Free The Perfect Wife by Victoria Alexander

“Although...”
    “Yes?”
    She hesitated, gathering distant, faded memories. “I was five when my father died and we went to live with a great-aunt of mother’s. Somewhere north, I think, fairly close to the sea. We stayed for about three years. Mother would disappear for days at a time. Looking back, I assumed she was simply trying to deal with my father’s death in her own way.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I was far too young to pay it any mind then and really haven’t thought much about it since. And she hasn’t behaved in any way unusual since we’ve lived in London.”
    “Well, there’s probably nothing to it, then.”
    “Probably,” she echoed. “So ...”
    “So?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.
    “So, you talk to your aunt and then find us a ship.” She grasped his arm and pulled him toward the door. “I’ll begin packing.”
    He groaned. “Belinda...”
    Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and she laughed. “We haven’t any time to spare, so off with you.” Belinda reached up and brushed his lips with hers, and for a moment the light in her eyes teased and tantalized him.
    She practically pushed him out the door, and he paused for breath on the top step. He was not enthused at the idea of an ocean voyage that would very probably take months. Erick stalked toward his carriage in an indignant huff, wondering how he had gotten himself into this, and better yet, how he could get out of it. He would much rather stay in London, especially with Belinda’s mother away.
Although ... the revelation thundered through his mind and pulled him up short.
    This trip would allow him to spend a considerable amount of time with Belinda. Aunt or no aunt, there would very likely be time alone. Alone, with the subtle rocking of a ship, warm ocean breezes, the magnificent Mediterranean moon and nowhere to run. Add Belinda to that scene, and it was not an unappealing vision. In fact, it painted quite a promising picture. And even if they failed, even if they never caught up to their parents, would that really be so terrible? Erick grinned and strode toward his carriage, now eager to set his
fiancée’s plan in motion.
    Absurd or not, there were interesting possibilities in her proposal. Possibilities and a great deal of potential.

    Wynnefred Harrington paused before the gilt-framed mirror in the foyer and impatiently tucked a stray tendril of chestnut hair into place. Unruly curls struggled to escape their haphazard captivity high on the back of her head. Large, dark eyes returned her critical stare behind gold-rimmed glasses. It was really quite an attractive face, even pretty. Fat lot of good it did her, she thought wryly. Wynne shrugged and turned from the mirror. She had far too many things to do today to waste time wondering about what might have been.
    Still—she leaned against the chest centered below the mirror—it was a topic that occupied her mind more and more frequently these days. At two-and-thirty she was firmly on the shelf. It wasn’t that she’d never had the opportunity to marry; There’d been offers through the years. In her first seasons there were young men enamoured of her obvious charms, and later there were those more prone to appreciate her fortune than her face. But none had ever measured up to Father’s standards, or, for that matter, her own.
    She had never met a man who came close to the mythical heroes, legendary leaders and knights in shining armor she devoured in the books she kept constantly close at hand.
    Wynne was a genuine bluestocking and knew a certain amount of self-satisfaction in the derogatory title. She lived complete and happy lives in the stories and tales that filled her free time, exploring the world with adventures and travels and the latest scientific marvels.
    Even without a home and family of her own, her life was exceedingly full. Besides her books, she’d been companion to her father, run his household with an efficient hand, acted as his