by Eve Pendle
“You said Peter’s debt alone was twenty thousand.”
“It is.” Business partners ought not to start off lying and trying to cheat each other. A tinge of guilt went through him, and he ignored it. “I’ll get the rest of the dowry. She only wants money to go abroad, and Larksview is at least as good as the continent. She’ll see my need is greater.”
George’s eyes widened as Everett explained the terms of their bargain.
“All I need to do is make her fall in love with me, or Larksview, she will stay, and I’ll have the money to pay all the debts.” It was a simple plan and his neck ought not to feel like stone. Tempting a lady wasn’t the same as forcing, or claiming husbandly rights.
“Untruth isn’t a good basis for a marriage.”
“It’s all very well for you to say.” It was easy for George. Married before Peter had inherited, he’d been at liberty to choose. He was financially secure, though not wealthy, and didn’t have an earldom to consider. “I have responsibilities.”
“I say it because I’m married,” George bit out.
“It will be fine.” Bitterness rose in Everett’s throat. With a callousness he didn’t feel, he added, “I will charm and seduce her before a week is out. It will be no hardship, as she is quite attractive.”
“She’s quite attractive, is she?”
Quite attractive was an understatement. She was one of the most striking women he had ever seen. The recollection of her swept-back hair and curved cheekbones and amber-tinted eyes didn’t invite pretty comparisons with roses. She was the chill breeze and warm sun of a summer’s day on your back. She was beautiful in a quirky way, not a diamond, but she had elegance and poise. She was like a rough-cut citrine, with sharp edges and swirling colors.
“She will come to me.” Brotherly rivalry would not allow him to concede any flaw in his plan.
“You poor deluded fool.” George shook his head. “I imagined that by avoiding town and being in the army you’d avoid making a stupid marriage. But apparently, you’re more like Father than I’d realized.”
“It’s not like that,” Everett snapped. “She is marrying for convenience as much as I am. And there won’t be a child in half a year’s time before I swan off to London.” He wasn’t like his father. Or his brothers, either. Peter had been a debauched rake, rumored to be found in compromising situations with any number of ladies, as well as in his main interest of gambling. Everett had found bills and IOUs crammed into desk drawers after his death. George was just as popular, but much more respectable. He had charmed every lady in ballrooms across the capital with his pretty compliments and attention, before marrying the toast of the season. Everett, on the other hand, had never liked debauchery or courting the approval of the ton.
“You think a lady is just like one of your camp followers, but she’s not. She’ll be like Mother. She’s not going to fall in love with you for your fancy title and a big crumbling house.”
“Our parent’s marriage was a love match. At least on Mother’s side. Before she was…bitter, she was hopeful.”
George looked down and his face seemed pale. “Ladies want gifts. Physical things like clothes and jewelry. You’d be well advised to buy something before you leave town.”
“Gifts.” Everett made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat and went to the window to look down at the busy street below. “There’s no money for gifts.”
Better gifts than love, though. The hurt looks from his mother and confused effrontery from his father whenever he left Larksview for London had made love seem rather unhealthy.
“Then, of course, they need the other gift that only a real man can give. They want children,” George said.
There was something deprecating in the way he said, “real man,” but Everett ignored it. He turned away from the window. “Presents and sex. Well, I will be sure to bear your advice in mind, little brother. And now, what about—”
“Lots of clothes and a baby, that’s enough for a lady. But, you need to think carefully about this. You’re a man. Will it be enough for you?”
George’s face was tight, and for the first time, Everett wondered if the seemingly charmed life of his was entirely happy. Before he’d been married, George had been infatuated with someone else. Everett had thought it a passing fancy, if a scandalous one. “Is that the case for you?”
“I’m just fine,” George replied with some of his usual cheer. “My fate is already decided. I just thought you might want to see that you could do a little better than the daughter of a tradesman who you have to persuade to love you just so that she will keep her purse nearby.”
Irritation spiked him anew. “What I want is irrelevant. The Earl of Westbury must have a rich wife. There is no choice.”
George harrumphed dismissively. “Well, I wish you luck. Especially with informing Mother. She will be apoplectic.”
“There will be no reason for Mother to know the Miss A in the gossip columns looking for a marriage of convenience is the same Miss Alnott I’m marrying. You will not tell her.”
“She won’t hear it from me,” George said. “But you can’t hide she’s from trade.”
Everett swallowed. He had six weeks to save Larksview by winning over Grace. He had to be captivating enough to mitigate a crumbling estate, dying cattle, the burdens of being a countess, west-country rain, his brother’s debts, and the haughty dowager.
And he couldn’t touch Grace without her explicit request.
He’d served as a young officer in the Crimean war and brought back most, though never enough, of his soldiers. He’d served in India. He knew about insane wars. Such a small campaign ought to be easy. Just one woman.
This needed sixty years, not six weeks.
Chapter Four
The First Week
Grace watched Lord Westbury sign the documents Maurice had prepared, resisting the urge to fidget by looking out of the window. Screened through the lens of the water droplets on the window, the sky was soft undulations of gray that moved gently, as though it were a pot being stirred. Hardly an auspicious sort of July day to be married.
Lord Westbury looked up, a lock of chestnut hair flopping into his eyes as he met her gaze. She resisted the urge to sweep it back into place. Just.
“Done.” He pushed the papers away. “Shall we go, my bride to be?”
Grace swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes.”
The butterflies in her stomach was just nerves. This marriage was a pragmatic step, but it was also the final acknowledgement that her feelings for Samuel were over.
“Our bargain starts now,” Lord Westbury whispered to her as they walked into the church.
His voice was deep with some emotion, and she turned to look at him. She expected him to be sad, perhaps thinking of some lost lover, but he wasn’t. He was regarding her with an affectionate smile, as though he’d said something amusing instead of tragic.
“We must pretend to be in love.”
A tremor went through her. Pretending to be in love with him would be much too easy. She straightened her back and looked ahead. “It’s not necessary yet, Lord Westbury.”
“Everett. You must call me Everett.”
His name sounded in her mind like a song or a bell chime. When they reached the altar, Grace looked behind to Caroline and Maurice for reassurance. They were taking their seats and didn’t see her watching for them.
Would her mother have approved of her marrying this indigent aristocrat? Her father would have liked talking about his daughter, the Countess of Westbury. Not the exact man he had arranged for her, but still an earl.
This marriage was a strange combination of rebellion and obedience. He wasn’t her choice; this whole situation wasn’t her choice. But then, perhaps that was a good thing, given how her decisions had worked out.
His arm moved under her hand. He ducked so they were almost face-to-face. She tried not to get lost in the gray storm of his eyes.
“We have to feign intimacy, Grace.” He leaned
toward her so only she would hear and it vibrated through her. “That was what you promised for six weeks. We may as well show the rector how in love we are, so as not to be unpracticed at Larksview.” A glint in his eyes dared her to accept.
Her tiny nod of agreement was a bad idea, but it was just pretense. As the marriage service began, she slid into her role. She relaxed her face, let her admiration out, and examined each one of his features as though it were familiar and dear to her rather than new. But she could feel the worry behind her eyes, and knew it was clear to see.
She was unprepared for the vows, which seemed to come as suddenly as their impromptu promises in the Fishers’ house. Lord Westbury, or Everett as she must think, since he would be her husband, paused before he took her hand, gaze flicking up to hers for approval before he touched her. She repeated her vows and watched the corner of his mouth curve into a smile, his eyes affectionate as though this were the culmination of his dreams. He was a better actor than her.
The ring, of course he’d bought a ring, was a modest-sized yellow sapphire with delicate engraving of tiny flowers in the gold band. It pinched as he pushed it over her knuckle, then settled onto her finger as though it had always been there.
Then, the priest was smiling at them and inviting Everett to kiss his bride. Oh, she’d forgotten this part of the marriage ceremony. A kiss in front of a priest, her friends, and even God. Her experiences with kissing were hasty, a clash of lips with Samuel when they’d been out for a walk, a furtive embrace in the hallway before they walked into a room, or the cursory peck on the hand as a greeting. What would it feel like when she was performing as a lover, tantamount to being on a stage?
It took her a few seconds of him not moving, still holding her hand in his, for her to realize he was waiting for her approval. Just patiently looking at her as thoughts panicked through her. Another second, and it would appear strange.
She tightened her fingers and pulled him toward her as she pushed up onto tiptoes. He leaned in, and suddenly this wasn’t a masquerade.
His lips met hers, warm, firm, and confident, and oh, this wasn’t the same sort of kiss as she’d had before. It was simple and chaste and yet complicated and fizzing. The delicious feeling of him and the clean scent of his collar enveloped her, and in the stroking of his lips on hers, she could feel his tenderness. The restrained strength of him was evident in his hand, clasped with hers, so much bigger and capable of pulling her wherever he wanted. But he hadn’t. He’d waited for her permission and for her lead.
She pulled away. It was just a kiss. Didn’t she know by now that reading too much into a man’s kisses was unwise. Dangerous. It might feel different, but it was just the same as any of the sweet kisses she’d had with Samuel Brooker. Light, frothy, but ultimately meaningless when faced with financial reality. A kiss was disposable.
She refocused her eyes and found he was smiling.
God, how was she to keep her head, or her maidenhead for that matter, when his eyes danced with challenge?
…
“Where would you like to go for the wedding breakfast?” Everett glanced over to her as they walked out of the church. The marriage had been organized in such a hurry, there was no place booked for the few guests and themselves.
She seemed to hesitate, and he pushed his advantage. “It doesn’t have to be a big affair, just the two of us, if you would prefer.” A cozy meal could be a good way to start his battle.
“Didn’t you get my note?” A little furrow dug into her brow. “I arranged for us to visit my father’s solicitor after the wedding.”
Everett was beginning to see why people decried the practical money match. She’d appeared yielding, feminine, and happy during the wedding ceremony, but she was utterly pragmatic.
“You wouldn’t like to celebrate first?” There was no hope of seduction in a solicitor’s office. They stopped in front of his hired carriage, which had been waiting for them outside the church.
Grace’s face was a picture of confusion. “I thought you would be as keen as I am to sort out the financial aspect.”
He nodded reluctantly. Somehow, he kept forgetting that she didn’t share his covert mission. She thought this was just a marriage of convenience, whereas he was certain she was going to stay with him, because without her half of the money, the estate would still crumple.
“Besides, a celebration is hardly appropriate, given the circumstances.” Grace’s eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement. “Mr. Salcombe will be waiting.” And she stepped up into the carriage without any assistance from him or the footman.
At the solicitor’s office, Mr. Salcombe politely listened to Everett’s request for Grace’s dowry, all the time sneaking sideways looks at Grace with narrowed eyes.
“The wedding certificate?” The man held out his hand.
Grace placed the wedding certificate on his desk, then sat with her hands clasped easily in her lap and an expression Everett could only describe as smug.
The solicitor read the pale green document and shook his head, his lips stretched. “This isn’t what your father wanted, Miss Alnott.”
“Lady Westbury.” Her golden-brown eyes blazed as she corrected him. “I have fulfilled the terms of the will.”
Mr. Salcombe creased his neck turning to Everett. “Mr. Alnott has left the guardianship of his young son to Lord Rayner. You will not have access to Alnott Stores’ profit, or anything beyond this dowry. Did you know about the condition of Miss Alnott marrying a peer?”
For half a second, annoyance and hope battled in him. He hadn’t known there was money left to her brother. She hadn’t even told him about her brother and his guardianship. But then, the money was out of their reach, the brother was clearly not a concern to her, and Grace had been truthful with him about the conditions of the dowry.
“Naturally.” He inclined his head. “My wife informed me of all the salient facts.”
The solicitor set his elbows onto the desk, trapping the marriage certificate under them, and steepled his fingers. “Mr. Alnott’s intention is obvious.”
Her aspiration to run away to the continent might be rather shallow, but he had to admire her courage. She had intervened and changed her life, as he had when he’d joined the army. The difference was his life had been altered again by an incompetent wheelwright, a single carriage wheel, and his elder brother Peter’s death.
He looked over at Grace. The look of serenity on her face belied by a tightness around her mouth. Her determination made the sensuous femininity of the curves of her breasts and skirt seem incongruous.
“As my wife says, it seems this is all in order,” Everett said in his colonel’s voice, broking no disagreement.
The solicitor huffed and slowly passed the marriage certificate back to Grace.
“We would be obliged if you wrote the dowry check immediately.” Grace tilted her chin up. “We’d like to catch the two o’clock from Paddington.”
…
“You didn’t tell me Lord Rayner was custodian of your brother and his fortune,” Everett said once they were settled in the train alone. The check for his half of the marriage settlement was within his coat pocket.
“Oh, it’s of no consequence.” She brushed an invisible bit of lint from her cape, her face blank.
If George had been under some other man’s custody, Everett would have struck down everything in his way to get to him. “Don’t worry too much. We can visit as soon as you like.”
Grace’s head snapped up, and he caught a beam of fear and longing in her gaze before her eyelids slid down to shutter her thoughts. There was a small pause and when she met his gaze again, her face had a smooth serenity. “You asked for six weeks of my time. It wouldn’t be right to take it up visiting my brother.”
Everett felt his eyebrows twitch before he could suppress his response. He must have fabricated the need to see her brother in her eyes, because there was no trace of it now. It was incomprehensible that she was so unfeeling about her b
rother. He hadn’t been able to leave for the army until he’d seen his little brother safely to University and even then, they’d kept up a regular correspondence. He could no more understand not visiting a child than he could understand beating a dog. He certainly couldn’t condone leaving a child and going abroad. He might not truly understand George or his mother, but he could never give them up or leave them.
Since she clearly didn’t take her own responsibilities seriously, it wasn’t as though he was doing anything wrong by persuading her to stay at Larksview. He looked out of the window, the green fields and neat hedges blurring past. He ought to plan for when they arrived.
But his mind wouldn’t leave the issue alone. There was something else. “Your father must have thought highly of Lord Rayner. I wonder that you didn’t marry him to be with your brother.”
Grace’s jaw clenched before she composed her mouth into an almost smile. “Men think ladies go about marriage as they do, like a hunting expedition where you shoot a dozen birds and choose your favorite.” She pierced him with a look. “It is much more serious for a lady. I could never take a marriage proposal for granted. It might be true for an incomparable, but I could not assume that Lord Rayner would wish to marry me.”
Her eyes flashed while she ridiculed his assumptions, and he liked it.
“But you didn’t try?”
She regarded him carefully, as though he were a new sort of automaton she was trying to comprehend the workings of. “We don’t suit,” she said eventually.
“Neither do we.” He gave her a wry grin. She didn’t return the smile. But then, perhaps she was right not to make light of it. They had nothing in common, with her selfish desire to run away abroad making her spread a rumor as contagious as influenza to catch a husband. Whereas he dedicated all his time to the Westbury duties.
Her father had practically forced a man upon her, and instead she had gone searching for another as though her brother’s guardian didn’t exist. What exactly had Lord Rayner done that meant she preferred a stranger to her father’s choice?
