Loving A Lost Lord. Mary Jo Putney

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СКАЧАТЬ of hysterical laughter. She put a hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to smother that.

      His jaw tightened. “You find the idea laughable? I assure you that my birth is more than adequate, and I should think it would be obvious that marriage is in the best interests of us both. To be blunt, you will benefit more than I, given your rather murky origins. In your position, I would consider an offer of honorable marriage most carefully.”

      Mrs. Beckett had warned her against Burke, and the expression in his eyes confirmed that he could be a dangerous man to cross. She sobered and gave him her best wide-eyed gaze. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Burke. I was laughing because I am overwhelmed by all that…has happened.” It was easy to sound confused and grief stricken. But what excuse could she give that would send him off once and for all?

      An outrageous thought struck her. She considered it for an instant, rather appalled at her own ability to prevaricate. But this particular lie would serve her purpose well. “I am honored by your offer,” she said with her most sincere expression. “But I already have a husband.”

      Chapter Three

      “You’re married?” Burke’s gaze shot to Mariah’s left hand.

      Mariah resisted the temptation to hide her hands behind her back. Luckily she was wearing gloves, since she’d been about to walk to the village, so he couldn’t see her bare third finger. “Indeed I am, Mr. Burke. Though I am honored by your offer of marriage, I obviously can’t accept.”

      “No one in the village said anything about you having a husband,” he said suspiciously. “And you are called Clarke, like your father. In fact, you’re called Miss Clarke by everyone.”

      “My husband is a distant cousin, also named Clarke.” She shrugged. “Since I have been known as both Miss and Mrs. Clarke, I answer to both.”

      He glanced around the room as if expecting her husband to materialize. “Where is this mysterious spouse?”

      “I’ve only been in Hartley for a few weeks,” she pointed out. “He has not had time to join me.”

      Burke looked even more suspicious. “What kind of a man isn’t with his beautiful wife when she moves to a new home?”

      Deciding she’d had enough of Burke, she swept to her feet. “The kind who serves his country in the Peninsula rather than gambling away his patrimony in a drunken stupor! It is time you left, Mr. Burke! Take your grandmother’s table and go.”

      Instead of losing his own temper, the infuriating man smiled at her. Like all gamesters, he loved a challenge. Loved risk. “Forgive me, Mrs. Clarke. I should not have spoken with you about personal matters when you are still absorbing the news of your father’s death.” He bowed. “I offer my condolences. I shall return for the table at some later time.” He turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

      She would prefer never to see Burke again, but at least his presence had been a distraction. Knees weak, she sat again and opened her right hand to reveal her father’s gold ring. He was dead. It still didn’t seem real. She must contact the London solicitor who had handled the transfer of ownership for Hartley Manor and ask him to investigate further. Perhaps more details would make Charles Clarke’s death seem more real. She would also see if his body could be brought to Hartley for reburial. Papa had so looked forward to living here….

      Mariah closed her eyes, tears stinging. He had been too young to die! Too necessary.

      But she had seen sudden death more than once and knew it played no favorites. She must make the best of her life here in Hartley. She gave thanks that she was in so much better a position than she had been two months before. Her father’s luck at cards had left her a young woman of means rather than in desperate straits. It was his last gift.

      The only thing desperate about her now was the enormous lie she had just told. Years of traveling with her father in sometimes sticky situations had made her very good at prevarication. She could open her big brown eyes and lie with utter conviction when necessary, though she disliked having to do it. But she was a practical female, and when she’d concocted this particular lie, she was ready to say anything that would persuade Burke to go away and leave her alone.

      Had she ever told anyone in the village she was unwed? The subject hadn’t really come up that she could remember. She was called Miss Clarke and no doubt everyone assumed she was a spinster, but she had never said so.

      In public she usually wore gloves, like a proper lady, so the presence or absence of a ring was unlikely to have been noticed except by the manor servants and her friend Julia Bancroft. Mariah must find a ring for her wedding finger, at least until Burke left Hartley for good. How her father would laugh when she told him of this scene….

      Her body spasmed at the visceral realization that her father was dead. She began to weep uncontrollably.

      Rest in peace, Papa.

      The day after Burke’s visit, a letter arrived from the London solicitor who had handled the transfer of title to the estate. He confirmed the death of Charles Clarke and offered his sympathies in dry, lawyerly prose.

      The letter killed Mariah’s despairing hope that Burke had lied about her father’s death in the hope of coercing her into marriage. In the following pain-filled days, George Burke called on her regularly. He brought flowers and left his polite best wishes even though she wouldn’t receive him at first. The servants and her friend Julia were the only people she could bear to see.

      Eventually her social conscience caught up with her and she went downstairs to see Burke when he called. He was so polite and charming that she wondered if she’d misjudged him. That first time they met, both had been upset and less than reasonable.

      She suspected that he was trying to decide whether or not she really had a husband. He was attracted to her—she could feel lust radiating from him and perhaps he sensed that she was lying. Whatever his private thoughts, his behavior was beyond reproach. Since he acted like a gentleman, she must be a lady.

      As she began coming to terms with her new life, the Sarah side of her began murmuring that perhaps it was worth considering Burke’s offer. Though she had been admiring the vicar, that was mere daydreaming. Burke had made her a genuine offer, and being a wife would give her more standing in the community. He would likely spend much of his time in London, leaving his wife free to run the estate. And he was undeniably good-looking. One could do worse for a husband, and many women did.

      Besides, she was so lonely knowing that her father would never come home….

      At this point in her ponderings, Mariah would tell Sarah that she couldn’t possibly be lonely with an imaginary sister living in her head. Burke was a gamester and would make his wife’s life hell. He’d probably gamble Hartley Manor right out from underneath Mariah’s feet. She had craved stability for too long to place her welfare in unreliable hands. Far better that Burke believe she was married and out of his reach.

      Yet Burke persisted in his attention. One night Mariah awoke shaken by a vivid dream that she was marrying him. They were pronounced man and wife, he took her hand—and squeezed it painfully hard, trapping her with him forever. She knew why she’d dreamed that: he’d visited again that afternoon and hinted about lawsuits between his compliments. His noose was tightening around her.

      She buried her face in her hands and whispered, “Oh, Granny Rose, what should I do? If Burke keeps coming around, in a moment of СКАЧАТЬ