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The Earl's Countess Of Convenience
Marguerite Kaye
A countess in name only… …tempted by a night with her husband! Part of Penniless Brides of Convenience: Eloise Brannagh has witnessed first-hand the damage unruly passion can cause. Yet she craves freedom, so a convenient marriage to the Earl of Fearnoch seems the perfect solution! Except Alexander Sinclair is more handsome, more intriguing, more everything, than Eloise anticipated. Having set her own rules for their marriage, her irresistible husband might just tempt Eloise to break them!


A countess in name only…
...tempted by a night with her husband!
Part of Penniless Brides of Convenience: Eloise Brannagh has witnessed firsthand the damage unruly passion can cause. Yet she craves freedom, so a convenient marriage to the Earl of Fearnoch seems the perfect solution! Except Alexander Sinclair is more handsome, more intriguing, more everything than Eloise anticipated. She’s set her own rules for their marriage, but her irresistible husband might just tempt her to break them!
MARGUERITE KAYE writes hot historical romances from her home in cold and usually rainy Scotland, featuring Regency rakes, Highlanders and sheikhs. She has published fifty books and novellas. When she’s not writing she enjoys walking, cycling—but only on the level—gardening—but only what she can eat—and cooking. She also likes to knit and occasionally drink martinis—though not at the same time! Find out more on her website: margueritekaye.com (http://www.margueritekaye.com).
Also by Marguerite Kaye (#u1fcf56ee-b60f-5cfd-97aa-69e73ef6ce4d)
Hot Arabian Nights miniseries
The Widow and the Sheikh
Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride
The Harlot and the Sheikh
Claiming His Desert Princess
Matches Made in Scandal miniseries
From Governess to Countess
From Courtesan to Convenient Wife
His Rags-to-Riches Contessa
A Scandalous Winter Wedding
Penniless Brides of Convenience miniseries
The Earl’s Countess of Convenience
And look out for the next book
coming soon
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
The Earl’s Countess of Convenience
Marguerite Kaye


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08895-4
THE EARL’S COUNTESS OF CONVENIENCE
© 2019 Marguerite Kaye
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the original Twinnies,
my sisters Johanna and Catriona.
You are nothing like the twins in this book and, despite
what you think, you are neither of you in the least bit
musical, but I love you every bit as much as Eloise
loves Phoebe and Estelle. Maybe even a wee bit more!
Contents
Cover (#u0dffeb0a-7107-5bce-99f8-3844b831d839)
Back Cover Text (#uef2f8633-159c-596d-ac74-47dc8811b51b)
About the Author (#u35511890-3b79-57ea-989e-4afd6a5eaf67)
Booklist (#u0d5a7dfd-b50b-5767-be2c-9e5cddd3c765)
Title Page (#ud2e52728-5c25-5259-b89b-6f8ef2f65836)
Copyright (#u5b52550f-4aaa-5f0c-8c3f-dd2f2d7dc39a)
Dedication (#ub049ce1e-e5f0-54cd-afb0-79d5f0864864)
Chapter One (#u9d28ce12-ca48-593e-8395-8d7d660ac091)
Chapter Two (#u5b161e04-e1c5-56a3-9040-cf3ebe87598d)
Chapter Three (#u9bcbd64c-c582-5079-a64d-9357a8d7fec8)
Chapter Four (#u73422402-0529-58b8-8abc-e4f8ab01925f)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Historical Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u1fcf56ee-b60f-5cfd-97aa-69e73ef6ce4d)
Elmswood Manor—April 1827
Kate, Lady Elmswood, burst into the morning room waving aloft a single sheet of thick writing parchment. ‘“Lord Fearnoch is most pleased to accept Lady Elmswood’s kind invitation to call at Elmswood Manor on Friday April the sixth, with the express purpose of meeting with her eldest ward, Miss Eloise Brannagh, to discuss the possibility of a marriage between the parties on terms outlined in his previous dispatch.” Goodness, that sounds as if it was written by his lawyer.’
‘Perhaps, but it’s just as likely he wrote it himself.’ Eloise looked up from her position on the floor, kneeling in front of Phoebe to pin the hem of her sister’s new gown. ‘Remember, Kate, until he inherited the title, he was merely Alexander Sinclair, some sort of clerk at the Admiralty, so well used to penning memorandums, one would imagine.’ She smiled. ‘It’s certainly not the most romantic proposal I’ve ever come across. Does he proffer any other endearments?’
‘“Should either party conclude that the match does not fully satisfy their requirements, then negotiations will be terminated without prejudice. Should both parties prove amenable, however, it is imperative that the nuptials are concluded by the second of June, Lord Fearnoch’s thirtieth birthday, whereupon, under the terms of the Fearnoch entail, failure to be of married status would result in the Fearnoch title and estates passing to a cousin.” And he looks forward...et cetera, et cetera,’ Kate concluded. ‘What do you think, Eloise? It all sounds a bit cold and heartless. It’s not too late to write back and say you’ve changed your mind.’
‘But I haven’t.’ Eloise inserted a final pin. ‘Turn around slowly, Phoebe. Yes, I think that will do nicely. Your turn, Estelle.’
One twin replaced the other on the footstool, Eloise resumed her pinning and Kate dropped into her usual chair by the fire, surrendering the letter over to Phoebe to read. ‘You know, you could make a very handsome living if you set yourself up as a modiste. Those gowns are beautiful.’
‘Madame Eloise, dressmaker to the aristocracy,’ Estelle said in a dreadful French accent. ‘You would have a very exclusive little boutique in...’
‘Bond Street,’ Kate supplied for her, smiling.
‘Bond Street. And Phoebe could bake cakes to serve to your ladies while they wait to be fitted, and I could entertain them by playing on the pianoforte. Am I done?’
‘You are.’ Eloise stood up, shaking out her own skirts and returning her pin cushion to her sewing box before sitting down opposite Kate. ‘May I?’
Phoebe handed her the letter. ‘I shall bake my special spicy biscuits for Lord Fearnoch. I would have preferred to offer him a fruit cake, but you can’t make a good fruit cake in three days, it needs at least a week for the brandy to soak in.’
Estelle threw herself down on the sofa beside her twin. ‘I’m not sure the biscuits are a good idea, Phoebe, they’re very brittle. Not ideal for a man with no teeth.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Eloise handed the letter back to Kate, laughing. ‘I’m sure he has a perfectly good set of teeth.’
‘Yes,’ Estelle said, grinning, ‘but the question is, are they his own?’
‘Perhaps I should make a sponge cake, then,’ Phoebe said, her eyes alight with mischief. ‘If he does have wooden teeth...’
‘A man as rich as Lord Fearnoch will surely have ivory,’ Estelle interjected.
‘Yes, but he’s not rich yet, is he? Unless he marries Eloise, he’ll have to revoke the title and will have nothing but his salary from the Admiralty to his name. So I think perhaps I will make a sponge, after all. What do you think, Eloise?’
‘I will leave that momentous decision in your capable hands, Phoebe.’
‘You’re quite right, you’ve more important things to worry about. Such as what to wear. I think the cream dress with the emerald trim is your most becoming gown. Lord Fearnoch will be so dazzled by your radiant beauty that he will be rendered quite speechless, and without further ado will fall at your feet and beg you to be his.’
‘Now you are being ridiculous,’ Eloise said, colouring. ‘You know very well that I am the bookish sister. It is you two who have the kind of looks which cause carriage accidents.’
‘That does not make a scarecrow of you!’ The twins leapt up of one accord, pulling her over to stand in front of the empty fireplace. ‘Take a look in the mirror, for goodness’ sake.’
Laughing, Eloise did as she was bid, catching her breath at the reflection of herself flanked by the twins. Though they were not identical, one strawberry blonde and the other Titian, they were both quite ridiculously beautiful. Her own auburn locks were tarnished in comparison, and though all of them had the same hazel eyes, her face was not a perfect oval, and her skin, though the same creamy colour as the twins’, was marred by a sprinkling of freckles. What would Mama, the former toast of Dublin society, think if she could see her daughters now, the younger two grown into such beauties as would put her in the shade? Ha! And there would be the rub, for Mama never could bear to be anything other than the centre of attention, the most beautiful woman in any room.
‘No one would ever mistake us for anything other than sisters,’ Phoebe said, kissing Eloise’s cheek affectionately.
‘True,’ she agreed, ‘though no one would deny that I am very much a watered-down version of you two. And besides,’ she continued, cutting short her sisters’ protests, ‘my appearance is quite irrelevant. Lord Fearnoch is not in need of a beautiful wife, but a practical, pragmatic one.’
‘Just like Aunt Kate.’ Phoebe gave her guardian a quick hug. ‘Practical, pragmatic and pretty. And don’t say that old married ladies cannot be described as pretty because you are neither old nor married—at least, not in the conventional sense.’
‘I am twenty-eight years old, young lady, and have been married to your Uncle Daniel for six years,’ Kate retorted. She rolled her eyes. ‘Uncle Daniel! It makes him sound positively ancient, but he has only just turned thirty-four.’
‘And despite the fact that he is our guardian, we have never actually met him.’
‘That is because he has been overseas ever since we tied the knot, a year before your arrival.’
‘Yes, but before that...’
‘There were nine years between Mama and our uncle. When I was born, he’d only have been...’ Eloise wrinkled her nose as she calculated. ‘Ten, I think.’
‘And by the time he was sixteen,’ Kate said, ‘he was already off on his first expedition to exotic foreign climes.’
‘The wilds of rural Ireland can’t have held much appeal in comparison, I suppose,’ Phoebe said.
‘No, but even if they had, Papa wouldn’t have made him welcome.’ Eloise grimaced. ‘Any more than we would have been welcomed with open arms here, at Elmswood Manor, when Papa was alive. Even if our grandfather had forgiven Mama for eloping, Papa would not have set foot over the threshold, nor allowed any of us to.’
‘How Papa loathed our grandfather for implying he was not good enough for Mama,’ Phoebe said.
‘I don’t know about not good enough, but they were certainly not good for each other,’ Estelle added.
‘Nor for us,’ her twin concluded sadly. ‘Papa was forever saying he would not darken our grandfather’s doorstep again, which was all very well for him, but we were not permitted to darken the doorstep once, while our grandfather was alive.’
‘I’ve always thought that old Lord Elmswood could have said nothing more completely designed to guarantee an elopement, than to forbid your mother from seeing your father,’ Kate interjected. ‘Though I was too young to know anything of the precise circumstances, I knew Daniel had an older sister, but it was only after I was married and found that portrait of her hidden away in the attics that I realised there must have been some sort of scandal. It is such a shame you didn’t get the chance to know your grandfather. I’m sure, if he’d met the three of you, the breach could have been healed.’
‘Not if our father had anything to do with it,’ Eloise said grimly, recalling Papa’s regular, vicious diatribes on the subject.
‘No,’ Phoebe agreed with a shudder. ‘And now it’s too late. Isn’t it odd, that our only close living relative is a man we’ve never met. Which makes it all the more peculiar, don’t you think, that he offered up Eloise as the perfect wife to a total stranger.’
‘You make it sound so dramatic!’ Eloise exclaimed, shaking her head. ‘Uncle Daniel’s letter made it clear that he has known Lord Fearnoch for many years and that he is an honourable man whom he would trust with his life.’
‘Or, in this case, his niece’s life. I’ve been racking my brains,’ Phoebe said, ‘and I can’t remember him ever mentioning an Alexander Sinclair in any of his previous letters.’
‘But Uncle Daniel rarely mentions anyone in his letters to Aunt Kate,’ Estelle reminded her. ‘Half the time, we don’t even know where he is and what it is he’s doing.’
‘Exploring far-flung corners of the globe! And the more dangerous and remote the place, the happier he is. As the three of you know perfectly well, because you’ve read every one of his very occasional missives, all he ever writes is a brief scrawl to let me know he is still alive. He never even acknowledges my replies. Half the time, I wonder if he even reads them.’
‘Well, there you must be in the wrong of it,’ Eloise pointed out, ‘for he has read enough to deduce that I might fit the bill for the Earl of Fearnoch’s vacancy for a wife. Though he did not offer me up, as if I were a dish of stew, he merely suggested, if I was amenable, that the match might suit me.’
‘And we are all agreed, having discussed nothing else since Lord Fearnoch’s first letter arrived three weeks ago, that it will suit you,’ Kate said. ‘At least,’ she added, frowning over at the twins, ‘I thought we had?’
The twins gazed silently at each other for a long moment. Eloise knew they were sharing their thoughts in that disconcerting manner they had demonstrated from a very young age. ‘We have,’ Phoebe said, speaking for the pair of them. ‘Truly, Eloise, we haven’t changed our minds. Though we were dead set against it at first, and we hate the very notion of losing you, and if there is any chance that you think you would be the least bit unhappy you must not—but we’ve been over and over this, haven’t we, so I won’t rake over old ground.’
‘Anyway, even if this match didn’t make excellent sense, we really had no choice but to agree, did we, Phoebe?’ Estelle said irrepressibly, slanting a smile at her twin. ‘Because we know that you live in terror, dear Aunt Kate, of Uncle Daniel returning home and giving you merry hell because his nieces are still cluttering up the place.’
‘One down, only two to go,’ Estelle chimed in. ‘After five years, the Elmswood Manor coven is breaking up.’
‘Stop it,’ Kate said, laughing. ‘You know perfectly well that all of you are welcome here for always, if you wish.’
‘The twins are just funning.’ Eloise cast her sisters a reproving look. ‘Seriously, we’ve been round the houses on the arguments for and against my meeting Lord Fearnoch, and I thought we were all agreed that it is an opportunity I would be a fool not to explore, at the very least.’
‘That’s what I just said.’ Phoebe’s smile was conciliatory. ‘Though goodness, do you remember when Kate first read Uncle Daniel’s letter out, in this very room, we thought it must be some sort of joke.’
‘I must admit, I thought he must have been suffering from too much desert sun when he wrote it,’ Kate admitted. ‘It seemed so very odd to think of him sitting in the shadow of the pharaoh’s tombs proposing Eloise as the solution to Lord Fearnoch’s dilemma.’
‘And such a dilemma, as we finally discovered when we eventually had a letter from the man himself. Lord Fearnoch, you must marry before you attain your thirtieth birthday, following the death of your elder brother, the Earl,’ Estelle intoned in the voice of doom, ‘else you will forfeit one of the largest fortunes in all of England.’
‘I still find it very odd though,’ Eloise said, squinting at the needle she was holding up to the light to thread. ‘Why on earth would there be such a condition attached to the earldom?’
‘An attempt to ensure that it always passed through the direct line, I expect,’ Phoebe replied. ‘What is even odder is why an earl with a fortune must ask a complete stranger to be his wife.’
‘And I’ve told you several times,’ Kate retorted, ‘that it is not an easy thing to do, to secure a platonic marriage. I was the perfect solution to your Uncle Daniel’s problems when his father died. By that time, my poor ailing papa had been forced to delegate almost all of his duties as estate manager to me. Having grown up on the estate, I knew the lands better than anyone else.’ Kate gazed out of the morning room window to the view of the back gardens rolling gently down to the lake. ‘Old Lord Elmswood, Daniel’s father, had let this house fall into a sad state of neglect by the time he died. I think the whole sorry business with your mother affected him greatly. When I was a girl, I used to dream of living here. I had all sorts of plans for restoring the place to its former glory.’
‘So when my uncle proposed, it was a wish come true?’
Kate shook her head. ‘What I’m trying to say, Estelle, is that your uncle didn’t propose to me. Daniel balked at the idea of depriving me of children—I was only twenty-two at the time. So I proposed to him.’
‘You have never told us that before,’ Phoebe exclaimed, startled.
‘It has never been relevant until now.’ Kate laughed at the twins’ identical expressions. ‘That is what comes of being practical and pragmatic, my dears. As I pointed out to Daniel at the time, it was an eminently sensible arrangement, with both of us gaining. I would secure my independence, I’d be free to carry on doing the work I loved and I’d be able to restore this beautiful house, while he was free to pursue his career abroad, knowing that his estates were in the best possible hands.’
‘And you have never regretted it?’ Eloise asked, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer to the question.
‘Never,’ Kate said firmly. ‘As it happens I would have liked children. But I got them, didn’t I, only a year after I was married? All three of you at once.’
‘We were hardly children,’ Eloise said drily. ‘I was nineteen, the twinnies were fifteen.’
‘And you were all three of you quite devastated.’ Kate shook her head. ‘Even now, to think of what you’d been through, losing both your parents and your poor little brother in one tragic accident, with all of them lost at sea. As if that was not bad enough, to be evicted from the only home you had ever known, and packed off from Ireland to come all the way here to live with a complete stranger who happened to be your only relative’s wife. If I hadn’t already been married to Daniel, I’d have married him then, just to give you all a home. Now for heaven’s sake, there is no need...’
But Kate’s voice was muffled as the three sisters enveloped her in a hug, and it was some time before they separated, to return to their seats. ‘Goodness,’ she said, emerging very ruffled, ‘I did not mean to upset everyone, dredging up the past. I was trying to explain why I thought that Lord Fearnoch had chosen to speak to Eloise rather than any other woman, wasn’t I?’
‘Let me, because I think the explanation is quite simple. Think about it,’ Eloise said, addressing her sisters. ‘We know from our uncle’s letter that when he met Lord Fearnoch in Egypt five months ago, he had only just heard of his brother’s death and the terms of the will. It will have taken him some time to secure return passage to England, no doubt to become embroiled in a legal wrangle to avoid the need to marry, because we also know from our uncle that he had no wish for a wife. And now, having realised that he either marries or loses his fortune, he’s up against the clock and since Uncle Daniel has already presented him with a potentially suitable candidate...’
‘Who, thanks to the poor example set for us by our dear departed parents, has absolutely no desire whatsoever to become either a wife or a mother,’ Estelle interjected grimly.
‘No one who witnessed what we did would ever want to marry.’ Phoebe clasped her twin’s hand. ‘Do you remember, Estelle, how we used to pretend we had been adopted, and that one day our real parents would arrive to claim us?’
‘And how we vowed we wouldn’t leave unless they promised to take Eloise too?’
‘We did. We vowed we would never, ever leave you behind.’
Phoebe’s tragic little smile touched Eloise’s heart. She had tried so hard to protect the twins from the worst of her parents’ vicious bickering and confrontations, and in turn they had tried to protect her, pretending that she’d succeeded. They almost never talked of those days, but they all three of them bore the scars, buried deep. She thought she knew everything about her sisters, but she hadn’t heard this sad little story before. ‘Thank you,’ she said, swallowing the large lump which had risen in her throat and trying for a watery smile. ‘I am touched that you were so intent on keeping me with you, though you were by implication disowning me as your sister.’
‘No!’ the twins called in unison.
‘And to think that just a moment ago, you were telling me that no one would ever mistake us for anything but sisters too.’
‘We didn’t mean...’
‘She’s teasing,’ Estelle said sheepishly. ‘Anyway, Phoebe, we knew at the time it was just a pipe dream.’
‘Yes. Though we also knew that if someone did come along to claim us, our actual real parents would probably have handed us over gladly,’ Phoebe said bitterly.
‘Or they wouldn’t have noticed we’d gone.’
There was no denying the truth of this, and Eloise felt no inclination to defend the indefensible as she inspected the stocking she had been darning before snipping the cotton and tying it off. But nor was she about to let those skeletons creep back out of the closet and colour the present. ‘I think that’s enough talk of those times.’
‘I agree. Let’s talk instead about what it will be like when you are rich beyond our wildest dreams,’ Estelle said, taking her cue and rubbing her hands together gleefully.
Phoebe giggled. ‘You will be able to buy up a whole warehouse of silks to make gowns.’
‘She’ll be far too much a lady of leisure to sew. Besides, I’m not sure it’s the done thing for a countess to make her own gowns. Do you know how to attach a sprinkling of diamonds to a décolleté, Eloise?’
‘Oh, I’ll have a maid for that sort of thing. I shall be too busy, just like Cleopatra, bathing in asses’ milk.’
‘A rather rare commodity in London, I should think,’ Kate interjected wryly.
‘London!’ Phoebe clapped her hands together, her eyes shining. ‘And you’ll be a countess. To think of our big sister being a countess! Will you go to lots of parties, do you think? And will you live in a palace?’
‘A town house,’ Estelle said reprovingly. ‘Though a very large town house. With—oh, I should think at least a hundred bedchambers, and a thousand servants, and a French chef.’
‘Who will never be able to bake a cake as delicious as Phoebe can,’ Eloise said. She stuck her darning needle into the pin cushion and closed the lid of her sewing box. ‘One thing is certain, I will never have to darn another stocking. As for the rest—I am not particularly interested in draping myself in ermine and diamonds.’
‘No,’ Estelle agreed, ‘you’re more likely to spend a portion of your immense fortune on your own loom.’
‘I don’t see me taking up weaving, not even if Lord Fearnoch turns out to be as life-threateningly tedious as his title of Victualling Commissioner suggests,’ Eloise said tartly. ‘But it is no exaggeration to say that the settlement he is proposing is life-changing, for all of us. If this marriage works out, I will be able to provide Estelle with the funds for her own private orchestra if she likes, and you, Phoebe, could set up in competition to the legendary Gunter’s tea rooms. We could travel. We could do anything we want, or nothing at all if we choose to. The future will be considerably brighter than any of us ever imagined.’
‘And all you have to do is put up with a toothless, tedious earl,’ Estelle said, chuckling.
‘Heavens though, what if he turns out not to be toothless but cut from the same cloth as our neighbour, Squire Mytton?’
Kate, Eloise and Estelle gazed at Phoebe in horror. ‘Surely there is only one such. I heard from one of our tenants, who heard from his sister in Leamington Spa, that the squire rode his horse into a hotel there. Right up the grand staircase Mad Jack went,’ Kate said in a hushed tone, ‘and from the balcony he actually jumped down into the restaurant below, then back out of the window.’
‘I heard,’ Eloise said, ‘that he likes to ride a bear around his drawing room to alarm his house guests.’
‘He supposedly set fire to his nightshirt in an effort to stop a bout of hiccups,’ Estelle added, stifling a giggle. ‘Surely that cannot be true?’
‘Nothing about that man would surprise me,’ Kate said drily. ‘But what would surprise me very much would be your uncle suggesting such a man as a suitable husband for Eloise. And although I don’t know what a Victualling Commissioner for the Admiralty actually does, I think he’d have to be of sound mind to do it, don’t you?’
‘That’s true,’ Phoebe said, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief.
‘I promise you that if I find I cannot reconcile myself to the idea of living under the same roof as Lord Fearnoch, if I consider his nature unkind or in any way brutish, or if I feel that I cannot trust him, our first meeting will be the last. I will not be a sacrificial lamb.’ Eloise got to her feet. ‘But I will not rule him out as a husband if he has wooden teeth, or a wooden leg, or even if he is simply a stranger to the bathtub. If we find we suit—and let us not forget that, astonishing as it may sound to you, he may not take to me—but if we do find we suit, this is the chance of a lifetime for us. I have to embrace it.’
‘Yes.’ Estelle grinned. ‘Luckily, if he is averse to bathing, that’s the only thing you’ll have to embrace.’
‘That’s more than enough speculation for now,’ Kate said, biting back her own laughter. ‘We will discover the cut of Lord Fearnoch’s jib soon enough.’
‘Kate is, as always, quite right,’ Eloise said briskly. ‘You two, change out of those dresses and let me sew the hems before I become too hoity-toity for such menial tasks.’

Chapter Two (#u1fcf56ee-b60f-5cfd-97aa-69e73ef6ce4d)
As the ormolu clock on the mantel chimed the hour, a carriage could be heard coming to a halt on the gravel drive outside the drawing room. A cloud of butterflies fluttered to life in Eloise’s tummy, intensifying the faint feeling of nausea she’d woken up with. Today could prove to be life-changing.
A cold sweat prickled at the back of her neck. What if Lord Fearnoch really did turn out to be loathsome? What if he found her repugnant? Now that everyone in the household was reconciled to the idea of her marrying, now that they had all agreed that the benefits by far outweighed the fact that the groom would be a complete stranger, Eloise couldn’t bear the thought of the match falling through.
What would it be like to be married? How much time would they be required to spend together? Would they be expected to have breakfast and dinner at the same table? What would Lord Fearnoch tell his friends, his colleagues at the Admiralty? She had a hundred questions. And right now, bracing herself for the coming introduction and feeling quite sick with nerves, Eloise was discovering that there was a very big difference between the idea of a convenient and advantageous marriage and the reality, in the shape of the man who might become her husband, a man who was at this very moment descending from his carriage.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror set over the mantel. Her hair was still obediently pinned in the smooth chignon, which had taken her three times longer to do than her usual careless topknot. She looked pale, her eyes betraying her anxious state. Pinching her cheeks, forcing her mouth into a semblance of a welcoming smile, she tugged unnecessarily at her gown. It was the one which Phoebe had suggested she wear. Her own creation in ivory muslin, she was rather pleased with the result achieved by twisting emerald and ivory ribbons together to trim the neckline. Triangles of emerald silk fluttered like little pennants around the high waistline, and she had used larger triangles in the same colour to trim the hem. Green suited her colouring, she knew, but she worried that today of all days it would over-accentuate the red hue of her hair.
The doorbell clanged, making her jump. Her heart felt as if it was in her mouth. Upstairs, Phoebe and Estelle would no doubt be peering down from Kate’s bedroom window, which would give them the best, unobserved view of the new arrival.
Alert for the sound, she heard the familiar teeth-grinding grate as the huge front door scraped on the uneven flagstones of the hall. Eloise took several deep breaths in an effort to calm her nerves. Casting her eyes around the familiar room, she first opted to seat herself on one of the chairs at the fireplace, but that seemed inappropriately intimate. She hurried to her favourite window seat, picking up the book she had left there, but that seemed too studied a pose, so she jumped up to her feet again, and was casting about for some other innocuous task to go about when the door opened and Kate’s butler announced Lord Fearnoch. Voltaire’s Candide involuntarily dropped from her hands as a man who bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to the abacus-wielding Admiralty bureaucrat her sisters had had such fun imagining walked into the drawing room.
Alexander Sinclair, the Earl of Fearnoch, had cropped dark-brown hair, a high, intelligent brow, wide-spaced brown eyes framed by ridiculously long lashes, cheekbones which were razor sharp and a jaw that made strong seem like an understated description. His mouth, in contrast, could only be described as sultry. His navy-blue coat fitted tightly over a pair of shoulders which would be the envy of a blacksmith, fawn pantaloons encased muscular legs, a fact which she should not be noticing. He was a physical specimen to make any woman weak-kneed and he was in her drawing room, looking at her expectantly.
‘How do you do? I assume you are Miss Eloise Brannagh?’ He took her hand, kissing the air above her fingertips.
His teeth were pearly white and clearly his own. So much for the twins’ wild speculation. He smelled faintly of lemon soap. ‘Lord Fearnoch.’ Utterly confused, because Eloise wasn’t the type of woman to go weak-kneed, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. ‘I assume you are Lord Fearnoch? You don’t look at all like someone who works in some rather tedious capacity at the Admiralty.’
‘I am indeed Lord Fearnoch, and very pleased to meet you, Miss Brannagh. If I may respond in kind, you do not look at all like a dutiful mother hen to twin sisters.’
A startled laugh escaped her. ‘Good grief, is that how my uncle described me? Then I’m surprised you agreed to meet someone so tiresomely worthy.’
He raised a brow. ‘You imagine my predicament must be desperate indeed, to attempt to lure such a paragon from her life of self-sacrifice?’
‘I am wondering why a handsome man who is heir to a vast fortune would choose to marry a—a—how did you imagine I would look?’
‘Older. Fiercer. With spectacles.’
‘Spectacles!’
‘Daniel—that is, your uncle—told me that you were the clever one of his nieces. So I imagined eyes weakened by long hours of study. Hence the spectacles.’
Though his tone was cool, there was, she was almost certain, a hint of laughter in his eyes. A sense of humour was another thing that Eloise had not expected. ‘I hope you are not now imagining me ill-tempered. I should tell you that I consider myself extremely even-tempered, and if you think that the colour of my hair tells a different story, then you are making a common, very facile assumption. Red hair does not denote a fiery temper any more than the looks of a—a Greek god denote a—a romantic poet.’
‘Rhyming cat with mat exhausts my poetic abilities. Shall we sit, or would you prefer to continue trading misconceptions standing up?’
‘I do beg your pardon.’ Her face flaming, Eloise finally remembered her manners. ‘How was your journey, Lord Fearnoch?’
‘Painless.’ He sat down, seemingly at ease, and studied her overtly. ‘It is clear, Miss Brannagh, that your imagination had conjured as inaccurate a picture of me as I did of you.’
If only he knew! Her colour heightened. ‘I did not—I tried not to anticipate—after all, it is not as if we are required to find each other—I mean—I mean you did say in your letter that it would be a marriage in name only,’ she finished lamely.
This time she was certain she caught a glimmer of a smile. ‘Indulge me,’ he said. ‘How would you imagine an Admiralty clerk, I wonder? Dandruff, or a squint? Ink-stained cuffs? A man with a stoop, perhaps, from spending his life poring over dusty ledgers?’
Eloise laughed. Lord Fearnoch steepled his hands, waiting. She could not possibly tell him. The silence stretched. She wasn’t used to silence. ‘My sisters, they cannot understand why an earl with a fortune should wish to marry me.’
‘How very unkind of your sisters to say so.’
‘No, I mean—not me, but anyone. A complete stranger. They think that you must be—’ Mortified now, she broke off, shaking her head, but he simply raised an enquiring brow, and waited. Eloise counted out forty-five seconds before she threw up her hands in surrender. ‘If you must know, they thought you must at least be averse to bathing, or toothless perhaps. We knew that Uncle Daniel would have said in his letter if there had been some—some physical—defect—so it had to be the sort of drawback that men don’t really notice.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry. You did ask.’
‘I did.’
That silence again. ‘You obviously do bathe regularly,’ Eloise said, trying for a smile.
He nodded.
‘And your teeth are—well, what I can see of them, they are...’
He burst out laughing. ‘All there, and in good condition. You sound as if you are inspecting a horse with a view to buying it.’
He had a very attractive laugh. Relieved beyond measure, Eloise relaxed a little. ‘But that is precisely what we are doing, in a manner of speaking, aren’t we? I hadn’t thought—I mean, I was looking forward—but then this morning it occurred to me that it would be—well, it’s very awkward. You’re looking me over and I’m looking you over, and for the life of me, I can’t understand, now you are here—I beg your pardon, but I think the twins—my sisters—have a point. A man like you, surely there must be women queuing up to be your wife?’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Sorry. You must think I am an idiot, but you are so silent I feel compelled to fill the gaps.’
‘I tend to say something when I have something to say.’
‘Does that mean you think I’m a wittering fool or don’t you have an answer to my question? Or perhaps you think I oughtn’t to have asked it, though I must say, I do think it a pertinent question, my lord.’
She would not speak. She would sit here without uttering another word until he answered. Eloise bit her lip. She would not count the seconds. She folded her arms. She unfolded them. ‘I don’t mean literally queuing, my lord, I meant...’
‘I understood you perfectly, Miss Brannagh. Would you mind calling me Alexander? When you “my lord” me, it makes me want to look over my shoulder for my brother, Walter.’
‘You would not be here, if your brother were still alive.’
‘I wish to heaven that he was.’ He coloured. ‘Forgive me, I meant no offence, but I think it is best that we are candid with each other from the outset. I had no ambition to be either an earl or a husband. The truth is, I am obliged to be both.’
‘Well! The truth is, I would rather not be married either. At least—I would rather not be married,’Eloise added hurriedly. Lord Fearnoch—Alexander—smiled. His smile lit up his eyes, and it acted on Eloise like a punch in the stomach. Their eyes met, and something very odd seemed to pass between them that made her cheeks heat in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment. ‘If you understand my meaning,’ she added.
He nodded, breaking eye contact, smoothing the palms of his hands over his pantaloons. Was he nervous? Already regretting his decision to come here? Fortunately, before she could voice this fear, Alexander cleared his throat. ‘I think it would be a good idea for us to learn a little about one another before we launch into the business which brought me here. As you will know from my letter to Lady Elmswood, time is of the essence.’
‘I understand that you must marry before your thirtieth birthday or forfeit your inheritance.’
‘And it is a very large inheritance, though I’m not particularly interested in it for my own sake. I am aware that sounds disingenuous, but it happens to be the truth.’
She couldn’t say what it was that made her believe him, but she did. ‘Why, then, are you interested—no, that cannot be the right word, for you are sacrificing your bachelorhood to inherit, so you must have more at stake than an interest in inheriting?’
He smiled faintly. ‘Very well, let us say that I think it is my duty to marry. No, since you insist on being precise, let me rephrase that. My conscience tells me that I must marry.’
‘Why?’
Alexander did not answer her directly. ‘I had no expectations of inheriting. My brother’s untimely death, and his lack of foresight in providing an heir, have come as a most unwelcome surprise.’
He spoke lightly, but his eyes spoke of a different, more brittle emotion. ‘Your brother had no children, then? But he must have been married to have inherited, since the entail—I’m sorry if this is a painful subject to you, your brother has not even been dead a year, but...’
‘My brother and I were not close.’ Alexander’s mouth thinned in the brief silence which followed this interjection. ‘There are—were—eight years between us. We were raised very differently. Walter, as the heir in waiting, was fully aware of the terms of the entail, and married shortly after he came of age. His wife died in childbirth along with their son about five years later. The entail did not require Walter to remarry, but I never doubted he would. As a quintessential Fearnoch male, he would have been keen to maintain the proud patriarchal tradition of passing the title directly from father to son—a tradition which his sudden death has put an end to. Unfortunately, the conditions of the entail remain in force, which means I must now marry if I am to become the Eighth Earl.’
‘What happens if you choose not to?’
‘My cousin Raymond Sinclair will inherit. Unlike me, he has always had an avaricious eye on the title, and duly took the precaution of arming himself with a bride prior to his own thirtieth birthday. Raymond is an inveterate gambler. It would only be a matter of time before he brought the Fearnoch lands and the people who make their living from them to rack and ruin. Most of the Fearnoch estates are in Lancashire. Aside from the many tenanted farms, I understand that substantial seams of coal have recently been discovered. Mining coal is extremely lucrative, but can also be extremely dangerous. I fear my cousin would have far more regard for profit than safety.’
‘Good grief, yes. I have read some truly dreadful stories about men being trapped—and not only men, but young boys. And they use children too, to sort the coal. It is an outrage.’
‘Precisely my own views.’ Alexander smiled thinly. ‘I wish to ensure that any mining is done responsibly. I wish to ensure that the profit from the estates continues to be ploughed back—you’ll forgive the pun—into the land. My father and late brother cared little for running the estates. Simply put, both were ardent libertines. It is a trait which all Sinclair men have embraced and propagated over the years, and of which they have all been inordinately proud. Needless to say, it is a proclivity that I do not share. However, the estate manager is, I gather, an excellent man, whose family have run the Fearnoch lands for generations.’
‘Like Kate,’ Eloise exclaimed. ‘That is exactly why she married my uncle—because her father was the estate manager here, and Daniel was never interested, and Kate loves Elmswood Manor and—and so you see, I do understand why it is important to you to do what is right.’
‘Thank you. There is one other factor which is pertinent to my decision.’ Alexander shifted in his chair, frowning. ‘If you will bear with me. It is not my habit to discuss such personal matters. It does not come easy to me, but under the circumstances, I think it vital that you fully understand my motives for wishing to make this unconventional match.’
Her instinct was to reach over, to touch him reassuringly, but she caught herself just in time. ‘It can’t be easy, to be so painfully honest to a complete stranger. Please, take your time.’
‘The matter concerns my mother’s settlement which I discovered to be woefully inadequate.’
‘Your mother! But she is a dowager countess. Your father was a very rich man. Surely when she married him, your mother’s parents would have ensured her jointure reflected her circumstances.’
‘I have no idea what the original arrangements were. The were amended in the Sixth Earl’s will.’
‘The Sixth Earl being your father?’
‘Her husband. The amended settlement which my mother was granted on his death would be insulting if it were not frankly punitive.’
‘Punitive! What on earth can she possibly have done to deserve such shabby treatment?’
Alexander’s fingers dug into the arms of the chair. ‘The reasons are less pertinent than the net effect, which is that the terms would force my mother to rely upon the goodwill and generosity of others in order to survive. I will not have her reduced to such penury.’
‘But your father died almost three years ago. Surely your brother...’
‘My brother provided for her, while he was alive, by installing her in the Dower House on the Lancashire estates. Whether he intended to amend the provision made for her at some point is another question that must remain unanswered for ever. The fact is that he did not, and my personal circumstances do not allow me to supplement the paltry allowance to what I consider an appropriate level.’
‘And if your cousin, Raymond Sinclair, inherited? No, I suppose from what you’ve said that you could not trust him to do right by her.’
‘Precisely. You understand now, Miss Brannagh, why I believe it is my duty to marry?’
‘I do and I think your reasons are extremely laudable.’ Though he had not explained why he was so averse to marriage in the first place. Perhaps his Admiralty career rewarded him insufficiently to maintain a household—but he didn’t dress like a man on the breadline. He was the son of an earl, albeit the second son, surely his father would have given him an allowance? Though the same father had made a pauper of his wife. And Alexander had been, in his own words, brought up very differently from his brother, the heir. Eloise knew from her own experience that this could only mean that he was treated very much as second best.
Aware that her thoughts had run away from her, she looked up, discovering to her consternation Alexander watching her carefully. ‘I was just wondering why you are considering me as a wife, when...’
‘There are women queueing up for the privilege?’ He smiled faintly. ‘Perhaps because there are not. What I’m wondering is why you are considering my proposal. To put it bluntly, Miss Brannagh, though we will live separate lives once we have established the marriage in the eyes of the world, we will remain legally married. For the sake of appearances, Fearnoch House in London must be your main residence—and I hope you will treat it as your home. For form’s sake it must be my home too, during the time when my work does not detain me abroad. So our paths will cross, albeit infrequently, though Fearnoch House is, I gather, large enough to permit us to live under its roof without encountering each other unless we wish to.’
‘You gather? I thought you said it was the family home?’
‘And has been for generations, but it has never been my home.’
For reasons he did not wish to discuss, judging by his tone. ‘But—forgive me, your brother died almost a year ago, and though you were abroad at the time, you’ve been back in England...’
‘Until I marry, Miss Brannagh, I have no rights to anything but the title. Fearnoch House has been closed up since Walter died. The family lawyer has been administering the estate. My mother continues in the Dower House in the country, and I have continued in my own lodgings.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘Why should you?’
Since Eloise could think of nothing to say to this, she decided, wisely, for once to say nothing.
‘I can assure you that once we are married—if we marry,’ Alexander continued, ‘you will be free to live your life as you choose, but—forgive me, but I think it imperative that we are clear on one delicate matter. Since there can be no question of a divorce or even an annulment, you understand that there can be no prospect of your having children?’
Once again, her cheeks flamed. She had not anticipated their discussions becoming so personal. ‘I do understand that, and I assure you it’s not an issue,’ Eloise said hurriedly. ‘I am not—I’m not—that more intimate aspect of marriage does not appeal to me. Furthermore, I have never wanted children.’
‘May I know why?’
She didn’t want to explain herself, reluctant to recall those miserable years in Ireland. Already, she had the impression that Alexander Sinclair was the type of man who saw a great deal more than he let on, and she didn’t want him peering into the dark nooks and crannies of her past. ‘If we do not have children—I mean, if you and your wife don’t have offspring, then the Fearnoch estates will pass to your cousin, I presume?’
‘Yes, though I don’t see why...’
‘My point is, that’s what you’re trying to avoid, isn’t it—his bringing the estates to rack and ruin. I am not suggesting that you will die prematurely...’ As his brother did! ‘What I mean is, that there’s a chance, at some point, that what you’re trying to prevent might come to pass if you don’t have children of your own.’
‘No, there’s no chance of that.’ Alexander said grimly. ‘I haven’t made myself clear. As far as the estates are concerned, my intentions are first to protect them by preventing my cousin from inheriting, and then to secure them for the future by ridding myself of them.’
‘Ridding yourself?’
‘I believe that those who have lived and farmed the lands for generations are far more entitled to profit from them than I.’
‘That is an extremely philanthropic point of view to take.’
‘It is a question of what is right, as well as what is in the best interests of those concerned.’
There was that tightness in his expression again that made her feel uncomfortable, as if she had inadvertently opened the door on something extremely painful and very private. Could he be thinking that he would, like his brother, die young?
‘It should go without saying,’ he said drily, ‘that your settlement would be safe, as would my mother’s.’
‘That is not what I was worried about!’ She stared at him, aghast. ‘I was thinking about you, your brother—if he died of some sort of hereditary disease, it would explain why you do not wish for children. To have such a—a cloud hanging over you...’ She broke off, blinking furiously as tears blurred her eyes. Alexander looked quite thunderstruck, and no wonder, the poor man. He looked so healthy. Eloise searched frantically for her handkerchief.
‘Miss Brannagh, I am in rude health, I assure you. My brother’s demise was largely self-inflicted.’
‘Oh. I see.’ Though she didn’t, quite, but she could not possibly embarrass herself further by asking. ‘I don’t think I could bear to marry you, only to have you die on me. People would think I was a murderess as well as a gold-digger.’
She had meant it to make light of the situation, but his smile faded immediately. ‘I have only just met you, but I am absolutely certain that you are not a gold-digger.’
‘Well, no, I’m not, but...’
He caught her hands in his. ‘As you can imagine, the life of an Admiralty Victualling Commissioner is fraught, danger lurks behind every inventory. There, I have made you smile! But there is an important point to be made. What I’m proposing is a purely—I believe the term is companionate relationship, though we won’t be companions in that sense, for I will be away much of the time, as I said.’
‘I do understand that, Alexander. I’m not sure exactly...’
‘I won’t marry you, if you—forgive me if this sounds presumptuous, but you must not become overly fond of me.’
She was mistaken, was reading too much into what he said, he was simply being scrupulously honest, and she appreciated that. Yet there was such a bleakness in his eyes, his expression so earnest, and his grip on her fingers so tight. Then it dawned on her, and she felt extremely foolish. Even she, who considered herself utterly immune to such things, had found herself momentarily attracted to the man and he had sensed it. ‘I won’t fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I assure you, that sort of thing is anathema to me, so you need have no fears, I will respect both our marriage vows and the terms under which we must live them.’
He studied her for a long moment. She held her breath, realising as she did so, that if he did not believe her, he would leave, and she wanted him to stay. Very much. When he nodded, her audible sigh of relief made her want to cringe. ‘Inscrutability is not one of my talents,’ she said.
To her surprise, he smiled. ‘I would rather say that you lack guile, and I find it charming.’
‘You mean I’m naïve.’
‘I always say what I mean, Miss Brannagh. You are a surprise. A very pleasant one.’
He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to her fingertips before getting to his feet. Wholly taken aback, flustered as much by the unexpected leaping of her pulses as by the odd compliment, Eloise glanced at the clock and exclaimed in dismay, ‘I haven’t even offered you a cup of tea. Would you like one? Please don’t say that you would, simply because you feel obliged to. If you think that perhaps we’ve said all there is to say and you wish to leave I won’t be—this would be a good time to—because there’s no point in continuing if...’
‘Take a breath, Miss Brannagh, I beg of you.’
He was, to her relief, still smiling. She did as he bid her. ‘What I’m trying to say is, if you have formed an unfavourable impression of me, following this admittedly awkward conversation, then it would be best if you said so now.’
Alexander’s smile broadened. He really did have a very, very attractive smile. ‘I’m not thinking any such thing.’
‘I was hoping not, as you have no doubt already surmised.’ She smiled back at him. ‘It comes of living in a household of four women, this habit of mine of speaking my thoughts without putting them into order. And also, because Kate and my sisters know me so well, of course. They always know if I’m trying to keep something from them. As I do when they try to do the same. In fact, I think I’m worse. I should warn you that I’m the sort of person who—who sees too much, if you know what I mean? I’m painfully observant. I wish I wasn’t. It makes me uncomfortable sometimes—I don’t mean I spy on my sisters, but I notice things they would rather I did not.’
‘Is that a warning, Miss Brannagh?’
‘Has it put you on your guard?’
He laughed. ‘Actually quite the opposite. I would very much like to continue our conversation, but I think we’d both benefit from some refreshment first, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Eloise got to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said, ‘I’ll go and organise it.’

Chapter Three (#u1fcf56ee-b60f-5cfd-97aa-69e73ef6ce4d)
In the kitchen Eloise was immediately waylaid by Phoebe and Estelle, who were sitting at the huge scrubbed table guarding the tea tray which was set out in readiness, waiting to pounce on her the moment she appeared.
‘Is he as handsome close up as he looks from a distance?’
‘He was immaculately turned out. He does not have the look of a man who is a stranger to soap.’
‘You’ve been closeted away with him for an age. Why has it taken you so long to order tea? Look, Phoebe, she’s blushing.’
‘Do you like him, Eloise?’
‘Do you think he likes you?’
She refused to answer a single question while setting Phoebe’s freshly baked biscuits out on a plate, and there were a great deal more thrown at her while she waited on the water boiling. ‘I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise,’ Eloise said, picking up the tray.
‘Chapter and verse!’ the twins chorused in unison.
Returning to the drawing room, Eloise was even more flustered than when she had left fifteen minutes earlier. The fact that Alexander, when he crossed the room to take the tray from her, looked even more handsome on second viewing, did nothing to improve her fractured composure. It was a huge relief, she told herself, nothing more. It wasn’t that she wanted an attractive husband, but facing this man over the breakfast table would be no hardship.
‘Were you thinking that I had fled the country in embarrassment?’ Irked at the breathless note in her voice, Eloise sat down beside him and began to set out the cups. ‘Please try a biscuit. Phoebe made them. They are not sweet, but spiced.’
‘I take it, then, that you reassured your sisters, while making tea, that I am neither odiferous nor do I have bad breath. They would have seen for themselves that I don’t stoop or wear spectacles. I spotted them peering out of the window at me when I arrived.’
Eloise stopped in the act of spooning tea from the walnut caddy. ‘How embarrassing. I am so sorry.’
‘There’s no need to apologise. It’s perfectly understandable that they would be protective of their big sister and want to give me the once over.’ Alexander helped himself to another biscuit. ‘Am I to assume, then, that they endorse your decision to meet with me today?’
‘Oh, yes, very much so.’ Would he think them all money-grasping harpies? ‘Not that I made the decision lightly, you understand. In fact, we discussed it a great deal.’ Was that worse? ‘What you are proposing—well, it would be to our mutual advantage, wouldn’t it? A—a quid pro quo.’ She smiled, but it felt more like a wince. ‘And it’s not an unfamiliar concept to me, of course. Kate—Lady Elmswood—and my uncle have already made a success of a similar accommodation.’
‘Yes. Daniel was quite frank with me on the advantages of his own arrangement.’
‘You are old friends, I understand.’
Alexander smiled blandly. ‘We bump into each other occasionally. Tell me a little more about yourself. I know next to nothing, save what Daniel told me.’
‘That I am a mother hen with an overdeveloped sense of duty!’
‘Was his assessment correct?’
‘No! At least—that makes me sound—I suppose I have been—Kate thinks that my sisters will benefit from being out from under my wings, and I think she might be right. I keep forgetting that they are twenty years old, young women and not children.’
‘There are four years between you, I believe?’
‘Yes. It doesn’t sound a lot, but when we were little it made a big difference.’ Eloise set her teacup aside. ‘They have been my responsibility since—I was going to say since they were born, but even Mama was not quite so careless as to leave a pair of babes in my charge. We had a nurse, but later, from the schoolroom I suppose, when the first of our governesses left, I have taken care of my sisters.’
‘You make it sound as if there was a procession of governesses.’
Eloise rolled her eyes. ‘We lived in the wilds of Ireland. Not many genteel ladies could endure the life, and when they left, as they invariably did, it was sometimes a while before Mama noticed. She spent a great deal of time with Papa in Dublin, when the—the dibs were in tune—have I that right?’
Alexander frowned. ‘Your father was a gambler?’
‘Well, yes, though not in the sense that your cousin is. He only placed wagers on his own runners—or so he claimed. My mother did not approve of his obsession with the track. He bred racehorses. Papa said that, as an Irishman, the turf was in his blood. Sadly, his obsession outstripped both his luck and his judgement, and he lost a great deal more than he won. When he lost, and had to retrench, then he and Mama would rusticate with us girls.’ Suddenly realising that she had been cajoled into discussing the very subject that she wished to avoid, Eloise picked up the teapot. ‘Would you care for another cup?’
Alexander shook his head. She was horribly conscious of his eyes on her as she poured herself one, of the spark of anger in her voice which always betrayed her when she talked of those days. ‘Your parents,’ he said, ‘you did not look forward to their visits?’
‘It was rather that they did not care for them. Or for us.’ Eloise sighed. He was not going to give up, she realised. ‘Until Diarmuid, my brother, was born, I would have said that my parents were the sort who were indifferent to their children. They didn’t exactly dislike us, don’t get me wrong, but aside from Papa and his thoroughbreds, all they really cared about was each other. But then Diarmuid came along. He is—he was five years younger than Phoebe and Estelle and from the moment he was born, Mama and Papa were quite besotted with him. I have never understood why they did not care for my sisters in the same way, it’s not as if they were troublesome or demanding children.’
‘Sometimes,’ Alexander said, ‘it is simply that there is room in a parent’s heart for only one child.’
His tone was even, his expression neutral, but Eloise was certain he must be thinking of his brother who died and she, who had long ago decided she would not be hurt by her parents’ blatant favouritism, recognised a similar resolve in Alexander. It made her warm to him. Her instinct was to commiserate, but that would be to recognise a scar that he would not acknowledge existed.
‘Well,’ Eloise said, ‘in our family that child was Diarmuid. The golden child, quite literally—he had a mass of sunny golden curls. Such an endearing little boy he was too when he was very little, with the kind of smile that no one could resist. We all adored him. I often wonder, if he had not been such a favourite, whether he would have been a more endearing little boy, but he was so very spoilt, the sulks and the tantrums on the rare occasions he didn’t get things his own way were inevitable, I suppose. Mama and Papa were forever telling him how wonderful he was, it’s not surprising that he believed them. Perhaps he’d have grown out of it.’
‘You don’t believe that, do you?’
‘Not really. It’s a dreadful thing to say, but though I loved him because he was my brother, I liked him less and less with every year. He was moulded too much in the image of Mama and Papa. Smothered with love, and quite ruined by it, while we girls were utterly neglected and all the better for it. I am sure there is a happy medium to be found, but I have never been tempted to discover it for myself.’
‘That is something else we have in common, then.’
Eloise gave herself a shake. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean the conversation to take such a melancholy turn.’
‘Then let us change it.’ Alexander took another biscuit. ‘These are very good. My compliments to Phoebe.’
‘She will be pleased, for they are made to a receipt of her own invention. She is a very creative cook. When she first invaded the kitchens—she can have been no more than five or six—her concoctions were much less appetising. I remember one cake in particular, which she told us had a very secret ingredient. It kept us guessing for a very long time before she finally revealed it to be new-mown grass.’
‘What about Estelle, does she also have a particular talent?’
‘She is musical. Not in the way people describe most young ladies—she doesn’t simply strum the pianoforte or the harp—she can pick up any instrument and get a tune from it. And she writes her own music too, and songs. She is really very talented.’ A talent which her parents had been utterly indifferent to. ‘She wrote a piece to welcome Mama and Papa home once. My sisters would so look forward to Mama and Papa coming home. They would forget what it had been like on previous occasions and imagine—’ Eloise broke off, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘Needless to say, they were suitably unimpressed. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have mentioned it—but it used to make me so angry, you see. It wouldn’t have taken much to make the twins happy, but it was still too much for them to make an effort.’
‘So you made it instead, is that it?’
There was sympathy in his eyes, but she was embarrassed at having betrayed so much. She had tried so hard to compensate, and to shield her sisters too, from her parents’ callousness, her mother’s infidelities, her father’s cuckolded fury. They never talked of those days now, it was too painful for all of them, but she knew that the twins were as scarred as she by their experiences. ‘You’re thinking that Daniel was right when he called me a mother hen.’
‘I’m thinking that your sisters are very lucky to have you.’
‘And they would agree with you. Most of the time.’ She smiled, making light of the compliment, but she was touched all the same by it. ‘I’ve told you a great deal about me, it’s only fair that you reciprocate.’
‘Oh, you already know everything there is to know about me. I’m the younger son who bucks family tradition and does something boring at the Admiralty.’
‘What, precisely, is it you do that is so boring?’
‘Mainly, I count weevils and anchors.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, technically I don’t count the weevils, I count the ship’s biscuit that they consume.’
‘What on earth is ship’s biscuit?’
‘It is also known as hard tack—a form of bread, which does not go stale though it is inclined to attract weevils. Weevils,’ Alexander said, waving his hand dismissively, ‘are a way of life in the navy, no sailor worth his salt minds them. It was the diarist, Samuel Pepys, who regularised victualling, as we call it,’ he said, seeming to warm to his subject. ‘Pepys came up with the table of rations which we quartermasters use today to calculate the supply required for each of our ships. One pound of ship’s biscuit per man per day is what we calculate—that is the weight before the weevils have taken their share, of course. And a gallon of beer. So now you know all about me.’
‘I know more about the role of a Victualling Commissioner, at any rate,’ Eloise said, biting back a smile.
‘There is no one else at the Admiralty who understands the need as well as I do, to ensure that hard tack is made to the same recipe, no matter which part of the world the raw ingredients are sourced in.’
‘You mean the correct ratio of weevils to biscuit?’
‘I mean the correct ratio of flour to water,’ Alexander said reprovingly.
A bubble of laughter finally escaped her. ‘I am tempted, very tempted, to ask you for the receipt, but I am fairly certain that if you don’t know it you would surely make it up.’
‘I do know it, in actual fact. I make it my business to know every aspect of my business.’
‘And such a fascinating business it is too.’
‘I think so, at any rate. I don’t find it boring at all,’ Alexander replied. ‘Of course my duties will be curtailed for a period while I establish my marriage. I am required to travel abroad a great deal, but I could not, if the veracity of my marriage is to be maintained, abandon my wife within a few weeks of making my vows, and so will work from the Admiralty building in London for the foreseeable future.’
She could not make him out at all, for while she was fairly certain he had been teasing her at first, now he seemed to be quite sincere. ‘You would not contemplate resigning, now that you are the Earl of Fearnoch, and all that entails?’
‘No. My life is with the Admiralty. I am willing, for very good reasons, to find a compromise for a few months, but give it up—absolutely not.’
His primary very good reason being to make provision for his mother, and his second to rid himself of most of the wealth he was marrying to inherit. Not for Alexander, a life of privilege and leisure. He was a man with a strong sense of duty, to his mother and to his country, and a man determined to do both on his own terms. Her admiration for him climbed several notches.
‘Miss Brannagh...’
‘Eloise.’
‘Eloise. From Heloise?’
‘I believe my mother rather fancied herself as La Nouvelle Héloïse. A free spirit, though I think she radically reinterpreted Monsieur Rousseau’s creation to suit her own notion of freedom which meant, by and large, the freedom to do exactly as she pleased and beggar the consequences. And now you will think me disloyal for being so disrespectful towards my own mother, especially since she is deceased. What is it they say, never talk ill of the dead?’
‘From what you’ve told me, Miss Brannagh—Eloise—it is more than justified.’
‘Well, it is, frankly, but I cannot help thinking—forgive me, Alexander, but I can’t help but contrast my finding fault with my mother and your truly honourable behaviour towards your own.’
‘I am merely providing the settlement I believe her entitled to. Do not make a saint of me, I beg you.’
‘I imagine your mother must think you a bit of a saint, since you are marrying in order to provide for her. In fact, I’ve been wondering why she hasn’t put forward any candidates for the post? The position, I mean. Of your wife. Or perhaps she has?’
‘You are the only current candidate. You have a very inflated idea of my attractions as a husband. First you line up queues of women for me, and now you have me rather arrogantly going through some sort of process of elimination.’
‘If you eliminate me, what will you do?’
‘I have no idea what I will do if you—if we decide we don’t suit. I will certainly not be asking my mother to, as you most eloquently phrased it, put someone forward for the post.’ He was silent for a moment, clearly struggling with his thoughts. ‘She would not help me, even if I asked her. She does not believe that the reasons I outlined to you are sufficiently compelling. In short, she disapproves of marriages of convenience, even if mutually advantageous. She was quite vehement on the subject.’
‘Despite the fact that it means she will likely starve?’
‘It would not come to that.’
‘But aside from that, Alexander, and even aside from all the tenants who are now yours but who must have once been hers, are you seriously saying your mother wishes you to hand over the Fearnoch fortune to your cousin?’
Once again, he was silent, painfully silent, his expression taut. Eloise touched his hand tentatively. ‘Alexander?’
He blinked, shook his head. ‘I can only conclude that my mother, having relied first upon her husband and then my brother to support her, underestimates the impact on her standard of living unless I intervene. Nor, I must assume, can she have any idea of the havoc my cousin would wreak on the estates.’
‘But even if she is somewhat deluded,’ Eloise said doubtfully, ‘surely she would prefer you to inherit rather than your cousin? Is it your plans to rid yourselfof the estates, perhaps, that she objects to?’
‘I told her nothing of my plans, save that I intended to marry, and by doing so, to secure her future. The purpose of my visit was not to explain myself, but simply to reassure her. I failed. In fact, she became overwrought. Since my mind was set, I saw no point in attempting to reason with her.’
Eloise’s heart sank. It was clear to her that Alexander’s mother didn’t wish her son to marry a gold-digger, and it should be equally clear to him. ‘Your mother is to be admired,’ she said carefully, ‘for putting your interests before her own. Knowing that your preference would be to remain unmarried...’
‘She can know no such thing. My mother and I are, to all intents and purposes, strangers to each other.’
‘Strangers! What on earth do you mean by that?’
‘Like your own mother, mine had interest only in one child. That child was not me. I was packed off to school at an early age, and spent most of my holidays in the country while my parents remained in London with Walter. I joined the Admiralty at sixteen and have spent the majority of my time since then abroad. Though we have met on occasion since—at her husband’s funeral, and most recently, when I returned to England after Walter died—they have been only very occasional meetings, and my mother seems perfectly content for that state of affairs to remain unchanged.’
‘You are implying that she abandoned you. But why? And now, when she has lost her husband and her only other son, why—oh, Alexander, I’m so sorry, this must be incredibly painful for you.’
‘I have long become accustomed to her indifference. I would have thought, after what you told me of your own upbringing, that you would understand that.’
Eloise was nonplussed. There was a world of difference between uninterest and outright rejection, but to say so would be cruel. Alexander might well believe himself reconciled to it, but the way he spoke, the way he held himself, told quite another story. She would not rub salt into the wound. ‘You’re right,’ she said, deciding to risk covering his hand with hers, ‘that is one thing we have in common. Your determination to provide for her, despite—it is an extremely honourable and admirable thing to do. Although it strikes me that she might be, as a consequence, disinclined to like your wife,’ she added awkwardly.
‘My marriage will allow me to right a wrong. I am not interested in my mother’s gratitude nor am I interested in her opinion of the woman I choose to marry. As I said, we have never been close, and I see no reason for my marriage to alter that state of affairs. Now if you don’t mind, I think we have more important matters to discuss than my mother.’
* * *
Alexander was furious with himself. Though he had striven to keep his tone neutral, it was clear, from the sympathy in her voice, in the way Eloise had touched his hand, that his feelings had betrayed him.
‘Will you excuse me just a moment?’ He strode over to the window, staring out sightlessly at the view of the ordered drive, the neatly clipped yew hedge which bordered it. When Robertson, the lawyer, had informed him in that precise way of his that the Seventh Earl had chosen to abide by the Sixth Earl’s terms with regard to the Dowager Lady Fearnoch, Alexander had been first confused, then outraged on his mother’s behalf. When he called on her, he’d expected to find her deep in mourning, perhaps bereft with grief, for her beloved eldest son had been dead only five months. Instead she had seemed, as she always seemed, aloof, cold, firmly in control of herself. Only when he informed her of his plans had she become animated, begging him not to marry for her sake, or for any other reason than love. Love! As if he would ever take such a risk. There was no place for love in his life, save the one which had ruled him since he was sixteen, and that was for his country.
He leaned his head on the cool of the window pane, breathing deeply to try to calm himself. His mother didn’t want his help. She didn’t want anything from him. As if he needed any more evidence of that! Her reaction was irrelevant. She had been wronged. It was up to him to make it right.
Alexander slanted a glance at Eloise, head lowered, intent on studying her clasped hands in order to grant him the semblance of privacy, and his sense of purpose strengthened. It was vital that they understood each other from the very start, if this marriage was to have any chance of succeeding.
As he resumed his seat opposite her, she seemed to brace herself. ‘If you’re having second thoughts, I’d rather you said so now.’
‘I am not,’ Alexander said firmly. ‘I was thinking the very opposite. I’m very serious about this, but I need to understand if you feel the same.’
‘I wouldn’t be here if I were not entirely serious.’
He steepled his hands, choosing his words with care. ‘When people marry in the traditional manner, it is with the expectation that affection, passion, love, if you wish, will form a bond between them, and that bond will in time be augmented by children. If we marry, we will have neither of those things. And we would be required to stay together, Eloise, albeit in name only, for the rest of our lives. We cannot afford to have regrets, which means we must enter into this agreement with a clear understanding of what we are getting into.’
‘And also what we are not getting into.’
‘You’re quite right,’ he agreed with a small smile. ‘It is very difficult to be honest with someone who was until this morning a complete stranger, but it is far better that we make the effort now, before it is too late. I have been frank with you, and, as you have doubtless realised, I am not accustomed to confiding my thoughts to anyone. You know why I wish to be married, but I’m not sure I understand your reasons sufficiently. You tell me that you have never wanted children—and now I’ve heard a little of your upbringing, I can understand why, but what is it you do want? I need to know, Eloise, that you’re not marrying purely for your sisters’ sake.’
‘And as I told my sisters, I have no desire to be a sacrificial lamb of a wife.’
‘I am very relieved to hear that. So tell me, then, what kind of a wife do you wish to be?’
‘Well, firstly, what you offer, a marriage which does not entail any—any wifely duties, is the only marriage I would consider. I’ve said enough, I hope, regarding my parents’ marriage to give you an idea of its nature. Passionate and poisonous in equal measure, an endless round of fighting and making up that shattered our peace, and put all of us girls constantly on edge. If that is love, I want nothing whatsoever to do with it.’
‘Why marry at all, if that is the case?’
She looked up at that. ‘I could remain single, though don’t forget, Alexander, I have the evidence before my eyes every day of how successful a marriage of convenience can be. It would be a lie if I told you I haven’t thought of my sisters, because I’ve spent most of my life putting them first, and the settlement you are offering is very generous, far too much for my requirements. I would share it with them, and I would leave it entirely up to Phoebe and Estelle to decide what use they put the money to. There is nothing worse, I imagine, than to be given a sum of money and then told how to spend it. I am determined not to do that.’
‘Even if Estelle spends it on establishing an orchestra and Phoebe on—oh, I don’t know, setting herself up in a restaurant.’
Eloise chuckled. ‘Neither of those is outwith the bounds of possibility.’ She resumed her study of her hands. ‘My next reason for considering your proposal is to take the burden of responsibility for the three of us from Uncle Daniel. He has—albeit through Kate—looked after us for five years, and I rather think he spent a significant amount of money paying off Papa’s debts too. We owe him a great deal—and when I say him, I mean Kate too, naturally.’
‘That is very admirable.’
‘Anyone in my position would feel the same, but honestly, Alexander, it was neither of those reasons which persuaded me to meet with you today.’ She smiled fleetingly at him. ‘My main reason is quite simple. Freedom for myself and for my sisters too. By marrying you, I’d earn my independence, and I’d be able to offer the same independence to my sisters, which is something I could never do were I to find an occupation—as a female, not only are there very few respectable careers, none of them would pay me any more than a pittance. My reward for being your wife will be the freedom to do whatever I want without having to consult anyone else or to be beholden to anyone else—provided I maintain the façade of being Lady Fearnoch, of course. You can’t imagine what that would mean to me.’
In fact, he could imagine it very easily. It was one of the most rewarding aspects of his work, to act on his own initiative, to solve the problems he was given in whatever way he saw fit. Only once had he compromised that freedom. The price had been almost unbearable. Never again. ‘So,’ he said, firmly closing his mind to the memory, ‘how will you use that freedom?’
Eloise shrugged, smiling. ‘I have absolutely no idea, and that in itself is so exciting I could—I could hug myself.’
Which gave him the most absurd desire to hug her instead. It was because she might just be the perfect solution to his problem, Alexander told himself. Daniel had done him a very great favour in making this introduction. He checked his watch, then checked the clock on the mantel in astonishment. ‘I can’t believe how long we’ve been sitting here.’
‘Too long? Must you get back to London?’
‘Not a bit of it. I noticed a passable inn in the village where I can spend the night, if necessary.’ He got to his feet. ‘The only thing I’m worried about is whether it will rain, because I’m hoping that we can continue our discussions in the fresh air. That is, if you think there is merit in continuing our discussion?’
Eloise allowed him to help her up. ‘I think we have established that we both see merit in it.’ She smiled. ‘A good deal of merit.’
* * *
The sky, which had been overcast when Alexander arrived at Elmswood Manor, had cleared, and now the sun was shining brightly and with some warmth.
‘Lovely,’ Eloise said, standing on the top step, tilting back her head and closing her eyes.
Lovely was the very word Alexander, looking at her, would have chosen too.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful day?’ She smiled at him. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother fetching a pelisse. Shall we?’
She tripped down the stairs on to the drive. Her gown fluttered in the light breeze, giving him a tantalising outline of long legs, a shapely bottom. She was not one of those willowy creatures who survived on air and water, and who were always, not surprisingly, having fainting fits. Eloise was more earthy, more real, the kind of woman who would, if she must faint, do so into a convenient chair rather than hope that some passing beau would catch her.
She was gazing up at the house, frowning, as he joined her, and he looked up automatically to see what had piqued her interest, catching a glimpse of two female faces at a window. ‘Your sisters resuming their spying mission, I presume.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
Alexander swept into an elaborate courtly bow, making Eloise giggle. One of the watching sisters had the presence of mind to drop a curtsy before dragging the other out of sight. He turned away. ‘Which direction shall we take?’
‘This way. There is a walled garden quite out of sight of the house.’
He followed her, feeling slightly dazed, as if he had unexpectedly won a prize, and he wasn’t at all sure that he deserved it. Eloise’s hair was the colour of polished bronze in the daylight. Her eyes were hazel, wide-spaced under winged brows. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. It made her tawny beauty less flawless and therefore more interesting. There was a determined tilt to her chin that didn’t surprise him, now he knew her a little better, but her lips, full, sensuous, quite belied her claim to a cold nature. In fact, he knew, for he had witnessed it, that she was compassionate, and he had overwhelming evidence of her love for her sisters. It was not love which repelled her, but passion, and what little she’d told him of her parents’ marriage made her feelings entirely understandable. It should be a crime, the damage parents could do to their children.
Eloise did not trip along taking tiny steps, nor did she try to glide, but walked with a easy gait that he had to make only a small adjustment to match. Though the matter was far from settled, for the first time since he had made the decision to take a wife, Alexander didn’t feel utterly dejected. In fact, glancing at the surprising woman walking beside him, he felt—no, not elated, that was absurd, but he really couldn’t quite believe his luck.
The walled garden had been a crumbling ruin when Eloise and her sisters first arrived at Elmswood Manor, she informed him as they wandered around the perimeter. ‘It was my favourite place,’ she said, ‘I thought of it as my private domain, because back then the door was stuck fast and you could only get in by climbing over the wall.’
‘You must have been very adept at climbing. It’s at least fifteen feet.’
‘I told you, we grew up in the wilds of rural Ireland. There wasn’t much to do save climb hills and trees if you are not the sewing samplers sort, which I am not. I’ve always thought samplers such a waste of stitches which would be far better served making clothes.’
‘You are a needlewoman as well as a scaler of heights! Do you include gardening in your list of impressive attributes?’
‘Oh, no, that is Kate’s domain. This is her project, though all three of us helped her with the research—poring through the archives in the attics, to see what we could uncover regarding the history of the place. When Estelle found a map...’
He listened with half an ear as they completed their circuit of the garden. Her love for her sisters was genuine and profound, her affection for Lady Elmswood evident too. ‘Are you sure leaving here won’t be too much of a wrench?’ he asked, steering her towards a convenient bench.
‘It will be odd, but it will be good for us all in the long run. We can’t be together for ever, huddled up like hothouse flowers.’ She sat down, staring distractedly out at the gardens, biting her lip. ‘Alexander, I have no wish to embarrass either of us, but there is a topic of a delicate nature that I feel I must raise.’
He waited, for it was obvious from her expression that she was girding her loins.
‘I’ve told you that I am not—I told you that I would not consider a real marriage because that sort of—that aspect of marriage doesn’t—isn’t for me.’ Her cheeks were bright red, but she held his gaze steadfastly until he nodded. ‘But that doesn’t mean that you cannot—you might wish to find some comfort in someone else’s arms. I would not—’ She broke off, completely flustered. ‘Goodness, this is mortifying. Please, I beg you, forget what I said. Let us change the subject.’
He happily would, but unfortunately she was in the right of it. ‘It’s better we discuss it now, don’t you think, no matter how awkward it is?’
‘Awkward is rather an understatement.’
‘Then let me see if I can make it easier for you, now that you’ve been brave enough to bring it up.’ Though how to do so, Alexander puzzled. He ought to have anticipated this, but he hadn’t, principally because it was a facet of his life that had been a closed book for almost precisely two years. He couldn’t tell Eloise the truth, but he owed her a version of it.
‘There have been women in my life,’ he said. ‘though my affaires have always been extremely short-lived. I am by nature a loner, and have never wished for any more intimate arrangement.’
And, even if he had, it would have been contrary to every rule in the book. He’d known that, and yet to his eternal regret he’d allowed it to happen anyway, telling himself it didn’t matter because he didn’t care enough, succumbing to temptation because he was heartily sick of being alone in a foreign land. He’d taken comfort in her admittedly beguiling company. If only he had put an end to it sooner. Or better still, before it started. The entire episode had been a mistake. The biggest mistake he’d ever made. He’d learned the hard way that the rules he’d so cavalierly broken were there for good reason. The guilt he had carried with him ever since made his chest tighten. He would never risk a repeat. Never!
Perhaps now was not the time for subtlety, after all. ‘Love,’ Alexander said bluntly. ‘That is what I mean. I am not interested in love, I have never been in love, and have no ambition whatsoever to change that. Love is anathema to me.’
Eloise blinked at his fierce tone. ‘Well, you are preaching to the converted on that subject.’
‘As to the idea of my finding comfort in another’s arms—all I can say is that at the moment, I have absolutely no interest or intention to do so.’ Which was the truth, and not one he could imagine changing. Was it a life sentence? At this point, Alexander decided the question irrelevant. ‘Does that answer your question?’
‘Yes,’ Eloise said, though she looked unconvinced.
‘What is it?’
‘The thing is, I can’t help but wonder what your family and friends will think of your sudden and dramatic conversion to conjugal bliss, given that you so adamantly do not wish to be married. I expect that this cousin of yours, who stands to inherit all, will be counting the days now, until he lays his hands on a fortune.’
‘According to my lawyer, Raymond has been counting the days since Walter died, and for some months now has been borrowing heavily against his anticipated windfall. With only a few weeks to go until my birthday, he will think he is home and dry. He will get a very nasty surprise when he reads the notice of my nuptials.’
‘Will he have grounds to challenge your inheritance if he can prove that the marriage is one of convenience?’
‘Hardly, considering that half if not more of every marriage which has property at stake is arranged for the convenience of the families concerned. But I’ve been thinking, Eloise, about what you said.’
‘I’ve said a lot. One might argue that I’ve said too much. Which of my many utterances in particular has struck you?’
‘I should warn you, I have one of those minds which registers every word. Don’t say anything to me you’d rather I forgot.’
She laughed, mock horrified. ‘Now you tell me! Good grief, I shall have to wear one of those contraptions like a muzzle that they used to punish women who talked too much. What was it called?’
‘A scold’s bridle?’
‘That’s it.’
He burst out laughing. ‘What on earth will you say next! I am going to be hanging on your every word, not silencing you, if we are to persuade the world that we have fallen madly in love.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I think it would be best all round, if we had a—what do they call it?—a whirlwind romance.’
‘To have met and married in a matter of weeks is not so much a whirlwind as a tornado.’
Alexander grinned. ‘We’ll need to concoct a suitably credible story.’
‘We’ll need more than a story. Are you saying that we will have to pretend to have fallen in love?’
‘How difficult can it be, people do it all the time.’
‘You never have. I most certainly have not. Why would we do such a thing? You said that marriages of convenience...’
‘Are common, and they are, and I meant it when I said that my cousin would have no grounds to challenge our union, but I’d far rather he did not waste my time or my lawyer’s time by trying.’
‘And if he believed it a love match, you think he wouldn’t?’
‘I can’t be sure, but if everyone else believed us too—do you see?’
‘Yes, but...’
‘And then there was your remark about the world accusing you of being a gold-digger. I know it couldn’t be further from the truth, but—I’m sorry...’
‘I’m a nonentity from the sticks with no dowry,’ Eloise said wryly. ‘Of course it’s what they will think.’
‘So we must persuade them instead that we are genuinely in love.’
‘In love! I am not sure I would know where to begin. How does one stare in a besotted manner, for example?’
He studied her, smiling uncertainly at him, and found himself, wholly unexpectedly and entirely inappropriately, wanting to kiss her. Properly kiss her. Which would be a catastrophic mistake. Because he also wanted, very much wanted, Miss Eloise Brannagh to become his convenient wife.
‘I think,’ Alexander said, ‘that we can discount any besottedness.’ He took her hand, lifting it to his lips. ‘Small demonstrations of affection will suffice.’ He kissed her fingertips. ‘There will be shared glances, times when our eyes meet, when it will be obvious to everyone that we are counting the seconds until we are alone.’
‘I am not sure...’
He turned her hand over, kissing her palm, felt the sharp intake of her breath, the responding kick of excitement in his gut, and met her eyes. Her lips parted. Dear God, but he wanted to kiss her.
‘There will be other glances.’ He leaned closer, his voice low. ‘Glances that speak of pleasure recently shared, rather than pleasure hotly anticipated.’
‘I don’t know anything about such things.’
‘You don’t have to. It will be an act. You have an imagination, don’t you?’ He ran his fingers up her arm to rest on the warm skin at the nape of her neck. ‘Pretend, when you look at me, that we have been making love.’
‘But I don’t know how that would—what should I be feeling?’
‘Happy. Think of something that makes you happy.’
‘When a gown I’ve made turns out to be exactly as I’d imagined it?’
He bit back a laugh. ‘Think of something a little more—how did it feel when you climbed to the top of a tree as a girl?’
‘Exciting. Dizzying. A little bit frightening. I always wondered what it would be like to let go, as if I might fly.’
‘Imagine you are feeling that now.’
Eloise gazed at him wide-eyed. He could feel her breath on his face, see the quick rise and fall of her breasts beneath the neckline of her gown. She reached tentatively for him, resting her hand on his shoulder. ‘In the mornings, in the summer, when the sun is only just coming up, I like to walk on the grass, barefoot,’ she whispered. ‘It’s cool, and damp, but in the most delicious way that makes you want to curl your toes into the grass. Is that what you mean?’
‘It is perfect.’ So perfect that he could picture the bliss on her face, that he wished, absurdly, he was the grass under her feet.
‘Alexander, I’ve never even been kissed.’
He could have groaned aloud at the temptation. Instead, he forced himself to sit back, to lift her hand to his lips once more, to press the lightest of kisses to her wrist. And then to let her go. ‘There will be no need for real kissing. Absolutely no lovemaking. What we have discussed will be the extent of our performance. Do you think we can manage that?’
‘Do you think we can?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Alexander shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench.
‘Would you still think so if I had been as you imagined, fiercer, older and with spectacles?’
Would he? The chivalrous answer would be no. But hadn’t they agreed to be honest? ‘Luckily, I tried to avoid imagining you at all.’
‘For fear you wouldn’t be able to abide me? It’s fine, you can admit it,’ Eloise said with a rueful smile, ‘for I confess, that I was—I was steeling myself for the worst.’
‘And would you be here now, if I had lived down to your expectations?’
‘Would the vast sum I will earn compensate for a stoop or spectacles or bad breath?’ Eloise grimaced. ‘The truth is, when I saw you I was vastly relieved, but—well, we are being brutally honest, aren’t we? Then I will tell you that you could have been an Adonis, but if I had taken you in dislike, and felt I could not overcome my reservations, then I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.’ She smiled shyly. ‘The fact that you do resemble a Greek god—a fact that I am sure cannot come as a surprise to you—well, the female population at least will not find it too difficult to believe that I fell in love with your face and not your fortune. Not that I mean to imply that all females are so shallow as to fall in love only with handsome men, but...’
‘No, but I fear that the majority of men are indeed that shallow,’ Alexander interrupted wryly. ‘My cousin will find it much harder to question the validity of our marriage when he sets eyes on you.’
‘When you meet Phoebe and Estelle, you will realise why I am known as the clever sister.’
‘Clever and beautiful. I am fortunate indeed,’ Alexander said, thinking, as she blushed charmingly, that he was in fact beyond fortunate.
‘Clever enough to recognise that you have not answered my original question.’
‘I think we are all shallow creatures as far as first impressions go. I would like to think that I’d have overcome any reservations by getting to know you. I am certain that, having come to know you a little, I’d want to know more, and I can also say, as you did, that if I’d taken you in dislike, I would have put an end to the matter. But I am relieved—I can say now, hugely relieved—to discover that while your exterior is extremely attractive, it is what lies beneath that makes me think we will suit.’ He cast a worried look up at the sky. ‘We should get back inside, it looks like it’s threatening to rain.’
Eloise stood up. ‘Do you realise we’ve been talking all this while as if the decision has already been made?’
Alexander considered this. He felt odd. Not afraid, but it was that feeling he often had, at the culmination of a mission, when everything was finally coming together but there was still the danger that it could all go wrong, the thrill of the unknown. He felt as Eloise had described, perched at the top of a tree. ‘Have I been presumptive?’ he asked.
‘Doyou really think our natures are complementary?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, surprising himself with his certainty. ‘I think—I really do think that we will suit very well. And you?’
Eloise bit her lip, frowning. Her smile dawned slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think—I think if opposites attract, then we are an excellent match.’
He took her hands in his. ‘Miss Brannagh, will you do me the honour of marrying me?’
‘Lord Fearnoch, I do believe I will.’
And then she smiled up at him. And Alexander gave in to the temptation to kiss her. Delightfully, and far too briefly, on the lips.

Chapter Four (#u1fcf56ee-b60f-5cfd-97aa-69e73ef6ce4d)
Six weeks later
The journey from Elmswood Manor to London was made by means of a carriage which Alexander had sent for her. Eloise had been too sick with nerves to notice much, conscious only that each passing mile drew her nearer to the beginning of her new life. She knew she was approaching the metropolis because the roads became crowded, the post houses noisier, the buildings first crammed closer together, then growing ever taller. The well-sprung carriage jolted over cobbled streets. Iron palings, imposing mansions passed in a blur. She could hear street criers, see people jostling for position on the pavements, but little of the colourful city landscape registered. Overwhelmed, she abandoned her futile attempt to work out where she was and where she was headed, and sank back on the seat, trying to regain some element of composure before she arrived at the church.
She had made her own wedding gown of white satin with an overdress of white sarcenet. A broad crimson silk sash was tied at the waist. Redheads should on no account ever wear red, Mama always used to insist. She had never allowed any of her daughters to do so, one of the very few instances of her involving herself with their upbringing, so naturally it was one of Eloise’s favourite colours. She had trimmed the neckline and the sleeves with the same crimson silk, and had worked a frieze of crimson flowers along the hem with her tiny, perfect stitches. There was a short velvet pelisse to match. Phoebe had trimmed her poke bonnet with complicated knots of crimson satin ribbon. Estelle had fashioned her a matching reticule. Kate had generously given her the locket on a gold chain, her only piece of jewellery.
How many hours was it since she had bid them all goodbye? Her sisters had been so dejected at first, to be missing out on the wedding ceremony, but Eloise’s anxious pleas, endorsed by Kate, to be allowed to focus entirely on establishing herself as Lady Fearnoch without either the distraction of their presence or risk that they might give the game away, had reconciled them. Though at this moment, with the carriage drawing up in front of a church, she’d give a great deal to have them here in person to give her a hug and tell her that she was going to be the best Lady Fearnoch imaginable.
It must be late afternoon. The church, she knew from one of Alexander’s flurry of missives, was St Mary-le-Bow in Cheapside. A sudden squall of rain spattered the window pane, and Eloise shivered. Panic kept her in her seat as the carriage door was opened, the steps lowered. It was one thing to agree to a very convenient marriage, another to actually go through with it. Though there had been any number of letters, she had not seen Alexander since accepting his proposal. Was she really going to marry him?
Knees shaking, Eloise stepped out of the carriage and into the shelter of the portico where Alexander was waiting patiently, dressed in a navy-blue coat, fawn pantaloons and polished Hessian boots. He was carrying a hat and gloves. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered. This man was about to become her husband! Her heart lurched, thudded, raced.
‘Are you sure about this? There is still time to change your mind.’
Nausea gave way to excitement as she met his gaze. She was terrified, and at the same time oddly exhilarated, as if she had climbed the highest tree and was looking down, astonished at her feat and afraid that she might fall. ‘I don’t want to change my mind.’
‘Good.’ His mouth relaxed into a smile. ‘Shall we?’
She preceded him through the door. The interior of Wren’s church was beautiful in its simplicity, with arched recesses on either side of the nave bounded by Corinthian columns of white Portland stone. The nave was flooded with light, the myriad colours of the stained glass reflecting on the marbled floor, making silhouettes of the two figures who would be their witnesses standing at the altar in front of the vicar. Not quite sure whether she was sleeping or awake, Eloise placed her hand on the man who would very shortly be her husband and made her way down the aisle towards them.
* * *
The vows had been solemnly made, the papers duly signed. The deed was done. She was married. Eloise stood on the steps of the church in a daze as Alexander—her husband!—thanked his witnesses. She was now Lady Eloise, Countess of Fearnoch, but she still felt remarkably like the eldest Brannagh sister.
‘The sun is shining on our nuptials,’ Alexander said, turning to her with a smile. ‘A good omen, I hope.’
‘I can’t believe we are married.’
‘I hope you’re not regretting it already.’
‘No, no, of course not, it is just—there were moments during the ceremony when I felt as I if I must be dreaming. It’s all very strange. I’ve never even been to London. I have no idea how to behave or what is expected of me or—or anything.’
‘You must be yourself, that is all I expect of you. I hope you don’t mind that our first night will be spent in a hotel. Robertson—my lawyer—tells me he has had Fearnoch House made ready for our arrival, but I reckoned that today would be momentous enough without subjecting you to the ordeal of formal introductions to the staff. Was I wrong?’
‘Good grief, no,’ Eloise exclaimed, looking horrified. ‘Is that what I must expect tomorrow?’
‘Let’s enjoy today first.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Ours is not a traditional wedding day, but there is no reason why it shouldn’t be memorable. Your carriage awaits, Lady Fearnoch.’
‘My carriage?’ She turned, just as a very elegant equipage drew up at the church steps. The body of the carriage was in the shape of a cup, painted glossy black, as were the spokes of the wheels. The hood was folded back to reveal an interior of dark-green velvet. ‘You don’t really mean that this is my carriage?’
‘I never say what I don’t mean,’ Alexander said, smiling at her. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Like it! I love it. May we go for a drive?’
‘That was my intention. Excellent timing, Bennet,’ he said to the coachman who, having secured the reins of the two lively grey horses, jumped down, doffing his cap. ‘This is Lady Fearnoch.’
‘My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I be the first to offer my congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Bennet is not a coachman by trade,’ Alexander said, as the other man opened the carriage door and let down the steps. ‘He is my personal servant. And I assure you,’ he added, pre-empting her anxious question, ‘very much in my confidence, and entirely trustworthy.’
‘Also, be assured, my lady, that I know how to handle the ribbons,’ the man said. ‘Now, if you will help her ladyship into the carriage, my lord, we can be off.’
‘My love?’ Alexander handed her, quite unnecessarily, up the steps, jumping in beside her. ‘Since this is your first day in London, and the first day of our new life together, I thought you might like a very short sightseeing drive.’
‘I would. I can’t think of anything more—it’s a wonderful idea, especially in a fine carriage such as this.’
‘It is called a barouche, and it is yours, as are the horses. There wasn’t time to have your coat of arms painted on the doors, but...’
‘I have a coat of arms?’
‘You are a countess. I am sure there must also be a cloak of ermine and a coronet somewhere, though I’m hoping that King George keeps his fragile hold on this earth for a few more years yet, and spares us the necessity of wearing either at the next coronation.’

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