.
he wants what’s best for me.’
‘By forcing you to marry a man like Lester? Yes, he sounds an ideal brother.’
‘He’s not forcing me to do anything! You don’t know anything about it. Or us. Our financial circumstances are such that—’
She stopped mid-sentence, wondering why she was even bothering to argue. None of this was his business. There was no need to defend either herself or Percy. Except that she felt a strange desire to explain herself, if only to get the matter clear in her own mind.
‘My brother wishes to see me settled and financially secure, that’s all. Not that I’d expect a man of means to understand that.’
The stranger’s lips twisted scornfully. ‘Not all men are born with means. Some of us make our own way without selling our sisters.’
‘How dare you!’ She felt her temper snap, her voice rising with anger. How dare he suggest something so monstrous, as if Percy would barter her off simply to pay back his debts and free himself from the responsibility of providing for her! Even if there was a grain of truth to the accusation, she refused to believe that her brother was so heartless! He was just young, that was all...
‘I speak as I find.’
‘Then you’re no gentleman, sir. You’re a disgrace to the word! And I’d be grateful if you’d keep the rest of your thoughts to yourself.’
She swung away, chest heaving, half-relieved, half-dismayed by her outburst. Not that he didn’t deserve such censure, but if he was no gentleman, then she was certainly no lady to behave in such an unrestrained, uncontrolled manner. Maybe what they’d said about her in Bournemouth was true after all...
‘Tell me, is it marriage itself you object to or Sir Charles in particular?’
She turned back towards him, eyes widening in disbelief. Why was he still talking? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? He sounded infuriatingly calm, not the slightest bit offended by her insults.
‘I believe I asked you to be quiet, sir.’
‘No, you asked me to keep my thoughts to myself. Hence my interest in yours.’
‘You’re impertinent!’
A hint of sardonic amusement crossed his features. ‘I think we passed impertinent a long time ago. But since we’ve already established that I’m not a true gentleman and since I’d like to make amends for my behaviour, I have a proposal for you.’
‘A proposal?’ She repeated the word suspiciously.
‘A business proposition, if you prefer. Something that might benefit both of us.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Percy strolling back along the platform towards them, whistling and swinging a newspaper in one hand. There was no time for this. Whatever the stranger’s proposal was, it was too late to hear it. She had to conclude this bizarre, indiscreet, utterly inappropriate conversation as quickly as possible.
‘I’ve no interest in anything else you have to say, sir.’
‘You won’t hear me out?’
‘My brother is returning. I beg you to say no more on the subject. On any subject.’
‘Shame.’ He looked nonplussed. ‘I was prepared to offer you an alternative to Sir Charles.’
She froze. Was he offering her employment? He sounded sincere, but why would he offer to help her? Was this some kind of cruel joke or just another veiled insult?
‘What kind of alternative?’ she couldn’t resist asking.
‘What I said, a business proposition.’
‘I know nothing of business, sir. I was a governess.’ She regarded him dubiously. ‘Do you need a governess?’
‘Yes, as it happens. Though I was thinking of something a little more permanent.’
‘A companion for your mother, perhaps?’
‘My mother is dead.’ He leaned back in his seat, adopting the same casual posture in which she’d first seen him.
‘Your sister, then?’ She glanced anxiously out of the window. Percy was only a few paces away.
‘I don’t have a sister, so far as I know anyway.’
‘Then what?’ she burst out in exasperation as Percy’s hand reached for the door handle. Why couldn’t he just get to the point? ‘What do you need, sir?’
‘The position is with me.’ He smiled suddenly, transforming his features from simply striking to quite devastatingly, heart-stoppingly handsome. ‘I need a wife.’
Robert Felstone was aware that he’d been acting badly.
He’d boarded the train in a ferocious temper that had only deteriorated the further they’d travelled. He hadn’t intended to listen, had feigned sleep in order to be alone with his own troubled thoughts, but the conversation taking place opposite had first disturbed and then enraged him. After Louisa’s refusal of his marriage proposal that morning every word had felt like a fresh insult.
He’d tried his best to ignore it, but the unseen woman’s antipathy towards her suitor had struck a raw nerve. Was that how Louisa had talked about him behind his back? Had she been secretly repelled by his visits even as she’d batted her eyelashes so convincingly?
The memory of their interview still made his blood boil. If it hadn’t been for Louisa’s flirting, he would never have even considered proposing, yet she’d had the nerve to imply—no, more than that, to actually say—he wasn’t good enough. He’d thought success in business had earned him a place in society, a modicum of respect at least, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He was just as disreputable now as he’d always been. He was the only fool who hadn’t known it.
Back on the train, half-listening, half-fuming over his rejection, he’d become increasingly irate, interpreting every word from his own injured perspective, taking the side of the beleaguered suitor before finally venting his anger on the unfortunate would-be bride. He’d been offensive, improper and unforgivably rude, as if Louisa’s comments about his past had actually stripped away the veneer of respectability he’d worked so hard to attain.
It was only when he’d learned the mysterious suitor’s identity that he’d finally come to his senses, anger turning at once to agreement. Lester’s name had changed everything, but by then the damage had been done. He’d done what he’d always sworn he would never do and judged a woman without knowing her whole story, as if he had any right to play judge and jury.
And then he’d proposed. What the hell was he doing?
He leaned back in his seat, folding one leg casually over the other as he watched the rapid interplay of emotions on his travelling companion’s face. Judging by the combination of shock and outrage, a passer-by might reasonably assume he’d just propositioned rather than proposed to her. Which in one sense, he supposed, he had. They hadn’t even been introduced and here he was suggesting a far more intimate relationship. No wonder she looked so appalled. He didn’t even know her name.
‘Just in time.’ The brother bounded back into the carriage just as the stationmaster’s whistle blew. ‘I say, sis, are you hot? You look like a beetroot.’
‘I...’ She looked vaguely surprised to see him. ‘A little warm, that’s all.’
She raised both hands to her cheeks, still peering warily through her fingers as if afraid they were trapped in a carriage with a madman. Robert felt tempted to laugh. Given his recent behaviour, it was a reasonable assumption. He was almost starting to question his sanity himself. He’d spent twenty-six years specifically not thinking