The Substitute Countess. Lyn Stone

the fire he had seen in her, he figured she would be anything but boring.

      Jack rarely met a woman he didn’t like, even the guileful ones with nefarious schemes to trap him. Now the shoe was on the other foot, but he knew well all the means of avoiding the nuptial noose should this girl try to use them. He meant to marry her even should it require employing a bit of guile himself. She needed charming and he could do that.

      “Aside from your employer’s unwelcome attention, how did you like being a governess? Was the work more difficult than expected?” he asked, assuming his most genial tone. He knew women liked questions about themselves.

      “Impossible,” she replied. “The boys were too old for it. What They needed was a male tutor.”

      “Or a lion tamer with a whip and chair?”

      She laughed and Jack joined her, releasing some of the tension between them. He continued. “Like their father, eh? They had no discipline from that quarter, I’d wager.”

      She sobered immediately. “None. He lacked even self-discipline. This was not the first time he behaved so abominably, but I’m certainly glad it is the last. I might have managed by myself, but you certainly were a great help. Thank you for the rescue.”

      Jack was not all that surprised Orencio had made advances. Laurel was a fetching little thing, even in that dowdy garb of a governess.

      She had handled the issue more than once, so she said. While that was admirable for an innocent with no worldly experience, it might not have turned out so well this time if he hadn’t interfered. It gave him a good feeling to know he had saved her from ruin and she seemed properly grateful for it.

      Jack didn’t think it would be much of a sacrifice to marry her, assume her fortune and secure his future. And hers, too, of course. She deserved to be treated decently, especially after being dealt with in such a cavalier manner all her life. There was no reason whatsoever that they shouldn’t both profit from such an alliance.

      He might not become the best husband she could have chosen, given his rough upbringing and checkered past, but she would be a countess. That had to appeal to her more than scrubbing floors in a nunnery the rest of her life or herding a passel of spoiled Spanish brats while fending off their lecherous father.

      He admitted feeling a certain affinity for her already, probably because they really were cousins. Very distant cousins, he reminded himself. The girl had grit and he really admired that in anyone.

      They should get on rather well unless she somehow discovered his motive. He had to make sure she did not. At least not until after the marriage. Even then, he would not want her to know. A trifle dishonest, perhaps, but he would not like to see the accusation in her eyes or the death of trust.

      They spoke little more until they reached the coastal town of La Coruña where he had reserved rooms.

      “Here we are, Coz,” he told her. It couldn’t hurt, reminding her of their familial relationship as often as possible in order to further her trust in him.

      He helped her down, careful to offer no suggestion of interest in her body while his hands were on her waist. A tiny waist, cinched rather firmly, he noted. His hands ached to explore more of her, but he knew self-control and gentlemanly behavior were the keys to this prize.

      She clutched her bag with both arms and glanced wide-eyed around the dooryard of the inn.

      “We’ll stay the night here and board the ship first thing in the morning. That way we can have a good meal, a hot bath and sleep in beds that don’t rock with the waves. We’ll be at sea for days and will surely miss those comforts.”

      “I know nothing about ships or sailing,” she declared.

      “Then I’ll see you never take the wheel,” he quipped. He handed the horse off to a scruffy young ostler who stood waiting. “Is something amiss?” he asked her.

      She bit her bottom lip as she looked up at him. “Shouldn’t I have a chaperone if we’re to stay the night here?”

      “Have you the money to hire someone?” he asked.

      “I have never had money of my own. Could you…?”

      He feigned a sheepish expression. “I have enough for our rooms and our passage,” he admitted. Quite enough, in fact. “But my funds are limited until I return and assume the title.” Limited to what Hobson had given him, which was an ample amount indeed.

      He didn’t exactly lie, he reasoned. Not his fault if she assumed he was nearly broke. He took her bag from her and escorted her inside. “Not to worry, little Coz. We’ll make do, just the two of us.”

      He could seduce her tonight to ensure she would agree to marry, but that would define him as an opportunist. He certainly was that, but did not want her to see him in that light. Better to act as honorably as he knew how.

      When they entered the inn, he ordered a substantial meal, and they retired to the one private area set aside for dining. Jack lifted his tankard and wondered how to begin conversing with the sheltered heiress about her future.

      She didn’t wait for him to start. “Tell me of our family, Cousin Worth. Oh, I forget what’s proper.” She winced prettily at her faux pas. “I should address you as Lord Elderidge.”

      “I told you that Jack will do,” he said with a short laugh. “I’m so unused to the title and it sounds so strange, I might not answer to it.”

      “Then you may call me Laurel if you like. Now tell me, how are we related through our fathers?”

      “We share a great-great-grandfather.” He set the tankard down carefully and smoothed out the tablecloth with the flat of his hand. “Apparently our great-grandfathers were brothers, yours the elder. Their sire was the fourth Earl of Elderidge. Since your father’s passing, I am the only living male descendent, hence the heir.”

      She shook her head. “I still can hardly believe it. Who would have thought? And what of my mother? I have been told nothing of her except that she passed away before I was sent to Spain.” Laurel smiled sadly, staring off into the distance. “Yet it seems I remember her. Small things, you know? The scent of her, her voice…”

      “Wishful dreams, no doubt, and perfectly understandable. Unfortunately, she died when you were born. The story is not a happy one, I fear.” He drew in a deep breath and began to repeat all that Hobson had told him about her parents.

      When he had finished, he drank the remainder of his ale, avoiding her eyes, allowing her time to digest what he had related. She obviously trusted him now, and there was no doubt left in her eyes. The girl was an open book, there for the reading. Her naïveté troubled him, even if it did work to his advantage.

      Jack had more to say and needed to get it said. He had only days to accomplish what he must. Might as well be blunt, he reasoned, so he simply stated it without preamble. “We should marry, Laurel.”

      She almost choked on her wine. “What?”

      Jack wondered what devil urged him to shock her out of that overly tranquil demeanor of hers and stoke the hidden fire he knew was there.

      He cleared his throat and looked away, staring unseeing, at the doorway. “Look, I should have waited, made better arrangements beforehand, but when I learned of you, I felt this great need to come and bring you home, to offer you my protection.” He shook his head. “Familial duty seemed paramount at the time, above sensible preparation.”

      “Preparation?” Though she appeared a bit rattled, he watched her draw on some inner calm and reserve that he almost envied. And somehow craved to dispel.

      “Yes, well, we are to travel together now. As you pointed out, the two of us alone, with no female to accompany you, either here or onboard the ship. I have realized that once we reach England, your reputation will be in tatters unless we are wed.”

      “That’s absurd!” Now her color was high, her spirit almost showing