The Unexpected Marriage Of Gabriel Stone. Louise Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ not with the Marquess of Avenmore’s usual seal, but with the discreet abbreviated version. Cris was up to something.

      Not only that, he discovered, but requiring Gabriel to get himself involved as well. ‘Collect information about Lord Chelford’s debts...obtain a sedan chair and bearers...send to Stibworthy, North Devon... North Devon?’ What the blazes was Cris up to now?

      The study bookshelves returned no answer to his questions. This was too intriguing to deal with by post. Gabriel tugged the bell pull. ‘Hampshire, I am going into Devon by way of Bath. I will want my travelling coach.’ He glanced at Cris’s letter again and smiled. ‘Tell Corbridge to pack for action rather than amusement, I think.’

      By the time he got back from whatever was brewing on the wilder western shores of England he would have located his better nature. He would do the right thing by the innocent Lady Caroline immediately and he would not yield to the temptation to discover just what the delicate skin at the base of her throat tasted like. Strawberries, perhaps...

      * * *

      June was drawing towards July, complete with sunshine, roses in bloom, a flurry of fashionable parasols—and no indication from her father that he would be leaving for the country for at least another week. Caroline could only be grateful because she had just realised the great flaw in her scheme, the gaping black hole in the centre.

      She had the deeds, so Anthony’s future was assured, she had told herself. Then, when she was locking them away in the base of her jewellery box, she realised that in solving one problem she had created another—or two, if she counted the looming shadow of Lord Edenbridge and her promise to him.

      Anthony’s estate was safe, but estates had to be managed. Plans must be made, orders must be given, wages paid, staff supervised, income banked and invested. Somehow Springbourne had to function for five years until her brother reached his majority and could take control. Meanwhile, she had no resources, no experience and no legal standing in the matter. Anthony was a minor, so neither did he. And if either of them tried to employ a solicitor or a land agent to act on their own behalf the first thing the man would do was consult their father.

      Lord Edenbridge. Papa thought the earl was about to take over Springbourne and doubtless he had already notified all concerned. If Lord Edenbridge took nominal control it would solve everything. Would it be a huge imposition? Perhaps she could offer him a percentage of the income, or might he be offended by that? She needed to ask his advice.

      It was the day she realised that she must speak to him that Lord Edenbridge disappeared from London. She looked for him in vain at balls and parties, she heard no gossip about him and, when she contrived to have the barouche drive along Mount Street, she saw the knocker was off his front door.

      There was nothing for it, she would have to write to him. Caroline sat in the little room optimistically referred to as her boudoir, chewed the end of her pen and racked her brains for a tactful way of phrasing a request that a virtual stranger take on the supervision of an estate she had extracted from him in return for the dubious value of her own virtue.

      The knock on the door was almost a relief.

      ‘Yes, Thomas?’

      ‘His lordship requests that you join him in his study, my lady.’ The footman had doubtless translated a grunted command to fetch my daughter into a courteous message, so she smiled at him, even though he had thrown what little she had managed to compose into disorder.

      As she went downstairs she wondered what Papa wanted. Perhaps he had decided to go back to Knighton Park, in which case life would become immeasurably more complicated, for not only would all her correspondence with Lord Edenbridge have to go via Miss Fanshawe, but then be posted on to her in the country.

      ‘You sent for me, Papa?’

      For once he was not buried in a pile of plans and estimates, sparing her only a glance. To be the focus of his attention was unnerving. ‘Sit down, Caroline. I have good news for you.’

      That was definitely unnerving. ‘Yes, Papa?’

      ‘I have received an offer for your hand in marriage from Edgar Parfit, Lord Woodruffe. What do you say to that?’

      ‘Lord Woodruffe? But he’s...he’s...’

      ‘Wealthy, a good neighbour, in excellent health.’

      ‘Forty. Fat. He thinks of nothing but hunting. His first wife died only a year after they were married.’

      ‘It is hardly his fault the foolish chit fell off her horse.’

      ‘Miranda was frightened of horses and she hated hunting. He forced her to ride, to follow the hounds. He is a bully.’ And he frightens me. She managed not to say the words, for she had no justification for them, simply instinct.

      ‘He is a well set-up, mature man who expects loyalty from his wife.’

      ‘He can expect it of someone else, then.’ Caroline found she was on her feet. ‘I will not marry him.’

      ‘You do not tell me what you will and will not do, my girl! Your duty is to accept this most advantageous offer that has been made to you.’ Her father’s face was already darkening with building rage at her defiance.

      The match was far worse than she had been dreading and advantageous only in what Lord Woodruffe would be offering in the way of land to increase the Knighton estate. But she could do nothing until she had spoken to Lord Edenbridge, secured Springbourne for Anthony.

      If Mama was still alive she would not let you do this. The words were almost out before she could control them. Mention of his late wife always triggered her father’s worst rages. ‘Yes, Papa.’ She forced herself to meekness. ‘But I hardly know Lord Woodruffe.’

      ‘That didn’t stop you spouting nonsensical opinions a minute ago,’ he grunted. ‘There’s plenty of time to get to know him, no need to rush things. I’m too busy at the moment to worry about details like weddings and settlements.’

      Reprieve...

      ‘Next month or so is soon enough. We’ll go down to Knighton in a week or two, Woodruffe can do his courting, wedding in September.’

      September? She had been hoping for six months, not two. The thought of the baron’s courtship made her feel queasy. ‘Yes, Papa.’ It sounded weak, defeatist, but it calmed him. He was unused to defiance from her, she realised. Perhaps there had never been anything to make a stand about. Rebelling over being ignored and undervalued or complaining about her marriage prospects would have been pointless. But this was different and she had just won a little time to think.

      First she had to locate Lord Edenbridge and settle Anthony’s estate safely, then, somehow, she had to find a way to escape from this marriage. Her brave words about losing her virginity and giving her husband a shock on their wedding night were wishful thinking, she realised now. Edgar Parfit’s response to finding that his bride was not what he expected was likely to be extreme: she had no illusions about the man, only fears that seemed worse because of their very vagueness.

      ‘Will Lord Woodruffe be at Lady Ancaster’s supper dance this evening, Papa?’ She infused as much interest into her voice as possible.

      ‘Doubt it.’ He did not glance up from his papers. ‘He’s still in the country as far as I know.’

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