The Perfect Bride. Brenda Joyce

for him to court her. She hadn’t, and she had said as much, but when Bess had an idea, she was like a terrier with a bone. Clearly, Bess intended to send Blanche to Cornwall on a wild-goose chase—and arrange a match with Sir Rex.

      Her heart lurched wildly. She stared at Sir Rex, stunned. He might need a wife, but they had nothing in common! Yes, he needed additional income, and he was very attractive, but he was wedded to his Cornish lands. And he certainly wasn’t interested in her as a possible spouse—he’d had eight years to come forward, if that were the case. What was Bess thinking?

      And why was her heart galloping madly—why was she so stricken?

      He didn’t even like ladies; he liked solitude and housemaids.

      “Are you beginning to believe there has been a mistake?” Sir Rex asked her quietly.

      She managed a bright smile. She couldn’t reveal to Sir Rex that her best friend had conspired to send her to him by falsely implying she owned the neighboring estate! On the other hand, he’d laugh uproariously if he knew Bess thought to throw them at one another. Wouldn’t he?

      She should laugh! Shouldn’t she?

      “Lady Harrington?” He clasped her shoulder, steadying her.

      She forced the words, stiffening now. His hand was large, warm and firm. It was unyielding, like the man. “It seems the title might be as bungled as you believe.”

      “A dead man cannot purchase a manor, and apparently the Bury family has owned Penthwaithe for years,” he said very seriously, studying her very closely. “You are distressed.”

      I am very distressed, she thought, and when I see Bess, I intend to set her straight. “The logic is inescapable, then, there has been a mix-up,” Blanche somehow agreed. A mix- up and a misunderstanding, she thought.

      A match between her and Sir Rex? It was madness, sheer madness!

      Except, Bess Waverly was one of the most astute women Blanche knew.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      JOHNSON WAS GLANCING rapidly between them now.

      Blanche had almost forgotten his presence. She turned to soothe him, relieved by the distraction. “We are not agents for Lord Bury, Mr. Johnson. And apparently, I do not own this estate.”

      He sagged with relief. “I do not mean to deny Lord Bury. But I got five children to feed!”

      “I understand.”

      “If you see his lordship, please tell him I’m workin’ as hard as I can,” he cried.

      “I have never met Lord Bury, but if you wish, I will seek him out in London and plead your case,” Blanche said, meaning it.

      Johnson seemed incredulous. “Could ye, please?”

      Blanche nodded. “I am more than happy to help.”

      “Good day,” Rex said firmly, lightly clasping Blanche’s arm and glancing closely at her. As she walked beside him down the stone path to the coach, she glanced back to see Johnson and his boys staring after them. She waved. They paused beside her coach.

      “Are you all right?” he asked.

      She made up her mind; she shook her head. “I am never well when confronted with those who are so needy.”

      “I can see that.” he added, “Most of the families in the parish are impoverished.”

      “So that makes it acceptable?” she asked frankly, their gazes locked.

      “I did not say that. What do you wish to do?”

      “If you do not mind, I wish to proceed to the village. And there, I wish to purchase provisions for them. Johnson seems sincere. Maybe with a little help, he can get Penthwaithe on its feet.” She was distressed for the Johnson family, but kept calm, smiling at Sir Rex instead. “As his landlord is hardly helping by collecting the last of his funds for rent.”

      Sir Rex stared as if he knew some anger lurked beneath her facade. “That is what landlords do, Lady Harrington.”

      “Not all landlords,” she said seriously. “Would you collect Penthwaithe’s rents?”

      He stiffened. “No, I would not.”

      Blanche hadn’t thought so.

      “My program is different from that of most landlords. I have actually deferred rents frequently, as I prefer to see the farms thrive. In the long term, everyone benefits from such a program. The farms prosper, the tenants can pay rents and I can receive them.”

      “Your policy is impressive.” She hadn’t realized he was such a benevolent landlord.

      “It is logical.” He hesitated. “And apparently we share some common ground. You are distressed by the plight of the Johnson family. I am often distressed by the same circumstance, which unfortunately, one encounters everywhere in the parish—and in most of Cornwall. But charity only goes so far. Our poorer families need more than charity—they need livelihoods.”

      She stared directly into his dark eyes, which she realized were flecked with gold. Sir Rex was a compassionate man. She knew many noblemen and women who were indifferent to the plight of those less fortunate than themselves.

      “Most ladies of the ton lack such compassion,” he added. “They are too involved in their own vanities.”

      She hesitated. How odd, they had been thinking almost the same thing. He was right—very right—but she wasn’t about to condemn all London noblewomen. “That is a broad indictment.”

      “Yes, it is,” he agreed with a slight smile. “Have no fear, I am not asking you to agree with me—you would never throw stones at your friends.”

      “No, I should never do so.”

      His regard was oddly warm. “I admire your compassion, Lady Harrington, not just for the Johnsons, but for the war veterans.” He hesitated. “I am not sure I have said so. It equals your generous nature.”

      Blanche was surprised. Sir Rex had never offered such flattery before. “You are being far too kind.”

      “I think not. Let’s make those purchases. I can help you with them, if you wish.” He smiled at her.

      He became a very attractive man when he smiled, she thought uneasily. “Sir Rex, I am somewhat involved with the Johnsons, but you are not. Please, I can manage to provide a few necessities for them.” She was certain he could not afford to indulge in the luxury of more charity.

      His smile vanished, as if he knew she did not care for him to spend his modest resources on Penthwaithe’s tenants. “I am glad to contribute. I’ll have Fenwick drive the stores over and we can be back at Bodenick in time for a late dinner.” He was firm.

      Blanche nodded. He was clearly determined to show her that he was generous, but she already suspected he was just that in spite of his modest estate. Why had he flattered her? He wasn’t a gallant and he did not flirt. And why was she pleased? She was used to flattery and flirtation. She could not enter a salon without some rogue accosting her with his mundane, insincere praise.

      Following Rex to the coach, she stole a glance at his strong, classic profile. There was more to this man than met the eye. He was reclusive and he did drink a bit freely, but she could not condemn him for such behavior, as he was industrious, resourceful, honest and astute. It was not as if he wasted his life away; to the contrary, his life was filled with improvements and accomplishments.

      She had always been somewhat aware of him. He had a charisma, and whenever he was present and she entered a salon, she had noticed him instantly. She had never thought about it, but now, she wondered if she had always instinctively liked him. He certainly had a strength of character which she found attractive in a man. He was the kind of man one could undoubtedly depend on.

      He