcher, you heard that didn’t you? He offered me marriage.”
    “I heard nothing, miss.”
    “Miss Proudfoot,” said the earl clearly, “please marry me.”
    “His lordship’s making a game of you, miss. Why, the first thing he did on arriving yesterday was to visit his daughter, Catty Hesset.”
    The flash of fiery anger from the earl’s eyes bounced off Mrs. Hatcher. She sent him a grim smile and left.
    Rachel looked at the tea tray, unable to pour because she was sure her hand would shake too much. “Is it true?”
    “That I have a daughter? Yes. Did you think I was a virgin?”
    Her cheeks burned with mortification. “I think you should have married the mother.”
    He laughed out loud. “My father would have had me shot! I was sixteen and Catty’s mother was the assistant dairymaid.”
    Rachel stared at him. “Like Meggie Brewstock! I suppose your victim was fortunate not to be thrown into a fire, too.”
    “Don’t be idiotic.”
    “I thought you said you hadn’t seduced a maid.”
    “I haven’t. She seduced me.”
    Rachel gave an unladylike snort of disbelief.
    “Can’t imagine a woman making the first moves? Nan was four years older than I and knew what she was doing, certainly better than I did. Though I was willing enough. We had a merry month of May, as I remember, and when she was with child both she and her family were pleased as punch. The dowry she got from my father set her and Jed Hesset up for life.”
    “And that makes it right?”
    “If all parties are happy, can it be wrong?”
    “Of course it can. What of the poor child?”
    “Catty’s twelve and pretty as a picture.”
    “And known far and wide as the earl’s by-blow!”
    “It won’t do her any harm to be blood-bound to the big house.”
    “It wouldn’t do her any harm to be raised a lady, but I don’t suppose your beneficence would stretch that far, would it, my lord?”
    His eyes narrowed. “I hope this vinegary disposition is the consequence of shock, Rachel. What would you have had me do? Snatch the babe from the mother’s breast at birth? Take her as an infant from her loving family and raise her at the Abbey with no other children? Or try to change her life now, when she’s happily equipped for something else entirely?”
     
     
    Rachel’s cheeks stung under the rebuke and she had no reply.
    “There are worse things,” he said, “than to be the well-loved daughter of a prosperous yeoman family. Be assured, if she ever has need of me, I will take care of her.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said, though she couldn’t feel that all this was right. She poured him a cup of tea. “Do you have other children?”
    “Not as far as I know, though there are quite a few junior sprigs of the aristocracy who could be mine. They could be fathered by half the men in London, though. Are you going to marry me?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “After a saga of dissipations such as that? Need you ask?”
    “Yes. Perhaps it’s my unmarried state that leads me into wickedness. It could be your Christian duty to marry me.”
    “I do not have the disposition of a Holy Martyr, my lord.”
    He stood restlessly. “What the devil do you want from me? I’m offering you a marriage far beyond your expectations.”
    “Like your daughter, my lord, I am content with my station.”
    “But you wouldn’t let that hold you back. Why? Why reject me?”
    “Because you’ve provided no honest reason for your pursuit! You don’t love me.”
    For a brief while, the cynical mask had lowered. She only knew it when it slid back into place.
    “If you want the truth, Miss Proudfoot, you shall have it. My

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