The Perfect Mistress. Victoria Alexander

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      Veronica stared as if he had grown another head. “It’s not as easy as that. One simply doesn’t snap one’s finger and a suitable husband appears. Marriageable men with wealth and position, men like yourself, are not easy to come by.”

      Harrison gasped. “Surely, you’re not suggesting I marry her?”

      “Don’t be absurd.” Veronica waved away the comment. “While I have no doubt Julia meets your absurdly high standards, and you could certainly do worse although she could certainly do better, you and she would never suit.”

      “Excellent, as desperate is not something I am seeking in a wife,” he snapped, ignoring an odd twinge of annoyance. “And her other recourse?”

      “She has no jewels to speak of, no property aside from her house, and nothing of any value whatsoever.” She shrugged. “Therefore there is nothing she can do but sell her great-grandmother’s memoirs. She already has one publisher interested.”

      “Who?”

      “A Mr. Cadwallender.”

      “Cadwallender? The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

      “Oh, if you had met Mr. Cadwallender you’d remember. Tall, blond hair, brownish eyes with a hint of green if I recall, most dashing in appearance.”

      He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I don’t care.”

      “I just thought it should be mentioned.” She shrugged. “You should know what’s involved. In terms of how much charm you need to expend.”

      “Very amusing.” He again drummed his fingers on the desk. “If I cannot convince her not to publish them perhaps I could offer her a reasonable sum to simply eliminate all references to my father.”

      “Reasonable?”

      “Outrageous then.” He thought for a moment. “Better yet, I could buy them myself.”

      “And they will never see the light of day?”

      “Never,” he said grimly. Indeed, once the memoirs were in his possession, they would be destroyed.

      Veronica narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know that she would like that.”

      “Nonetheless, once they were mine she would have no say in the matter.”

      “No, of course not.” Veronica sighed. “And I think her concern at the moment is more about her finances than preserving her ancestor’s adventures. That’s that then.” Veronica gathered her things, rose to her feet, and adjusted the tilt of her hat—a truly obnoxious concoction of indiscernible things that might have been alive at one time. Harrison stood to escort her to the door. “I have other matters to attend to today so I shall take my leave.”

      “Veronica.” He circled the desk. “I am most grateful to you for coming to me with this.”

      “Harrison, while our connection is tentative at best, you are still Charles’s brother and he was quite fond of you. And I am quite fond of your father. While I do think he would be rather amused by the public airing of an affair he had in his youth, I fear the outrage of his responsible son would cause him undue concern. I told you of this for him, not for you.”

      “Regardless of your motives, you still have my gratitude.”

      She studied him for a moment. “Will there ever come a day when you approve of me?”

      “I don’t disapprove of you.” And indeed he didn’t disapprove of Veronica, only her manner.

      “But you don’t like me.”

      “Nonsense.” He scoffed. “I don’t dislike you. You are my late brother’s wife and you made him happier than I had ever seen him.” He forced a smile. “How could I possibly dislike you?”

      “That is what I have always wondered. I am quite easy to like, you know.” She started for the door. “Many people do.”

      He chuckled. “I have no doubt of that.”

      She glanced back at him. “And now your smile is genuine. It’s a very nice smile, Harrison, when you mean it. You should mean it more often.”

      “Veronica.”

      She paused. “Yes?”

      “I am curious. I have wealth and position and I am not unattractive. Indeed, I am considered something of a catch. Why do you think Lady Winterset and I would not suit?”

      “Goodness, I thought it was obvious. While I suppose Julia might suit you—”

      He snorted.

      “—you would not suit her at all.” She shook her head. “You live in a world of right and wrong, proper and improper, black and white. There is no compromise in your life, no shades of gray if you will. Charles bemoaned that fact about you. He often said, ‘If Harry’”—Harrison winced at the name—“‘would try not to be so perfect all the time, perhaps he could find a little enjoyment in life.’”

      Harrison frowned. “I find a great deal of enjoyment in life.”

      She ignored him. “‘Perhaps he might even have a little fun.’”

      “I frequently have fun.”

      “‘Perhaps he might even find a wife. He is a handsome devil after all.’ Charles’s words, not mine,” she hastened to add.

      “I am looking for a wife.”

      “‘A wife,’ he would say, ‘who would bring joy to his days and not merely credit to his name.’” She cast him an overly sweet smile. “Like his brother did.”

      “I know precisely what I want in a wife and the appropriate candidate would be as different from you as night is from day.”

      “Would she?”

      “Yes. She would have a sense of propriety, of her place and position in the world. She would be conscious at all times of her position as my wife, as the Countess of Mountdale and future Marchioness of Kingsbury. She would be an excellent hostess, a model of decorum. Well bred, perfect manners, and while beauty is not necessary, I would prefer she not be unattractive.”

      “So you want a well-bred, well-trained monkey?” She shook her head. “You can’t choose a wife the same way you choose a financial investment.”

      “A wife is a financial investment.”

      Astonishment widened her eyes, then she laughed. “My God, you can be pompous, Harrison.”

      He blew a frustrated breath. “You, Lady Smithson, are the most annoying woman I have ever met.”

      “Thank you, Harry.” She grinned, no doubt amused by her use of his brother’s name for him. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

      “I do hope your friend СКАЧАТЬ