Jenni Fletcher - The Convenient Felstone Marriage

And he’d start by marrying the most sensible, respectable-looking woman he could find, one that Harper would definitely approve of.

Miss Holt. He’d never seen a woman less likely to cause scandal. She was exactly the sort of wife he needed, a helpmeet, not an ornament, one who could fit unobtrusively into his busy life with the minimum of fuss or distraction, leaving him free to deal with his expanding business concerns. She wasn’t flirtatious or hysterical or highly strung, hadn’t burst into tears or tried to ingratiate herself with him when he’d accused her of being a schemer. On the contrary, she’d given as good as she’d got, had a mind of her own and no fear of speaking it. No, the more he thought of it, the more the strait-laced, straight-talking Miss Holt seemed to be just what he needed, a far more suitable bride than Louisa had ever been.

But she’d said no. As proposals went, it was hard to imagine one going much worse. He could hardly blame her for refusing him. No reasonable woman would accept such a proposal from a stranger who’d just insulted her to her face.

On the other hand, a desperate one might. Just how desperate to avoid marrying Lester was she? he wondered. He had a day to find out. Time enough to convince her to reconsider. And he knew exactly how to start.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’ He clapped a hand on Giles’s shoulder, already making for the exit. ‘Is Kitty at home?’

‘I think so, but what about the speech?’

‘We’ll discuss it at dinner. I have something important to do first.’

Giles looked taken aback. ‘With my wife?’

‘I need some information.’ Robert threw a grin over his shoulder. ‘Then I need to take her shopping.’

Chapter Three

‘Are you awake, dear?’

Ianthe opened her eyes, momentarily blinded by the expanse of colour that greeted her. Where was she? In a bedroom she didn’t recognise, daubed and draped in such an overwhelming shade of rose-petal pink that she could hardly distinguish one object from another. With the sun streaming in through open curtains, the whole room seemed to be blushing.

‘Ianthe?’

She rubbed her eyes, disoriented after such a deep sleep. She had the vague impression that the curtains had been closed only a moment before, but who had opened them? Who was that calling her name? The voice seemed to come from close by...

She yelped, catching sight of a small face, half-hidden beneath a huge frilly nightcap, peering down at her.

‘Aunt Sophoria!’

‘Oh, good, you’re awake.’ The face beamed. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you, but I was starting to worry.’

Ianthe put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her now frantically pounding heartbeat. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Almost since you arrived.’

Her aunt bustled across the room and then back again, bearing a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of macaroons in the other, before perching precariously on the side of the bed.

‘Here we are. I bought these as a treat for us last night, but since you were indisposed, we’ll have them for breakfast instead.’

‘Thank you.’ Ianthe accepted the tea gratefully. ‘I’m sorry I ruined our arrival, Aunt, but Percy and I had the most dreadful quarrel.’

‘So I gathered. You were quite overwrought when you got here.’

‘Oh...’ Her cheeks flushed as memories of the day before came flooding back. She’d collapsed into her aunt’s arms on the doorstep, still reeling from the shock of Percy’s deception and Mr Felstone’s so-called proposal. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Nonsense! You’ve given the neighbours something to talk about. They’ll be thrilled.’ Hazel eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘So I sent you off to bed and Percy to stay at the Swan. I had intended for him to use this room while you shared with me, but it seemed like you needed some peace. Besides, I didn’t like the way he was talking to you. Takes after your father’s side of the family, that one.’

Ianthe smiled, trying to imagine her brother in such a vibrantly pink bedroom. Now that she was getting used to the colour, she was starting to like it, as if she were a little girl back in the nursery. It felt like a safe haven, a space of her own again—a home. That was all she wanted in life now, a place to hide from the world. But she still owed her aunt an explanation for her behaviour. If only she knew where to begin...

‘It wasn’t entirely Percy’s fault, Aunt. I behaved very badly.’

‘Oh, I doubt that. Have a macaroon.’

‘You don’t understand.’ She took a deep, faltering breath. ‘He wants me to marry Charles Lester.’

‘Lester?’ Aunt Sophoria paused with a biscuit halfway to her lips. ‘That vain old buffoon? Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘You don’t like him?’

‘Never have, never could. He used to hang around your mother when she was a girl, too. I used to chase him away then. What on earth is Percy thinking?’

‘They’ve become close this past year. That’s why Percy brought me here. They arranged it together.’

‘Ah. I did wonder about your brother’s sudden enthusiasm for visiting me after ten years. So Lester’s in on it, then?’

Ianthe lifted her shoulders and then dropped them again despairingly. ‘Percy says he’s going to propose, but I don’t understand it. I’ve done nothing to encourage him and it’s not as if I have money or connections. It can’t be love, I’m sure of it.’

‘Love?’ Her aunt chewed on a macaroon thoughtfully. ‘No, love isn’t a sentiment I’d associate with Charles Lester.’

‘He scares me, Aunt.’ She gave an involuntary shudder, trying to put all the things she’d scarcely dared think about into words. ‘He watches me so intently all the time, like he’s hungry, but as if it’s not really me he’s looking at either. It’s like it’s me, but not me that he wants. I don’t know how else to explain it.’

Aunt Sophoria screwed up her mouth for a moment before patting her hand reassuringly. ‘Well, if you don’t like him then that’s an end to it and we’ll tell your brother so together. As for Lester, don’t worry, I know how to handle him.’

Ianthe put down her tea, flinging her arms around her aunt’s neck with a sob of relief. ‘Oh, thank you, Aunt. I was so afraid you’d agree with Percy.’

‘As if I ever could!’ Aunt Sophoria gave her a tight squeeze. ‘Honestly, men! I ought to box both their ears.’

Ianthe laughed before sitting back again with a guilty expression. ‘That wasn’t all I was upset about, I’m afraid. You see, there was another man on the train.’

An image of Mr Felstone’s sternly handsome features flashed before her eyes, making her hesitate. Perhaps it was better not to tell her aunt about him. In the cold light of day the whole thing sounded ridiculous, as if she’d simply imagined it. Was it possible that she’d somehow misunderstood his proposal? That she’d been so angry that she’d somehow...misheard?

She frowned, thinking over their argument. No, he’d definitely called her a schemer before he’d asked her to marry him. A business proposal, he’d called it, though surely he couldn’t have been serious. No sane man would suggest such a thing to a woman he’d only just met, no gentleman certainly. And yet...he’d seemed sane. He’d even seemed like a gentleman. So why had he said it? At the time she’d assumed that he’d been mocking her, taking advantage of their isolated situation to make fun of her dowdy appearance. Now, after a solid night’s sleep, she felt more confused than ever.

‘You mean Mr Felstone?’ Aunt Sophoria picked up the last macaroon and popped it between her lips.

Ianthe’s mouth dropped open. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Percy told me that part.’