The Convenient Felstone Marriage. Jenni Fletcher

ran her fingers over the sumptuous material, resisting the urge to press it against her cheek. Such a gown would be a joy to wear. It also looked suspiciously new.

      ‘I recall your brother mentioning that you like grey.’

      ‘It’s lovely.’ She tore her fingers away reluctantly. ‘Your friend’s wife is very generous, but I can’t possibly accept.’

      He ignored her objection. ‘I also managed to procure an invitation for your aunt. I noticed her name wasn’t on the guest list.’

      ‘For Aunt Sophoria?’ She spun around eagerly. That was an even better present than the dress, though she’d no intention of forgiving him so easily, no matter how churlish she sounded. ‘That was very thoughtful. My aunt will enjoy herself, I’m sure, though she hardly needs me to chaperon her.’

      ‘What don’t I need, dear?’ Aunt Sophoria bustled into the room at that moment, barely visible behind a giant tea tray.

      ‘Allow me.’ Mr Felstone stooped to relieve her at once. ‘I was just telling your niece that I’ve arranged invitations for you both to the ball this evening. If you care to attend, that is.’

      ‘The ball?’ Aunt Sophoria’s face lit up instantly. ‘Well, we’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Ianthe? Do take a seat, Mr Felstone.’

      ‘Thank you, Miss Gibbs.’

      He looked around as if searching for an available seat, and Ianthe felt a smug sense of triumph, pleased for once to see him at a disadvantage. Despite the preponderance of furniture, nearly every chair was hidden beneath some form of lace-based frippery.

      ‘Allow me.’ She smiled condescendingly, uncovering a small sofa beneath a pile of cushions.

      ‘My thanks.’ He caught her eye with a flash of amusement in his own. ‘Won’t you join me?’

      The smile dropped from her face at once. Getting dressed, the thought of sitting down had somehow never occurred to her. She’d worn hoops in the past, of course, but never such a vast crinoline. Now she wondered how her aunt managed. Awkwardly, she reversed towards the opposite sofa, bending her knees slowly as she tried to make her progress look as natural as possible.

      ‘Sugar lumps!’ Her aunt’s sudden cry made her freeze halfway down.

      ‘What’s the matter, Aunt?’

      ‘I forgot the sugar lumps.’ Aunt Sophoria was already back on her feet. ‘Do pour Mr Felstone some tea, dear. I won’t be long.’

      Ianthe stared at the teapot in horror. If she offered him tea then she’d have to stand up again! She cast an anxious glance towards him, but he seemed oblivious to her distress, apparently engrossed in the porcelain figure of a small dog at his feet.

      She cleared her throat. ‘Would you care for some tea, Mr Felstone?’

      He glanced up, the shadow of a smile passing his lips. ‘I think perhaps we ought to wait for your aunt.’

      She dropped the rest of the way into her seat with an unladylike thud. What was he still doing there? He’d made his peace offering, as he called it. If he was waiting for her to forgive and forget, he could wait all day. Silently, she stared down at her hands, her fingerless, crocheted gloves folded neatly in her lap. Why couldn’t he just put her out of her misery and leave?

      ‘Miss Holt.’ His deep voice broke the silence at last. ‘Yesterday I behaved in an appalling manner. I’m afraid that my temper has a tendency to get the better of me. My apology was churlish and my proposal somewhat less than chivalrous. I beg you to forgive me.’

      She looked up again quickly, glancing towards the parlour door in alarm. She didn’t want her aunt to overhear that!

      ‘Very well. We’ll say no more about it.’

      ‘Just one more thing and I’ll be silent. Before you left, you accused me of mocking you. I assure you that I wasn’t.’

      ‘No?’ She couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice.

      ‘No. You may not think me a gentleman, but I do have some sense of decency. Why would I joke about such a thing?’

      ‘Because, as my brother so delicately observed, I’m not the kind of woman men generally propose to.’

      ‘None the less, I was quite sincere.’

      Ianthe curled her hands into fists. He sounded genuine, but he couldn’t be. More likely he was simply regretting his behaviour and attempting to cover his tracks, pretending that his proposal had been real in order to protect his reputation. It would serve him right if she said yes!

      ‘Mr Felstone...’ she pulled herself up haughtily ‘...if you’re afraid of me spreading gossip about you then I can relieve your worries at once. I assure you, I have no intention of telling anyone else about your proposal.’

      ‘I’m not worried at all. I’m quite accustomed to being talked about.’

      ‘Then if you think you’ve compromised me...’

      ‘I don’t.’

      ‘Then I don’t understand you, sir! Why would a man of fortune, apparently in full possession of his faculties, make such an offer? Unless it’s your custom to propose to complete strangers?’

      ‘It’s not my custom, as you say, to propose at all. Up until a few months ago, I’d never given the matter any thought.’

      ‘Then why...?’

      ‘I’ll be blunt, Miss Holt, since you seem to favour that approach. I’m a busy man. I like business and I like my work, but I don’t enjoy the social obligations that come with it. Lately, I’ve felt I might be better placed if I had a wife to assist me.’

      ‘So naturally you asked me?’

      ‘Naturally, I asked a woman of my acquaintance who I was led to believe would favour my suit. She didn’t. When we met on the train, I was returning from that interview. I won’t deny that injured pride played a part in my proposal to you, but I was perfectly serious. I still am. When I learned of your predicament in regard to Sir Charles, I saw an arrangement that might suit us both.’

      ‘My predicament, as you call it, is none of your business!’ she snapped. How dare he talk about her private affairs so familiarly, never mind the arrogant presumption that she needed his help! She didn’t need him or any other man to save her! She could save herself from the Baronet...just as soon as she figured out how.

      ‘I do not need rescuing, sir.’

      ‘I never said that you did.’ He sounded infuriatingly calm. ‘I’m simply offering you a solution.’

      ‘But you don’t know me!’ She sprang back to her feet, crinoline forgotten. Where was Aunt Sophoria? Surely it wasn’t so hard to find sugar lumps!

      ‘How well do any couple know each other before they marry?’

      ‘Better than this!’

      He shrugged. ‘I’m sure over time we would develop a regard for each other. You strike me as a sensible, respectable woman, and I want a respectable wife. My life has been more than eventful enough.’

      ‘Oh.’ She flinched inwardly. Sensible and respectable were good. They were what she wanted, how she strove to appear, yet somehow the words still felt like an insult. Besides, he didn’t know her at all if he thought she was sensible. Sensible women didn’t elope with their employer’s sons!

      ‘You cannot hear yourself, sir. You say that you want a sensible wife and yet your proposal is quite the opposite. Forgive me for thinking there must be some other reason behind it.’

      His lips curved in an appreciative smile. ‘It seems that I’ve underestimated you, Miss Holt. The truth is that I’m an ambitious man. Yesterday I was forced to confront certain facts about my position, or lack of it, in society. And since I cannot