The Mad Earl's Bride by Loretta Chase Read Free Book Online

desperate manner he’d galloped in.
    Abonville had—with the best of intentions, assuredly—thrown him into a dangerously agitated state. It was bound to happen again, and the duc was sure to make the worst possible decisions out of the best possible motives. She had seen it happen too many times: greedy physicians, eager to make heaps of money trying their ludicrous theories out on hopeless cases, and loving families blindly agreeing out of desperation.
    But the medical experts were men, and with men, everything was a war of sorts. Doctors were bound to battle disease, at times, as though the victims as well as the illness were mortal foes. Then the physicians wondered why their patients turned hostile.
    What Rawnsley needed was a friend. At present, though, thanks to Abonville—and poor, stupid Bertie—he viewed Gwendolyn as the enemy.
    “Drat them,” she muttered. “Leave it to men to make a muck of things.”
    She was silently reviewing her long litany of grievances against the male of the species when Rawnsley drew his mare to a halt.
    Gwendolyn noticed that the track had widened. There seemed to be enough room to ride abreast.
    Rawnsley was waiting for her to catch up, she realized with amazement. Her spirits rose, but only a very little bit. Experience had taught her not to leap to conclusions, especially optimistic ones.
    When she came up beside him, he spoke.
    “You mentioned a hospital,” he said, moving on again. His voice was hoarse and unsteady. Exhaustion and inner distress were easy enough to diagnose. The distress itself was more difficult to analyze. He was not looking at her but watching the path ahead, and his long, wet hair hung in his face, concealing his expression.
    “I have been trying to guess why you would come to marry a dying madman,” he continued. “You said you needed me. I assume it’s the money you need.” He gave a short laugh. “Obviously. What other reason could there be?”
    That was rather a crass way of putting it. Nevertheless, it was true enough, and Gwendolyn had determined at the outset to be honest with him.
    “I do need the money, to build a hospital,” she said. “I have definite ideas about how it should be constructed as well as the principles according to which it must be run. In order to achieve my goals—without negotiation or compromise—I require not only substantial funds, but influence. As Countess of Rawnsley, I should have both. As your widow, I should be able to act independently. Since you are the last of the males of your family, I should have to answer to no one.”
    She glanced at him. “You see, I did take all the details of your present situation into account, my lord.”
    He was looking straight ahead. He had pushed his sopping mane back from his face. She still couldn’t read his expression, but she saw no signs of shock or anger.
    “My grandfather would turn over in his grave,” he said after a moment. “A woman—the Countess of Rawnsley, no less—building a hospital with the family fortune. All that money thrown away upon peasants.”
    “Wealthy people don’t need hospitals,” she said. “They can afford to keep physicians about to attend every trivial discomfort.”
    “And you mean to run it according to your principles,” he said. “My grandfather had a very low opinion of feminine intelligence. A woman with ideas of her own, in his view, was a dangerous aberrant of Nature.” He glanced at her, then quickly away. “You present me with an almost irresistible temptation.”
    “I hope so,” she said. “There is not another man in England whose circumstances are more neatly suited to my aspirations. I grasped this almost immediately and was quite frantic to get here before you killed yourself. You see, I am much more desperate to marry you than you could possibly be to marry anybody.”
    “Desperate,” he said with another short laugh. “I am the answer to your prayers, am I?”
    The halfhearted rain was building to a