Marguerite Kaye - The Earl's Countess Of Convenience

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.’

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.’