The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five

by Taylor, Erica

  He pulled away, breaking their kiss, but his mouth was still inches from hers. She could still feel the heat of his hands, the sweet spicy cinnamon smell that was uniquely him.

  “At Wells,” he said, and she opened her eyes to see him gazing at her. His look was not tender, but guarded, almost wary. Hesitant. Uncertain. “That felt real to me too.” He kissed her again as his words washed over her but before she could understand what they meant, he pulled away again, dropping his hands to his sides and taking a step away.

  “Goodnight, Vivian,” he said before pulling the door closed, leaving her alone and confused and swathed in the golden glow of his kiss and the fire burning in the grate.

  * * *

  The next morning was a different scene altogether.

  As Vivian entered the breakfast room, Trevor sat, fully clothed, with a paper and a strong cup of coffee, the plate before him empty.

  Trevor moved the edge of the paper so she could see his face. She remembered him from the previous year when she’d been in London, and it was no surprise he and Norah had married. Even then, anyone with eyes could see the two were mad for each other.

  “Luke has gone to speak to the Archbishop.”

  “Yes, I thought as much.”

  He didn’t offer any further conversation, retreating behind his paper.

  Norah entered the room sometime later, as Vivian was sipping the last dregs of tea from her cup.

  She glanced at Vivian. “Will you be ready soon? We only have a limited window of time before Eloise needs me again.” She was dressed for an outing, Vivian realized belatedly. An outing Vivian was expected to accompany her on: the grand tradition of shopping.

  Trevor rose from his chair, his newspaper forgotten. “Enjoy the fresh air, Norah.”

  Norah laughed. “I am going mad cooped up in this house. The exercise will do me some good.”

  Trevor smirked. “Madder than you already are?”

  Vivian left the room as discreetly as she could, not wanting to intrude on what seemed to be an intimate moment, even if they were merely discussing a shopping trip. The way the two looked at each other, the love that clearly reverberated from their very being… Vivian doubted anyone would ever look at her like that. She certainly didn’t expect her husband-to-be to regard her with such intensity, what with their marriage having an end date.

  Vivian was up the stairs and down again within moments, a spencer jacket buttoned over her day dress and a bonnet in her hands. The garments were the few remaining items from her previous year in London. Everything nice and fine had been sold for coins to buy firewood, but she’d kept two sensible day dresses, the spencer, and a bonnet.

  Norah was waiting in the foyer when Vivian descended the stairs. Her eyes lit and her smile widened as Vivian came into view.

  “Vivian, that color on you is simply divine,” Norah declared, approving of Vivian’s fashion. Vivian’s gown was a cream muslin day dress with diagonal embroidery giving the garment a rather unique style. It wasn’t the day dress Norah was commenting on, but the deep red spencer jacket with gold military-esque accents, and the coordinating bonnet. Red was Vivian’s favorite color; likely why she hadn’t wanted to give the pieces up.

  Vivian smiled. “Thank you. Since wearing a red gown is frowned upon for an unmarried woman, I chose the next best thing.”

  Stepping out into the morning sunlight, Vivian pulled the sleeves of her cream leather gloves up further, careful to keep her scars hidden.

  “People always say red-haired women should not wear red,” Norah said as the settled into the carriage. “And that is simply a lie.”

  “I always thought so too. Where are we off to?” Vivian prayed it wasn’t Bond Street or the Mall or some other fashionable shopping establishment. She wasn’t ready to face the beau monde just yet.

  “Not anything on Piccadilly. Nothing there will be ready for days, and I suspect Luke wants you outfitted sooner.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Vivian said on a sigh and glanced out the window. “We’ve nothing pressing to see to in London.”

  “Except your wedding,” Norah reminded her.

  Ah, yes. That.

  “The best way to expedite clothing readiness is to buy second hand,” Norah said delicately. “If that suits you? I do not mean to offend.”

  “It’s perfect.” Vivian reached across the carriage to squeeze Norah’s hand. “Though I am surprised to hear you speak of such things. I always thought you prim and proper and fashionable to a fault. Shockingly economical of you, Lady Sandton!”

  Norah laughed at the teasing tone in Vivian’s voice and Vivian began to relax. She might enjoy shopping knowing it wasn’t with the fashionable set.

  “I am still fashionable,” Norah replied with a glittering smirk. “But I confess I have found ways to keep up appearances now that I do not have my brother’s money backing my spending.”

  Vivian nodded. “I imagine Kenswick also appreciates your frugality, as he is responsible for my bills now too.”

  “Trevor assures me it is merely until Sandton begins to turn a profit.” Her gloved hands were tucked neatly in her lap and Vivian saw no trace of anguish over her change in circumstances. “But I truly do not mind. I’d rather spend on investments and crops than an expensive array of gowns. I am fortunate to have a maid who is remarkable with a needle and can change up a gown till it is indistinguishable from its former self. I’d like the Sandton earldom to grow and prosper and be something we can leave to our children.” She paused as she let out a rather manic laugh. “That is if we ever have any more children. Eloise is quite enough for now!”

  Vivian laughed with her. It was a welcome change to hear a lady of the ton speak of building the earldom with her husband, rather than expecting it to pay for her outlandish needs. It was the sort of thing she would do, if she and Luke were truly married, truly partners in their lives together, not simply pretending as they were.

  “Now.” Norah turned her piercing bright blue-green gaze to Vivian as a brow rose above her eye expectantly. “You can tell me how you came to marry my brother.”

  Vivian gaped at her unblinking as though she’d been struck by lightning.

  “I, um, we— Kenswick and I— are in love.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” Norah replied, as she stared Vivian down doubtfully. “Yes, those in love often say it with such dread in their voice.”

  “I—”

  “If you feel comfortable sharing the truth with me, I promise I am an excellent secret keeper. Or you can continue to perpetuate your pretense of being in love, while not convincing anyone you are enduring such bliss.”

  Vivian grimaced. Truthfully, she’d had little practice pretending to be in love with Luke. They’d merely needed to get to London, and no one along the way had needed convincing. “Is it that obvious?”

  Norah nodded. “I am afraid so. Come now, tell me what this is all about.”

  “Kenswick and I—”

  “Luke,” Norah interjected. “If you are going to convince anyone, especially the members of my family, you will have to use his given name.”

  “Luke and I have an understanding. If I give him six months of marriage, he will give me my house.”

  Norah’s head tilted to the side, studying her, and Vivian felt uncomfortable under such an assault.

  “And this house is important to you? Enough for you to shackle yourself to a stranger?”

  “It’s merely for six months,” Vivian said with a light, flippant shrug. “Barely a moment of my life.”

  “Marriage is until one of you dies. Unless he plans to divorce you?”

  Vivian shook her head.

  “Annulment?”

  Vivian shook her head again.

  “Then, you do see, you will be married to him for the remainder of your days.”

  “Yes, but we needn’t live together or be in each other’s lives,” Vivian explained but even to her ears it sounded ridiculous. “He has his work, after all.”


  “His work?”

  “Yes, as a diplomat.”

  Norah pursed her lips. “But what of children? Luke will need an heir.”

  “He says he has no intention of any of that.”

  “Just because one does not intend to get with child, does not mean it won’t happen.”

  “Yes, but we have to do that for it to happen.”

  “Well, you intend to, do you not?”

  Vivian looked away, a blush racing up her neck, burning against the ribbons of her bonnet.

  “Luke is a handsome enough fellow,” Norah said. “I cannot imagine you wouldn’t want to—”

  “Lady Sandton! This is entirely too improper for me to discuss!”

  Norah smiled, her eyes filled with wicked humor. “If you insist. Though, if at some point you do wish to discuss it, I am happy to lend an ear. Even if it is my brother we are talking about. I shall help you, nonetheless.”

  “Help me with that?”

  “With convincing the remainder of my family, and the haute ton, that this is a love match. Fortunately, pretending to be something I am not is a specialty of mine. Lesson one we’ve already discussed: use Luke’s first name whenever you are with my family. We appear proper to outsiders, but within our ranks we are common. Rarely do we use a title unless we are trying to annoy that person.”

  “Yes, Kens—”

  Norah shook her head, her brows lifting.

  “Luke said as much.”

  “Let his name slip out among the ton as well, and quickly correct yourself, as if you’d just spilled a secret.” Norah pinned Vivian with an expectant stare. “Now, lesson two.”

  Should she take notes? How many lessons could there be?

  “Think of a happy memory, something that warms your heart. Whenever you are in his company, simply think about that. And when someone asks you a question about Luke, or your marriage, just sigh and say, ‘It simply felt right.’ Try now.”

  Vivian complied, only because she thought the whole thing silly and wanted to prove Norah wrong.

  A happy, heartwarming memory.

  Something with her father, perhaps? Vivian dug through her memories, but nothing came to mind. Gardening with her mother? No, as they’d only gardened to feed themselves. Traipsing through the snow to attend church in the village? No, they’d only walked because they lacked a horse or carriage.

  Wells Cathedral. The smooth lines of the archways, the sunlight pouring in from the stained glass, bits of color dancing about the sanctuary.

  Luke standing before her, his crooked smile and dimple teasing her as they were not married.

  Vivian opened her eyes, Luke’s face still swimming in her vision and she sighed, a soft smile settling across her lips. “It simply felt right.”

  Norah nodded in approval, her face stretching into a wide grin. “Well done! Goodness whatever you thought of certainly did the trick. I won’t ask what caused that dreamy look to take over your face but keep that close. Now, lesson three.”

  Vivian’s gaze drifted out the window as she listened to Norah’s lessons, but the dreamy feeling hadn’t subsided. If she could fool the ton, then Luke’s plan could succeed. He could win back his position. She could have her house and she could live in peace.

  And he would go off on his diplomatic adventures and likely never see her again.

  Which suited her just fine, she lied to herself.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite the lovely silvery grey gown Vivian had found with Norah the day before, and the formal ceremony laid out before them, their wedding didn’t feel like much of a wedding. Standing in Norah’s drawing room, the only family to witness the occasion were the Earl and Countess of Sandton, and the clergyman performing the ceremony. Their first one, their not-wedding in Wells Cathedral, that would always hold the memory of when their marriage began. That one had meant something, more so than the cold formal affair she found herself in now. Vivian repeated the words they’d said to each other days earlier, though this time there was no giggling over rings or vows. Vivian’s new wedding band was cold on her finger, gold with a stunning red gem stone flanked on either side by a scattering of diamonds. Luke’s kiss was chaste across her lips, passionless as if from a stranger.

  They signed the license, and then the parish register, and she became Vivian Macalister, Countess of Kenswick.

  Luke turned towards her as the clergyman left the room. “Right, time for a spot of breakfast?”

  For the way her life had slanted onto its side, breakfast seemed the most logical, normal thing she could do.

  The day carried on in boring normalcy, mostly tending to errands about town. Adding Vivian to Luke’s accounts, setting up lines of credit at shops around town. They removed their belongings from Norah’s house to the house Luke owned, just off Leicester Square. After meeting Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, the butler and housekeeper, and overall caretakers of the house, Vivian made a detailed list of the things they would need to order to make the house habitable. It had the bare amount of furniture, but it was a blank slate, so to speak. Vivian was the tiniest bit excited about decorating as she desired.

  Luke and Vivian worked together, moving through each room, as Mrs. Sutton removed the white cloths from what little furniture there was. Vivian was grateful that there was at least a bed in the master bedroom, as it was the only bed she had seen on her tour.

  One thing they did not need, was candles. For some reason, there were ten crates of candles stacked in a drawing room.

  Vivian pointed the quill towards the crates. “Dare I ask?”

  Luke laughed. “First night in this house, I was without light. I’d never really thought about how candles came to be in a room, they were just always there. I didn’t think to bring any with me, and there was no place to acquire any that late in the evening. The following day I went in search of candles. Quan was off on a different errand so I was on my own. Somehow my order of ten candles turned into ten crates. That was before Mr. and Mrs. Sutton came into my life and they’ve managed to provide all those little things I never think of.”

  Vivian pursed her lips together, trying not to burst out laughing at his novice mistake, and she caught Mrs. Sutton smirking about it as well, though Luke did not notice. It also bothered her that he’d mistakenly purchased that many candles and hadn’t flinched. That many candles would have lasted her and her mother five years.

  She’d never thought to inquire about Luke’s finances. She knew he was the son of a wealthy duke and presumed he had some small fortune tucked away somewhere.

  “Can you afford all this?” Vivian showed him the seven pages of notations she’d made of what the house needed to function. “I never thought to inquire into your finances, though I might have done.”

  Luke glanced at it. “I’m well enough off,” he replied, flipping through the pages. “Nowhere near as rich as my brother, but I’ve had no one to support for my entire life and not much else to spend money on save for Quan, feed and tack for my horse, a bottle of whiskey now and then, and clothing.”

  “You haven’t a dedicated valet,” Vivian remarked as he returned her lists.

  “Haven’t needed one. Quan tends to any needs I might have, but I suppose if I want to appear settled, I should hire one. You will need a maid also, now that we are in London.”

  Vivian had already included a lady’s maid on her list, and now added valet to the list of household staff they would need to hire.

  Vivian turned towards the housekeeper. “If Mrs. Sutton is willing to offer her assistance, there is no hurry.”

  “I would be honored, my lady.”

  “Only for a few days,” Vivian promised. “I’ve every intention on hiring adequate staff.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Sutton have been adequate for my needs for the past year,” Luke protested. “I’ve barely even been here.”

  “And now you will have to live here, with a wife. Domestication, remember?”

  Luke harrumphed, but agreed. “Mrs
. Sutton, I think our list-making can take a pause. Might we have some tea, please?”

  Mrs. Sutton nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  Vivian watched the housekeeper leave the room before regarding her husband. “This house needs a name.”

  Luke blanched. “Can we simply call it Kenswick House?”

  “We could, except there is already a Kenswick House in Cardiff.”

  “I suspect whoever owns it now will give it a new name.”

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  Vivian sighed. “Do you own it?”

  Luke scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t recall a property in Cardiff.”

  Vivian’s stomach sank a tiny bit, as another part of her father drifted farther away. “I’d like to see the list of properties you were bestowed. I could help you assess which ones to keep and which to sell.” She fiddled with her new wedding ring, looking back at her pages of notes for anything else she might have forgotten.

  He took her hand, his thumb passing over the gems. “Does your ring need to be resized?”

  Vivian looked again at her new wedding ring but shook her head. “It fits better than the other.”

  “What did you do with the first ring?”

  Tugging a chain from beneath her gown, Vivian pulled the heavy signet ring free from where she’d confined it. “I still wear it. I suppose you’d like it returned?”

  A funny expression crossed over his face, almost dreamy, and he shook his head slowly.

  “No, you keep it safe for now.”

  They regarded each other for a long moment, something strange passing between them. An understanding, or agreement, something which made Vivian warm and uneasy all at the same time.

  His gaze dropped to her lips and she read the heat in his gaze. Her lips moved a breath apart and a shiver of awareness ran down her spine.

  It was the first moment in their hours’ old marriage Vivian realized they were truly alone. Not that it had stopped him from kissing her before.

  Stepping towards her, Luke’s arm came slow around her, his fingers spanning heat across her back, pulling her closer.