Free Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady by Louise Allen

Rafe, but at least he was not cross with her. She let him tuck her hand under his elbow as they began to walk again.
    ‘His father, my Uncle Clarence, who died some time ago, was my father’s only brother. His widow lived in London with my father’s two sisters until she died last year. You will meet them when we go up to town next year.’
    ‘Will you not invite them to the Hall?’ Surely that would be usual, with a new wife to introduce to the family. ‘Or should we not visit them?’ She dreaded the thought, but there would be no avoiding that duty. All families with any pretensions to gentility kept up the tradition of bride visits. She glanced round as they passed under the great medieval gate arch, momentarily distracted by the pinkish stone, so very different from Suffolk plaster and brick.
    ‘They rarely travel and I imagine you would prefer to find your feet before entertaining a houseful of demanding ladies.’ Elliott put out a hand to stop her as a man went past with a basket full of salmon on his head, still dripping from the river. ‘As for going up to London before the end of the year, I do not think the Town house is in a fit state.’
    That must be an excuse. Rafe had mentioned his London home; he could hardly have been living in squalor. Presumably Elliott did not want her exposed to his relatives until she had acquired some of the polisha viscountess required, or he was embarrassed because her pregnancy would show by then.
    It was lowering that he was ashamed of her, but, under the circumstances, hardly unexpected. And perhaps he had his mistress in London, another lowering thought. Fashionable marriages accommodated such unsavoury realities, she knew. She must learn to accept it and not embarrass Elliott with her provincial attitudes.
    ‘Very well, Elliott.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw him give her a quizzical look, but he did not challenge this meekness. ‘Then your relatives at the Dower House are on your mother’s side?’
    ‘Yes. Great-Aunt Alice is my mother’s older sister, Lady Abbotsbury, and Dorothy her unmarried daughter. There are three other daughters, all married and living some distance away. I expect you will soon make acquaintances in the area.’
    ‘Is local society congenial?’ The thought of new friends, probing and becoming intimate, was unsettling. They would be more people to hide the truth from.
    They were back at the Royal Oak and the carriage was waiting. ‘Congenial? I hardly know. They came to the funeral, of course, and made duty condolence calls, but I cannot say I know any of them.’
    ‘But surely you know the neighbourhood very well?’ Bella settled back against the squabs, thankful for the physical comfort after the aching misery of the stage the day before.
    ‘I have not lived at the Hall since I went to university.’
    ‘But you must have visited frequently?’
    ‘No.’ It seemed he had not intended to expand on thatmonosyllable, but the surprise must have shown on her face. ‘My mother died just before I went up and then my father had a hunting accident while I was at Oxford. I assumed Rafe would want me to manage the estate—he had no taste for that kind of thing and had made it plain often enough that it bored him. But it appeared he felt more…territorial about it than I had foreseen.’
    ‘He rejected your offer of help?’
    ‘He accused me of wanting to take over, usurp his position in local society. For some reason he appeared to find me a threat. I was young enough to be hurt, and for that to appear as temper. We had a blazing row, I punched him on his very beautiful nose—you may have noticed the slight bump—and that was that. We hardly exchanged a civil word for eight years and I was persona non grata at the Hall.’
    ‘How awful. I cannot imagine being at odds with Lina and Meg. And you were both very young—if only you had been reconciled later.’ How strange of Rafe. Surely he would have welcomed a brother’s help