From Ruin to Riches. Louise Allen

common sense surfaced. Fate would not rescue her so simply from the consequences of her own folly. ‘Your relatives will never accept it.’

      Besides, with the wedding her name would be known to all and sundry... But Prior is quite common and Julia is not my first name. Lord Dereham seems to live fairly retired, this would not be a major society wedding to be mentioned in the newssheets. If I can ask him not to place an announcement, there is no reason to think it would ever be noticed in Wiltshire.

      ‘My relatives will have no choice but to accept it. I am of age, no one can suggest I am not in my right mind. They will be present at the wedding—along with my man of law and any number of respectable witnesses. You will not be dependent upon them in any way. Only the land is entailed, so the income will be yours to spend as you wish until my death is finally pronounced. Then you will have the use of the Dower House for life and a very generous annuity in my will.’

      ‘You would give me all this? I am ruined, an outcast from the only relatives I have. I have no material resources to bring to the marriage—not a penny in dowry.’

      Arthur and Jane will not seek for me, they will simply be glad I am gone, she told herself. Would they even hear of Jonathan’s death? He was a distant relative, she had left no identification in the inn. Perhaps they would think he had simply disappeared along with the money they had no doubt paid him to remove her.

      ‘I am not giving you anything.’ The amber eyes were predatory as they narrowed on her face. He knew she was weakening as a hunter knew when the prey began to falter. Again the sense of his power swept over her, the feeling that she could not resist him. ‘I am purchasing your expertise and your silence.’

      ‘People will talk, wonder where on earth I have come from. What will we tell them?’

      ‘Nothing.’ He had heard the capitulation in her voice, she realised, and he was right: she would do this if she could, snatch at this miracle. All that remained were the practicalities. Julia took an unthinking gulp of wine. ‘Think of some story—or let them speculate to their hearts’ content on where we met.

      ‘There is little time to waste. I had asked you to stay a week, but I have seen enough, I know you will be perfect for this. Fortunately the Archbishop of Canterbury is in the vicinity—he is staying with his godson, the Marquess of Tranton. I can obtain a special licence with no trouble and we will be married the day after tomorrow.’ He stood up. ‘Say yes and I will drive over tomorrow and see the vicar on the way back.’

      Say yes, say yes and accept this miracle. What should she do?