The Perfect Mistress. Victoria AlexanderЧитать онлайн книгу.
persuasion to consist of nothing more than your gallant manner and charming disposition?” Veronica said mildly.
Harrison glared at his sister-in-law. “I can be quite persuasive and most charming when the occasion calls for it.”
“Harrison.” Veronica rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said?”
“Each and every one.”
“Apparently not.” Veronica leaned forward and met his gaze. “Julia Winterset is badly in need of funds. If the state of her finances was acceptable, I daresay she would never think of selling her great-grandmother’s memoirs. She is very nearly as proper as you are.” Veronica shrugged. “Or at least she used to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you have lost a husband, when without warning you find yourself completely dependent on your own resources, you have very few choices other than to take your life in your own hands. If you wish to survive.” She shook her head in a long-suffering manner, as if he were entirely too stupid to understand. “I met Lady Winterset two years ago. I have watched her since then. She has changed, grown if you will. She has become quite independent and discovered a strength of character I suspect she ever knew she had.”
Harrison glared. “If you are trying to make a point, Veronica, you are not doing it well.”
“My point is that while Lady Winterset is a woman of intellect and grace and any number of other sterling qualities, she is also desperate. Desperate women do what they must do and they do not easily succumb to fine words and charming manners.”
“Still, if she is indeed intelligent, she shall surely be reasonable as well.” Even to his own ears, the assertion sounded absurd. Women, intelligent or not, were rarely reasonable. “I have no doubt that I can convince her that making this … this rubbish public will cause her and all involved irreparable damage.”
“Talk alone will not suffice. As I see her financial circumstances, she has only two recourses open to her. As she is not averse to marriage, she can wed a man of substantial fortune—”
“Excellent, then she should do so at once.”
Veronica stared as if he had grown another head. “It’s not as easy as that. One simply doesn’t snap one’s finger and a suitable husband appears. Marriageable men with wealth and position, men like yourself, are not easy to come by.”
Harrison gasped. “Surely, you’re not suggesting I marry her?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Veronica waved away the comment. “While I have no doubt Julia meets your absurdly high standards, and you could certainly do worse although she could certainly do better, you and she would never suit.”
“Excellent, as desperate is not something I am seeking in a wife,” he snapped, ignoring an odd twinge of annoyance. “And her other recourse?”
“She has no jewels to speak of, no property aside from her house, and nothing of any value whatsoever.” She shrugged. “Therefore there is nothing she can do but sell her great-grandmother’s memoirs. She already has one publisher interested.”
“Who?”
“A Mr. Cadwallender.”
“Cadwallender? The name sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Oh, if you had met Mr. Cadwallender you’d remember. Tall, blond hair, brownish eyes with a hint of green if I recall, most dashing in appearance.”
He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I don’t care.”
“I just thought it should be mentioned.” She shrugged. “You should know what’s involved. In terms of how much charm you need to expend.”
“Very amusing.” He again drummed his fingers on the desk. “If I cannot convince her not to publish them perhaps I could offer her a reasonable sum to simply eliminate all references to my father.”
“Reasonable?”
“Outrageous then.” He thought for a moment. “Better yet, I could buy them myself.”
“And they will never see the light of day?”
“Never,” he said grimly. Indeed, once the memoirs were in his possession, they would be destroyed.
Veronica narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know that she would like that.”
“Nonetheless, once they were mine she would have no say in the matter.”
“No, of course not.” Veronica sighed. “And I think her concern at the moment is more about her finances than preserving her ancestor’s adventures. That’s that then.” Veronica gathered her things, rose to her feet, and adjusted the tilt of her hat—a truly obnoxious concoction of indiscernible things that might have been alive at one time. Harrison stood to escort her to the door. “I have other matters to attend to today so I shall take my leave.”
“Veronica.” He circled the desk. “I am most grateful to you for coming to me with this.”
“Harrison, while our connection is tentative at best, you are still Charles’s brother and he was quite fond of you. And I am quite fond of your father. While I do think he would be rather amused by the public airing of an affair he had in his youth, I fear the outrage of his responsible son would cause him undue concern. I told you of this for him, not for you.”
“Regardless of your motives, you still have my gratitude.”
She studied him for a moment. “Will there ever come a day when you approve of me?”
“I don’t disapprove of you.” And indeed he didn’t disapprove of Veronica, only her manner.
“But you don’t like me.”
“Nonsense.” He scoffed. “I don’t dislike you. You are my late brother’s wife and you made him happier than I had ever seen him.” He forced a smile. “How could I possibly dislike you?”
“That is what I have always wondered. I am quite easy to like, you know.” She started for the door. “Many people do.”
He chuckled. “I have no doubt of that.”
She glanced back at him. “And now your smile is genuine. It’s a very nice smile, Harrison, when you mean it. You should mean it more often.”
“Veronica.”
She paused. “Yes?”
“I am curious. I have wealth and position and I am not unattractive. Indeed, I am considered something of a catch. Why do you think Lady Winterset and I would not suit?”
“Goodness, I thought it was obvious. While I suppose Julia might suit you—”
He snorted.
“—you would not suit her at all.” She shook her head. “You live in a world of right and wrong, proper and improper, black and white. There is no compromise in your life, no shades of gray if you will. Charles bemoaned that fact about you. He often said, ‘If Harry’”—Harrison winced at the name—“‘would try not to be so perfect all the time, perhaps he could find a little enjoyment in life.’”
Harrison frowned. “I find a great deal of enjoyment in life.”
She ignored him. “‘Perhaps he might even have a little fun.’”
“I frequently have fun.”
“‘Perhaps he might even find a wife. He is a handsome devil after all.’ Charles’s words, not mine,” she hastened to add.
“I am looking for a wife.”
“‘A wife,’ he would say, ‘who would bring joy to his days and not merely credit to his name.’” She cast him an overly sweet smile. “Like his brother did.”
“I