His Makeshift Wife. Anne Ashley

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СКАЧАТЬ which he had been when first she had arrived at the house, a twelve-year-old girl was hardly an ideal companion. Troubled though she was, she couldn’t resist smiling as this thought crossed her mind. Why, he must have found her a confounded nuisance, forever trailing after him whenever he spent his holidays at the Manor!

      Then, of course, he had gone up to Oxford, she reminded herself, and she had seen hardly anything of him at all. Afterwards the army had beckoned, and he had been away from these shores for several years fighting in Portugal and Spain—firstly, under the command of Sir John Moore, and then Wellesley. Not once since his return, after hearing of his cousin’s death and becoming heir to the viscountcy, had he paid a visit to the Manor, until today. If the gossips were to be believed, he enjoyed all the pleasures the capital had to offer a well-heeled bachelor and, apart from the occasional visit to the ancestral pile in Kent, he was happy to live all year round in the metropolis.

      She shook her head. No, none of it made any sense at all. Why this sudden desire to reside here now? Moreover, surely if he had had any genuine attachment to the place he wouldn’t be so willing to forfeit his half-share? Furthermore, it was absurd to suppose he’d taken one look at her and fallen head over heels in love. No, ridiculous! But, unless he was a complete simpleton, and she didn’t suppose for a moment he was, there had to be some very good reason for his wanting to comply with his aunt’s will. So what was it about Dorsetshire that had instigated the desire to rusticate in the county for a period of time? Whatever it was, it must be vastly important if he was willing to forfeit his bachelorhood.

      Unable to come up with any logical explanation, Briony wandered across to the escritoire in the corner of the room and sat herself down. Throughout her life Lady Ashworth had been an avid letter writer. Briony had seen her sitting before the fine piece of French furniture on countless occasions, writing missives to her relatives and numerous friends.

      Sooner rather than later she and Luke Kingsley were going to have to get together in order to sort through Lady Lavinia’s personal effects, she told herself, after opening one of the drawers to discover piles of letters, neatly tied together with lengths of ribbon. Picking out one of the bundles at random, she noted the direction was written in a childish scrawl. They were from her nephew, written when Luke had been away at school. She quickly discovered another bundle penned by him when up at Oxford and another pile sent during his years in the army.

      Curiosity got the better of her and she began to read them in strict chronological order. The light was fading fast by the time she was reading the very last letter he had sent to his aunt from London dated a month before her death.

      … I hope during your impromptu visit to the capital late last year I succeeded in setting your mind at rest, that you no longer believe everything the gossipmongers circulate about me. You could do no better than trust your instincts, Aunt Lavinia, and be sure I shall never bring dishonour to the proud name I bear …

      An odd thing to have written to his aunt, Briony decided. Evidently Lady Ashworth had been concerned about the numerous rumours circulating with regard to her nephew—his excessive gambling, not to mention his womanising. That was possibly why she had made that unscheduled stop in the capital after visiting her friend. One thing was certain, though—the letters had revealed how very fond of his aunt he really was. There was no mistaking that.

      So why had he never made the effort to pay her a visit in recent years? Lady Ashworth, as far as Briony was aware, had seen him on three occasions only since he had sold his commission and had left the army, and that was because she had gone to the trouble of paying short visits to the capital herself. Furthermore, why was it that a gentleman who wrote in such fond terms to his aunt could not even put himself out to attend her funeral?

      Increasingly Luke Kingsley was becoming something of an enigma. Quite unfathomable!

       Chapter Three

      ‘You may kiss the bride,’ the vicar had invited, his benign, lined face beaming with delight, Briony all too vividly recalled. And for one heart-stopping moment she had thought Luke had meant to exert his rights as a husband and do precisely that! But, no, he had kept his word and, after staring fixedly at the curve of her mouth for endless moments, had merely raised her left hand in order to press his lips lightly against the plain gold band he had slipped on her finger a short time before. But would he continue to keep to his part of the bargain now the knot was tied? That was the all-important question.

      Raising her head slightly, she peered through her long lashes down the length of the table at her sole dinner companion. For perhaps the hundredth time since the ceremony had taken place earlier in the day, the thought that she must surely have been utterly insane to have gone through with it once again filtered through her mind. What did she know of Luke Kingsley, after all? Next to nothing, if one disregarded the gossipmongers’ tittle-tattle. Even though he had visited the Manor several times during the past month, she knew little more about him now than she had when he had paid that first unexpected call, after his very long absence.

      Yes, he continued to remain an enigma. No, more, she decided, a dichotomy. She had seriously begun to suspect there might be two distinct and quite opposite personalities locked inside that well-muscled frame of his.

      Whenever he was in company he resembled nothing so much as the light-minded profligate the gossips had painted him since his return from the Peninsula. Yet, on other occasions, when they had chanced to be alone, she had thought she had detected a look in those attractive grey eyes of his that had betrayed innate wisdom, an expression flickering over those distinctly aristocratic features that had strongly suggested the shallow care-for-nobody attitude might well be assumed. But if so, why on earth should he wish the world to think so poorly of him? There must be some reason behind the feigned triviality, surely? Or was he merely putting on an act for his own amusement?

      ‘Something appears to be troubling you, m’dear? I sincerely trust you are not regretting so soon the vows you made? That would be unfortunate indeed.’

      So, the drawl, too, had returned, had it? That most certainly was assumed for her benefit, and the benefit of others, of course, Briony decided, favouring him with her full attention. ‘And I sincerely trust you do not give me cause to regret having uttered them,’ she parried, never having been afraid to speak her mind, at least where he was concerned. Which was most strange, now that she came to consider the matter.

      She could hardly admit to their having become friends during the past month. Perhaps the most she could own to was that, over certain matters, they were well on the way to achieving a better understanding and drawing up boundaries beyond which the other was prepared not to tread. For instance, he had made it perfectly plain that he had no intention of completely changing his lifestyle, merely because he had been prepared to relinquish his bachelor state; he had every intention of making visits to the capital during the next six months. For her part Briony didn’t object to this in the least. Not only would it offer her the golden opportunity to come and go as she pleased, without having to respect another’s wishes, but it would no doubt make him easier to live with if he was able to visit his present mistress whenever the inclination happened to take him.

      In fact, he had travelled to London on one occasion already during the past month. Although she wouldn’t have gone so far as to say she had been glad to see the back of him, it certainly hadn’t aroused the least resentment or jealousy in her breast to see him go. Whether he had taken the opportunity to visit his mistress or not she had no way of knowing, but he most definitely hadn’t been idle during his time away. He had arranged for several of his personal belongings to be brought down to Dorsetshire and had installed two of his own servants at the Manor.

      ‘No, nothing is troubling me,’ she assured him cordially, determined to do her part to keep their relationship as affable as possible, ‘except, perhaps, СКАЧАТЬ