A Convenient Fiction

by Mimi Matthews

  “Would you have done Henrietta the same courtesy?” she asked.

  “Henrietta was different.”

  She stiffened. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” His hand tightened around hers when she tried to withdraw it. “I didn’t care for Henrietta.”

  “Oh.” Her voice was a mere thread of sound.

  He did care for her after all. Cared for her so much that he was willing to leave her. It was some sort of logic. The ridiculous masculine kind, no doubt.

  “Whatever you choose to do,” he went on, “you’ll have my name, and any financial support you require. Having a husband may even carry some weight with that London solicitor of yours.”

  “More than you know,” she said. “But surely you needn’t contemplate leaving. Just because things have gone wrong in the past—”

  “Things don’t go wrong, Laura. I go wrong. I’m not a good man. It’s been many years since I aspired to be one.”

  “Nonsense. You may not be a good man, but…you’re not a bad one, either.”

  “Faint praise,” he said. “Though more than I deserve.”

  “I mean it.” She pressed his hand. “A black-hearted villain would never have gone into the sea to rescue me. Not if it meant destroying all of his plans with a marriageable young heiress.”

  He looked down at her hand, curled safely in his. “Yes, well… This particular black-hearted villain wasn’t thinking entirely clearly at the time.”

  “And now you mean to marry me, though you must know that you could easily find another wealthy lady to wed.”

  His gaze lifted to hers. “I daresay I could. There’s only one problem.”

  “Which is?”

  “She wouldn’t be you.”

  Her heart turned over.

  “Will you marry me, Laura?” he asked. “Will you consent to be my wife?”

  A humid breeze stirred the roses on the arbor. Their sweet perfume drifted in the morning air. A fragrant promise for the future, or so Laura thought. A promise not just for her, but for Teddy and Aunt Charlotte, too. They were going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right. All she had to do was say yes.

  And so, she did.

  “Yes,” she said. “I will.”

  A spasm of emotion crossed over Alex’s face. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared—a tiny crack in the mask he always wore. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “You honor me.”

  Laura could think of no reply. Speech seemed wholly inadequate—unnecessary too. After only an instant, he released her hand. The moment had passed.

  “Here, I have something for you.” He once again reached into his pocket. “Another reason I traveled to London. I keep one or two valuables in care of a bank there.” He produced a small cylindrical box bound in red morocco leather. “This is one of them.”

  Laura hadn’t much experience with fashionable jewel cases, but she recognized one when she saw it. She took it from him with trembling fingers and very slowly opened the hinged lid.

  Her breath stopped in her chest.

  Inside the box, settled on a bed of velvet, was a single flawless ruby set in a band of antique gold.

  Her eyes flew to his. “Is this—?”

  “A betrothal ring. A wedding band. Whatever you wish to call it.” He removed it from the box. “I believe it will fit you. If not, I can send it out to a jeweler.” He took her hand again, and slipped the ring onto her third finger. It caught briefly on her knuckle before sliding firmly home. “There. Perfect.”

  She stared down at her hand. The ruby smoldered with liquid fire, as red as a drop of blood against her pale skin. It seemed significant somehow. Far too significant a ring for a mere marriage of convenience. “It looks very old.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I do. Very much. But…where did you get it? Is it a family heirloom of some kind?”

  “I told you,” he said, “I was born an orphan. I haven’t any family.”

  She looked up at him. This mysterious, fascinating, complicated man that would soon be her husband. Her heart thumped hard. “You do now.”

  Alex stood in front of the rickety wooden washstand in Teddy’s bedroom, lathering his jaw with lemon verbena-scented shaving soap. After accepting his proposal, Laura had insisted he come inside and refresh himself from his journey.

  There was little alternative.

  He had no accommodations in the village yet. And the vicar wasn’t likely to welcome him back at the vicarage—not now that he knew the shameless way Alex had exploited George.

  “A marriage of convenience.” Teddy sat across the room in his wheeled chair, watching Alex shave with a doubtful expression. “And Laura’s agreed to it?”

  “She has.” Alex’s chest tightened to recall it.

  He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d approached Laura in the garden. And when she’d consented to marry him—when he’d slipped the ruby ring on her finger—there was a part of him that couldn’t quite take it in.

  She’d been right to accuse him of being a chameleon. His life since he’d left North Devon was one of artifice and illusion. But his proposal to Laura had been all too real.

  Had she refused him, it would have been a devastating blow.

  “When?” Teddy asked.

  Alex wiped his hands on the wet cloth that hung beside the basin. “We haven’t set a day yet.” He picked up his shaving razor. “But soon.”

  “Tomorrow,” Teddy said.

  “If that’s what your sister wants.”

  The door creaked open a crack. It was the cat, poking its head through. When it saw Teddy, it trotted the rest of the way into the room and jumped onto his desk.

  Teddy gave the beast a cursory stroke. “She will. Her birthday is on Saturday. She’ll want to be married before then.”

  “You’re very certain.”

  “I know my sister. She’ll do what she thinks is best for everyone—even if it makes her unhappy in the end.”

  Alex’s hand stilled on his razor, midway through a downward stroke along the edge of his jaw. He met Teddy’s gaze in the mirror. “You don’t sound as if you approve of our marrying.”

  “I don’t disapprove. If not for you, she’d have drowned at Margate. I know that. So does my aunt, though she won’t admit it. You saved Laura’s life. But that doesn’t give you the right to make what’s left of it a misery.”

  “I don’t intend to. Which is why I’ll likely be leaving at some point in future.”

  “Huh.” Teddy appeared unimpressed by this revelation. “Where will you go?”

  “France, probably.” Alex resumed shaving. His beard came off in a series of practiced flicks of the razor. “It would be better for all involved.”

  “Better for you, you mean.” Teddy picked up the cat from his desk and dropped it gently onto the floor. “Is the idea of living here with her so unappealing?”

  “It’s not about her.”

  “In other words—”

  “In other words, it’s between your sister and me.” Alex rinsed his razor in the basin. “Some things, my lad, are none of your business.”

  “I’m Laura’s brother. She’ll always be my business. If you harm her—”

  “I’m not going to harm her.”

  “You’ll break her heart.”

  “I doubt that,” Alex said.

  He didn’t have Laura’s heart. She was fond of him, certainly. Fond enough to accept his proposal. But love was something else entirely. He hadn’t experienced it yet in his life, and he didn’t expect to.

  “You don’t know much about women,” Teddy observed.

  Alex chuckled as he finished shaving. “And you do?”

  “I’ve been in love before.”

  “Have you now?” Alex cast Teddy
an interested glance. “With whom, may I ask?”

  Teddy gave him a wry look. “Henrietta Talbot.”

  Alex’s brows shot up. “Henrietta? I thought you despised her.”

  “I don’t despise her. I merely recognize her for what she is. A small-minded, provincial petty tyrant. One doesn’t notice so much at first, but in time it’s all too clear.”

  Alex wiped the remaining soap from his jaw. “What happened?”

  Teddy shrugged. “I grew out of it. Every man does.”

  “You make it sound as though falling in love with Henrietta Talbot was a rite of passage for the gentlemen of Surrey.”

  “I daresay it is. She’s very beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as your sister.”

  “Oh, Laura’s all right. She doesn’t bore a chap, at least.” Teddy rolled his chair back from his desk. “I don’t expect she’ll bore you.”

  Alex dried his face with the cloth. “Chances are, I won’t be around long enough to find out.”

  Teddy said nothing in response. The look of disapproval on his face was reply enough.

  When Alex finished washing and changing, he assisted Teddy down the stairs to the parlor and helped him get settled on the sofa. Mrs. Bainbridge was already there, seated in a winged chair near the fireplace. She’d been decidedly cool to Alex since his arrival.

  “Where’s Laura?” he asked.

  “She’s gone to the kitchen to see about tea. We’re very informal here, Mr. Archer. Had you sent us word that you intended to arrive today, we might have been better prepared.”

  “For that, I must beg your pardon,” Alex said. “And for causing you any distress. I’ve been too much on my own these past years. One forgets the common courtesies.”

  She pursed her lips. “I think you might have at least mentioned you were going to London to procure a special license. Had we known, it would have alleviated much of our worrying.”

  Alex apologized once more before withdrawing from the room to find Laura.

  He didn’t like making excuses for his behavior. Didn’t feel he owed them to anyone. Apologizing was simply a matter of form. A means of smoothing over ruffled feathers, so one could get on with the business of the day.

  In this case, however, Alex had to own that Mrs. Bainbridge was right.

  Perhaps he should have sent word of his whereabouts to Laura and her family. On arriving in London, it had certainly crossed his mind. But when it came to the point, he hadn’t been equal to sending a telegram. Not because he hadn’t had the time, and not because he lacked the courtesy, but because—in all truth—a part of him had wanted, quite badly, to simply disappear.

  He hadn’t been lying to Laura about the dangers of his caring for people. There would always be a part of him that couldn’t be trusted or relied upon. The more he cared for someone, the greater his betrayal would be in the end. His past provided ample proof of that fact. He’d loved Justin, Tom, and Neville like brothers. They were the closest thing he’d ever had to a family, and he’d betrayed them worst of all.

  On boarding the train from Margate, Alex had felt the urge to betray Laura, too. To leave her behind before he hurt her even worse than he’d hurt them. It would be a noble action, he’d told himself. A sacrifice which would, ultimately, spare her from being bound forever to an unscrupulous villain.

  In the end, such sentiments were no match for his own selfishness. As he waited for the clerk to fill out the special license in Doctor’s Commons, he came to accept the simple truth: He wanted Laura too much to let her go.

  “You’re mine now,” he’d whispered to her on the beach. “And I’m yours.”

  It had been a foolish, impulsive thing to say. A sentiment brought on by her words to him as they’d waltzed together. But he’d meant it, God help him.

  There had been no turning back from that moment. No running away. He might be a villain. A selfish, heartless, rogue. But Laura was his. Bound to him as surely as if they’d already been joined in matrimony.

  All that remained was to make their connection legal.

  Alex found her in the pantry cupboard off the kitchen. She’d changed into a clean morning dress, her hair freshly arranged in a plaited coil at her neck, secured with a pair of combs.

  She stood up on the toes of her slippers, stretching her arm to reach the top shelf. When she saw him, her face brightened. “Just the fellow I need. Can you reach that tin?”

  He stepped past her, briefly resting his hand on the small of her back. “What is it?”

  “Sugared biscuits. Mrs. Crabtree made them for our tea yesterday.”

  He retrieved the tin with ease. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you.” As she took it from him, their bare fingers brushed.

  A frisson of heat flickered low in his belly. She smelled of summer roses, lavender water, and starched linens. Clean and fresh and sweet. “Laura…”

  She looked up at him. “What is it?”

  “After tea, I have to pay a visit to the vicarage.”

  “To see George?”

  “To speak with the vicar. I owe him some kind of explanation.”

  “He may not be in any mood to hear one. With everything George has been saying, he’s predisposed to think ill of you.”

  “With good reason.”

  A cloud of worry darkened her brow. “It’s not going to be a pleasant visit, I fear.”

  “No. Which is why it’s better to get it over with. Especially if we want the vicar to marry us.” He paused, suddenly uncertain. “You do wish to marry in a church?”

  “Of course.”

  Mrs. Crabtree chose that moment to poke her head around the corner. Though she saw them both standing together, plain as day, she addressed her remarks to Laura as if Alex wasn’t there. “Did you find those biscuits, miss?”

  “Yes, indeed. Here they are.” Laura handed her the tin. “Do you need my help with anything else, Mrs. Crabtree?”

  Mrs. Crabtree’s mouth tightened a fraction. “You attend to your guest, Miss Laura. I’ll bring the tray in soon as it’s ready.”

  “I often help,” Laura confided after the housekeeper had gone. “I suppose she doesn’t care for me to admit it in company.”

  “You cook?” Alex was unable to keep the note of surprise out of his voice. Ladies weren’t supposed to assist in the kitchen, no matter how straitened their circumstances. Cooking was servants’ work.

  “A little,” she admitted. “Why? Do you think it beneath me? I assure you it isn’t. After my father died, we couldn’t afford to keep on the kitchen maid or the parlor maid. It was up to me to help Mrs. Crabtree with some of the chores—and the meals, as well.” A faint flush of color rose in her cheeks. “I’m not ashamed of it.”

  “Nor should you be.” He knew very well how Laura felt about work. She’d informed him the first day they’d met that being a gentleman—or a lady, for that matter—was no excuse not to do what one needed to survive. “All the same,” he said, choosing his words with care, “I’d rather you didn’t spend your days toiling in the kitchen. After we’re married, you must employ more help. A maid or two, and a footman.”

  “Alex—”

  “Don’t quibble. I may not be landed gentry, but I’m no pauper. Fifty or sixty pounds per annum in servants’ wages isn’t likely to bankrupt me.”

  “It’s not that. Indeed, if things go according to plan with Hayes’s Perfumes, you won’t have to lay out any money on my account at all.” Her ebony brows drew together. “Would you like me to go with you to the vicarage?”

  “Riding pillion on my horse?” He half smiled. “That would be charming—though unadvisable, I think.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Will you be coming back directly?”

  He shook his head. “I need to find accommodations in the village. A room at the inn. Som
ething. Best to keep this looking as aboveboard as possible.”

  “It’s a little late for that. The whole village is already brimful of gossip about you being a villain, and my being your unwitting victim. It can hardly get any worse.”

  “Let’s not tempt fate, shall we? You and your family have to live in Lower Hawley. You’ll be here long after I’m gone. It won’t hurt to try to right the ship before I leave.”

  “Ah yes. Your plan to marry me and then quietly disappear.” She smoothed her hand over his waistcoat. “I have more to say on that subject.”

  His breath hitched. These little proprietary touches of hers would be the end of him. “Say it, by all means.”

  “Not now. It requires a longer conversation than can be had in a pantry cupboard.” She hesitated, her fingers toying absently with one of his buttons. “I can’t ride behind you on your horse, but there’s nothing to say we can’t walk together to the vicarage.”

  “In this heat?”

  “It would give us time to talk.”

  He covered her restless fingers with his hand. “Is it that important?”

  Laura gave him an odd, measuring look. “Yes. I believe it is.”

  Laura kept pace with Alex as they made their way along the curving path that led through Talbot’s Wood. It ran parallel to the road and had the benefit of being partially shaded by the branches of the trees. The heat was still oppressive, but less so than it might otherwise have been.

  She wondered if he regretted agreeing to walk the distance to the vicarage with her rather than ride. He’d been quiet since they left the cottage.

  Not that she could blame him.

  Tea with Aunt Charlotte and Teddy had been a tense affair, punctuated by thinly veiled statements of censure, and outright disbelief. Aunt Charlotte clearly didn’t think that Alex would keep his word to marry Laura. While Teddy seemed to be more concerned that he would.

  “It’s not worth it,” he’d told her in a private moment. “Not for our sakes.”

  “I haven’t agreed to marry him for the sake of the family,” Laura had replied. “Not entirely.”