Never Fall for your Fiancée, page 11
“She’s practically her mother and has been since their useless father left them to fend for themselves five years ago!” Hugh was still angry about that, too.
“That’s very noble of her and a dreadful travesty to be sure— but how exactly does that help you?”
“It doesn’t.”
“You employed Minerva to do a job, not rescue her and her family.”
“I’m not rescuing anyone.”
“Really? From where I’m standing, it seems as if Minerva has developed some sort of a hold on you which has diverted you from your purpose.”
“What utter rot! I am neither rescuing Minerva nor infatuated by her.” Although they had shared a moment just before Sarah ruined his day. A strange, charged, wonderful moment when she had looked into his eyes and he found himself drowning in hers. Happily drowning in hers. Surely that was only curiosity? And perhaps a healthy dose of lust?
“Did I mention anything about infatuation?”
Damn!
Before Giles had a field day with his friend’s unfortunate choice of word, Hugh nipped it in the bud. “You insinuated it. Do not deny it. I can read you like a book.”
“I am delighted to hear it. Actually falling for your fake fiancée would be an utter disaster— one that would only end in catastrophe. You are in grave danger, old boy, of starting to care about her feelings.”
“Balderdash.” Hugh brushed it away, trying to ignore the way Giles’s warning set his mind reeling. “I am simply trying to keep everyone happy in order to get on with the job in hand. And clearly failing.” Hugh felt his heart race, adding panic to the seething cauldron of uncomfortable emotions churning in his gut, because he did care about Minerva’s feelings. “To be honest, I’m at my wits’ end!”
“Then put your foot down!” His friend took a huge bite of cake and waved his fork at Hugh. “Sometimes you are too nice for your own good.”
“Nice?” That was almost as bad as “infatuated.”
“Yes. Nice. That’s why you have reached the end of your tether.” The fork wafted in the air. Hugh considered snatching it out of his hand and stabbing it into Giles’s forehead. “You spend far too much time pussyfooting around others rather than putting them in their place. Which ironically is what got you into this ridiculous predicament in the first place. You should have told your mother to stop interfering in your life . . . but, no! You created a convoluted buffer to avoid the confrontation. You’d be a fool to avoid it this time. Stop allowing Minerva to pander to Vee. Demand your money’s worth! I’m sure you can do it subtly if that’s more palatable to your namby-pamby sensibilities. You’re a charming fellow and a rich one. Engage a chaperone for the chit and send the pair of them to stay in your house in Mayfair. Vee will be safely supervised in one of Berkeley Square’s finest houses, Minerva will be placated and able to focus solely on the role of your fiancée, and if the gods are in your favor, a miracle will occur and your mother will sail back to Boston none the wiser.”
As a plan, it made sense. Miss Venus Merriwell was the weakest link. And he wanted to punch Giles in his annoyingly smug face for being right again. “How can you eat more cake now?”
“I’m starving.” The fork jabbed again. “But cease trying to change the subject, because I will not allow it. Vee’s emotions are too close to the surface and her efforts at pretending to be a lady fall woefully short.”
“I know.”
“Then the time for avoidance is done. You are master of this house. Be masterful, Hugh! You know I’m right.”
“I know!” Yet it didn’t make him want to pummel his irritating friend any less.
“Splendid.” The last piece of cake disappeared into Giles’s mouth. “I’ll ride on ahead with the girls and Loony Lucretia and you find a way to hang back with Minerva.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. She really is useless on a horse.” Another thing he was irrationally furious about. Who couldn’t sit on a blasted horse, for pity’s sake?
Some sort of truce had occurred by the time they rejoined the ladies in the stable yard. Lucretia was standing awkwardly on the opposite side of the cobbles with Diana, while Minerva and Vee sat together on a bench. It was obvious the youngest Merriwell had been crying, but once again her sister had managed to placate her, judging by her overbright smile as he and Giles approached. She nudged Vee, who looked miserably up at Hugh with watery eyes. “I apologize, Lord Fareham. I overreacted.”
“Apology accepted.” Despite his own black mood, he still felt sorry for the girl. He remembered that age only too well. It had been a horrible, confusing time filled with pimples, and he had only suffered through the traumatic loss of one parent, not both of them. “You’ll feel better after a good gallop across the fields.” As would he. Not that he could, thanks to her vexing older sister and the awkward conversation that couldn’t be put off any longer.
He avoided Minerva while the horses were brought around.
Much as he loathed Giles’s being right, Hugh needed to take charge. He needed to be resolute in what he wanted because this was his foolhardy plan, and he couldn’t allow the delicate feelings of a child to destroy it. This was a business transaction, plain and simple, and he was paying Minerva to give it her full attention. He would put his foot down if the need arose. Stop being so nice— what an insultingly insipid word!— and cease all carnal thoughts that clouded his mind and muddied the water. And he needed to put all the tangled feelings churned up by Sarah back in the dusty corner of his mind.
Having a plan and executing it were two different things, and as they set off toward the house, Minerva naturally lagged behind Hugh, who rode a little ahead of her because his control on his temper was hanging by a thread and not all of that was her fault. But every time he turned back and had to slow his horse for her to catch up, his temper simmered more. Even Galileo was becoming annoyed at the sedentary pace and, like Hugh, wanted his legs. Hugh went around a bend, looked over his shoulder, and then had to stop yet again when she wasn’t there. As the seconds ticked by and there was still no sight of her, he had no choice other than to turn Galileo around and angrily retrace his steps.
“What the blazes are you doing?”
She was stationary, hanging at an odd angle from the saddle, yanking at her skirts, which had wrapped themselves around her legs. “I’m getting down!” She glared at him, her face scowling. “I’ve had enough! I hate riding! I told you I’d be useless at it, yet you forced me to do it regardless! And then you galloped off!”
“Galloped? The chance would have been a fine thing.”
“Trotting then! Or cantering! All I know is it was at a pace significantly quicker than you promised!” The heavy burgundy velvet finally gave way, giving him a very unwelcome show of her silk-clad legs all the way to the knees as she awkwardly slithered down to the ground and glared again. “I’ll walk Marigold back and then I’ll never sit on a stupid horse again!” With exaggerated haughtiness, she marched to the front of the horse and grabbed the reins, then shooed him away with one imperious gloved hand. “Go! And while gone, you can use that vivid imagination of yours to conjure up a good reason why Miss Landridge regrets she is unable to ride when your mother asks!”
It was the shooing that ultimately did it, sending all the morning’s frustrations careening out of his mouth in one sarcastic snarl. “Miss Landridge is unable to ride because she doesn’t listen to a damn word I’ve said! You sit on the poor horse as stiff as a board, choke the poor thing on the bit, and then expect it to walk along compliantly at the speed of a snail! Poor Marigold is bored senseless!”
“Don’t take your bad mood out on me!”
“Why not? You’re the one responsible for it!”
“How dare you!” She had the nerve to look down her nose at him. No mean feat when he still sat on Galileo and a good six feet off the ground. “I’ve been nothing but pleasant to you all day, despite your having a face like thunder throughout luncheon.” Then off she went. Nose in the air, distracting hips swaying as she stomped, the very picture of outraged self-righteousness.
“And that was your fault, too!” Because looming over her didn’t feel right even when he was rightly fuming, he jumped off his horse and trailed after her.
“Oh yes! Of course it was! It had absolutely nothing to do with Mrs. Sarah Peters, did it?” Minerva turned to wag her finger. “Just admit it! You’ve been in a sulk since we collided with her in the square.” Her hands went to her hips as they stood, now practically toe to toe. “And it hasn’t escaped my notice you were absolutely no help during that nonsense over dinner. That actress is a menace!”
“At least that actress is doing exactly what I’m paying her for!”
“Surely you are not suggesting I haven’t? On what grounds?” For a woman who had no idea if she possessed any blue blood at all, she displayed indignation like a snooty duchess. “I have done absolutely everything you’ve asked. Absolutely. Everything. Why, I even sat on this stupid horse when I expressly told you I had no talent for it.” She shooed him again and stuck her self-righteous nose back in the air. “How dare you!”
“Oh I dare, Minerva!” The lid finally exploded off the seething cauldron of emotions, and they all spewed out in a rush. “You and your bloody family have pushed me to the very edge of my patience and I’m done with it!”
“Don’t bring my sisters into this . . .”
“Why not? You did. In fact, you insisted upon bringing them and I have been nothing but patient with the pair of them. Diana is rude, convinced I am a debaucher, and cannot keep her big mouth shut, and Vee is a petulant child who frankly cannot cope with any of what I expect her to do!”
“Vee’s outburst had nothing to do with coping and everything to do with Lucretia! The woman is mad! All her bosom clutching and expostulating. Oh my dear husband.” She clutched her own bosom with one hand, dragging his eyes there before the back of her other hand went to her forehead. But the damage was done, and the unwanted lust reared its ugly head again. “Why, oh, why did he have to die?” Then as if she had made her point, she dispassionately shrugged. “Get rid of her, Hugh. She’s spoiling everything.”
“Actually— it’s Vee I’m getting rid of.” Her mouth fell open. “She’s the one spoiling everything and it cannot continue.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I shall assign her a responsible maid as a chaperone, and she can sit out my mother’s impending visit in my house in Mayfair, where she cannot cause any more trouble!” Hugh ignored the urge to stamp his foot. “In fact, she can leave tonight.”
“Over my dead body!”
“Oh, be reasonable! She’s a child and she’s taking up far too much of everyone’s time. Especially yours. When I agreed you could bring your sisters to Hampshire, you made no mention of the fact she is so young or so . . .” Was “whiny and irritating” too harsh? “Needy.”
“She is seventeen!”
“She can’t even master cutlery, for pity’s sake. She wanders around looking permanently startled and overwhelmed, and then rewards us with regular bursts of histrionics when anyone dares mention a parent of any sort— even a fictional one! And you”— his own finger had started to wag of its own accord— “indulge her every whim. The cutlery debacle yesterday is a case in point! You mastered a table setting in under five minutes on the first day. So did Diana. But because poor, sensitive Vee didn’t know her soup spoon from the carving knife, you made Payne waste a blasted hour teaching her again while all she achieved was a giant soup stain on the tablecloth!”
Haughty disdain was replaced with wounded dismissal. “She will improve. . . . I will help her.”
“I am not paying you to help her, Minerva. I am paying you a very generous fee to help me!”
“That is very mercenary!”
“Mercenary be damned! You seem to have conveniently forgotten I am paying you to do a job and I deserve my money’s worth. From now on, I insist you give that task your single and undivided attention until the job is done. That is what we agreed.”
“If Vee goes, then so will I. On Saturday. As we also agreed.”
“If you think I’m paying you twenty pounds because you deign to stay till Saturday on sufferance like a martyr— think again. It’s Friday and by childishly stating your intentions to leave a day before you actually do, you have rendered our bargain null and void. If you choose to renege on our bargain, I won’t pay you a single penny! How’s that for mercenary!”
It was Hugh’s turn to spin on his heel and storm off. He’d said his piece. Perhaps not quite how he had intended— he wasn’t particularly proud of himself and hated the fact he’d had to hurt her feelings in the process— but it was said, and that was the end of it.
Mercenary! This wasn’t charity, this was business! He grabbed Galileo’s reins and was about to haul himself back onto his horse when he suddenly stopped. He could hardly ride away and leave her walking all alone, no matter how furious he was. His blasted good manners were too ingrained and his conscience too sensitive. Nor was there a cat’s chance in hell he was going to hoist the vixen back into her own saddle. He didn’t need the reminder of the smell of her perfume or the feel of her womanly hips, and he certainly didn’t need all the nonsense from his errant body that went along with them. He was done with the blasted hold she had on him. Instead, he tugged his horse to follow him as his legs ate up the ground between her and his house.
Unfortunately, thanks to her wonderful, shapely long legs that he wished he hadn’t seen and couldn’t seem to get out of his mind, she managed to catch up with him as he approached the stable, grabbing his sleeve and hauling him to face her with a strength that surprised him. And she didn’t look the slightest bit contrite either, damn her.
Her jaw was set. Her green eyes had hardened to emeralds. The feather on the silly little hat perched on her irritating dark head quivered with indignation.
“Keep your stupid money! And I wish you good luck! Although frankly, if you think Vee behaves like a petulant child, you should take a good look in the mirror. What sort of a man invents a fiancée because he finds responsibility too daunting and is frightened of his own mother!”
Chapter Eleven
Insufferable man! There really was no depth to him, just as he’d repeatedly said, but Minerva had tried to convince herself there was, despite knowing he was bound to be exactly like every other man she had met. Probably because crediting him with some substance made her feel better about agreeing to his ridiculous proposal in the first place and justified the unwelcome effect he had on her pulse. He was selfish and shallow and heartless. As mercenary a scoundrel as she had ever met! No better than her father and no better than that lily-livered coward of a sweetheart she had given her foolish tender heart to! Men inevitably put their needs first, last, and always.
As if she would countenance him dispatching her baby sister back to the capital with a complete stranger! When she knew poor Vee was simply suffering from nerves— as seventeen-year-old girls were prone to do. Nerves that she would conquer, because despite Hugh’s lowly opinion of her, Vee possessed the same grit, fortitude, and stubborn determination as all the Merriwell sisters. Life hadn’t given them a choice to be otherwise. Not that he was capable of comprehending any of that either. As if he would last five minutes on his own in Clerkenwell!
She slammed the back door hard as she charged through, not caring if it knocked his perfectly straight, perfectly white, perfectly superficial teeth out. As much as she needed his money, Minerva was too furious to regret telling him to go to hell. No doubt remorse would come soon enough, although hell would have to freeze over before she allowed him to see how much his twenty miserable pounds meant to her.
“Thank heavens you’re back!” Payne appeared in front of her, blocking her path. His harried eyes flicked over her shoulder to where his wastrel, disappointing master was rapidly bringing up the rear. “Your mother is here.”
“But she can’t be!” Hugh came alongside, taking up more of the hallway than was necessary. Further proof if proof were needed he was intrinsically selfish. “She can’t possibly be here for at least a week.”
“Well, I can assure you she is, my lord. And what is worse, she is currently ensconced in the drawing room with a fresh pot of tea, her husband, Lord Bellingham, the actress, and the younger Misses Merriwell.”
She felt Hugh deflate beside her as her own stomach dropped to her toes. “Bloody hell.”
“Bloody hell indeed, my lord. As I greeted your mother at the front door, everyone else came through the back and they met in the middle. There was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent it.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Hugh rake his hand through his hair as he frantically looked toward her, and quashed the charitable urge to feel sorry for him. He had every bit of this coming, and she would enjoy watching it. She was done with being such a soft touch. “I’m doomed.”
“Not necessarily, my lord. While I will admit she seemed shocked to see them, once Lord Bellingham had concluded the introductions, she appeared delighted. From what I have witnessed in the half an hour since, they are all having a perfectly lovely visit. Minerva’s mother is currently recounting what happened to Mr. Landridge in the Cairngorms and your own mother is on the edge of her seat, thoroughly engrossed in the tale. However, I do recommend you make haste in case Mrs. DeVere gets too carried away.” Payne grabbed Hugh and pushed him forward. “The sooner she sees you, the sooner we can send everyone to their rooms to rest and change for dinner.”
