The Earl's Countess Of Convenience. Marguerite Kaye

of those is outwith the bounds of possibility.’ She resumed her study of her hands. ‘My next reason for considering your proposal is to take the burden of responsibility for the three of us from Uncle Daniel. He has—albeit through Kate—looked after us for five years, and I rather think he spent a significant amount of money paying off Papa’s debts too. We owe him a great deal—and when I say him, I mean Kate too, naturally.’

      ‘That is very admirable.’

      ‘Anyone in my position would feel the same, but honestly, Alexander, it was neither of those reasons which persuaded me to meet with you today.’ She smiled fleetingly at him. ‘My main reason is quite simple. Freedom for myself and for my sisters too. By marrying you, I’d earn my independence, and I’d be able to offer the same independence to my sisters, which is something I could never do were I to find an occupation—as a female, not only are there very few respectable careers, none of them would pay me any more than a pittance. My reward for being your wife will be the freedom to do whatever I want without having to consult anyone else or to be beholden to anyone else—provided I maintain the façade of being Lady Fearnoch, of course. You can’t imagine what that would mean to me.’

      In fact, he could imagine it very easily. It was one of the most rewarding aspects of his work, to act on his own initiative, to solve the problems he was given in whatever way he saw fit. Only once had he compromised that freedom. The price had been almost unbearable. Never again. ‘So,’ he said, firmly closing his mind to the memory, ‘how will you use that freedom?’

      Eloise shrugged, smiling. ‘I have absolutely no idea, and that in itself is so exciting I could—I could hug myself.’

      Which gave him the most absurd desire to hug her instead. It was because she might just be the perfect solution to his problem, Alexander told himself. Daniel had done him a very great favour in making this introduction. He checked his watch, then checked the clock on the mantel in astonishment. ‘I can’t believe how long we’ve been sitting here.’

      ‘Too long? Must you get back to London?’

      ‘Not a bit of it. I noticed a passable inn in the village where I can spend the night, if necessary.’ He got to his feet. ‘The only thing I’m worried about is whether it will rain, because I’m hoping that we can continue our discussions in the fresh air. That is, if you think there is merit in continuing our discussion?’

      Eloise allowed him to help her up. ‘I think we have established that we both see merit in it.’ She smiled. ‘A good deal of merit.’

      * * *

      The sky, which had been overcast when Alexander arrived at Elmswood Manor, had cleared, and now the sun was shining brightly and with some warmth.

      ‘Lovely,’ Eloise said, standing on the top step, tilting back her head and closing her eyes.

      Lovely was the very word Alexander, looking at her, would have chosen too.

      ‘Isn’t it a beautiful day?’ She smiled at him. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother fetching a pelisse. Shall we?’

      She tripped down the stairs on to the drive. Her gown fluttered in the light breeze, giving him a tantalising outline of long legs, a shapely bottom. She was not one of those willowy creatures who survived on air and water, and who were always, not surprisingly, having fainting fits. Eloise was more earthy, more real, the kind of woman who would, if she must faint, do so into a convenient chair rather than hope that some passing beau would catch her.

      She was gazing up at the house, frowning, as he joined her, and he looked up automatically to see what had piqued her interest, catching a glimpse of two female faces at a window. ‘Your sisters resuming their spying mission, I presume.’

      ‘I’m afraid so.’

      Alexander swept into an elaborate courtly bow, making Eloise giggle. One of the watching sisters had the presence of mind to drop a curtsy before dragging the other out of sight. He turned away. ‘Which direction shall we take?’

      ‘This way. There is a walled garden quite out of sight of the house.’

      He followed her, feeling slightly dazed, as if he had unexpectedly won a prize, and he wasn’t at all sure that he deserved it. Eloise’s hair was the colour of polished bronze in the daylight. Her eyes were hazel, wide-spaced under winged brows. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. It made her tawny beauty less flawless and therefore more interesting. There was a determined tilt to her chin that didn’t surprise him, now he knew her a little better, but her lips, full, sensuous, quite belied her claim to a cold nature. In fact, he knew, for he had witnessed it, that she was compassionate, and he had overwhelming evidence of her love for her sisters. It was not love which repelled her, but passion, and what little she’d told him of her parents’ marriage made her feelings entirely understandable. It should be a crime, the damage parents could do to their children.

      Eloise did not trip along taking tiny steps, nor did she try to glide, but walked with a easy gait that he had to make only a small adjustment to match. Though the matter was far from settled, for the first time since he had made the decision to take a wife, Alexander didn’t feel utterly dejected. In fact, glancing at the surprising woman walking beside him, he felt—no, not elated, that was absurd, but he really couldn’t quite believe his luck.

      The walled garden had been a crumbling ruin when Eloise and her sisters first arrived at Elmswood Manor, she informed him as they wandered around the perimeter. ‘It was my favourite place,’ she said, ‘I thought of it as my private domain, because back then the door was stuck fast and you could only get in by climbing over the wall.’

      ‘You must have been very adept at climbing. It’s at least fifteen feet.’

      ‘I told you, we grew up in the wilds of rural Ireland. There wasn’t much to do save climb hills and trees if you are not the sewing samplers sort, which I am not. I’ve always thought samplers such a waste of stitches which would be far better served making clothes.’

      ‘You are a needlewoman as well as a scaler of heights! Do you include gardening in your list of impressive attributes?’

      ‘Oh, no, that is Kate’s domain. This is her project, though all three of us helped her with the research—poring through the archives in the attics, to see what we could uncover regarding the history of the place. When Estelle found a map...’

      He listened with half an ear as they completed their circuit of the garden. Her love for her sisters was genuine and profound, her affection for Lady Elmswood evident too. ‘Are you sure leaving here won’t be too much of a wrench?’ he asked, steering her towards a convenient bench.

      ‘It will be odd, but it will be good for us all in the long run. We can’t be together for ever, huddled up like hothouse flowers.’ She sat down, staring distractedly out at the gardens, biting her lip. ‘Alexander, I have no wish to embarrass either of us, but there is a topic of a delicate nature that I feel I must raise.’

      He waited, for it was obvious from her expression that she was girding her loins.

      ‘I’ve told you that I am not—I told you that I would not consider a real marriage because that sort of—that aspect of marriage doesn’t—isn’t for me.’ Her cheeks were bright red, but she held his gaze steadfastly until he nodded. ‘But that doesn’t mean that you cannot—you might wish to find some comfort in someone else’s arms. I would not—’ She broke off, completely flustered. ‘Goodness, this is mortifying. Please, I beg you, forget what I said. Let us change the subject.’

      He happily would, but unfortunately she was in the right of it. ‘It’s better we discuss it now, don’t you think, no matter how awkward it is?’

      ‘Awkward is rather an understatement.’

      ‘Then let me see if I can make it easier for you, now that you’ve been brave enough to bring it up.’ Though how to do so, Alexander puzzled. He ought to have anticipated this, but he hadn’t, principally because it was a facet of his life that had been a closed book for almost