Historical Romance June 2017 Books 1 - 4. Annie Burrows
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now, as well as in front.
‘Well, he does appear to be a fairly decent sort of man, from what Stepmama has been able to discover. He isn’t terribly clever, but then wouldn’t that be to my advantage?’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, I could... That is he’d be easier to...um...manage than a more intelligent man.’
The expression on his face must have clearly conveyed what he thought of that, because her stubborn chin went up and her eyes flashed defiance.
‘And at least he would understand my need to go riding. I’m sure he’d let me have as many horses as I wanted.’
‘As many as he could afford, you mean, or, to be more precise, his father could afford.’
‘I know he doesn’t have what you would probably call a great deal of money,’ she said defensively, ‘but then I’m used to living fairly simply. And he’s a second son, too. Told me outright that it meant he could marry to please himself, so long as his bride didn’t mind living on his income. Which means he must really like me, mustn’t it? I mean, a lot of younger sons go after fortunes and even he must have realised by now I don’t have two brass farthings to rub together.’
‘That doesn’t mean you have to settle for him,’ he snarled as they reached the table where footmen were ladling out drinks from a variety of cutglass bowls. Edmund procured a glass of cloudy-looking lemonade for her, then took one from a bowl that most of the gentlemen ahead of him seemed to prefer. It was a rather more propitious shade of amber.
‘Have you no higher ambition from a husband than that he would like you tolerably well and would permit you to have a horse?’
She shrugged morosely. ‘You know very well that I don’t wish to marry at all. The whole notion of...’ She shuddered and then took a gulp of her drink, as though to wash away a nasty taste. ‘But I don’t have the luxury of choice. I have to get married, or face...’ She shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t know what.’
‘You have no home to go back to, I do know that, now. But surely your father did not leave you unprovided for?’
‘He left it all in Stepmama’s hands, saying she was the most capable person he knew of to handle a girl’s future. And she firmly believes the best way to invest my inheritance is by launching me into society as lavishly as she can, so that I can find a good husband.’
‘To say nothing of her own daughter,’ he snarled.
She shrugged again.
‘That is preposterous,’ he said. ‘There must be something else...’ But of course, there wasn’t. Not for a girl like her. Of good family, but limited education, what could she do but marry well? Now was the time he ought to tell her about men like Freckleton. Men who would agree to a marriage on her terms, because just having her at their side would disguise their true inclinations.
Why on earth had condemning Georgie to such a fate seemed like a good idea, back in Bartlesham?
She was already struggling to be the kind of female her stepmother wanted her to be. Marrying a man who would use her as a sort of smokescreen would mean she’d spend the rest of her life pretending to be someone she was not.
At least Major Gowan appeared to like her enough to actually consider her likes and dislikes. He would attempt to make her as happy as he could, in his bumbling, fumbling way. Except that he wouldn’t be able to make her anything but miserable. Because he’d want to bed her.
He drained his glass and set it down on a convenient window ledge with a decisive snap.
‘Don’t make any hasty decisions,’ he said. ‘Once you are married, there will be no escaping it. It will be for life.’
‘I know that.’
‘So you will make no promises to Major Gowan until I have had time to...to...’
‘To what, exactly?’
‘To find a better solution to your problem.’
‘And just how do you propose to do that? If indeed it is any of your business, which actually, I don’t think it is.’
‘Of course it is. You came to me in the first instance, specifically asking me...’ he wavered, amending what he’d been about to say ‘...for help.’
She glowered at him. ‘Yes, and you refused to be the man to come to my rescue,’ she said bitterly. ‘In no uncertain terms.’
He winced. ‘I was not in a position to make an informed decision, since you left out several pertinent facts,’ he said in self-defence.
‘Oh, and it would have made you reach a different decision, would it, if I’d succeeded in making you listen to what you didn’t want to hear?’
‘I...no...I...but I would have handled the encounter differently had I known how very desperate your circumstances are. I could never have imagined your father leaving you so wholly dependent on that woman.’
She made a derisive noise halfway between a snort and a cough.
‘I would also have explained,’ he said loftily, ‘before you left for Town, that there are many ways in which I was prepared to help you, without—’
‘Actually going to the lengths of marrying me yourself,’ she finished for him bitterly.
‘Did your stepmother never teach you it is the height of bad manners to interrupt a man when he is doing his damnedest to explain how he intends to help you get out of a fix?’
‘Oh, she taught me all sorts of lessons in manners. Do, pray, continue,’ she said with a falsely sweet smile. ‘I cannot wait to hear the brilliance of your ideas.’
He clenched his teeth. He did not, actually, have any brilliant ideas. Not a single one, to be perfectly honest. But he had no intention of admitting that.
‘You cannot just marry the first man to show an interest in you in case nobody better comes along,’ he snapped. ‘You need to think it all over, in a rational manner.’
‘In a rational manner,’ she repeated, with scepticism.
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘For example, it might help if you were to draw up a list of factors which would make living with some man...’
She tilted her head to one side. ‘Bearable?’
‘I was trying to think of a more positive word, but, yes, in your case, since you have a ridiculous aversion to the whole idea of matrimony, perhaps the word bearable would do.’
‘You are a fine one to talk,’ she said, setting her own empty cup next to his on the windowsill.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Only that it’s common knowledge that you are not the marrying kind.’
‘Not the marrying kind?’ His whole being swelled with outrage. How dare she imply that he was of the same ilk as Lord Freckleton? He had a good mind to drag her into one of the convenient alcoves set aside for the purpose and make violent love to her until she had no doubt about his proclivities.
None whatsoever.
The idea of kissing her into submission...or...no, he could not see Georgie being a submissive partner. She’d either fight him off, or become an enthusiastic participant.
‘I’ll have you know,’ he said indignantly, ‘that I bedded my first woman while I was at Oxford. And have had a score of mistresses in my keeping since then.’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘I don’t think you are supposed to talk about that sort of thing to...to someone like me.’
‘Well, I needed to make it clear.’
‘Yes, I suppose...I mean, I dare say a lot of men prefer to keep a string of mistresses rather than tie themselves