His Unsuitable Viscountess. Michelle StylesЧитать онлайн книгу.
an irrational dislike to the Reverend Forecastle.’
‘Enough to marry someone to spite him? I doubt it.’
Ben watched the crown of her head. Her bravery impressed him, but he also wanted to touch her hair. His desire to kiss her had grown, not diminished. Most unexpected. He desired her. ‘You want the truth?’
Her grey eyes met his. ‘I find it best. You could marry anyone. Why me? Why now?’
How to answer her? He could hardly explain about the spark and his desire to pursue it. It remained far too new and tenuous. In any case, this marriage was not about desire or romance; it was about the possibility of companionship and duty. A new start—one in which he’d atone for old mistakes. He didn’t want to make false promises.
He pushed the unwelcome thoughts away and concentrated on the apple tree behind her.
‘Like you, duty drives me. In this case my mother has impressed upon me the necessity of marriage. I need a wife. You need a husband. It is quite simple. For my part, it solves a multitude of problems which show every sign of increasing rather than diminishing.’
‘Things are never that simple.’ Her brow furrowed as if she was trying to find a hidden flaw.
‘I’m a widower, Miss Blackwell,’ Ben said slowly. ‘I loved my wife, but she died before we had children. I have an heir in Viv but my mother keeps pressing me to marry. Her demands are growing in strength with each passing year.’
‘And you listen to your mother? You hardly seem the type.’
Ben paused. After her revelations, she deserved an explanation. She didn’t need to know about Alice, or the way she’d died. All that was in the past. However, he could explain about what drove his mother.
‘My father died before I was born. Mama devoted her life to raising me. Within reason I try to listen to her. And each year the season has become more intolerable as she artfully arranges for me to meet more eligible young women. Each year the age gap grows and I find less and less in common with her protégées.’
‘Why don’t you tell her to let you choose your own bride in your own time?’
He captured Miss Blackwell’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘You are very alike in your determination. Do your employees say no to you after all you have done for them?’
She withdrew her hand and moved away from him, turning her back on him. Her black dress hung limply about her body, emphasising her slender angularity and the straightness of her back. Ben found it impossible to discern what she was thinking. Silently he willed her to accept his offer.
‘And you would agree to a settlement in which I keep control of Moles?’
‘It will be hard to do within the timeframe, but I have no objection.’
‘And you want it to be a paper marriage? If you find someone else we could part amicably. It can be done.’
‘It won’t be,’ Ben said shortly. He tore his mind away from the past. There would never be another woman like Alice. He wasn’t looking for that heady feeling. That part of his life had finished five years ago, and he knew ultimately whose fault it was.
Her cheeks went pink. ‘I am well aware that this will be a business arrangement. I want you to understand that I wouldn’t stand in your way … should it happen.’
‘Is it settled? Will you stop being stubborn?’
‘But you don’t live here. And I can’t leave Moles.’
‘That will solve another problem. Viv needs funds. I have no wish to return to Leicestershire. I will purchase his property. That should put you near enough for those times when you are needed.’
He waited. Suddenly tense. This was far removed in many ways from the manner in which he’d proposed to Alice all those years ago. Then he had laughed and kissed her. She’d asked him what had taken him so long before throwing her arms about his neck. He glanced at the apple tree in front of the office building. Funny, the apple trees had hung heavy with blossom then as well. He suspected Alice would have approved, even if this marriage was to be unorthodox.
She held out her hand. It trembled under his fingers. ‘Then I accept with gratitude. You have been more than kind, Lord Whittonstall. You have saved my company from an awful fate.’
‘Please call me Ben … as we are to be on intimate terms, Eleanor.’
Her tongue wet her lips, turning them the colour of unopened apple blossom. ‘Intimate?’ she whispered.
‘Try it.’
‘Ben.’ She gave him a level look. ‘We are speaking about a marriage on paper. I have no expectation of anything else.’
He reached out and pulled her firmly into his arms. As her body collided with his he registered the fact that she was less angular than he’d supposed. He lifted her chin slightly and regarded her face. The more he looked at her, the more he found to appreciate.
He brushed her lips with his, intending it to be a quick demonstration. But the instant his mouth encountered hers he knew that he wanted more. He gathered her more firmly in his arms and drank. She parted her lips. When his body thrummed with desire he put her away from him. They both stood there, chests heaving and blood pumping far too fast.
‘It will be a proper marriage, Eleanor. My mother expects an heir and I have no intention of denying her.’ He put two fingers to his hat. ‘Good day to you. The banns will be posted. You will meet your stepfather’s conditions.’
Eleanor wandered back into her office. The men studiously avoided her gaze, pretending interest in the ledgers and other bits of paper.
Her fingers explored her mouth. Lord Whittonstall … Ben … had kissed her in full view of everyone. Put his mark on her. She’d never dreamt a kiss could be like that. Heart-stopping. Exciting. And absolutely meaningless to him. He’d been trying to prove a point.
Eleanor hugged her arms about her waist. A real marriage. With the possibility of children. Someone to carry on after her. She’d not bargained for that. She’d never even considered it. Ever since she was fifteen she’d concentrated on Moles, and now this … the domestic side of things and all it entailed. It shook her.
She carefully closed the door behind her and glanced up to where her grandfather frowned down at her.
‘I must make a success of it, Grandfather. How hard can it be? To be a viscountess and all that entails? If I can run a company, I can do that. I have to. I’ve given my word.’
Chapter Four
Any task was much simpler when its components were written down. More straightforward, less daunting.
Eleanor surveyed her latest list—the seventeenth she’d penned since she woke. Only half-past eleven and she’d already crossed off five items. Progress at speed.
Sleep had been next to impossible, so she’d worked through the night. She’d gone over Moles’ accounts and made lists and schedules of everything that had to be done in the next few weeks. Her appointment with her solicitor was scheduled for tomorrow. His reply had arrived with the first post.
She’d already sent over an outline of what she wanted, and once she knew it was in hand she’d arrange for the banns to be posted.
Eleanor tapped her pen against the table. Could she trust Algernon to fulfil the duties of his office and read out the banns? Did she even want to be married in his church? The thought of Algernon officiating at her wedding made her nauseous. She put a big question mark beside ‘banns’ and regarded the next item: ‘find a suitable dress’.
‘What do you think you are playing at, Eleanor?’ Algernon said, pushing past Jenkins the butler and coming into the breakfast room. ‘I’m not one of your suppliers who gives you extra time to pay because