Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,15
all stared at him.
“But…but who the deuce are you marrying?” Letchworth demanded.
“Miss Shelby,” he replied impatiently.
Letchworth leapt to his feet, his face whitening.
Christopher laughed. “Not your Miss Shelby! Deborah, the eldest sister.”
“She is not even in Cheshire,” Letchworth said.
“She has only recently arrived,” Christopher replied diplomatically.
“Then, you knew her before?”
“No.”
Letchworth gave a crooked smile. “You must have some devastating charm.”
“I haven’t charmed her in the slightest,” Christopher said with a twinge of regret. “Obviously, it is a marriage of convenience, but we believe it will answer very well.”
“For you,” Lady Letchworth said, frowning. “Infamous of you to marry the girl for such a reason. Does she know you only want access to your fortune?”
“Of course she does,” Christopher said impatiently.
“Perhaps she wants access to it, too,” drawled Letchworth’s sister Frederica, Mrs. Ireton. She was a pretty young matron who had adopted a fashionable ennui since her marriage a year ago.
“Who could blame her if she does?” Christopher retorted. “However, that is not her reason for marrying me, and I hope you will treat her with every kindness and respect. Hurry up, Letchworth, I need to go back to Gosmere and change.”
“Oh, stand still, man!” Lady Letchworth exclaimed as Christopher strode back toward the door. “Why all this urgency?”
“It’s the vicar. He’s a busy man and a stickler for punctuality.” He grinned, pausing only to be sure Letchworth followed him out of the room.
“Are you sure about this?” Letchworth demanded as they approached the staircase.
“Of course, I am.”
“Doesn’t she—Miss Shelby—find it…insulting?”
Actually, after last night’s bizarre but curiously touching visit, he wasn’t quite sure what she thought of it. “She’d find it more insulting if I pretended an affection I couldn’t possibly feel after a total of about half an hour spent in her company.”
“Halland, you can’t do this!” Letchworth said, even more appalled.
Christopher paused, scowling. “Look, if you want no part of it, say so now, and I’ll ask someone else instead. I thought of you because you at least have some connection to the family, but I daresay Copsley or Dr. Nairn would oblige me. With or without you, the marriage goes ahead as planned.”
“Don’t you think people might find it a bit rum? Such a speedy, hole-in-the-corner affair?”
“I don’t care if they do. It’s not them I’m marrying.”
“No, but it’s Deborah Shelby, they will all be looking at and gossiping about, speculating as to why she married you so quickly on so little acquaintance.”
He shrugged. “We all know little acquaintance is the only way she could be induced to marry me. Yes or no, Letchworth?”
Letchworth sighed. “Yes, I suppose.”
“Then, hurry,” Christopher said, shoving him toward the upward stairs. “A quarter before eleven!” With that, he rushed down the stairs, two and three at a time.
As he rode back to Gosmere, his head was full of plans for the school, and how quickly he could begin it. But more than once, Deborah intruded into his thoughts.
Perhaps he should not be doing this. Ruling out other possibilities for her. Providing comfort but not the happiness of love she might expect. She wasn’t the kind of girl, surely, to enjoy intrigues and furtive affairs. She was refreshingly different. Funny. Sweet. And honest, telling him about the scandal immediately, when she could easily have secured the ring first. And last night’s impulsive visit, looking like a half-drowned urchin, lost yet determined to discover if he was worth the risk.
No, neither of them were romantic fools. They were each taking practical steps toward their own goals, and Christopher had no last-minute regrets.
He wondered how soon Gates could get here. He had already summoned builders and spoken to his solicitor about setting up a separate trust for the school and inviting charitable donations, for his own fortune could not last forever on such a project.
*
Deborah, amazingly, had crept back into the house last night without her sortie being discovered. By morning, she cringed at her ill-judged visit to Gosmere and would not have been surprised to enter the church and discover it empty.
But in fact, as she stepped inside with her mother, her siblings trotting behind, the pews were remarkably full. She wondered if she had stumbled into some other service, for beside the Copsleys were other gentlefolk, and several villagers sat behind.
But no, there, at the front of the church, talking to Mr. May, the vicar, and Sir Edmund Letchworth, was Christopher Halland.
She hadn’t scared him off after all.
His head turned toward the newcomers, and a sudden beam of light through the high window