Mr Fairclough's Inherited Bride

‘Mr Fairclough, you promised me the next dance,’ Mary announced, stepping between him and one young woman and catching Mrs Parker’s congratulatory smile from where she stood just behind him. The women flanking him all but sneered at Mary. It wasn’t their reaction she cared about, but Mr Fairclough’s. He could easily laugh at her the way Preston had while she’d lain in the inn’s old bed, still in pain, asking if they’d continue on to Gretna Green when she felt better. Then he’d walked out the door, leaving her to the hard innkeeper’s wife who’d demanded payment from her father for the stained sheets and what little care she’d offered Mary. When her father had returned from paying the greedy woman, things had become far worse than she could have imagined when the bleeding had first started in the carriage or when Preston’s back had faded down the inn’s dark hall.

The memory of it nearly made Mary mumble her apologies and flee into the crowd, but she stood her ground. She wasn’t about to run, not with the mothers whispering about Mary’s forwardness. They must wonder who this young woman was who wasn’t a debutante judging by her dress and wasn’t married either given her bare ring finger. She shouldn’t have asked him to dance—it wasn’t done—but she’d made her statement and there was no backing down from it.

Mary’s stiff stance softened when Mr Fairclough’s surprise changed into delight. ‘You’re right, Lady Mary, I’d forgotten. Can you forgive me?’

The Lady before her name silenced the mothers and their daughters who gazed on Mary with more respect than they’d shown when she’d first trounced between them and the object of their hunt. If only her title had guaranteed her this much respect back home.

‘How could I hold such a small oversight against you?’ she answered with a graciousness to impress even herself.

‘If you ladies will excuse me?’ He offered Mary his arm and she took it, allowing him to escort her to the dance floor.

‘That was quite a bold invitation to dance,’ Mr Fairclough complimented as he laid one hand on her waist and faced her for the Viennese Waltz. Mary would have preferred a gallop or a vigorous polka to these slow steps, but she hadn’t exactly given either of them a choice. She’d simply demanded a partner. She was getting what she’d asked for.

‘I’ve learned the hard way that tarrying can lose one many opportunities.’

‘So have I. One does not form companies and forge ahead with a railroad by being shy.’

‘Nor does a woman secure a dance by standing near a wall.’

‘Something tells me you aren’t in the habit of standing by walls, Lady Mary.’

‘I’ve held up my fair share of them.’ Too many in the last four years, not that she and Ruth had ever attended anything like a dance, but if they had, Mary would have done all she could to fade into the decorations. Standing out in London had landed her in the worst trouble of her life. Even now apprehension made her steps a little heavier. She’d been this forward with Preston, triumphant at having snatched him away from the other ladies, but that achievement had been no victory in the end. She wondered if she’d failed to really learn from her mistakes, but Mr Fairclough was nothing like Preston. This man had built himself up through hard work instead of resting on the family laurels. ‘But not any more.’

‘Good.’

Silas turned them in time to the swaying melody of the music. The slow movement allowed him to admire the woman in his arms and the stunning change that had come over her since the last time he’d seen her. She wasn’t dressed in the white and cream satins of the other ladies her age, but she wasn’t swathed in plain grey or black either. She wore a yellow silk gown overlaid with a netting of fine red roses. The waist of the dress was cut in tight to her natural form, the bodice sloping down to reveal the barest hint of the tops of her breasts. Her slender arms, curved to match the angle of his and the dance, were covered in long, white gloves that complemented the dress, all of it whispering of mature elegance, taste and wealth. She was without jewellery, but her hair was pulled off her face and neck and arranged in small ringlets that shivered with each dance step. ‘Even if you wished to fade into the drapery, you’re too much of an interest to everyone to allow them to forget you or your daring dance invitation.’

An enticing pink spread across Lady Mary’s cheeks, bringing a glow to her smooth skin that heightened the one created by the warmth of the ballroom. ‘I’m sorry for my unconventional request. It wasn’t my intention to make a spectacle of either of us.’

‘Make a spectacle of us. It’s to your advantage and mine.’ The other women had simpered and whined at his sides. She’d stood in front of him and made her intentions clear. It was an admirable trait that could serve the wife of a businessman well. There would be no guessing what she wanted or needed. Her flaunting of convention was also intriguing. A man who wanted to succeed had to think differently when everyone else was doing the same thing. It was clear she was aware that doing something different could get results. After all, it was she dancing with him instead of either of those two women who’d been hanging on his every boring word. However, one dance wasn’t enough to make him drop on his knee and propose. What Richard was suggesting could influence the rest of his life and he would take as much time as necessary to decide as he did with any other venture, unless she proposed first. It wouldn’t surprise him if she did.

‘You want to be spoken about?’ she asked.

‘Better spoken about than ignored.’

‘I’ve never found either choice to be particularly endearing.’ She slid a hard glance at the young ladies who’d been angling for his attention where they stood whispering together while they watched Silas and Mary dance.

‘I suppose that depends on one’s station in society. You’re new so people are curious about you. It’ll make you a much sought-after guest and lend you an aura of mystery that people will scramble to delve.’

‘Or they’ll create stories to fill in the gaps.’

‘Not if you give them stories to take home first.’

‘I’m sure the gentlemen at the dinner took home enough of an impression of me for their wives.’

‘Men are useless there.’

‘You’re right. My brother, Peter, could never be counted on for news of a new neighbour.’ Her smile faded to the same sorrowful look that sometimes came over her when he saw her at Richard’s. ‘Of course he was vocal enough when it was of no benefit to me.’

He didn’t ask what it was her brother had said. He’d heard about enough disappointed fathers and brothers from the women at the Foundation to guess. He wondered if his mother spoke of him in the same disillusioned terms. He’d sneaked away from England without telling her, eager to follow his dreams while disappointing hers. Silas straightened. He had as much right to lead the life he wanted as his mother and father had and his parents should have understood this. His father hadn’t thought twice about turning his back on his own father and the naval career he’d laid out for him to establish the Foundation. However, when it had come to his own son trying to strike out on his own, he’d been nothing but critical and his mother had carried on in the same vein after his passing. ‘But he isn’t here and we are and we must make the best of this magnificent evening.’

‘I already am. It’s been ages since I’ve danced and with the most charming and clever man in the room.’ She tilted her head and offered a smile that could charm the shoes off a horse, the same one that had helped convince the rich men around Richard’s table to break convention and drink and discuss business in a lady’s presence.

‘But tonight you must truly shine.’

‘Must I?’

‘Don’t tell me a woman who marched up to a man and demanded a dance doesn’t want to stand out?’

‘I see I can’t lie to you.’

‘There’s no reason to.’

‘I don’t suppose there is.’

‘Good, then let’s plan our strategy because the dance will soon be over and I don’t want the flock of women who were with me before learning anything from you about being assertive.’ He glanced at the young women he’d abandoned to dance with Lady Mary. They watched him with anticipation, almost counting out the number of stanzas left until they could have another crack at him.

‘We can’t have that, now can we?’ Lady Mary stepped closer to him as if staking her claim. Her confidence in getting what she wanted was intriguing as was her new look this evening for there was no mistaking it was for him. Whatever Richard had proposed to her, she’d taken to the idea with a fervour. It boded well for a woman who might have to join Silas in the promotion of a number of ideas that many, including the fine owner of this house, would call insane. Some of those ideas might fail and he would have to move on to others. He guessed by her decision to come to America that Lady Mary was capable of moving on from failure instead of allowing it to destroy her. ‘What shall we do first?’

‘Introductions, lots of them and to the right ladies, those are key to successfully launching you.’ It was something Richard would have seen to in the first weeks of her arrival, but as he’d confided to Silas, it was the lady’s objections that had stopped him. Silas was glad to see that she’d changed her mind.

‘Whatever magic you intend to work, I ask you do so without mentioning my family connections.’

‘A difficult promise to make given your title.’

‘Then mention it as infrequently as you can. I’ll stand on my own merits or none at all.’

‘You’ve set quite a challenge for me.’

‘You can live up to it.’

‘I’ll surpass it.’

‘Like breeching etiquette to steal a man for a dance?’

‘No, like this.’ He swung her off the dance floor and they stopped before Mrs Wilson, another grand dame of Baltimore society whose husband had been at the dinner.

‘Mrs Wilson, have you had the pleasure of meeting Lady Mary?’ The ladies exchanged greetings before Silas continued. ‘She is one of the most renowned whist players in England.’

Mary threw Silas a questioning look he ignored. He had no idea if she played cards, but this was her entrée into a party. It was up to her to take it and she did. ‘Yes, I’m an excellent player.’

‘Then you must come to my card party Thursday night.’ Mrs Wilson trilled her fingers together in delight. ‘We could do with a little cage rattling of my regular attendees, but I must warn you that we play for higher stakes than most ladies are accustomed to.’

‘Good, it makes the game so much more interesting.’

‘Then I’ll send the invitation tomorrow.’

Before Mrs Wilson could say anything more, Silas politely guided Lady Mary away, in search of their next conquest.