Cheryl Bolen - Marriage of Inconvenience

He stiffened. “More often than not, I’m out of charity with Peter.”

“He’s how old?”

“He reached his majority last year and quickly went through every farthing he could get his hands on.”

“So he lacks maturity, steadiness and—I think—your affection?”

“I wouldn’t say that about the affection. If it weren’t for Emily, things might be different.”

“Emily’s your daughter?”

“Yes. She thinks she’s in love with Peter.”

“And you find him ineligible?”

“I gave him a chance. After he was sent down from Oxford—for sottishness—I secured a post for him with Lord Paley at the Home Office and told Peter if he could live on the three hundred a year from the Home Office coupled with the two hundred a year from my sister, I would allow him to marry Emily.”

“I take it he was not successful.”

“Not at all.”

“He could not live within his means?”

“He lost heavily at Brook’s, then the moneylenders got their hooks into him, then he did the unthinkable.”

Her eyes rounded.

“He left his post without so much as a fare-thee-well and fled back to Dunton, professing that he couldn’t live without Emily.”

“And his foolishness did not elicit disgust in your daughter?”

“She thinks I’ve been too harsh on him. He was very close to his mother—my sister—and Emily says I should have been more compassionate to him when he came to Dunton after his mother’s death.”

“How old was he then?”

“Fifteen.”

“A most difficult age.”

“He wasn’t a bad lad,” Aynsley defended. “And despite all his weaknesses, I cannot deny that he truly loves my daughter. Whatever I heard of his heedless activities in London, bedding loose women wasn’t one of them.” He shouldn’t have said that in front of Rebecca. She was such an innocent. He looked up at her. “Forgive me.”

“I beg that you not apologize. We are, after all, man and wife. I wish your speech with me always to be unguarded.”

This was the first time Rebecca in the flesh—not through her elucidating essays—seemed more woman than girl.

“I can understand your wish that your only daughter marry a man more worthy.”

At least his wife understood his fatherly affection. “The problem is my daughter says she wants no one else.”

Rebecca nibbled at her lower lip. “Will she have a Season in London?”

“I mean for her to. She will resist.”

“There is the fact that another man might not love her with such constancy as Peter.”

The same thought had plagued him. Above everything, he wanted what was best for Emily. “Though I’m a wealthy man, I’ve seven children to provide for. Emily’s dowry will not be large enough to compensate for a wastrel husband.”

“Being a parent is no simple matter.” She went to say something else, then clamped her lips.

He studied her pensive expression. The nibbling on her lower lip. The thick fringe of long, dark lashes that swept against the creamy skin beneath her eyes. He had become so accustomed to her spectacles he never noticed them anymore.

A moment later she said, “I want very much to be a good mother to your children. Do you think they will resent that I shall try to replace their own much-loved mother?”

He wished to soothe the worry he saw on her face. “The three youngest have little memory of their mother. I should think they would be most receptive to having a mother of their own.”

The lively smile she tried to suppress told him she had warmed to the idea of being a mother, even though her voice strove for nonchalance. “And the four eldest will, quite naturally, cling to the memories of their own mother,” she said.

“Most likely. But I daresay you will lift a huge burden from Emily’s shoulders.”

His bride eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. “Emily is very dear to you, is she not?”

“Very.”

“You said she is a blonde?”

He nodded.

“I expect she’s quite lovely.”

“You’ll have to judge for yourself. I find her so.”

“As does Peter, obviously. Tell me, how long have they fancied themselves in love?”

“I can’t remember a time when she didn’t insist that she’d grow up and marry him.”

“Oh, dear, a mind-set like that is not easy to break.”

“That’s what worries me.”

She resumed peering out the window, and neither of them spoke for the next half hour. Then she turned back to him and said, “I should like to learn more of you.”

That she was thinking of him was his first chink into her stiff formality. He gave her a warm look as he moved from the seat facing her to sit beside her. Her lashes lowered modestly as he drew her hand into his.

“What would you like to know?” he murmured. Was this to be the breakthrough he sought?

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.