Proposals in Regency Society: Make-Believe Wife / The Homeless Heiress. Anne Herries

to see what you have become.’

      ‘Perhaps had they lived I might have been otherwise.’

      ‘Are you blaming me? Impudent pup!’ The earl’s eyes darkened with temper. ‘Well, sir, I have done with you. It was in my mind to make you my sole heir, for although the estate is entailed, the patent allows the title to pass through the female line and my fortune is my own to dispose of as I wish. However, I have a cousin who would restore both honour and fortune to the family name.’

      ‘Horatio Harte, I presume? I wish you joy of him, sir.’ Luke’s temper was barely in check. ‘Good afternoon. I shall not trouble you with my presence again.’

      ‘I did not give you leave to go.’

      ‘Yet I believe I shall. You have never liked me, sir. I have done things of which I am not particularly proud, but I am not the rogue you think me.’

      ‘Come back here!’ The earl’s voice rose petulantly. ‘You will hear me out. I shall give you one more chance, but you must marry a decent girl—one with perfect manners who knows how to behave in good society. I need an heir I can be proud of before I die.’

      Luke turned at the door, denial on his lips. He would marry when and whom he wished and meant to say so, but even as he began the earl made a choking sound and sank slowly to his knees before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

      ‘Grandfather! Someone, give me some help in here.’

      Luke rushed to his grandfather’s side. Rolling him on his back, he saw that his colour was slightly blue and acted swiftly in untying the tight starched cravat at his neck. He felt for a pulse and discovered a faint beat and yet his grandfather did not appear to be breathing. He was for a moment unsure of what to do for the best; then, recalling something he had once witnessed a vet do for the foal of an important mare, he opened his grandfather’s mouth and made sure there was no obstruction in the throat. Then he pinched the earl’s nostrils and breathed into his mouth. Luke repeated the action three times and noticed that a more natural colour had returned, though he had no idea if his actions had helped.

      A voice spoke from behind him. ‘He has had one of his attacks, my lord. He will recover in a moment.’

      ‘He just keeled over. I thought he was dead or dying.’

      ‘Milord has had one or two close calls, sir. Nasty little attacks that the doctor can’t quite make out.’

      ‘Why was I not told?’ Luke rose to his feet. The colour was back in the earl’s cheeks now.

      ‘He did not wish to bother you, sir.’

      ‘The stubborn fool—’ Luke began and stopped as he heard a sound. The earl had his eyes open. He was staring up at them.

      ‘Don’t just stand there, fool. Help me up, Marshall.’

      ‘You should have told me you were ill, Grandfather.’

      ‘Stuff and nonsense! It is nothing. As you see, I am perfectly fine now.’

      Luke and the butler helped him to his feet and assisted him to a sturdy mahogany elbow chair. Luke felt his body trembling and realised how thin and frail his grandfather had become. When had this happened? Why had he not noticed?

      ‘Forgive me, sir. Had I known you were ill…’

      ‘What? Would you have mended your ways?’ The elderly man’s eyes gleamed. ‘Want to make amends, eh? You know my terms. Get yourself wed and give me an heir.’

      ‘I am sorry you are ill, but I shall not make a promise I cannot keep. However, I will promise not to become so drunk that I do not recall with whom or where I go to bed.’

      ‘Not enough,’ the earl growled. ‘Leave me to Marshall and come back when you have a wife.’

      ‘Grandfather, that is unfair,’ Luke protested, for he was genuinely upset by the news of the earl’s ill health.

      ‘Unless you oblige me I shall not leave you a penny—and, what’s more, I’ll tell the lawyers to cut the allowance you receive from your paternal grandfather’s fortune.’

      ‘You cannot do that, sir. I have commitments…’

      ‘To your mistress, I suppose? Well, the choice is yours, Luke. The terms of the Marquis’s will state that I can limit your income until you are thirty if I so choose. I have never done so, but now I shall make a change. I need an heir soon, Luke—and I want you to give me a grandson. Marry well and everything will be as it was. Turn your back on me now and you’ll find yourself short in the pocket. Show me that you intend to settle down and make me proud of you.’

      Luke hesitated, a grim set to his mouth. Had he not just witnessed his grandfather’s collapse he would have told him to go to the devil and bought himself a pair of colours while he still had the money. Yet despite his harsh words, there was something vulnerable about the earl, something that made Luke realise that deep within him he cared what happened to the old devil.

      ‘I must have time to think this over, sir.’

      ‘Yes, of course, and to find a suitable girl—but do not take too long, Luke. I may not have more than a year or so left to me.’

      Luke inclined his head and left, feeling his temper surge as he curled his nails into the palms of his hand. He ought to walk out and never return. The lawyers would probably tell him that the earl was lying through his teeth—yet if it were the truth Luke would be in trouble.

      He had made a promise to his best friend and nothing would make him break it.

Chapter One

      Roxanne glanced back over her shoulder, listening for the sounds of pursuit, but all she could hear were birds calling one to the other as they flitted between the trees and the occasional snuffle of a small animal in the undergrowth. The woods themselves held no fear for her, but she was afraid of being made to return to the camp.

      She had been walking for hours without stopping, but now she was hungry. She was fairly certain that no one had followed her. It must be safe now to stop and eat some of the food she had packed. Placing her larger bundle on the ground, Roxanne spread her shawl on the dry earth and sat down, opening the cloth that carried her bread, cheese and the preserved fruit she had brought with her. Sofia had always kept a jar of dried fruits on her shelf, because she said figs, dates and apricots were good to eat in the winter when they could not pick fruit from the hedgerows.

      She missed Sofia so much! Her friend’s sad death had left her alone and in fear of the future. She had no one who cared for her and no one to care for. She was not sure which felt the worst, because she had enjoyed caring for her friend in her last months when she became too feeble to care for herself.

      Blinking away her tears, Roxanne rose to her feet and gathered her bundles. Sofia had been one of a band of travelling players, almost a mother to her, and she had given Roxanne so much, even her name.

      ‘If anything happens to me you should go to London,’ Sofia had told her only a few days before she died. ‘You are a fine actress, my love. You could find fame and fortune—and perhaps marry a man of substance and be the lady I believe you truly are.’

      Roxanne had begged her not to talk of dying, tears stinging her eyes, but after her death it had become clear that Roxanne could not stay with the band of travelling players with whom she had lived for the past five years. She was in danger and her only choice was to run away before he returned to the camp.

      She had made up her mind that she would get to London if she could, though it would mean walking for many days, perhaps weeks. Before she reached the great city, she would need to find work for a few days to earn her food.

      Lost in thought, she was startled as she heard a loud cry and then a horse came crashing through the trees towards her. It was saddled, but without a rider, its reins hanging loose,