The Convenient Felstone Marriage

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘Well, it looks beautiful. And the music...’ she gestured towards the orchestra ‘...they’re very good.’

  ‘They are. You’re an excellent dancer, too, Miss Holt, for someone who claims not to like it.’

  ‘Thank you. I used to enjoy it.’

  ‘Used to?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I such a terrible partner, then?’

  She felt her lips quirk upwards, unable to suppress a smile. ‘Not at all. I meant when I was younger.’

  ‘As opposed to your great age now? I wouldn’t put you in the chaperons’ section quite yet.’

  She caught her breath, squirming beneath the intensity of his gaze. She ought to end this, ought to make an excuse to get away. The fluttering sensation in her stomach was showing no sign of abating. If anything, it was only getting stronger. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of and yet, now that she was here, she didn’t want the dance to end. The new, sensible Ianthe didn’t approve of dancing, but she didn’t want to listen to the new Ianthe any more. The dress, the surroundings, the music, the man she ought to resist—all of them seemed to be conspiring against her. She wanted to be her old self again, to forget all her anxieties about Percy and Sir Charles for a few moments and just dance.

  What could possibly be the harm in that?

  She tipped her head back, surrendering to the rhythm of the waltz, trusting herself to his hands as he guided her expertly around the dance floor. She felt a rush of excitement, as if her body had been asleep and she were waking up from a dream, reacting to every sound and sensation anew. She felt light-headed, relishing the warmth of his body through his coat, the solid strength of his shoulder beneath her kid glove. And yet she wanted to feel more, to lean closer, to put her head on his shoulder and feel the press of his body against hers. If they could only keep on dancing like this for ever...

  The music stopped and she opened her eyes with a jolt. He was still holding on to her, looking down into her face with surprise and something else, some emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but something that made her sway instinctively towards him. Something that reminded her of Albert.

  She jerked back abruptly, the new Ianthe reasserting herself. This was the moment when she ought to tell him that she couldn’t marry him, no matter how grateful she was for his help or how alive he made her feel... She ought to tell him right now. If she could only find the words...

  ‘You look different, Miss Holt.’ His voice sounded even deeper than before. ‘You seem to be a different woman every time I see you.’

  ‘Different?’ She echoed the word, vaguely crestfallen. ‘Don’t you like the gown?’

  His brow creased slightly. ‘Gown? Yes, it’s very fetching.’

  ‘Oh.’ She pursed her lips. Wasn’t it respectable enough for him, then? Not that he’d any right to criticise when he was the one who’d brought it!

  ‘I meant it as a compliment, Miss Holt.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she answered stiffly. ‘You’ll have to thank your friend for lending it to me.’

  ‘You can thank her yourself. Here she is.’

  The words had barely left his mouth before a woman in cobalt-blue satin accosted them, enveloping her in a hug almost before she had a chance to turn round.

  ‘Dear Miss Holt, how wonderful to see you again. I know you won’t mind my being so forward, but you look just the same as I remember. You remember me, don’t you? I’m Kitty Loveday, formerly Tremain. This is my husband, Giles.’

  ‘Of course.’ Ianthe returned the embrace cautiously, struggling to keep up with the flow of words. ‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance again.’

  ‘Robert has told us so much about you.’ The tall peacock feather in Kitty’s hair bobbed up and down enthusiastically. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk for so long about anything that wasn’t a ship or a train. I can tell he’s quite smitten with you.’

  ‘Smitten?’ She stole a swift glance sideways, though judging by the scowl on his face the feeling had been quite transitory.

  ‘And that gown looks simply breathtaking on you. I so wished I could have worn it myself, but Robert insisted.’

  ‘Kitty...’ His voice held a note of warning.

  ‘But why didn’t you?’ She glanced down guiltily. ‘I’d never have borrowed it if I’d known.’

  ‘Why, isn’t it obvious?’ Kitty giggled. ‘He can be very cunning, you know...’

  Ianthe shook her head in confusion. It wasn’t obvious at all. Nothing about this evening was obvious—why she’d come, why Percy was behaving so differently, why her own body seemed to be wilfully betraying her better judgement? As for why Mr Felstone would have insisted on Kitty lending her a dress that she wanted to wear, she had no idea. None of it made any sense, though whatever Kitty was getting at, she had a feeling she might not want to know. Neither of her male companions were looking particularly pleased with her.

  ‘How do you like Pickering, Miss Holt?’ The husband, Giles, came to her rescue.

  ‘I haven’t seen much of it so far.’ She smiled gratefully. ‘It’s been a long time since I visited.’

  ‘You’re from London, I believe?’

  ‘Yes. Wimbledon.’

  ‘Me, too. I came north for work and never left.’

  ‘Thanks to me.’ Kitty linked her arm through his.

  ‘Thanks to you.’ He smiled and Ianthe felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Despite Kitty’s indiscreet manner, the way they looked at each other was genuinely affectionate. It was the way she’d thought, hoped, she might have been with Albert. Before she knew better.

  ‘So if you’re both from London and I’m from Pickering, then it’s only Robert who won’t tell us where he’s from.’ Kitty gave a sly smile. ‘Though perhaps he will if you ask him, Ianthe?’

  ‘Me?’ She shook her head uncertainly. ‘If he doesn’t wish to tell, then I doubt I’ll be able to persuade him.’

  ‘Oh, but do try. He’s so secretive, it drives me to distraction. I can’t think why he won’t say.’

  ‘Because it’s not very interesting.’ He sounded stern again suddenly. ‘You already know my mother left Levisham before I was born and we moved to Whitby when I was twelve. I don’t see why any further details are necessary.’

  ‘I’m only curious.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, Kitty. Again.’

  ‘But if you just give us a clue...’

  ‘You expressed an interest in the decorations, Miss Holt.’ He spoke over Kitty, extending an arm out towards her. ‘Would you care to take a closer look?’

  Ianthe looked at his arm, torn between wildly conflicting emotions. As much as she wanted to escape Kitty’s questions, she found physical contact with him equally disconcerting. On the other hand, while she was with him, Sir Charles seemed to be keeping his distance. Surely that was a good enough reason to stay by his side?

  ‘I’d be delighted.’ She placed a hand on his biceps tentatively, trying not to react as an immediate jolt passed between them.

  ‘This way then, Miss Holt.’

  They made their way in strained silence around the room. The decorations were as impressive up close as they’d been from a distance, though she found it hard to appreciate them with her angry companion standing so close beside her. His obvious bad mood was starting to affect her nerves. She’d been afraid of him bringing up the subject of marriage again, but he seemed in no mood to talk at all. He was still scowling, as if Kitty’s questions had struck a particularly raw nerve. Surely a little conversation wouldn’t go amiss... At last she couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

  ‘I don’t think she meant to upset you.’

  ‘Mmm?’ His scowl deepened momentarily, as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘Oh, I know. Her heart’s in the right place, but she’s just...’

&
nbsp; ‘Inquisitive?’

  ‘That would be the polite way of putting it. If it weren’t already so blindingly obvious, I’d warn you not to tell her any secrets.’

  She stiffened immediately. ‘What makes you think that I have any?’

  ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

  ‘Do you?’ She turned the question around.

  ‘Most of my secrets are already public knowledge.’

  ‘They can’t be so bad, then.’

  ‘That depends on your perspective.’ He gave a bitter-sounding laugh. ‘There’s very little about my past that people around here don’t know. Most of what they say is true, though you should know that I’ve no intention of discussing any of it either now or in the future.’

  ‘Oh.’ She started, taken aback by the sudden granite tone of his voice. His eyes, too, were hooded, as if shutters had been deliberately drawn over them. On the other hand, his words brought a glimmer of hope. A husband who didn’t want to talk about his past could hardly expect his wife to reveal too much about hers. In which case...could she consider his offer? The thought made her breathing quicken erratically.

  ‘Perhaps some secrets are best kept hidden?’ She tried to keep her tone light.

  ‘There’s no perhaps about it. There are some things about my own past I’d rather not know. I prefer to look to the future. Unless I can learn from the past, I’d rather not look back.’

  She turned her face aside, mind racing with the implications of his words. If there were some things he preferred not to know, then maybe there was no need for her to tell him about Albert. No need for him ever to know. If she could be the wife he wanted now, could that be all that mattered?

  ‘Have I shocked you, Miss Holt?’

  She kept her face averted so that he couldn’t read her expression. In truth, it was her own thoughts that shocked her. His proposal wasn’t romantic, but it might be the escape she was looking for—an arrangement that would benefit both of them—wasn’t that what he’d said? She didn’t want to be rescued any more than she wanted to be coerced or threatened, but if her brother really disowned her then she’d have little choice but to accept one of her suitors, and if she had to choose one...

  And surely the strange physical reaction she seemed to feel around him would pass? After all, it was only physical. She didn’t dislike him any more—not after he’d come to her rescue twice in one day—but she wasn’t about to do anything so foolish as fall in love with him. After what had happened with Albert, she’d no intention of falling for any man’s charms ever again.

  In which case, she might as well consider his offer...

  ‘Not at all, Mr Felstone. I was simply thinking about your proposal. I was wondering whether, as a man of business, you’d be prepared to negotiate...’

  Chapter Six

  ‘I’m always prepared to discuss terms, Miss Holt.’ Robert concealed his surprise with an effort. ‘What exactly did you have in mind?’

  ‘You said that you wanted a business arrangement.’ She spoke slowly, as if choosing her words with care. ‘I’d like to know what exactly that would entail.’

  ‘Very well, then. Perhaps we should sit down?’

  He led her into the supper room, glancing back over his shoulder towards Sir Charles. He was still standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching them with a look of ill-concealed, simmering fury. Robert narrowed his gaze, vaguely disturbed by the intensity of the other man’s expression. This was more than just jealousy. This looked like something more, something darker. He was looking at Ianthe as if she were a possession he wanted back. At him, as if he wanted to shoot him.

  Well, at least there were some benefits to not being considered a proper gentleman, he decided, turning his back contemptuously. Sir Charles probably assumed, quite rightly, that he was more than prepared to fight back.

  ‘Would you care for some punch, Miss Holt?’

  She nodded, and he led her towards a small table, stalling for time as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. Whether she needed a drink or not, he certainly did. What did he expect from a wife? To be honest, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, though now the question raised distracting possibilities. He wasn’t accustomed to being caught off guard, especially in contract negotiations, but she seemed to be full of surprises this evening.

  Her appearance, for one. He’d intended the dress as a gesture, simply selecting a style and colour he’d thought would suit her. He hadn’t expected her to look quite so good in it. The shoulderless style accentuated the sleek, smooth curve of her neck, not to mention the way her breasts swelled distractingly over the top of her bodice. She’d done her hair differently, too, arranging it in a softer style than before, making her gaunt features appear less severe and yet, paradoxically, her eyes even more huge, like umber-brown orbs that seemed to glow with amber flecks in the candlelight.

  His eyes had been drawn towards her the moment she’d entered the hall, though it had taken a few more seconds for him to actually recognise her. She seemed to have gone from virago to vision in just one day. At first he’d kept to the back of the room, keeping out of sight as he’d battled an unexpected surge of jealousy, trying to work out the relationship between her and Sir Charles. Judging by the Baronet’s proprietorial manner, a casual observer might reasonably have assumed they were engaged already. Certainly everyone else in the room seemed to think so. Only she seemed resistant to the idea, the tension in her face obvious even from a distance.

  She’d practically dragged her brother out on to the dance floor, though whatever their argument had been about had been enough to drain the colour from her face in an instant. Not for the first time, he’d thought that what the youth needed was a good sound smack in the jaw, though seeing him abandon her so cruelly, he’d revised that opinion to a thorough beating instead. Seeing her standing alone, the object of laughter and ridicule, he’d rushed to her aid with the sole intention of offering comfort. He hadn’t been thinking about marriage, hadn’t intended to bring the subject up at all.

  He certainly hadn’t expected her to do it. Was she seriously considering it, then?

  He poured her a glass of punch before filling his own to the brim. After their dance, he needed to calm more than his thoughts. The way her body had softened beneath his touch, yielding to his embrace as they’d whirled breathlessly around the room, had been surprising and enticing in equal measure. He’d actually found it a wrench to let her go at the end.

  He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that she seemed like a different woman. She thought he’d been talking about the dress, though he’d actually been studying her face, trying to reconcile its carefree expression with that of the severe-looking woman he’d proposed to on the train. The features were the same and yet everything else about her seemed completely different. How could he ever have thought she looked severe? At second, or more accurately third sight, she was one of the prettiest women he’d ever laid eyes on.

  ‘So this business arrangement...’ She peered at him over the edge of her glass. ‘What are your terms exactly, Mr Felstone?’

  ‘Robert.’ He pulled out a chair opposite her. ‘If we’re discussing marriage, then I think you can start using my first name.’

  ‘Very well.’ She glanced around the room, as if afraid of being overheard. ‘Then you may call me Ianthe.’

  ‘Ianthe.’ He leaned forward, resting a forearm on the table. ‘Then to answer your question, I expect my wife to attend social functions with me, to make calls and arrange the occasional dinner party. Beyond that, you may do as you please.’

  She dipped her head thoughtfully. ‘That sounds acceptable. Though I’d like to do more with my time than make calls and arrange entertainments.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t stop you from doing anything else that you wanted.’

  ‘I like
lectures, music recitals, art exhibitions. Would you permit me to attend such events?’

  ‘Of course. Though I wouldn’t have thought...’ He paused mid-sentence. He’d been about to say that he wouldn’t have thought she’d be interested in such things, but the look on her face was intensely serious.

  ‘You thought what?’ She looked offended, as if she’d just read his mind. ‘Those things mean a great deal to me.’

  ‘Like dancing?’

  She flushed slightly. ‘That’s different, but, yes. I couldn’t give them up, not for anyone.’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask you to.’

  ‘Some men would disapprove.’

  ‘Lester, for example?’

  Her brow furrowed slightly. ‘He once told me that art led my mother astray, not that I knew what he meant.’

  ‘In that case, you may stray as far as you wish. Within reason, of course.’

  ‘So it would be a strictly business arrangement?’

  She bit her lip and his gaze followed the movement. Funny, he hadn’t noticed how full her lips were before, probably because she pursed them so often. Now they looked luscious and moist and surprisingly tempting, as red as the cheeks that seemed to be darkening even as he watched.

  ‘Robert?’

  ‘Mmm?’ He forced his gaze back up.

  ‘I asked if it would be strictly a business arrangement.’

  ‘As I said.’

  ‘Entirely?’

  ‘Ah.’ He lifted an eyebrow as he realised what she was really asking him. Truly, she was full of surprises. ‘You mean would it be a real marriage?’

  ‘Yes.’ She dropped her eyes to the table, blushing furiously as she trailed a pattern along the wood with her fingertip. ‘I mean...I understand that most men want heirs?’

  He raised his cup and drained the remainder of his punch in one mouthful. Generally, he preferred to keep that part of his life separate from his day-to-day existence, visiting a certain discreet lady in Malton whenever the need arose, though he supposed such visits would have to stop once he was married. In truth, he hadn’t given the possibility of a physical relationship with her any thought. He’d proposed largely because he hadn’t been attracted to her, however ridiculous that idea seemed to him now. He certainly hadn’t expected such thoughts to cross her mind, though her anxious expression told him everything he needed to know about her own feelings on the subject.