‘If I do, will you promise to tell me the truth from now on?’
‘Of course!’ He was already striding away. ‘Just remember, thirty years! You’ll be a rich widow soon enough.’
Ianthe glared after him, seized with the impulse to follow, to grab her bag, leap down onto the platform and run away. But where would she go? Percy and her aunt were the only relatives she had left and now it seemed even they were conspiring against her. She fell back against her seat, watching her brother’s retreating back, silently resenting his freedom. He never worried about how he behaved or how indiscreet he sounded. He never worried about censure at all. How could the rules for men and women be so different? At least no one else had been around to overhear his last remark.
She gave a sudden guilty start, sitting bolt upright again as she met the steely gaze of the man sitting opposite. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as lifted his head, but he was wide awake now, looking straight at her with an expression of brooding, almost ferocious intensity. This time there was no mistaking the frown on his stern features. He looked furious.
‘You’re awake.’ She found herself stating the obvious.
‘As you can see.’
She blinked, taken aback by the scathing tone of his deep, northern-accented voice. He was leaning back in his seat without making even the slightest attempt to sit up, as if she were so far beneath his contempt that there was no need for propriety, the look in his eyes even more insulting than his manner. She felt her mouth turn dry. Besides Sir Charles, no man had looked at her so intently for a long time. In her new, drab garb she’d started to think herself almost invisible to the opposite sex, but now this stranger’s pale gaze seemed to bore straight through her.
Quickly, she glanced out of the window, but there was no sign of Percy. Typical of him to be indiscreet and then leave her to clear up the mess! Clearly this man had overheard some, if not all, of their conversation after all. Now it looked as though he were about to rebuke her for it. Well, she was in no mind for a lecture, especially not today.
‘Sir.’ She lifted her chin up defensively. ‘I beg you to forget anything you might have overheard. It was a private conversation.’
‘Then perhaps you ought not to have held it in a public carriage.’
‘A gentleman ought not to eavesdrop.’
‘I could hardly help it. I should think the whole locomotive could hear your brother’s voice.’
She felt her cheeks flush scarlet with mortification. Even if that were true, which she was afraid it might be, he ought not to mention it. What kind of a gentleman was he?
‘My brother shouldn’t have been so indiscreet. But as you doubtless heard, I already reprimanded him.’
‘Was that a reprimand?’ Grey eyes regarded her mockingly. ‘It sounded as if you were more afraid of having your little scheme overheard.’
Scheme? She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again. Now that she thought of it, she’d only told Percy to be quiet. She hadn’t contradicted him at all. No wonder this man assumed the worst, though he still had no right to chastise her. They hadn’t been introduced and she was a lady sitting on her own. They shouldn’t even be talking, let alone arguing.
She folded her hands primly in her lap. ‘I do not have a scheme, sir.’
‘Except to marry a man you dislike for his money and then wish for his imminent demise. What would you call that but a scheme?’
‘I’d say you know nothing about it. And since you care so little for good manners, I might add that appearances can be deceptive. You, for example, look like a gentleman, yet you very clearly are not.’
‘Perhaps not, though I’ve been called far worse, I assure you.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But my affairs are none of your business.’
‘On the contrary.’ A shadow darkened his face. ‘I think it every man’s business to know that women like you exist.’
‘Women like me?’ An icy chill raced down her spine. What did that mean? How could he know what kind of woman she was? How could he possibly tell?
‘Schemers. Deceivers. Women who say one thing to a man’s face and another behind his back.’ He let his gaze drop contemptuously, as if he were studying her from head to toe and finding her wanting. ‘You don’t even have the decency to speak well of your quarry. At least I know what I am. You still think yourself a lady, I suppose?’
He turned his face away, staring out of the window as she gazed into thin air, speechless with shock. How was it possible? After everything she’d done to alter her appearance, to alter herself, how could he still look at her and call her a schemer?
She caught her breath, struggling against the old familiar feelings of shame and self-loathing. She’d been called a schemer once before, had tried to plead her innocence then, too, not that it had made any difference. Was everything they’d said about her in Bournemouth true, then? Was there something so bad, so inherently corrupt in her nature that even a stranger could see it?
No! Her mind resisted the idea. And even if there was, it wasn’t intentional. She wasn’t the one scheming against Sir Charles. She didn’t want anything to do with him at all. He was the one scheming against her! And how dare this stranger speak to her so abominably, as if she were the most shame-faced fortune-hunter he’d ever laid eyes on. Whoever he was, he had no right to judge!
‘Yes,’ she began angrily, ‘I do call myself a lady. At least as much as you’re a gentleman. And if you’d been paying closer attention or given me the slightest benefit of the doubt, you’d know that I have no desire and certainly no intention of marrying Sir Charles!’
‘Sir Charles?’ The stranger turned his head sharply at the end of her speech, having continued to stare out of the window for most of it. ‘You mean Charles Lester?’
Ianthe bit her tongue, realising her mistake a few seconds too late. Was it possible that they hadn’t mentioned his identity earlier? No, now that she thought of it, Percy always referred to him as Charles, while she avoided his name altogether. Not that there was any point in denying it now.
She nodded cautiously as the stranger ran a hand through his hair, muttering something indistinguishable under his breath.
‘Do you know him, sir?’
‘We’re acquainted.’
‘Oh.’
She waited, hardly knowing whether to feel guilty or relieved. For once, it seemed as though Percy’s behaviour would have consequences. If this man were acquainted with Sir Charles, then doubtless he’d tell him everything they’d just said. On the other hand, embarrassing as it was, it would solve her dilemma. After such a public condemnation, the Baronet would probably never want to see her again.
Perhaps it hadn’t been such a terrible mistake after all...
‘In that case...’ the stranger leaned forward suddenly, resting his forearms on his knees as he bent closer towards her ‘...I believe I ought to retract my last comments. I overheard half a conversation and reacted badly. I believe I came in somewhere around the time you were denouncing your brother as pompous and then I could hardly intrude without embarrassing you.’ He frowned, as if admitting something against his will. ‘But it was wrong of me, I ought to have announced myself. I wasn’t trying to listen, but your brother’s last words...’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘I apologise unreservedly.’
Ianthe blinked in bewilderment, stunned by such a marked transformation. The stranger’s voice was still terse, but the ferocious scowl and derisive curl of his lip were gone, as if the focus of his anger had simply shifted elsewhere. What had happened? A moment ago he’d seemed to despise the very sight of her and now he was apologising? The only difference was that he’d learnt the identity of her suitor.
The realisation was distinctly unsettling.
‘You have a poor opinion of Sir Charles then?’ She hardly dared ask.
‘None that I’d care to repeat.’
‘Under the circumstances, I believe I have a right to know.’
He shook his head, looking out of the window with a brooding expression. ‘As I said, we’re only acquaintances. Most of what I know is second-hand and I don’t care for gossip.’
‘You just called me a schemer, sir,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t see why you should start being reticent now.’
He looked back towards her then, his gaze newly appraising, and she found herself smoothing her hands over the folds of her dress self-consciously. What was he looking at? What was he thinking? Not that she cared what he thought of her, but the piercing gleam in those ironclad eyes disturbed her somehow. Still, if he thought he could avoid giving her an answer, he could think again...
She lifted her chin, determined not to yield. ‘If you want me to forgive you, then you might at least have the decency to tell me the truth.’
A single black eyebrow quirked upwards. ‘What does it matter if you intend to refuse him?’
‘It matters because my brother spends a great deal of time in his company. If there’s something unsuitable about Sir Charles, then I’d like to know about it.’
He nodded his head slightly, her words seeming to convince him at last. ‘Very well, then. I think he’s a lecher and a gambler, though rich enough, I grant you. I wouldn’t blame any woman for objecting to such an alliance.’
‘Even a woman like me?’
A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Forgive me, I misspoke. My anger was mainly directed at your brother, but when I opened my eyes, he’d already gone. I’m afraid I took my temper out on the wrong person. I beg you to forget what I said.’
‘Forget?’ She stared at him incredulously. ‘You think it so easy to forget such words?’
‘No. Perhaps not.’ His gaze flickered momentarily. ‘My only excuse is that I’ve had a difficult morning. I felt provoked.’
‘And that’s supposed to be an apology?’ She gave a curt laugh. Difficult morning or not, he had no right to vent his bad temper on her. She already had Percy’s insults to contend with. She didn’t need some stranger’s as well!
‘It’s an explanation. You have to admit your brother’s words were callous in the extreme.’
‘My brother is young and sometimes foolish, but he wants what’s best for me.’
‘By forcing you to marry a man like Lester? Yes, he sounds an ideal brother.’
‘He’s not forcing me to do anything! You don’t know anything about it. Or us. Our financial circumstances are such that—’
She stopped mid-sentence, wondering why she was even bothering to argue. None of this was his business. There was no need to defend either herself or Percy. Except that she felt a strange desire to explain herself, if only to get the matter clear in her own mind.
‘My brother wishes to see me settled and financially secure, that’s all. Not that I’d expect a man of means to understand that.’
The stranger’s lips twisted scornfully. ‘Not all men are born with means. Some of us make our own way without selling our sisters.’
‘How dare you!’ She felt her temper snap, her voice rising with anger. How dare he suggest something so monstrous, as if Percy would barter her off simply to pay back his debts and free himself from the responsibility of providing for her! Even if there was a grain of truth to the accusation, she refused to believe that her brother was so heartless! He was just young, that was all...
‘I speak as I find.’
‘Then you’re no gentleman, sir. You’re a disgrace to the word! And I’d be grateful if you’d keep the rest of your thoughts to yourself.’
She swung away, chest heaving, half-relieved, half-dismayed by her outburst. Not that he didn’t deserve such censure, but if he was no gentleman, then she was certainly no lady to behave in such an unrestrained, uncontrolled manner. Maybe what they’d said about her in Bournemouth was true after all...
‘Tell me, is it marriage itself you object to or Sir Charles in particular?’
She turned back towards him, eyes widening in disbelief. Why was he still talking? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? He sounded infuriatingly calm, not the slightest bit offended by her insults.
‘I believe I asked you to be quiet, sir.’
‘No, you asked me to keep my thoughts to myself. Hence my interest in yours.’
‘You’re impertinent!’
A hint of sardonic amusement crossed his features. ‘I think we passed impertinent a long time ago. But since we’ve already established that I’m not a true gentleman and since I’d like to make amends for my behaviour, I have a proposal for you.’
‘A proposal?’ She repeated the word suspiciously.
‘A business proposition, if you prefer. Something that might benefit both of us.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Percy strolling back along the platform towards them, whistling and swinging a newspaper in one hand. There was no time for this. Whatever the stranger’s proposal was, it was too late to hear it. She had to conclude this bizarre, indiscreet, utterly inappropriate conversation as quickly as possible.
‘I’ve no interest in anything else you have to say, sir.’
‘You won’t hear me out?’
‘My brother is returning. I beg you to say no more on the subject. On any subject.’
‘Shame.’ He looked nonplussed. ‘I was prepared to offer you an alternative to Sir Charles.’
She froze. Was he offering her employment? He sounded sincere, but why would he offer to help her? Was this some kind of cruel joke or just another veiled insult?
‘What kind of alternative?’ she couldn’t resist asking.
‘What I said, a business proposition.’
‘I know nothing of business, sir. I was a governess.’ She regarded him dubiously. ‘Do you need a governess?’
‘Yes, as it happens. Though I was thinking of something a little more permanent.’
‘A companion for your mother, perhaps?’
‘My mother is dead.’ He leaned back in his seat, adopting the same casual posture in which she’d first seen him.
‘Your sister, then?’ She glanced anxiously out of the window. Percy was only a few paces away.
‘I don’t have a sister, so far as I know anyway.’
‘Then what?’ she burst out in exasperation as Percy’s hand reached for the door handle. Why couldn’t he just get to the point? ‘What do you need, sir?’
‘The position is with me.’ He smiled suddenly, transforming his features from simply striking to quite devastatingly, heart-stoppingly handsome. ‘I need a wife.’
Chapter Two
Robert Felstone was aware that he’d been acting badly.
He’d boarded the train in a ferocious temper that had only deteriorated the further they’d travelled. He hadn’t intended to listen, had feigned sleep in order to be alone with his own troubled thoughts, but the conversation taking place opposite had first disturbed and then enraged him. After Louisa’s refusal of his marriage proposal that morning every word had felt like a fresh insult.
He’d tried his best to ignore it, but the unseen woman’s antipathy towards her suitor had struck a raw nerve. Was that how Louisa had talked about him behind his back? Had she been secretly repelled by his visits even as she’d batted her eyelashes so convincingly?
The memory of their interview still made his blood boil. If it hadn’t been for Louisa’s flirting, he would never have even considered proposing, yet she’d had the nerve to imply—no, more than that, to actually say—he wasn’t good enough. He’d thought success in business had earned him a place in society, a modicum of respect at least, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He was just as disreputable now as he’d always been. He was
the only fool who hadn’t known it.
Back on the train, half-listening, half-fuming over his rejection, he’d become increasingly irate, interpreting every word from his own injured perspective, taking the side of the beleaguered suitor before finally venting his anger on the unfortunate would-be bride. He’d been offensive, improper and unforgivably rude, as if Louisa’s comments about his past had actually stripped away the veneer of respectability he’d worked so hard to attain.
It was only when he’d learned the mysterious suitor’s identity that he’d finally come to his senses, anger turning at once to agreement. Lester’s name had changed everything, but by then the damage had been done. He’d done what he’d always sworn he would never do and judged a woman without knowing her whole story, as if he had any right to play judge and jury.
And then he’d proposed. What the hell was he doing?
He leaned back in his seat, folding one leg casually over the other as he watched the rapid interplay of emotions on his travelling companion’s face. Judging by the combination of shock and outrage, a passer-by might reasonably assume he’d just propositioned rather than proposed to her. Which in one sense, he supposed, he had. They hadn’t even been introduced and here he was suggesting a far more intimate relationship. No wonder she looked so appalled. He didn’t even know her name.
‘Just in time.’ The brother bounded back into the carriage just as the stationmaster’s whistle blew. ‘I say, sis, are you hot? You look like a beetroot.’
‘I...’ She looked vaguely surprised to see him. ‘A little warm, that’s all.’
She raised both hands to her cheeks, still peering warily through her fingers as if afraid they were trapped in a carriage with a madman. Robert felt tempted to laugh. Given his recent behaviour, it was a reasonable assumption. He was almost starting to question his sanity himself. He’d spent twenty-six years specifically not thinking about marriage and now he’d made two proposals in one day.
The Convenient Felstone Marriage Page 2