Married to a Stranger. Louise Allen
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house to rent out.’
‘Choose?’ Everything was going too fast. ‘But Long Welling was always yours, was it not?’
‘It was managed by my father and then by Will. I have been in India, remember, and in London for six months. I have no great attachment to it and both houses are vacant at the moment.’
The house where she would live with this man. An insidious little voice was murmuring that Callum’s arms would be strong around her body and that he would always stand by her. She could experience physical passion at last. He would give her children. Security. But was it right?
‘You need time to think it over,’ he said and she realised he had hat, gloves and whip in his hands. She had been so deep in her thoughts that she had not noticed him move. ‘I will return tomorrow morning. Goodbye, Sophia.’
‘Goodbye,’ she said. ‘Callum—’
‘Of course, how remiss of me.’ He bent his head and kissed her, firmly but fleetingly, on the mouth. ‘Is that what you wanted?’
‘I don’t know.’ Sophia stared at Callum, somehow managing not to run her tongue over her lips to taste him. ‘I have no idea what I want. What I ought to want. You have turned my world upside down.’
‘Excellent.’ He strode away across the lawn without looking back.
Sophia gave way to the urge to lick her lips. There was a faint trace of something alien and disturbing overlain with coffee. Excellent? ‘Oh, you stubborn, impossible man! Were you listening to me at all?’
Chapter Three
Sophia sat in the front parlour the next morning and tried to work through a muddle of thoughts. There was resentment at the way that Callum simply made assumptions about what was best for her—and the fact that he was doubtless right did not help. There was respect for his sense of duty and loyalty to Daniel and the nagging consciousness that her own duty to her family lay in making a good marriage. This marriage.
If only they had a little money and she had room to think. Her mind kept running over and over the lack of money like a dog in a turn-spit wheel. Tradesmen had been understanding about the settlement of bills since her father’s death, because of her betrothal to a son of the Hall. But for the past six months they had known that was not going to happen. Nor, unless she married well, would her brother have the influence of a great family behind him to help his career. And if she did not marry Callum, who could she marry?
The prospects locally were hardly promising—some yeoman farmers much older than herself, the curate, a widower or two, none of whom had shown any particular interest in her. There was no denying that marriage would widen her world very greatly. Mama would be happier if she was well married.
And there was the uncomfortable awareness that she found Callum Chatterton physically attractive. She could not even summon up the will to feel shocked at this, only a conviction that if he actually tried to make love to her she would be stricken with shyness. Duty and a scarce-understood desire said Marry him. Every emotional fibre of her being, coupled to pride, said, No, not when he has no feelings for me and is only offering out of a sense of duty to a man I had not even the constancy to love until death.
The crunch of gravel under wheels brought her out of her brown study as undecided as when she had drifted into it.
‘Mr Chatterton,’ the maid said and closed the door behind Callum. In buckskin breeches, boots and riding coat he should have looked every inch the English country gentleman. Instead he seemed faintly exotic, dangerous even. Perhaps it was the remnants of the tan and the way it made his hazel eyes seem green. Or perhaps it was the sense of focus about him. He was a hunter and she was the prey: all for her own good, of course.
‘Good morning, Sophia. I have the curricle—shall we drive? It is a pleasant day and we will be more able to say what we mean, perhaps, if we are free from the risk of interruption,’ he said. ‘I thought you would like to see the two houses.’
Don’t be missish, she told herself. She was never going to decide whether to marry this man if they met only to have stilted conversations in the parlour.
‘Very well. I will just go and fetch my hat.’
In the hall she said, ‘I am driving out with Mr Chatterton, Lucy. I do not wish to disturb my mother; please tell her where I am if she enquires. I may not be home for luncheon if Mr Chatterton decides to call in at the Hall on the way back.’
‘Yes, Miss Langley.’ The maid’s eyes were wide with speculation. ‘I’ll take pains not to disturb her.’
Oh dear, now she thinks she is assisting in a love affair. I just wish I did know what this was. Am I wrong to encourage Callum? But I do want to be married, to have children. If the man was someone I could like and respect. If I did not think I was imposing on him to an outrageous extent.
She was weakening, she could feel it. She could certainly respect Callum Chatterton’s achievements. He was intelligent, hard working and courageous. But could she like him? What was he like under the emotionless carapace that seemed only warmed by disturbing flickers of sensuality? Perhaps he was as cold and hard and logical as this all the time. He admitted to finding it hard to feel for other people now. I think I want him. I certainly need him. But perhaps not as a husband.
Callum was standing by the curricle when she came down and there was no groom up behind. It really would be rather fast to drive ten miles to Wellingford with him, even in an open carriage.
‘Is it not acceptable for you to drive with me like this in the country?’ he asked. Apparently her doubts were clear on her face. ‘It would be in India, if the man is approved by the family. Your mother would approve of me, I believe,’ he added with the first hint of a genuine smile Sophia had seen.
‘Yes, she would,’ she agreed, as he helped her up into the seat. ‘Mama would approve of any eligible man who showed an interest in me now, let alone you!’ she added and provoked a small huff of amusement from him. She had been evasive last night when her mother had asked her about Callum’s visit. Mrs Langley had been left, she was guiltily aware, with the impression that he had called briefly to see how Sophia was getting on.
There was so much she was feeling guilty about. If she could only let go and just do her duty … Callum handed her the reins while he walked round to mount on the other side.
‘And, yes, this is a trifle fast, but not so very bad in the country.’ She handed the reins back, taking care not to touch his hands as she did so. She wanted her mind unclouded by the disturbing frisson of physical awareness that brushed her senses when she looked at him—to touch him would be worse. If only she knew what was right.
‘It is certain that you will remain in England?’ she asked as Callum looped the reins and turned on to the road to Wellingford.
‘I was not certain, when we left India, but now the position in London is confirmed. One of the directors was travelling as supercargo and spoke to me at length about my career and the opportunities with the Company. He survived the wreck and I believe I owe much to his influence in gaining this post.’
‘He would not have exerted himself if you did not merit it,’ Sophia said. ‘I am glad you will stay in England. I certainly do not wish to bring up children in the Indian climate; I have heard too many stories of the illnesses they succumb to.’ For a long time she had told herself that was why she had not pressed Daniel about marriage; now she knew it had been an excuse.
‘Ah, we are discussing children now?’ Sophia looked sideways and found Callum was smiling. Faintly, it was true. She realised she was staring at his mouth and switched back to looking straight ahead. ‘Should I take that as a promising sign?’
‘Not necessarily,’ she said, wary that this was going too fast again. ‘I am merely considering all aspects of your proposal.’
‘But if you are convinced I am not returning