Married For His Convenience

‘Perhaps not, but I would still like to see you safe at your doorstep. I’ll not mention your sabotage of the hunt to your parent or guardian, if that is your concern.’

‘No. It’s not that.’ She paused and then continued. ‘My guardian would find your presence without a chaperon exceptional. She worries about my—um—morals, not realising that I am past the age and lack the physical attributes that make concern necessary.’

She stopped speaking and it struck him sad that a woman, still youngish, should dismiss herself so completely.

‘I quite like your attributes.’ He spoke without thought.

Her reaction was immediate. Her back jerked ramrod straight and she twisted about almost violently, despite her apparent fear of large horses and the danger of dropping the basket.

‘Lord Langford,’ she snapped. ‘You will not insult my intellect. I am no beauty, but I am not dim-witted and refuse to be treated as such. I have gumption, if nothing else.’

Good Lord, the woman sounded downright furious.

‘You definitely have gumption.’

She twisted even more precariously. ‘I hope you are not scoffing again.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I was only wishing that Elizabeth might meet you.’

Again he had spoken with an uncharacteristic lack of thought.

‘Elizabeth?’

‘My daughter.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know exactly, but she needs—’

Heaven only knew what Elizabeth needed.

But, he realised with a start of surprise, he would tell Elizabeth about Miss Martin when he returned.

He might mention nothing else about this country weekend, but he would tell her about the rabbit, the fox, the mud, the basket and Miss Martin’s gumption.

Elizabeth would not reply, of course, but he would tell her.

Chapter Three (#u03f91c07-f4c5-5163-aa79-be71aa34ab91)

The barn was a ramshackle structure of mossy stone with an uneven slate roof patterned with yellowed grass. Sebastian dismounted. As he turned, helping Sarah from the horse, he was aware of a peculiar narrowing of focus. It seemed as though the barn, the trees and everything else except this woman became inconsequential.

He was keenly aware of her proximity, the faint soapy smell of her hair, the long dark lashes outlining her grey-blue eyes and the oddly endearing way she bit one pink lip.

‘I—um—’ She swallowed. He watched the movement in her throat. ‘There’s water for your horse inside.’

Everything sprang to sudden life.

‘Thank you.’

He followed her into the dimness of the barn’s interior. Straw covered the floor and the air felt dusty and smelled of hay and animals.

At almost the same moment, a loud, boyish whistle broke through the quiet and Kit Eavensham strode into the barn from the opposite entrance. He drew to a halt immediately upon seeing Miss Martin.

‘I knew it,’ he said. ‘As soon as the hunt proved unsuccessful I knew you were involved. When will you stop such nonsense?’

‘Likely never. That is one advantage of my circumstances. Society expects little of me.’

‘But it is not sensible. I mean, it was fine when we were young and rebellious, but you can’t go round saving foxes all your life. Besides, you look like an undersized drowned rat.’

‘I slipped.’

‘But was fished out quite handily.’ Sebastian stepped forward to make Kit aware of his presence.

Kit’s mouth dropped to form a round ‘O’.

‘Morning, Eavensham,’ Sebastian drawled.

‘Good Lord, Langford helped you? Do you know who he is?’

‘We were introduced. Last night, if you recall,’ Miss Martin said in composed tones.

‘No, I mean—did you know—I mean—well, Langford is well, good ton. Though he hasn’t been about much this past year. Still, a diamond of the first water, don’t you know.’

‘Then I am honoured—Oh!’ She gasped, her gaze drawn to the window. ‘Mrs Crawford is coming. Kit, you must not let her see you or Langford, please. You can lecture me later.’

Then, before Sebastian could say goodbye or even complete his bow, Miss Martin had disappeared through the barn door, letting it rattle shut behind her.

Stepping around the basket which he had placed on the floor, Sebastian went to a small, dirty window. Through its pane, Sebastian could see an older woman approach the barn from a square, stone house set some fifty yards back. She was gaunt, her grey hair pulled tightly from her face and her dark clothes cut for economy, not fashion. Her movements had a nervous jerkiness.

‘Mrs Crawford, I presume?’ he said softly to Kit who had followed to the window.

‘Yes.’

‘She looks strict.’

‘And religious. Extremely so. I mean, she always has been somewhat.’ Kit shrugged.

‘You’ve known her long?’

‘Mrs Crawford. Unfortunately.’

‘No, Miss Martin.’

‘Since she came to live here from London. She is a couple of years older than I am and Mother did not want me to get any romantic notions since she is as poor as a church mouse. Anyhow, my parents decided that the best way to avoid this was to ensure that we spent considerable time together, you know, like brother and sister. It worked, actually.’

‘Practical woman, your mother.’

‘Lucky for Miss Martin or she would have starved, most like. She is quite the zealot.’