The Convenient Felstone Marriage. Jenni Fletcher
all. Perhaps she could be the sensible bride he wanted. It might be tempting, if it weren’t so preposterous.
‘Unless you have some personal objection to me?’ His face darkened abruptly. ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of my background? My parentage?’
She blinked, taken aback by the flash of steel in his grey eyes. ‘Your parentage is irrelevant, sir. If I thought that birth were any indication of breeding then I’d have married Sir Charles already.’
‘Then perhaps you dislike me personally?’
‘I think you’re moody and ill-mannered. Other than that, I’ve no objection to your character.’
‘I might have used the same words to describe you this morning. With the addition of stubborn, that is.’
‘I am not st—!’ She stopped mid-word, gritting her teeth at the irony.
‘Quite.’
‘What about love then?’ She inched her chin up. ‘Or do you think that doesn’t matter in marriage?’
‘I believe that’s your poetry speaking again.’
She felt a stab of bitterness. Did any man think of love? Not Percy or Sir Charles or this man either, apparently.
‘I assure you, it’s quite possible to marry for love. My parents did.’
‘That was fortunate for them, though for my own part, I’ve never had the benefit of any such example. My father wasn’t known for his finer feelings and my mother only came to regret them. I’ve seen the effects of your so-called love, Miss Holt. I’m not capable of forming such an attachment myself. If that’s what you’re waiting for, then I’m afraid I can’t help you. What I’m proposing is a practical arrangement, not a romantic one.’
‘Practical?’ She gave a sceptical laugh. ‘Yesterday you condemned me as a schemer and yet today you tell me I ought to be practical? Make up your mind, Mr Felstone.’
‘There’s a great deal of difference between marrying a man you despise and simply being practical.’
‘You’ve given me every reason to dislike you.’
‘True, but at least we know where we stand.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Things can only get better.’
Ianthe bit her lip. That was definitely true. Unconventional as his arrangement sounded, it did make a kind of sense. But how could she possibly agree to marry a man she’d known for less than a day? He didn’t scare her like Sir Charles, but she knew even less about him. At least with the Baronet she already expected the worst. This man was an unknown quantity, more attractive and yet potentially even more dangerous.
Besides, the thought of marrying without love went against all of her old cherished ideals and dreams. Even if she didn’t expect it for herself any more, she hadn’t changed so completely. She still believed in the possibility of love, even if not for herself...
‘Mr Felstone...’ She started to speak and then stopped, disturbed by a knock on the front door, by the sound of her aunt’s voice followed by Percy’s, then another man’s... She caught her breath in panic.
‘Sir Charles, I presume?’ Mr Felstone looked utterly unperturbed, pulling himself casually to his feet. ‘In that case, I’ll take my leave. I’ll be staying at the Swan until Thursday. If you wish to discuss any part of my offer, I’m more than happy to do so. If not, I promise never to mention it again.’
‘Wait!’ She swung around, as panicked now by the thought of him leaving as she’d been by his presence half an hour before. She’d been prepared to face Sir Charles then, but now she needed time to recompose herself. As if such a thing were possible with Mr Felstone’s proposal still ringing in her ears! Her head was still spinning from the fact that he actually meant it. How could he throw her into such confusion and then abandon her now?
Besides, it occurred to her that his presence there might actually be useful. Even if she had no intention of accepting him, Sir Charles wasn’t to know that. If he found them together, alone and unchaperoned, the situation might look just compromising enough to deter him. And if not... Mr Felstone would make an intimidating rival, even to a baronet. If anyone could scare him off, surely it would be him.
If she could persuade him to stay. Which meant changing everything about her behaviour so far.
‘I mean, please wait!’ She stepped in front of him, effectively blocking the way. ‘I’ll think about your offer, but don’t go!’
‘You want me to stay?’
Robert studied her face, trying to understand what she was really asking him. Her expression had just run the gamut of emotions from dismissive to panicked to imploring in less than thirty seconds. He’d been about to quit the field, certain that she’d been about to reject him—again—but now she was actually pleading with him to stay.
Why?
‘There’s no need to leave on Sir Charles’s account.’ Her voice quavered slightly. ‘You haven’t had tea yet.’
He knit his brows suspiciously. She was trying to smile and failing, her strained features barely concealing an undercurrent of fear. Clearly she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she didn’t want to marry Sir Charles, but fear? Aversion was one thing, but this...this was something else entirely. Was she afraid of him, then?
‘Please.’ She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder when he still didn’t answer. ‘Just for a few minutes.’
‘You don’t want to be alone with him?’ He felt vaguely disturbed by the idea. ‘Your aunt and brother are here.’
‘It’s not that...’
‘You want to make him jealous?’
Her eyes flew to his. ‘Yes. If he sees us alone together...’
‘He might not like the competition?’
She held his gaze in guilty silence for a few moments before shaking her head. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’m flattered.’
‘Then you don’t object?’
He gave a small shrug, surprised to find that he didn’t object at all.
‘Not if you think it might help, though it might not be the wisest course of action. Some men like a challenge.’
‘I don’t know what he likes!’ Brown eyes flashed tempestuously. ‘But I’ve tried everything else!’
Robert cocked an eyebrow, surprised as much by her vehemence as by the words themselves. What did that mean? That she’d tried ‘everything else’? What else?
His gaze dropped to her extravagant pink dress, so wildly different to her sensible grey outfit from the day before. She seemed to have gone from one extreme to the other. There was nothing remotely sensible about her appearance now. When she’d entered the room he’d thought he’d made a mistake and had the wrong woman. She looked like a younger version of her flamboyant aunt, the ridiculous lace cap on her head framing her face like the petals of a huge flower. Not that there weren’t still points to admire. The tight bodice accentuated curves that had been largely hidden the day before, revealing a surprisingly statuesque figure, shapely waist and ample, round breasts...
He forced his attention back to her words. I’ve tried everything else. Was her outlandish appearance all a façade then, some kind of bizarre attempt to repel Sir Charles? That would explain why she’d looked so embarrassed to see him instead. After charging into the parlour so defiantly, her cheeks had turned almost the same colour as her dress, though he had to admit the effect had been unexpectedly alluring.
‘I’m