The Convenient Felstone Marriage

by Jenni Fletcher

  Was he out of his mind?

  He frowned, seriously considering the question. Had his pride been so badly injured by Louisa that he’d felt the need to propose to the very next woman he met? Or was he so unaccustomed to hearing the word no that he’d had to keep going until he got the answer he wanted? It was just the kind of reckless, impulsive behaviour he might have expected from his younger self, not the sensible, respectable man of business he was today. After all the time and thought he’d put into deciding whether or not to ask Louisa, was he really prepared to jump to the furthest extreme and marry a complete stranger?

  What if she said yes?

  The brother dropped into the seat opposite and Robert gave a polite nod, wishing he could throw a fist at his jaw instead. Now that the woman’s situation was clearer he felt angrier towards the youth than ever. If he were really friends with Lester, then surely he knew what kind of a man he was, especially where women were concerned. What kind of brother actively encouraged his sister to marry such a reprobate?

  The idea of offering her an alternative had come to him out of the blue, somewhere around the time she’d demanded to know his real opinion of Charles Lester. It had been an impulse, a desire to make amends for his insulting behaviour, combined with a determination to put Louisa behind him and get his affairs settled once and for all, but then he was accustomed to trusting his impulses. His business instincts had never steered him wrong before, and wasn’t marriage a business? When one deal didn’t work out, he moved on to another.

  It wasn’t as if he’d ever expected to marry for love. Growing up with his mother had taught him the folly of that particular emotion. He’d done his best to act the lovesick swain for Louisa, though in truth he’d found the pretence as tedious as the rest of their courtship. Perhaps that had been his mistake, trying to speak a language he didn’t understand. Business, he did understand. Business, he was good at it. In his domain, no one could ever accuse him of not being good enough.

  In which case, why not take emotion out of the equation and treat marriage strictly as a business arrangement? He had neither the time nor inclination for a new courtship, and this woman seemed more than a little reluctant to wed Sir Charles. It was the perfect business proposal, a mutually beneficial arrangement for them both. He was in the market for a wife, she for a husband. He’d thought to make a society match, but since Louisa had made it abundantly clear that no lady of any social standing would have him, asking this stranger had seemed the obvious thing to do.

  Somehow, insanely, it still did.

  Even if she was the strangest-looking damsel in distress he’d ever seen. With his eyes closed, he’d assumed the brother’s insults had been exaggerated to hurt her feelings, but first impressions made it difficult to argue. It was hard to imagine what Sir Charles saw in her. Her clothes were so old-fashioned they seemed to belong to another era, every item a drab, uniform grey that did nothing for her wan complexion. Her collar was so high it looked as if it must surely constrict her breathing, while the rest of her gown was completely shapeless, hanging loose around her waist with almost no definition at all. Combined with an ancient-looking poke bonnet, woollen gloves, a shawl that might better serve as a dishcloth and a pair of heavy lace-up boots, she seemed determined to look as severe and dowdy as possible.

  Ungallant as it sounded, she wasn’t exactly the bride he’d envisaged when he’d set out that morning. Louisa, with her golden curls and indigo-blue eyes, was the most exquisitely beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. This woman looked as though she never even glanced in a mirror. Side by side they might resemble an old crow next to a glamorous swan.

  After Louisa’s rejection, on the other hand, the very contrast was appealing. Besides which, there was no trace of meanness in her face, no hint of Louisa’s sulkiness or petulance. It was a pleasant face, albeit a trifle too thin, a fact accentuated by the severity of her hairstyle, scraped back so tightly that he could hardly distinguish the colour, a nondescript shade somewhere between blonde and brown. But her skin was clear, her lips full and wide, and there were even faint lines curving upwards from the corners of her eyes as if, difficult though it was to imagine, she was accustomed to laughter. Overall, she might be quite pretty, if she hadn’t clearly resolved to be otherwise.

  ‘It’s only twenty minutes to Pickering.’ The brother seemed blithely unaware of any tension in the compartment. ‘So the porter says.’

  ‘A little longer.’ Robert interrupted smoothly, glad of the chance to prove his respectability, if not his sanity, at least. ‘Forgive my intrusion, but the new deviation line to Whitby has only just opened. It’s a longer route so it’s caused a few delays along the branch line, but some of the porters still forget.’

  ‘The new line takes longer than the old one?’ The youth sounded scornful. ‘That doesn’t sound like progress.’

  Robert allowed himself a cynical half-smile. What was it the sister had called him? Pompous. The word seemed particularly apt.

  ‘It’s much safer than the old rope-worked system at Beckhole. It’s a steep hill and there have been several bad accidents there over the years. The new route is safer.’

  ‘Ah...well, when you put it like that.’ The youth nodded sagely. ‘Are you connected to the railway, sir?’

  ‘I’m on the board of directors.’ Robert smiled, gratified to see the woman’s head twist slightly towards him, as if she were reviewing an earlier opinion.

  ‘Indeed? Then I’m glad to meet you. My name’s Percy Holt.’

  ‘Robert Felstone, delighted to meet you.’

  ‘Felstone? Have we met before, sir? Your name seems familiar, but I can’t place it.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Unless...perhaps you visit the area often?’

  ‘No, not for a long time, though we used to come every summer as children. Our mother was from Pickering. We’re going to stay with our aunt there now.’ The youth gestured towards the woman almost as an afterthought. ‘This is my sister, Miss Ianthe Holt.’

  ‘A pleasure, Miss Holt.’

  He offered a hand, wondering if she would take it. She could hardly refuse to acknowledge him without telling her brother what had just happened and, from what he’d observed of their relationship, he didn’t think she was about to do that. Besides, for some strange reason he found himself actually wanting to touch her, to find out if she were really as buttoned-up as she seemed. She looked so strait-laced that he felt an unexpected desire to ruffle her up.

  ‘Mr Felstone.’ She extended a hand, letting it drift vaguely in his direction before retracting it again quickly.

  Robert felt a powerful urge to laugh. He wasn’t accustomed to women expressing anything other than gratitude for his attention. Even Louisa, insincere as she’d apparently been, had seemed flattered by it. This woman looked as though she wanted to throw him from the train. Was she still angry over his earlier comments or did she simply doubt the sincerity of his proposal? he wondered. And in the latter case...how could he convince her?

  ‘Ianthe. That’s an unusual name.’

  He flashed his most charming smile. Even during his penniless youth, he’d quickly discovered the disarming effects of his good looks upon women. Since earning his fortune, these seemed to have increased tenfold, though he suspected this woman might prove more of a challenge.

  ‘It’s from a poem.’ Her expression didn’t alter.

  ‘Ah. There are gaps in my education, I’m afraid. I never studied poetry.’

  ‘You amaze me.’ She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm. ‘It teaches men refinement, I think. Or at least how to speak to a lady.’

  ‘Ianthe!’ Percy sounded shocked. ‘Forgive my sister, Mr Felstone. We’ve travelled all the way from London today. She must be tired.’

  ‘On the contrary—’ she glared at her brother acerbically ‘—I’m feeling quite fresh. There�
�s no need to speak for me.’

  Robert bit back a smile. No, it seemed the prim and proper Miss Holt—he was glad to know her name at last—wouldn’t be so easy to charm at all. Somehow the thought made her all the more appealing. But the train was already slowing into Pickering station. If he was going to convince her, he didn’t have much time.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ The brother held up his newspaper suddenly, pointing to the headline. ‘“Felstone’s of Whitby awarded new naval contract.” I knew I recognised your name from somewhere! Are you connected to the shipbuilding family, sir?’

  ‘I am that family, I’m afraid. All there is of it anyway.’

  ‘So you’re on your way to Whitby?’

  ‘Eventually, though I’m staying in Pickering for a few days. There’s to be a public gala and private ball celebrating the official opening of the new railway line tomorrow. I’d be happy to add your names to the invitation list if you wish?’

  ‘I don’t travel with a ball gown, sir.’ Miss Holt sounded distinctly unimpressed.

  ‘Well, I’d be delighted.’ The youth threw her an icy look. ‘I’m afraid my sister prefers books to dancing these days. I expect she’d rather visit the castle.’

  ‘Indeed?’ An image of Sir Charles flashed into Robert’s mind. ‘You like old things, then?’

  Doe eyes flashed back. ‘I enjoy history, Mr Felstone. I don’t enjoy being mocked.’

  ‘I’m quite serious, I assure you, Miss Holt. I’m rarely anything but.’

  She made a scornful sound. ‘I find that hard to believe from a man whose manner can change so completely. Just now, for example, I had the impression that you were angry and yet here we all are, the best of friends.’

  ‘Make enquiries in the town about me if you wish.’

  ‘You overestimate my interest, sir.’

  ‘Ianthe!’ The brother’s mouth dropped open. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘With me?’ She swung towards him, two crimson spots appearing high up on her cheekbones. ‘You’re the one who can’t keep his thoughts to himself! This is all your fault.’

  ‘My fault? I apologise, Mr Felstone, I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I’m sure she meant no offence.’

  ‘I’m sure she did not.’ Robert waved his apology away as the train gave a final burst of steam and shuddered to a halt.

  ‘And I’m sure I did!’

  She stood up abruptly, grabbing a carpet bag from the rail above her head and swinging it in front of her like a shield. ‘Good day, Mr Felstone. I doubt our paths will meet again. Our stay is of only a very short duration and our diary is fully engaged.’

  ‘Ah.’ Robert bent his head in acknowledgement. She could hardly have made her answer any clearer. ‘In that case I wish you well. Whatever you decide.’

  She didn’t reply, flinging open the compartment door and storming furiously away.

  ‘I say...’ The brother jumped down after her, turning at the last moment with a look of apology. ‘Sorry about that. Women, you know. But if you’re serious about the ball, I’d be very grateful.’

  Robert nodded absently, a faint smile playing around his lips as he watched her grey dress disappear into the crowd. Common sense told him he ought to feel relieved by her refusal. He knew almost nothing about her, and hadn’t the brother mentioned some impropriety? Still, it was hard to imagine anything too shocking about her, nothing scandalous for certain. And there was definitely something about her, something that grabbed and held his attention. He wasn’t sure—couldn’t even imagine—what it was, but it made him reluctant to concede defeat so easily. She was... He strove for the right word... Interesting.

  He picked up his top hat and suitcase and stepped down from the carriage. The platform was crowded, heaving with passengers and luggage, the walls and metal-beamed ceiling decorated with banners for the approaching gala. He made his way steadily through the throng, nodding to various acquaintances without stopping to speak, his mind preoccupied with the image of a woman in a grey dress.

  ‘Ah, Felstone, you’re here at last!’ A cheerful-looking man with a shock of unruly blond hair accosted him the moment he stepped into the station office. ‘Come and read this speech, will you?’

  Robert smiled and put down his case, leaning against a desk as he scanned quickly through a sheath of papers. ‘It’s good, Giles. Just don’t forget to thank us all for our patience.’

  ‘Too long, then?’

  ‘Maybe a page or two, but I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job.’

  The other man made a harrumphing noise. ‘I wish I shared your confidence. Couldn’t you do it instead? You’re far better at public speaking than I am.’

  ‘You’re the engineer.’

  ‘Exactly. I’d rather be working on the line than talking about it. Why does everything we do have to be celebrated with banners and bunting?’

  ‘Not to mention a ball.’

  Giles groaned aloud. ‘Don’t remind me. Kitty’s been talking about it non-stop all week. By the by, she told me something very interesting about you at breakfast.’

  ‘Really?’ Robert kept his gaze fixed on the papers.

  ‘Seemed to think you were on the verge of matrimony with Louisa Allendon.’

  ‘Trust me, Giles, if I were you’d be the first to know.’

  ‘So it’s not true, then? Pity. Kitty was quite excited. Thought we could have dinner parties or something.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry to disappoint her, though as it happens, she was half-right. The lady simply decided against me.’

  ‘She refused you?’ Giles’s eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline. ‘But she’s been flirting with you for months!’

  ‘I had that impression, too, but it appears I’m not quite respectable enough. Not respectable at all, apparently. Certain things about my past—my parentage—were disagreeable to her.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ Giles looked outraged on his behalf. ‘It’s not as if any of it was your fault!’

  Robert smiled and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘It was foolish of me to think anyone had forgotten. It seems wealth and success allow access to society, not acceptance.’

  ‘The woman’s a fool!’

  ‘In any case, I’m sure Kitty will be able to tell you everything in a few days, probably more than I know myself. In the meantime, we have a gala and ball to endure.’

  He strode across to the window, putting the subject firmly behind him, searching the street below for any sign of a grey dress. Where had Miss Holt been going when she’d stormed away? The brother had mentioned an aunt...

  ‘Is that Charles Lester?’ His gaze sharpened suddenly.

  ‘Mmm?’ Giles came to stand at his side. ‘Oh, yes, he arrived in town yesterday. I played cards with him in the Swan last night. Seemed very pleased with himself despite the fact he was losing.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Didn’t say. Something about a woman, most likely.’ Giles did an abrupt double take. ‘I say, don’t be too bothered.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You were scowling. I said, don’t be too bothered about Louisa.’

  ‘Oh. No, I wasn’t thinking about her.’

  He moved away from the window, turning his back firmly on Charles Lester. The Baronet represented the very worst of his class. Arrogant, entitled, not to mention a notorious womaniser. His reputation was near legendary, almost as much as his own father’s had been, his conquests usually women without protectors or ones poor enough to be paid off afterwards. The orphaned, impoverished Miss Holt seemed to fit the bill exactly, though the brother had definitely said he wanted to marry her. Not that she seemed like his usual type of woman. Like anyone’s type, for that matter.

  Still, the thought of the strait-laced Miss Holt in Sir Charles’s clutches m
ade him feel inexplicably angry. After his own behaviour that morning, he felt strangely protective towards her, as if he’d somehow become responsible for her well-being. Not that he could help her if she wouldn’t let him. He’d asked her to marry him, for pity’s sake! He could hardly make any more amends than that...

  ‘I say, are you sure you’re all right?’ Giles peered at him thoughtfully. ‘You seem preoccupied. Nothing wrong at the shipyard, I hope?’

  ‘No, they don’t need me for a few days.’ His lips curved wryly. ‘It’s just a new proposal I’m working on.’

  ‘Need any help?’

  ‘No, though there is something Kitty could do.’

  ‘Whatever you need. You know she’s half-smitten with you.’

  ‘Only half?’

  ‘Very funny. It’s not fair that some men have good looks and fortune.’

  ‘Not enough for Louisa Allendon, apparently.’

  ‘I always thought she was flighty. What did you see in her anyway? Besides her more obvious attractions, I wouldn’t have thought the two of you well suited.’

  Robert drew his brows together, surprised by his friend’s acuity. Now that he thought about it, it was hard to remember what his exact motives had been. He’d simply had the feeling that it was time to marry and Louisa had been beautiful, charming and accomplished, not to mention well connected.

  ‘It seemed a good match, socially. She’s from an old family and you know her father was close friends with mine...’

  His voice trailed away as he realised what he was saying. Was that the real reason he’d proposed to her, then, to prove a point to his dead father? Fool. It was too late for that, five years too late. The very idea was ludicrous. Not to mention grossly unfair on Louisa. If it hadn’t been for the manner of her refusal, he might have owed her an apology, too.

  How could he have been so blind?

  ‘Ah.’ Giles sounded sympathetic. ‘Well, she couldn’t have done any better, if you ask me.’

  ‘You’re a good friend.’ Robert pushed the memory of his father aside, burying it along with any thought of Louisa. As for what she’d said, what the whole of society apparently said about him behind his back, he wasn’t going to accept that so lightly. He wasn’t going to accept it at all.