A Match Made In Duty

by Platt, Meara

  A MATCH MADE

  in Duty

  MEARA PLATT

  Copyright © 2017 Myra Platt

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Design by Melody Barber of Aurora Publicity

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  To all who sacrifice to keep us safe

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Also By Meara Platt

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  London, England

  October 1815

  JAMES BRAYDEN, FIFTH Earl of Exmoor, glanced at the bottle of brandy his butler had just carried in on a sparkling silver tray and set down beside him on the elegant mahogany desk in his study. He waited for his butler to depart and close the door behind him before turning to the two guests who had just arrived and were about to change his life forever. “Care for a drink, Major Allworthy?”

  Ordinarily, he would have given his friend, Lawrence Allworthy, an amiable pat on the back and poured them both a tall glass of the fiery amber liquid his butler had just brought in. Ordinarily, they would have settled in the cushioned leather chairs beside the blazing fire and spent the night getting drunk while reminiscing about the men in their regiment and the years spent on the Continent battling Napoleon’s forces. Ordinarily, their first order of business would have been to toast their fallen companions.

  But tonight was no ordinary night. His gaze settled on the young woman with lustrous dark hair and big, brown eyes who stood quietly beside his friend. “And you, Miss Wilkinson. May I offer you tea? Refreshments? The journey could not have been an easy one for you.”

  “No, thank you.” She blushed as she spoke and then looked down at her toes, obviously wishing to be anywhere but in his study.

  James decided the rose blush was quite becoming on her cheeks.

  He leaned on his cane to slowly walk around the sturdy desk that dominated the center of the room and came to stand beside his guests. Up close, he could see that the young woman was trembling, though she did her best to hide her fear as he approached. Were his scars so hideous? He supposed they were, for even he had yet to grow used to them. They’d be most alarming to a stranger. “Please,” James said, motioning to the chairs beside the fireplace. “This will be your home soon, Miss Wilkinson. You may as well get used to it.”

  She pinched her lips and frowned lightly. “I don’t wish to be rude, Lord Exmoor. But what makes you think I wish to accept your proposal?”

  He exchanged glances with Lawrence who appeared as surprised by her remark as he was. “It was your brother’s dying request that I marry you. I promised him that I would and I intend to honor that vow.”

  Her pink blush deepened. “Do I have no say in the matter?” She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze, and although she was small and slender, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder, he could see that she had a full-sized, stubborn determination.

  Lawrence cleared his throat. “Miss Wilkinson, what choice do you have? Do you not wish to marry an earl? I do not know of any young woman in your circumstances who would refuse–”

  “Major Allworthy,” James said, quietly interrupting him. “I think it is best that I speak on my behalf.” He understood the young lady’s reluctance now that she’d taken a good look at him, and expected that she was now quietly swallowing her revulsion. While his leg would hopefully strengthen in time, the jagged scars etched on his face were permanent and unfortunately, too prominent to hide. “No doubt the terms of our arrangement must concern you. We ought to go over them now, for you may have some misconceptions about what… ah, I shall expect in your duties as my wife.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Perhaps we ought to speak about this matter in private. Major Allworthy… Lawrence, would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

  His friend appeared to be as uncomfortable as James was and more than eager to leave this embarrassing discussion to him. “Excellent idea. I’ll be in your library. I’m sure there’s a book I’m eager to read.” He dashed out as though his coattails were on fire.

  The girl appeared desperate to follow him out, but James placed a light hand on her elbow to hold her back. “Give me a moment of your time, Miss Wilkinson. Hear me out before you walk out of here.” He cast her a wry smile. “Or run out. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  She relented with a curt nod.

  “Please, let’s sit beside the warming fire.” He settled her in one of the chairs and took the other. She must have noticed the awkward way he sank into the soft maroon leather and stretched his leg in front of him since he could not yet bend it. But she said nothing, and to her credit, made no moue of distaste.

  “I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said, uncertain how one politely raised the issue of the bedchamber to a young woman one had known for all of two minutes. Yet, that particularly thorny issue had to be foremost on her mind and James knew he had to address it immediately. “Rest assured that I will not… er…” Bloody humiliating! In all his days, he never imagined himself in this awkward situation. Before the war, he had been considered quite the catch. Beautiful young women threw themselves in his path with tedious regularity, all of them eager to gain his notice in the hope they might become the next Countess Exmoor.

  Now, they darted away in the hope of avoiding him. All but the most desperate and browbeaten debutantes whose families were in dire need of funds to maintain their estates. He ran a hand across the back of his neck in consternation. “I promised your brother I would take care of you. He extracted my promise to marry you, for he feared your cousin would not be generous with you once he took title to your brother’s holdings. His fears obviously proved correct. What would you have done had Major Allworthy and his wife not been at hand to bring you to London?”

  Her face began to heat and he knew it had nothing to do with the heat of the flames burning in the hearth. “I would have managed, my lord. I am not your charity case.”

  “Indeed, you are not.”

  “My lord,” she said more insistently as she met his gaze. “I agreed to accompany Major Allworthy in the hope that you might help me find suitable employment.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to renege on my promise to your brother?” In truth, he liked that directness about her and the fact that she did not flinch when looking at him. “I cannot do it, Miss Wilkinson. I’m offering to make you my wife. In truth, I’d be honored if you accepted. I know I’m rather a poor specimen.”

  She quirked a soft eyebrow in what appeared to be surprise. Was she disputing the obvious? “Certainly not the husband you might have hoped for,” he continued, “but you will always be safe here and treated with honor.” He cleared his throat. “You shall have your own bedchamber, of course. And I shall not impose on you.”

  Lord! How much plainer could he state that he’d keep his hands off her?

  Her only response was a slight widening of her big, chocolate brown eyes, so he continued the uncomfortable conversation. “I am under no illusions. The war took its toll on all of us. Whatever hopes or dreams I may have had…” He motioned toward his face. “Well, I’m no longer any woman’s idea of perfection.”

  Her lips turned upward in the hint of a smile. “My lord, may I be impertinent?”

  He much preferred it to he
r being a timid mouse around him. “Of course.”

  “You seem to think I’m a simple-brained ninny and that my only requirement in a husband is a man with a pretty face. I assure you, I am not that shallow.” She let out a soft sigh and leaned closer so that he caught the subtle scent of lavender soap along her slender throat. “I will not deny that my situation is dire. But that does not give me the right to interfere with your future happiness. As you can see, I have little polish. I’m no society gem.” She shook her head and sighed again. “How can you possibly think to make me your countess? I’m a penniless stranger with no family connections.”

  “I gave your brother my word and I intend to keep it. I would do the same if you had the face of a wart hog or the brain of a goose. Thankfully, you have neither of those qualities. All I ask is that you live under my roof – separate quarters, of course – and act as my hostess when the need arises for me to entertain at home. I would also ask that you accompany me to the balls and other social engagements to which we shall be invited.”

  She tipped her head and nibbled her lip as she studied him, her gaze once again direct and assessing. “A business arrangement.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “You shall have an allowance, of course. Your days will be mostly your own.”

  “I see.” She stood and had the courtesy to pretend to study the flames brightly glowing in the hearth while he struggled to his feet in order to stand beside her. “I suppose we ought to shake hands to seal our bargain.”

  Was she accepting his terms?

  She stuck out her small, gloved hand to confirm it.

  He wasn’t used to shaking hands with a woman, for those of his acquaintance merely dangled their fingers before him in expectation that he would bow over them and mutter some polite inanity. But Miss Wilkinson, although quite genteel in her looks and manners, had a no nonsense way about her. He set his cane aside and swallowed her hand in both of his. “Done.”

  He expected a trumpet fanfare. A chorus of angels singing. A tremor along the ground, for the prospect of marriage was no small matter. But all was silent. Even Miss Wilkinson was holding her breath, no doubt contemplating the bargain she’d just made. “One small request,” he said, still holding her hand and noting that she’d made no move to slip it out of his grasp. “In public, I shall call you Lady Exmoor. But I’d hoped for something less formal when we are alone at home. What is your given name?”

  She laughed lightly and shook her head. “Did my brother neglect to mention it?”

  James cast her a wincing smile. “He mentioned it a time or two, but more often he referred to you as… Smidge.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh again, but that melodic trill was punctuated with a groan. “Oh, dear! That was the awful pet name he gave me when we were children. I hope you will banish it from your memory at once! My name is Sophie.”

  “Sophie,” he repeated softly. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “NICE TO MEET you, my lord.” Sophie placed a hand over her quickening heart to still its rapid beat. Lord Exmoor had taken hold of her other hand to seal their bargain and she was surprised by how nice his touch felt. His palms were rough and calloused, she could tell even through the soft fabric of her glove. But there was a gentleness in the way he held her hand that could not be denied.

  “Oh, that won’t do.” He shook his head and regarded her with such seriousness, that she thought he was going to berate her. Just what she had done to overset him was a mystery. In the next moment, his expression lightened. “My name is James, as I’ve just told you. Obviously, you must address me as Exmoor or my lord when in the presence of others.”

  She nodded.

  “But I hope you will call me James whenever we are alone. Such as now.” He tipped his head toward her and for a mad instant, she thought he might kiss her. For an even madder, fleeting moment, she thought she might just want to kiss him back.

  No, she was merely caught up in the surprising bargain they had just struck. She was about to go from being destitute to becoming the next Countess Exmoor. What’s more, the man she would soon marry appeared to have many of the qualities she’d hoped for in a husband. Kindness, honor, and he was physically appealing as well. He was big and muscled, and if one looked past the scars on his face, one saw the fine cut of his jaw and the intelligence behind his dark emerald eyes. He had a full head of blond hair, a dark, golden blond like the gold of the sun as it rose over the moors at daybreak. “James,” she said in a whisper.

  Major Allworthy coughed once to gain their attention. She hadn’t realized he had returned and was standing behind her.

  “Ah, Lawrence.” Lord Exmoor glanced over her shoulder to acknowledge his companion and at the same time released her hand. “Seems we are in business.”

  The major smiled as he addressed her. “Lord Exmoor will obtain the special license tomorrow and you shall be married the day after that. Do you have any objections to the arrangement, Miss Wilkinson?”

  “No. Now that we are in agreement, there is no need to delay the inevitable.” In truth, she was relieved and quite grateful for the rescue. She had no idea where else she could have gone now that her ungracious cousin had tossed her out of the only home she’d ever known. Fortunately, Major Allworthy and his wife, who also resided in York, had taken her in immediately.

  She and Lady Allworthy had become good friends over the years and would often meet to share correspondence from Sophie’s brother or the major since the men were in the same regiment and often had news to relate about each other. The two men had formed a strong bond of friendship in the heat of battle. Their third brother-in-arms was Lord Exmoor. In truth, Sophie felt as though she already knew this man who would soon become her husband because her brother so often mentioned him in his letters.

  But it was only after Harry had died, a mere month ago, that she’d learned of the promise Lord Exmoor had made to him. By the somber looks the major and his wife had cast each other on the ride down from York to London, she’d expected to meet an ogre.

  Lord Exmoor was anything but that.

  In truth, she thought him ruggedly handsome.

  However, she hesitated to mention it since even he was under the impression that he was hideous to women. Had she attempted to assure him that he was not, she doubted he would have believed her. Likely, he would have put her squarely in the category of women who would sacrifice their bodies to gain his wealth and title.

  She wasn’t that at all.

  If he changed his mind and wanted out of the bargain they’d just made, she would agree. After all, he was the one being burdened with a wife not of his choosing. In exchange, she might impose upon him to find her employment in a respectable household, perhaps as companion to an elderly dowager, but that would be the extent of her demands. More of a request, really. She had no intention of holding him up if he wished to back out of the wedding.

  Sophie remained silent as she and Major Allworthy left Lord Exmoor’s fashionable townhouse in Belgravia and returned by carriage to the equally fashionable Allworthy residence on Chipping Way in Mayfair. The residence belonged to his somewhat eccentric grandfather, General Allworthy, and Sophie had immediately taken a liking to the old man. Although gruff on the outside, he had a kind heart and had made her feel welcome the moment she’d entered his home a mere two days ago.

  Both houses were far more beautiful than any she’d ever resided in.

  “My wife and I do not maintain our own residence in London,” the major explained on the short ride back to Chipping Way. “We prefer to stay with my grandfather. He grumbles and blusters but looks forward to our visits and is quite sad when we leave. Lady Allworthy and I would love to have him reside with us in York, but he won’t hear of it. I’ll worry about the old badger when we return north.”

  Sophie was grateful to the major and his wife for all they’d done for her, so she was eager to repay their kindness in some small way. “If Lord Exmoor permits it, I wou
ld be happy to visit your grandfather from time to time. Indeed, it seems the perfect solution since I will be living nearby. I could visit him at least once a week when I’m… oh, dear. Oh, dear. It feels quite strange to think of myself as Lady Exmoor.”

  The major misunderstood her concern and leaned forward to pat her hand. “Be patient with Exmoor. He may have lost his good looks, but he has a good and noble heart.”

  She merely nodded. What was wrong with everyone? She had two functioning eyes. Yes, he had scars. Long, hideous ones to be sure. But they did not detract from his fine features.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. Sophie and the major’s wife, Lydia, spent the afternoon shopping for elegant shoes and a delicate, apricot silk fabric to make a new gown. After all, she couldn’t marry an earl in a serviceable wool gown and brown boots. Lydia refused to hear any protest about the cost. “Consider this as our wedding gift to you.”

  Sophie began working on the gown as soon as they returned to the townhouse. She retired to her quarters and sewed for several hours until suppertime. That evening, she and the Allworthys were invited to their neighbors, the Farthingales, who were having a dinner party. John and Sophie Farthingale – they’d shared a laugh over their shared name – seemed to understand her trepidation over her upcoming nuptials. “There will be gossip about your wedding,” Sophie Farthingale said with a doleful shake of her head, “but it will be tame compared to the misadventures my daughters managed to find themselves in.” She glanced down the table at her two youngest who were identical twins. “I shudder to think what chaos they’ll create when it’s their turn.”

  Sophie followed her gaze. “Your daughters, Lily and Daffodil? But they look so sweet.” The girls had dark hair and big, blue eyes, and the only way to tell them apart was that Lily wore spectacles that kept sliding down her pert nose.