Page 6 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
“So she is silly, spoiled and interested in chasing after atitle?”
“No, son.” His father interrupted firmly. “It’s cruel to dismiss all daughters of industrialists like that. You don’t know all of them. Besides,” he added, gently, “she is not like that. She seems very sensible and strong.”
“And you talked to her a great deal?” Sebastian inquired seriously.
“No, son. Not long. I exchanged but a few sentences, I admit. She and her brother were visiting her father’s offices. Her brother is a well-respected accountant. He worked first for the firm his father created and then began advising the wealthy as to their investments. They are a hardworking and well-reputed family.” He sniffed a little hard.
“And this respectable industrialist wishes me to wed his daughter?” Sebastian raised a brow. “You’re certain of that?”
“Son, you are descended of nobility,” his father began slowly, but Sebastian interrupted.
“Yes, and I have a reputation that would make a demon blush.”
“Son, don’t be unfair to yourself,” his father began, but Sebastian laughed.
“It’s true. I know, Papa. I accept it.” His voice was bitter. Only half the things people said about him were true, and then it was the milder half. He might have friends from the strangest professions and throw wild parties, but mostly the fun was innocent and harmless.
All the same, it was impossible to imagine a pious, hardworking family like the family that his father described, wanting him to be associated with them.
“Son...it’s not simple,” his father said slowly.
“It seems perfectly simple to me,” Sebastian interrupted, annoyed.
“No,” his father said firmly. “It is rather more intricate thanyou think. You see, after his son got himself into a spot of trouble, Mr. Montague owes me a favour.”
Sebastian gaped at him. “You mean, the favour is about me meeting his daughter? Father, what exactly have you done?” It was his turn to be shocked.
“Nothing. Nothing,” his father insisted, frowning as if the sound of raised voices pained his ears. “Nothing bad. Something rather beneficial, as it happens. I merely wish it to be equally beneficial to ourselves. Is that bad?” He frowned, the question sounding as though he meant it.
Sebastian sighed. “You would ask me? The man with the terrible reputation?” He shook his head, but the look on his father’s face made him more serious. “Very well. I will meet this woman, as you wish it so dearly. But I cannot promise more than that. Is that what you wish me to do?”
His father beamed. “Yes. I will go and order the carriage. We will take tea with them tomorrow afternoon.”
Chapter 3
Woodford House, October 1817
Eleanor stared at her reflection, trying to distract herself from the fact that her stomach churned with nausea. The church clock had just chimed the hour of three. Her pale-brown hair was arranged in ringlets about her face, and her maid, Betty, was busy setting some ribbon in place to hold the back in an elegant chignon. Eleanor studied her appearance. She looked scared. Her green eyes were wide, the white muslin dress she wore making her face seem even more pale and frightened.
“What time is it?” she asked her maid nervously.
“It’s three o’ clock, miss,” her maid assured her gently.
Eleanor felt her heart race, tension and confusion making it impossible to think.
In just half an hour, the man that her father had promised her- would be here.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. In her mind, the man was unsightly and cruel, with a thin mouth twisted in distaste, blank gray eyes and a heavy, brute-like face. Or perhaps he was like Mr. Inishmore, the accountant for Papa’s business—tall and thin with disapproving dark eyes. Whoever he was, and however he looked, she was sure he was not a nice man. Anyone who could agree to such a thing, to force a woman to wed him out of obligation,was not decent or kind.
She shivered, and not from the cold, despite the short, puffed sleeves of the gown she wore.
“Sister! May I come in?” a voice called at the door as Eleanor reached for her jewelry case. She frowned, recognizing the voice at once.
“Jonathan? What is it?” she called through the wood of the door to her brother.
“Please, let me in?” He sounded small and anxious, as she had heard him only once, when they were both children and he had broken a window. She drew in a breath, feeling protective.
“Get yourself in, then,” she called to him kindly. She heard the latch turn uncertainly and then her brother came into the room.
