Free A Marriage of Inconvenience by Susanna Fraser

disgusted with your cousin,” he said emphatically.
    She blinked. “But—you are a viscount. I was a workhouse girl, with lice. I don’t belong here.”
    “Accidents of birth and circumstance. In both cases.”
    She looked bewildered.
    “I was lucky,” he continued. “You were unlucky. I cannot see how that reflects upon your worth.”
    “If Portia tells everyone…”
    “Some might turn away from you, it’s true. But I would not. I have not, and I flatter myself I have a certain amount of influence here. Truly, I think she would reflect far more discredit upon herself than upon you. What kind of person would spread such a story about her own cousin?”
    “Portia,” she said gloomily.
    “She won’t do it,” he said. “She’s to be the next marchioness. If she thinks what happened to you was so very shameful, she won’t want it known. After all, she is the one who must live here. You’ll be going home after the wedding.”
    “That’s so.” Miss Jones brightened considerably.
    “Of course it is.”
    She returned his handkerchief. “Thank you, Lord Selsley. Thank you so much for…for your kindness.”
    He smiled. “Think nothing of it.”
    She shook her head, then reached up to brush back one of the loose ringlets of hair that had fallen across her face. “My aunt’s abigail wanted to cut my hair before I came here, because short hair is so fashionable.”
    It was. Miss Arrington and Anna were the most fashionable young ladies in the assembly that evening, and Miss Arrington wore her hair a la Titus, almost as short as a man’s. Anna had worn hers so last Season and was now engaged upon growing it out. It was just long enough to brush her shoulders now. Miss Jones, on the other hand, had a wealth of hair, the great mass of it braided in a coil at the back of her head, with just a few of the shorter ringlets left free to frame her delicate oval face. He guessed that when her hair was down it must extend at least to her waist, if not farther.
    “But you refused,” he said, rejoicing that she had.
    “Yes. It’s ridiculous, absurd, but I cannot bear the thought of having it cut. It—it makes me think of when it was shaved.”
    James knew it was very wrong of him, when Miss Jones had just confided in him, confessing the great secret of her childhood ordeal. But he could not stop his hand from reaching up, stroking lightly over the braided coronet, then twisting one of those loose ringlets around his fingers. “Don’t ever cut it,” he said, startled at how husky his voice sounded, shocked at how much he wanted to see her hair down, how vividly he imagined it spread across a pillow.
    Though it was deep twilight, there was enough light that James could see her eyes widen, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. What was he doing? She was so innocent, barely out in society, and he had only met her that morning. He dropped his hand as though the lock of hair burned him.
    “I must get back before anyone misses me,” she said, sounding confused.
    Indeed she must. If anyone found them here alone in near darkness…
    He stood and extended a hand to help her rise. “Come, I’ll show you a door into a different part of the castle,” he said. “If anyone notices how long you were gone, you can simply say you became lost trying to find your way back from the ladies’ retiring room.”
    She laughed softly. “I almost couldn’t find my room after visiting the library earlier today. This castle is a perfect maze.”
    “It’s often so in houses that have been added on to and improved upon over the centuries,” he said as he led her toward the door. “Orchard Park is very nearly as large, but since my father had it built all at once, it’s much more difficult to lose one’s way. Here.” He tested the door to make sure it was unlocked. “I believe this leads into the library. Can you find your way from here?”
    “I can. Thank you, Lord Selsley. You’re—you are very kind.”
    He shook his