Page 14 of A Widow for the Earl
“Oh, you need not do that on my account,” she said, grinning as she spooned some marmalade onto her toast. “You see, this marmalade and this toast have consummated their union, and they will bequitedelicious together.”
She took a bite, chuckling as Vincent turned his gaze away, as if the simple act of eating her breakfast was somehow indecent.
“Youwillfind a husband and you will leave,” he muttered. “Or you can return to your father’s house.”
He does not want me in his house either.
Her laugh turned as bitter as the marmalade. “Impossible. Both.” She swallowed her mouthful. “No man is going to be foolish enough to risk his life becoming myfourthhusband. And I would rather live in the boathouse with the spiders than return to my father’s house. So, if you want rid of me, you shall have to come up with something better.”
“Iwill have to?” he replied, snorting.
“Yes,youwill have to.Iam happy here. You are the one who wants me gone, though I cannot fathom why,” she said, regretting the toast as her stomach churned. “You have the Grayling Estate. Youhavea manor and a large one, at that. What do you need a second manor for? You barely leave Grayling House as it is.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Because it would be improper for you to remain here, when you are not a viscountess in your own right.”
“So, petition the Royal Court. Have them make me a viscountess in my own right,” she replied with a shrug. “I will stay here in myhome, you can go back to yours, and we never have to see one another again, unless it is in passing. Indeed, surely it will be a comfort to you if you know where I am.”
He squinted, his brow furrowing, his voice oddly thick as he asked, “Why would that be of any comfort to me?”
“Because you will know that I will not suddenly appear to bother you,” she said, smiling. “I can invite my dear friends here, instead of having to come to Grayling, or to their estates where you might also happen to be. Leave me with this home of mine, and everyone wins.”
She was well aware of the fact that he did not like her being friends with his sisters. Over the years, she knew of his many attempts to keep his sisters away from her, but all had failed. He would fail in this endeavor too; she was already conjuring up a plan to make sure of it.
“No, my decision is made,” he said gruffly, rising from his chair, tossing his twisted napkin onto his plate. “You should prepare to become a bride for a fourth time. There will besomeoneout there who would take the risk, and I shall find him.”
He walked off without another word, though she thought she heard him muttering as he left. Indeed, she knew she had gotten under his skin, which was precisely where she needed to be if her plan was to work.
She watched him depart, far calmer than she had been the night before, when it had felt like the world was crumbling yet again.For the world wasnotcrumbling, it just needed shoring up with a few ideas; assurances and insurances that she would not be made to leave this new, lovely home of hers.
I will not be leaving, Vincent.She smiled, those ideas already beginning to form.You will.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She is insufferable!
Vincent glared at his reflection in the mirror as his valet helped him into his riding jacket. The grounds of Wycliffe were not extensive like those of the Grayling Estate, but he had seen pleasant enough countryside on his journey to the manor that would suffice.
“Bartlett, I have a question,” he said, fastening the buttons of the jacket.
The valet raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for him to speak again.
“If a woman has been married three times, but is still… a maiden,” Vincent began, his throat tightening as he reached that awkward topic, “would that make her unmarriageable?”
The valet snorted.
“It is a serious question, Bartlett,” Vincent said gruffly.
Bartlett schooled his expression back into one of placid duty. “Unless she was obscenely wealthy, I fear she would struggle. Surely, if I may, that is an impossibility, though? Married thrice but still a maiden.” He paused, smiling. “Ah, is it a riddle?”
“No, it is not.” Vincent took one last look at his reflection and departed the room, desperate to clear his head of the mess he had been thrown into.
Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be this estate?
The letter from the lawyers in Oxford had been a complete surprise. For a moment, he had thought it was some sort of joke, created by one of his friends. Duncan, perhaps. But his friends had insisted they knew nothing about it, prompting him to dig out the family history: a tome he had not looked at in an age. After some searching, he had found the distant relation to Sebastian Hartley, checking and checking again until he understood that hewasthe only living male left in that tangled bloodline.
Beatrice’s apparent withdrawal from society had been a gift to him, for he had not had to worry about her influencing his youngest sister, Prudence. He had not had to brace himself for any unexpected encounters with the unruly creature.
And now, I must live in the same manor with her until all of this is resolved.He groaned at the thought of who knew how many weeks ahead of him, until everything could be signed andconfirmed, and the time for any other claims had passed. He had seen no other possible heirs, but where there was an empty title and property, they had a way of creeping out of the woodwork.
