The Earl's Mistaken Bride - By Abby Gaines Page 0,60
through Constance. “Why
would you do that?” Did he have a complaint that he
wanted to share? Surely he hadn’t written about her
refusal to— He said it was good news.
“I invited your family to visit us in London and to
stay for the ball,” he announced. “I’ve just collected the
post from the village—your father writes to say they’ll
arrive at the town house on Friday.” If it was possible
for the Earl of Spenford to beam, he was beaming now.
Constance sprang to her feet, rattling the tea service
as she bumped the table. “Marcus, how could you?”
The beam flickered, vanished. “I beg your pardon?”
he said coolly.
His mother murmured, “Oh, dear,” which he didn’t
consider helpful.
“This is the worst thing you could have done,”
Constance moaned.
His brows drew together. “I fail to see how such
consideration of your feelings could be the worst
thing. ”
“Children,” his mother interrupted, “it’s not easy for
me to leave, so might I request you take a stroll to the
summer-house in order to continue your conversation?”
Marcus wheeled around, hands in his pockets, and
strode off, leaving Constance to follow. He didn’t slow
until they were out of his mother’s earshot.
“Do you not recall that my sister tricked you into
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marrying me?” Constance panted, as she caught him up.
“I could hardly have forgotten,” he snapped. “But nor
could I invite the rest of your family and exclude her.”
“You shouldn’t have invited them at all,” she said.
“Why didn’t you consult me? If you weren’t so
convinced of your own rightness about everything…”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he growled. “You give
every impression of being devoted to your family.
You’ve mentioned that you miss them. You write to
your father, your parents, all the time.”
And she’d been thinking about them just ten minutes
ago. “I do miss them,” she admitted. “But right now, I
don’t want their scrutiny.”
He frowned.
“Having my family attend what’s meant to be a
celebration will shine a light on—on the travesty of our
marriage.”
“Our marriage isn’t a travesty. ” He sounded almost
hurt.
“It’s not a real marriage,” she said.
“That is currently by your choice, madam.”
It was the first time he’d mentioned that night.
“I realize that,” she said. “I—I’m sorry.”
She sensed the question on the tip of his tongue was
How sorry? But he didn’t ask it, and he unbent a little at
her apology.
“I can’t withdraw the invitation,” he said. “But,
believe me, I meant it for the best.”
“In that case, I suppose I thank you.” She added
ruefully, “That didn’t sound very gracious, did it?”
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“Quite the opposite. You’ll notice my lack of
surprise.”
Despite her worry about her parents’ visit, Constance
smiled.
A nudge at her ankles had her looking down.
“Bounder.” She stooped to pat the dog, which had
obviously followed him. “May I keep him as a pet,
Marcus? He could ride around town with me in the
curricle.”
That disapproving frown was back. “Certainly not. A
half-wild mongrel is not a suitable companion for a
lady. If you wish for a pet, I’ll buy you a poodle.”
“Pampered, demanding creatures,” she said. “With
far too high an opinion of themselves.”
His eyes narrowed, sensing comparison.
“I like this dog,” she said. “He’s perfect for me.”
“He’s dirty.”
“I’ll have him washed.” Constance eyed him steadily.
He let out an exasperated breath. “Very well, if it
must be this dog. But he’s not to enter the dining
room.”
“Of course not.” Constance wiped the vision she’d
had of herself slipping tidbits to the dog beneath the
table. “Thank you, Marcus.”
“Now she thanks me,” he muttered.
THE IMMINENT ARRIVAL of the countess’s family
in London meant Miriam had to ready her mistress for a
return to town on Wednesday. Pity, she thought, as she
placed a carefully folded riding habit in one of the open
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trunks in the countess’s dressing room. She’d been
enjoying the quieter life.
Hopefully when they got back to London there’d be a
few more evenings spent at home. Miriam couldn’t
imagine a rector and his wife being ones for late nights.
Though with all those daughters…
They were taking one of the maids from Chalmers
back with them to help attend to the female guests.
They were also taking the dog. In just twenty-four
hours Bounder had become the countess’s constant
companion—which wasn’t the kind of distinctive
characteristic Miriam had had in mind when she’d
talked about helping the countess to stand out from the
crowd.
A knock on the door; Harper stuck his head around.
“Miss Bligh, I discovered some items in the attic that
might be of interest to you.”
“What kind of items?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “It’s a, er, surprise.”
Intrigued, Miriam followed him up to the top floor,
and from there to the attic. The attic stairs were
narrower even than the servants’ staircase, their
entrance concealed behind what looked like a cupboard
door.
At the top,