her spirited, yet vulnerable, countenance tended to
unsettle his customarily steady nerves, “I believe we may be of use
to each other. If I did not, I would not have come. Yet I fear
accommodation between us is unlikely to be smooth. This is your
home, your land. This fantastical husband-hunt was entirely your
idea. Therefore, it is you who must choose, so let us be quite
clear.”
Thomas crossed his arms, turning as stern and
serious as she had yet seen him. “If you marry me, I promise I will
slay your dragons, then return to my own life, allowing you
complete—within reason—” he qualified, “freedom to run Pevensey
Park as you choose. But when we are together, you will give me the
respect due a husband, including riding in any vehicle I should
provide—”
“ But we are not yet
married—”
“ Blast it, woman! Will you get into the
chaise or not?”
A closed carriage. A small closed carriage
with only two seats. He actually expected her to show herself to
her tenants in such an intimate posture? It was as good as a
declaration . . .
Fool! Was that
not exactly what she wanted? A man of strength and intelligence was
poised to enter the lives of everyone at Pevensey Park. His advent
would affect most of those in the village of Lower Peven as well.
There was no longer a need for secrecy. To escape the rule of her
Trevor relatives, she would marry Thomas Lanning even if he were
the devil himself.
Head erect, her back ramrod straight, Miss
Aurelia Trevor allowed Mr. Lanning to hand her into the postchaise.
He climbed in after her, giving the postboys the office to start.
As the chaise began to move, Aurelia sank bank into the far corner
of the leather squabs, wondering, quite rightly, into what
impossible imbroglio she had just thrown herself. In London, Mr.
Thomas Lanning had been the man with whom she was negotiating a
lifetime contract. Aloof, competent—but unable, or unwilling, to
hide his condescending amusement. Yet he was a man who met all her
requirements and was, astonishingly, pleasing to both eye and ear.
When he visited Pevensey Park, she had thought to have a leisurely
opportunity to advance their acquaintance, discuss the pros and
cons of their proposed alliance.
But now, with no further explorations
of their respective characters, their family backgrounds, or
current problems, they were well and truly betrothed. Miss Aurelia
Trevor of Pevensey Park, bound to a chameleon who changed his coat
to match his audience. A man who slipped from dragonslayer to
conciliatory idiot to . . . obsequious Cit; then, from one step to the next,
turned back to knight errant, cutting a broad swath through her
open-mouthed relatives. Yet for herself, he had not a single gentle
word that was not part and parcel of his theatrical performance.
Not even the simple good manners of understanding that she, an
unmarried female of good family could not ride alone with him in a
closed carriage.
Relia peeped at her betrothed, who was
staring straight ahead, quite as if she were not there. Even his
profile was distinguished—if, of course, such a word could be used
to describe a Cit. Fortunately, he seemed to understand his place
among the landed hierarchy of Kent—quite at the bottom of the
barrel—even though he was, alas, all too stubbornly male regarding
relations with his wife. This could be a problem, but, as Gussie
kept reminding her, she had made her bed and must now lie in
it.
A most unfortunate
thought! Relia felt a hot blush rushing straight up
from her toes to her face. Indeed, her whole body was blushing.
Hastily, she turned her head away, hoping to hide behind the
all-too-small brim of her bonnet.
“ Which way?” Mr. Lanning inquired,
seemingly indifferent to his betrothed’s disturbed emotions. “We
are at the end of the drive. Which way do you wish to
go?”
Miss Trevor responded, soon finding herself
caught up in extolling the virtues of the many enterprises at
Pevensey Park, where, as she