The Convenient Felstone Marriage. Jenni Fletcher

The Convenient Felstone Marriage - Jenni  Fletcher


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suavely dressed figure of Sir Charles Lester appeared in the doorway.

      ‘Ianthe.’ The Baronet strode forward at once, grasping her hands and raising them both to his lips, seemingly oblivious to anything unusual in her appearance. ‘You look just as lovely as ever.’

      Robert regarded the other man critically. In his mid-fifties, the Baronet had an air of casual, confident authority, with a strong athletic figure and abundance of silver-blond hair. There was nothing obviously untoward or overtly threatening about his appearance, but the hard edge to his features gave him away. It was the same edge he recognised from his father’s face, the same look of a man accustomed to wanting—and getting—his own way.

      And in this particular case what the Baronet wanted was obvious. The way he was clutching Ianthe’s wrists put him in mind of a falcon digging its talons into a small bird. As for her... She was standing completely immobile, her whole body stiff and rigid, as if simply awaiting an opportunity to get away.

      He tensed, seized by an instantaneous rush of dislike, barely resisting a compulsion to grab the other man by the collar and throw him out on to the street.

      ‘Felstone.’ Sir Charles addressed him without turning his head. ‘I didn’t think you were the type to make calls on ladies.’

      Robert held his temper with an effort. The Baronet’s tone was dismissive, though if he thought he could be chased away so easily, he could think again.

      ‘I make the occasional exception. When the company’s so pleasant, that is.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Sir Charles dragged his gaze away from Ianthe’s face at last. ‘Percy told me you met on the train yesterday.’

      ‘That was my good fortune, yes.’

      ‘And here you are again today.’ Green eyes narrowed unpleasantly. ‘Isn’t there any work to be done for the gala?’

      ‘Plenty, I should imagine.’

      Robert flung himself back down on the sofa, throwing one leg casually over the other with the air of a man determined to stay put. Antagonising a man with the Baronet’s influence didn’t make particularly good business sense, but then his behaviour seemed to have become increasingly reckless since meeting Miss Holt. Good business or not, he wasn’t going to abandon her now, not when she’d just begged him to stay. As for the man’s ill manners, he’d be more than happy to take issue with those...

      ‘And we’re quite delighted that you called, Mr Felstone.’

      Sophoria Gibbs pushed past the Baronet so roughly that Robert almost laughed out loud. He’d always suspected that the old woman’s eccentricities belied a sharp mind, but he’d never been so certain of it until that moment. It seemed he wouldn’t have much work to do to get her on side. If he asked, she’d probably help him haul Sir Charles out on to the street.

      ‘Let me do the tea, Aunt.’ Miss Holt extricated herself from the Baronet’s clutches at last, rubbing her wrists together as she moved towards the table.

      Robert’s eyes narrowed. Even from where he was sitting, he could see faint red marks, indentations left by Sir Charles’s fingers. How hard had he been holding her? His gaze shifted towards the Baronet, but the other man looked completely absorbed, his eyes following her every movement around the room with a look of alarming intensity.

      ‘Mr Felstone, how d’ye do?’ The brother strode into the room finally, throwing himself into a chair without waiting for a reply. ‘I hope you’re in a better mood today, sis.’

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with my mood, Percy,’ she answered stiffly, pointedly handing Robert the first cup of tea.

      ‘No? You were in a fearsome temper yesterday.’

      ‘Well, I’m not now.’

      ‘In that case, I hope you’ll permit me to escort you to the ball tonight?’ Sir Charles threw Robert a sharp look. ‘Percy told me about your offer, Felstone, but I’d already arranged invitations for both himself and Miss Holt.’

      ‘And their aunt, no doubt?’

      Robert smiled benignly as the Baronet’s smug expression faltered. ‘I’m afraid not. I thought the evening might be too much for Miss Gibbs.’

      ‘I can still out-dance you, Charles.’ The old woman made a cackling sound. ‘It’s just a good thing Mr Felstone thought of me.’

      ‘In any case—’ Sir Charles ignored her ‘—I’ve also taken the liberty of arranging a gown for you, Ianthe. White Parisian silk. Your mother had one just like it. I think it should look very fetching on you.’

      Robert watched as she came to a sudden stop in the centre of the room. Moving around the small space distributing tea, she’d put him in mind of a tennis ball, being batted about between players. Now she seemed to be hovering over the net, trying to decide which way to fall or whether to abandon the court altogether.

      For a tense moment she didn’t answer, smoothing her hands over the front of her pink taffeta as if trying to make up her mind about something. Then she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head all of a sudden, meeting the Baronet’s gaze squarely.

      ‘Thank you for the offer, but I already have a gown.’

      ‘Since when?’ Percy sounded indignant.

      ‘Since Mr Felstone was good enough to bring me one.’

      Robert smiled innocently, leaning back in his chair as four sets of eyes swivelled towards him.

      ‘Well, how kind of you!’ The aunt was the first to speak.

      ‘Very.’ Sir Charles sounded less than pleased.

      ‘It was my pleasure, though the credit really belongs to Kitty Loveday. She offered the loan. I’m simply the delivery boy.’

      ‘Her husband works for the railway, doesn’t he?’ The Baronet’s tone was scathing.

      ‘He’s an engineer, yes. As well as a good friend and one of the cleverest men I know.’

      ‘Why, Katherine Loveday!’ Aunt Sophoria’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘You used to play with her when you were children, Ianthe. She never stopped talking even then, but she was always a kind girl.’

      ‘She still is.’ Robert gave an approving smile. ‘I’d be glad to reintroduce you tonight, Miss Holt.’

      ‘Isn’t a ball a bit frivolous for you, Felstone?’ Sir Charles’s expression was now openly antagonistic. ‘I thought you lived to work. Or are you trying to distance yourself from business at last?’

      ‘I’ve no intention of doing anything of the kind. I’m fortunate enough to enjoy what I do. But I can have an evening off occasionally.’

      ‘Will Louisa Allendon be attending, then?’ Sir Charles gave a look of feigned innocence. ‘I thought you were spending all your spare time with her.’

      Robert clenched his jaw, tipping his head slightly to acknowledge the hit. ‘I’ve no idea where Miss Allendon intends to spend her evening.’

      ‘No? What a shame. Though I did hear she didn’t like the smell of the shipyard. Too close to the fish market, perhaps. You must be feeling quite let down there.’

      ‘Would you care for something to eat, Mr Felstone?’

      Ianthe’s voice prevented him from answering. He looked up to find her standing beside him, holding out a plate of miniature cakes with a distinctly apologetic expression, as if she were worried about the impact of the Baronet’s words. He raised an eyebrow, strangely touched by her intervention, though on the other hand, perhaps she was right to be worried. If he stayed another minute, he might make even more of a scene than he had yesterday.

      Besides, he decided, he’d already done what she’d asked him. He’d definitely succeeded in making Sir Charles jealous. What she did


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