“Strictly speaking, I didn’t know you and your mother were here.”
Vivian dared a glance at him. “And now that you do?”
He didn’t look at her. “Let us see the Abbey, and we will figure out the rest after.”
They fell into silence as they ascended the path and came around the bend in the road. As the Abbey came into view, Vivian’s heart swelled, and a feeling of contentment grew inside her.
Kenswick Abbey had been her home since she was born within its walls. It had stood tall and strong as time moved around it, as wars raged over its grounds. It had not wavered, not since its construction as a Cistercian monastery during William the Conqueror’s time, the same king under which the barony had been earned by her forefather. The Abbey had stood for centuries before Henry the VIII sold it to her ancestor. Eight hundred years a Burke had held the Kenswick title, and now it was in the hands of a stranger.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” the earl said, pausing with his hand propped on his hip.
The Abbey didn’t look as damaged as it was, especially from this angle.
Tresses of ivy grew up the front of the structure that showed no damage from the fire that had been its downfall. The stone façade stood tall and strong against the cheerful spring sunlight. Shadows pooled in the stone archways she’d once run through as a child.
Wordlessly, she continued towards the Abbey, her heart aching for her home. This building was her family, it was her heritage. And now it was a shell of what it had been. Much like she was.
As they neared the structure, the damage became clearer. The windows were missing panes of glass, parts of the roof had burned away, and one side was nearly caved in from a tree that had crashed down onto it. Every opening was lined with black, marking the path the flames took as they had burned through.
“Oh,” Kenswick said softly as he regarded the damage with awe. “What happened?”
“A storm. A terrible howling wind practically took the roof off. Lightening stuck the tree which fell onto the house and lit everything on fire. From there, it burned.”
The earl glanced at her, worry laced through his eyes. “Was anyone hurt?”
Vivian didn’t meet his gaze. “A few minor burns and scrapes.”
He watched her for a long moment, his lavender blue eyes boring into her with a seriousness she found unnerving. No doubt he’d noticed the scars on her mother’s face. Vivian only hoped he hadn’t noticed her own.
He nodded towards her hands. “Is that how your mother was injured?”
Of course, he’d noticed.
“Yes,” she replied simply, and folded her arms behind her back, not offering further explanation.
Kenswick nodded and took the lead around the perimeter of the Abbey. From the side where the tree had fallen the damage was much more severe. The stones that had withstood more than half a century of storms and barrages were charred black from the fire. The tree lay still where it fell, like a strong arm of a giant had pounded its fist down onto the structure.
Vivian followed the earl as he surveyed the exterior, nodding to himself every now and then. He certainly was taking this assessment seriously.
“Might we go inside?” he asked as they returned around to the front.
Vivian gestured toward the door. “It is your house.”
The truth of it burned. He could never be Kenswick, not to her. Not when her father had been blessed with four sons, and none had been able to survive their father. Not when the Prince Regent had given her father’s title to this flippant lord who now dared to walk the halls of the Abbey.
Vivian followed him into the house, biting her lip. It wasn’t his fault, she supposed. For all she knew he hadn’t asked for the title. It was the circumstances that burned at her, the drastic turn her life had taken over the last three years. Fate, it seemed was not her friend.
The interior of Kenswick Abbey brought tears to her eyes. The hallowed stone halls, holding priceless antiques and artifacts, bits of England’s history, were darkened and lined with soot. Broken things littered the floor with dirt and leaves. They had not lived in the Abbey since the day after the fire, only returning for things they needed. The broken vases and artwork were useless now.
He came to stop finally in a drawing room. Aside from the gaping hole in the side of the wall, the room was practically untouched. Sunlight filled the room, illuminating the existing yellow and rose coloring. The paper on the wall had yellowed and peeled, the burned chair frames were dirtied and covered with leaves, damp still from the winter’s snowfall.
“When did this happen?”
Vivian wanted to lie and tell him it was recent. That his negligence had led to this disaster, and their discomfort after. He appeared to fear she would say something along those lines, judging by the pained way he glanced about the room.
Vivian sighed. She couldn’t lie to him about this.
“Two and a half years ago,” she replied. “Before you inherited.”
“I didn’t inherit your father’s title.”
“Same difference,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“When did your father die?”
Vivian paused, the pain of the truth squeezing her heart.
“He died that night, didn’t he?” Kenswick asked carefully.
Vivian nodded. Images from that night swam back to her, her throat tightening at the memory of the smoke filling her lungs, her inability to breathe or move to save her own life.
“I take it the Abbey is important to you?”
Vivian nodded again, unable to make her voice work properly.
He turned, his eyes roaming over the rubble of the room. After a long moment, he stepped towards a window, the glass missing, sunlight boring happily down to his handsome face.
“You mentioned an uncle and an aunt,” he stated not turning towards her. “Are they able to offer you assistance?”
“Assistance?”
“I mean no offense, but your conditions here are less than ideal.”
Vivian bit back a smart remark. “My aunt is a tiresome woman who is tolerable only in short doses. My uncle, while doting, has a young family of his own. My mother and I get along just fine without any assistance. We do not require their charity. Nor yours.”
“I believe I have a solution to both our problems, then,” he said with a decisive nod, deciding something silently to himself.
Vivian’s throat tightened again, fearful of what he might do. “I wasn’t aware we both had problems needing to be solved.”
“Oh, indeed we do,” he replied, turning towards her. “You and this house are something of a conundrum. I dare not tear it down, for I feel destruction would cause more harm than good. Should I sell it, the new owner might do just that.”
“It needs repairs,” Vivian ventured to say, forcing the words to be spoken. “It deserves the chance to stand for another century or more.”
“I do not disagree.”
“Then what is this plan of yours that will solve my problem?”
A broad grin broke across Kenswick’s face, and Vivian sucked in a breath. She ached to return his smile with one of her own, but she would not be done in by his pretty face, and his pretty words. Not when he held her future in his hands.
“I think you should marry me.”
Chapter Three
While Luke had not expected her to jump right into his arms and declare him her savior, he had not anticipated her to be overcome with laughter.
Miss Burke— Vivian— had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter, her shoulders shaking. It was a lovely sound, jubilant and joyful, something his ton life was lacking. Ladies of the beau monde did not laugh like this, though they really should. Vivian was rather pretty when she was glaring at him, but with tears of laughter raining down her face, she was enchanting.
“Goodness, my lord, you said you liked to be amusing. This is simply too much.”
He wasn’t sure when over the past hour of their walk from the
groundskeeper’s cottage to this room he had made the decision to offer for her, but now the idea made sense. He liked her well enough, was certainly attracted to her. She cared for her people, and for the future of this title. She was poised and well spoken, despite the dirt under her nails which he found he appreciated. He liked that about her; she wasn’t opposed to do the work that needed to be done. He admired her for it. She had a fire in her and did not shy away from hardship. Life as his wife would not be easy.
Vivian attempted to control her amusement. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am,” he replied, struggling to keep the contempt from his voice but failed. Her laughter died at his tone, and she eyed him peculiarly.
“Why?”
His reasons swam about in his gut uncomfortably. None of them were declarations of love and admiration; nothing a lady would want to hear in a marriage proposal. He’d already given his heart to a woman once. He doubted he would ever do it again. He barely even knew Vivian; he certainly wasn’t in love with her.
“I am suggesting purely a marriage of convenience,” he stated, and hated that he sounded so impersonal. “I have need of a wife, and you have need of a house.”
“You are suggesting that if I marry you, you will give me this house?”
Luke nodded. “Kenswick Abbey is not entailed. When I was bestowed this title, I was given a list of properties to do with as I see fit. I have one year to determine which I will entail and which I can sell for profit. I could give the Abbey to you.”
“That seems unusual.”
“I try not to question the decisions of the Prince Regent.”
“You would just give me Kenswick Abbey?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes. After six months.”
“Why six months?”
Luke fought the urge to growl at the ridiculous orders the Prince Regent had given him. “If I am to return to the life I had before this title, I have to give the impression I have taken the earldom seriously. That includes setting up the entitlements, showing my face in the House of Lords and taking a wife. My one-year deadline expires at the end of July.”
“That’s only three months from now. You said you needed six.”
“An additional three months to solidify the lie.”
“What is so important you need to return to? What was your life before Kenswick?”
Espionage, he thought, but he replied, “I was a foreign diplomat.”
“And I’m supposed to just be here, your wife waiting for you?”
“Not exactly. It’s a marriage purely in the eyes of the law. After the initial six months, we needn’t live as husband and wife. Marriages dissolve all the time, couples split and live separate lives. The Prince Regent is a prime example.”
“What of children?”
“I’ve never thought about having children. I’ve no need of one now.”
Vivian regarded him with surprise. “But you are an earl. Do you not want an heir?”
Luke shrugged. “I never intended to be an earl. I certainly don’t have a care to ensure the line continues.”
“But what if I want children?”
“As long as you are discreet, I will claim whatever child you have,” he replied truthfully.
She thought for a long moment, her eyes darting around the damaged room. “After six months, I will return here?”
He nodded. “You can be Lady Kenswick, sole owner of Kenswick Abbey. As though you inherited your father’s title after all.”
Vivian pursed her lips.
“Are you not worried about falling in love with me?” he teased. His lips pulled into a lopsided smile. “I can be quite charming. Six months living together could inspire you to have feelings for me.
Vivian’s gaze didn’t change. “I'm not likely to fall in love with you.”
Luke shrugged. “I’m not going to fall in love with you either. By no fault of your own, I assure you. I’ve fallen in love once. I’ve no intention of repeating the experience.”
“That is settled then.”
“Aside from the six month condition, I will implore you to support my estate manager with the running of the estates, the domestic staff and preparing any properties for rental. If I am out of the country, I will need someone to take charge in that aspect. My estate manager should handle things well enough, but I suspect there will be things required as my wife.”
“It sounds as though you are offering a position, not a marriage.”
“I suppose I am,” he replied with a shrug. “You will be performing a service—”
“A service? If you think that I will be at your service whenever you feel the urge—”
“Not that kind of service,” he said quickly, though a blush ran up the back of his neck, burning his ears. He did not want to think of her in that way, but his mind had already gone there multiple times only to be pulled back in reminder of their circumstances. “A service as in the wifely duties—”
That wasn’t any better if the anger flaring in her gaze was any indication.
“Duties befitting a countess,” he scrambled to correct the misconstrued words tumbling out of his mouth. “Like dealing with housekeepers and menus and… stuff.”
“Stuff? Do you even know what would be required of a woman in this position? Or are you just making it up as you go?”
“I can surmise what would be required, but specifically, and in complete detail, no. Things will arise—”
“Arise?”
Luke ignored her. “If the estate manager requires your assistance, you will oblige.”
“For the rest of my life? As if I am married to the both of you?”
“With the exception of any marital relations after the first six months, yes.”
“But during those six months relations would be expected?”
Luke’s ears burned but he did not look away from her impertinent gaze.
“As relations are required to make a marriage legally and churchly binding, yes, it would need to happen once, at the very least. Should it not be agreeable to both parties, a repeat occurrence would not be required.”
“May I get all of this in writing?”
Luke relaxed, sensing a hint of humor in her voice. At least she wasn’t horribly offended at this most improper conversation regarding the sharing of their marital bed. “If you insist. In return for your services—” His mouth turned up in a smirk, just because he knew it would irk her. “—you would be in receipt of goods. A house and income.”
“I feel as though this arrangement is rather backwards. It is usually the lady who is offering up goods to benefit her husband’s estate, and here you are promising me a house and funds. How progressive.”
“I aim to please.”
“Your offer is generous to be sure, but I must insist on two additional conditions.”
“Something more than the house and money I intend to give to you?” His brows quirked up in humor. “What else might I do for you?”
Her gaze roamed around the charred frame of the house, the missing bit of wall, the damages done by a fatal fire. “Repair this house. If you give it to me in this state, it does me no good. I cannot live in it. And it would devastate me to sell it.”
Glancing about the room, Luke thought through the extensive repairs the building needed, though he had no idea what such a thing would cost. An exorbitant amount likely.
“I will repair the structure and make it safe to inhabit. But the interior repairs, those are on you.”
Vivian nodded. “Agreed.”
“And your second condition?”
“I need you to kiss me.”
Luke blinked in surprise, startled to hear the one thing from her lips thing he’d wanted to do for the past hour. Longer maybe. Since he’d found her smirking at him as he stood covered in mud and he’d been half convinced she was a figure in his mud-addled imagination.
“You'll have to kiss me eventually,” she continued, and Luke did his best to ignore the shiver that r
aced through him as her bright green eyes glanced up to pierce his. “A kiss is an indication of how marital relations might progress between two people. I'd like to know that part would be pleasant before I agree to marry you. It would be dastardly to discover afterwards we have no attraction between us. As I cannot be certain I like you as a person, and therefore could be subjecting myself to half a year of miserable company, I would prefer to know ahead of time if the marital relation bit would be miserable as well.”
The way his pulse reacted to the mere thought of kissing her should have been proof enough, but he should deny her. Inform her it was hardly proper, that he would never take such liberties. That she would just have to wait and see.
And yet he felt himself silently agree, pushing from the table where he'd rested his hip. He came towards her slowly and Vivian’s chin tilted up in a show of strength. But he could see the fear flare in her green eyes, the way her fingers tightened into fists at her side. She was nervous, and, despite her bravado, she hadn’t expected him to agree.
“Would you like something to drink first?” he asked, glancing about the room for something that might resemble a decanter of alcohol. Surely that could have survived.
“No, thank you,” she replied. “I do not imbibe in spirits.”
Luke glanced down at her, his brow arched. “The way you say it makes it sound like you do not approve of ghosts.”
Vivian didn’t smile at his quip. She was certainly a hard nut to crack. For a man accustomed to everyone finding him amusing, it was disheartening that she did not. It was also a relief.
If she would not have something to drink, there must be another way to calm her down. She was wound rather tightly, with stress or anxiety, or probably both. His appearance here was likely bewildering, as was his claiming her father’s title. Added to his sudden proposal of marriage, it was a wonder she was not running from him.
He took her hand and pulled her further into the room, into the beam of sunlight shining down from the hole in the ceiling and wall.
“What does this—”
“Just trust me, Vivian.”
She nodded slowly, and he hoped he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five Page 3
