Never Fall for your Fiancée, page 12
Minerva trailed after them, her mind reeling, and her heart beating too fast in her chest. She felt sick, scared, panicked— obviously still incensed at the selfish, shallow, mercenary clod Hugh— but beneath all that was the unmistakable glimmer of hope. She could still earn her forty pounds and not have to dispatch Vee in the process. When Hugh stopped dead, she almost slammed into the back of him.
“I can’t. Not yet. I need to think . . .” But it was too late.
“Hugh?” An older woman turned the corner and beamed. “My darling!”
Arms outstretched, she rushed toward him and hugged him tight. Whatever Minerva had imagined his mother to look like, this petite, pretty, surprisingly young woman was not it. She barely reached Hugh’s chest.
“Are you surprised to see me?”
All color had drained from his face. “Very . . . I didn’t expect you for at least a fortnight.”
“We got an earlier crossing at the last minute, by which time it was pointless writing to you about it.” Her deep blue eyes, so like her vexing son’s, peeked around the shielding wall of his big, vexing body and took in Minerva with barely disguised curiosity.
In that moment, she realized one very pertinent thing. Hugh’s mother was as surprised to see Minerva as he was her. Which suggested she hadn’t believed he had a fiancée and was here to put an end to all his nonsense. “And this must be Minerva?”
Hugh turned, his expression uncertain, obviously waiting for her to decide his fate. He knew she could destroy him in one fell swoop. He also knew only she had the power to save him. The boot was now firmly on the other foot, and this boot had no leaky holes in the sole.
Power . . .
What a triumphant, heady feeling.
One she had never had cause to experience before. No wonder the rich enjoyed it. “Indeed I am, my lady.” Minerva stepped forward and bobbed a surprisingly graceful curtsey. “It is so wonderful to meet you.” She was oddly proud of her ambiguous and noncommittal answer. Some devil inside her had taken over, and she realized she would rather enjoy making Hugh sweat.
The older woman took her hands, holding them tightly as she examined her from top to bottom, smiling. “I must say, you are not at all what I pictured. Hugh neglected to mention you were tall or dark haired. He did, however, describe one thing correctly. You are inordinately beautiful . . . and from his letters, come across as eminently sensible. Which beggars the obvious question.” Those wily eyes flicked back to her son for a second before twinkling back at Minerva. “What on earth do you see in Hugh?”
“What an excellent question.” She could tell he was holding his breath, could tell he was willing her to rescue him. If she did, it wouldn’t be to save his sorry skin. “When I first met him, I suspected he had hidden depths.”
“And now?”
“Now . . .” Minerva allowed her gaze to settle on Hugh, allowed several painfully loaded seconds to tick by as she smiled at him. “Now, I know with absolute certainty my initial assumption was”— she threaded her arm around his and stared up at him with adoration, secure in the knowledge the forty glorious pounds were now hers— “absolutely correct.”
His hand came up to cover hers where it rested in the crook of his elbow, and he squeezed his thanks. She wanted to snatch it away and stamp on his foot, but she didn’t. “I take it you have already met my family, my lady? I am devastated I couldn’t be there to facilitate the proper introductions.”
“We managed well enough without you, dear. What a charming bunch they are. And your sisters— so like you. I see that now. You must all get your height and distinctive coloring from your father.”
Annoyed by the way his touch still had the power to lay siege to her nerve endings, Minerva untangled herself from Lord Selfish and took his mother’s arm instead as they started toward the drawing room.
“Indeed we do, ma’am. He was tall like Hugh.” The truth. “And we all have his eyes.”
While Vee was a tad wooden throughout most of the tea, she was performing admirably. Even when their effusive fake mother went on and on about the loss of their father, Vee endured it all stoically, giving Minerva a smug sense of satisfaction. Although in fairness to Lucretia, she dominated so much of the conversation with her impassioned monologues, the rest of them were spared. Even Diana was behaving— or almost behaving. But thankfully, as most of her pithy interjections were directed at Lord Bellingham, who more than held his own, their dialogue was more entertaining than jarring, and Hugh’s mother and her delightful husband, Mr. Peabody, laughed and seemed vastly relieved throughout.
Minerva repeatedly felt Hugh’s eyes on her but ignored them, knowing if she didn’t, hers would only shoot daggers at him and make his mother suspicious. There would be plenty of time to allow those daggers to fly later, and she would let him feel the full force of each and every blade. He deserved nothing less. But for now, she was being the perfect Minerva he was paying for. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of questioning either her effort or his dratted value for money.
It wasn’t only the weight of Hugh’s stare she could feel across the room. His mother was doing her fair share of staring, too. Understandably, she supposed, as Miss Minerva Landridge had been an enigma for the past eighteen months, and if she were in the other woman’s shoes, she would have plenty of questions.
“Are you looking forward to being mistress of Standish House, Minerva?” His mother stared over the rim of her teacup.
“More daunted at the moment, my lady.” She reasoned the more she stuck to the truth, the better. “I am not used to anywhere near so grand or so vast. In the absence of a map, I still have to rely heavily on the servants to navigate myself around it.”
“I felt the same way when I came here as a young bride. It took about a year, as I recall, before I felt I knew the whole house and the grounds sufficiently to not get lost. Although getting lost in the gardens was no chore. I’ve always loved them.”
“They are lovely.” After living in a grotty corner of London, all of Hampshire seemed beautiful. “I have made a start of exploring the grounds on my afternoon walks.” The only time she could snatch for herself during the busy lesson-packed days, thanks to the lord and master. “I found the folly yesterday quite by accident because I had taken the wrong path.”
“Have you seen the cave yet?”
“You have a cave?”
“We do indeed— but alas, the hermit who used to live in it is gone. Gruff Godfrey . . . Do you remember him, Hugh?”
“I do. He had a pointed hat and the longest beard I’ve ever seen.” She could sense him daring her to look at him and was only too happy to ignore the plea. It was about time Hugh learned the world didn’t revolve around him.
“I never understood why he was called ‘gruff.’ I rather liked him and always found him very pleasant. But alas . . .” Hugh’s mother sighed, her face a picture of regret. “Lord Tiverton, the wretch, pilfered him in the summer of ’96.”
“He was stolen?” What sort of monster stole another human being? “That’s dreadful.”
“She means he was lured away, Minerva. Lord Tiverton doubled his wages.” Hugh smiled kindly when she had no other choice but to look at him or appear horrendously rude. “Having a hermit in your garden was all the rage back then.” She realized then and there she would never understand the aristocracy. Her world and theirs were just too different.
“It was hardly a passing fad, darling. I’ll have you know some of my friends still have their hermits to this day and wouldn’t be without them. But Hugh’s father thought having a hermitage was an unnecessary extravagance, as does his son, so now it is just a cave— although a very pretty place to wander to when you need a little fresh air. Do you walk every afternoon, Minerva?”
“I confess I am not very good at resting after luncheon and I do so enjoy the fresh air.”
“A rest sounds wonderful, doesn’t it, Mother? You and Jeremiah must be exhausted after your long journey. A good nap and perhaps a nice long bath is exactly what you need. I am sure Payne will have your rooms ready by now. We’ll serve dinner late.”
“That does sound good.” Mr. Peabody’s American accent was like nothing she had ever heard, but Minerva liked it immensely. His mouth seemed to draw out the vowels and soften the consonants. “Nearly three hours in that carriage has certainly rattled these old bones.” He couldn’t be much more than fifty and was still a handsome man, very much in his prime.
“Then I’ll have Payne draw your baths immediately.” Hugh gestured to the butler. “Two hot baths. Quick sharp.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say you are trying to get rid of us, Hugh darling.” His mother made a point of leaning forward and pouring herself more tea before settling back in her chair. “Why don’t you tell me about the day you first met my son, Minerva? Hugh said for him it was love at first sight.”
“Well, I am ashamed to confess, it wasn’t for me.” She might as well have a bit of fun at his expense. It would make suffering his presence until this charade was over much more bearable, and Hugh wasn’t the only one who could embellish. Minerva was an artist— albeit in a very tenuous way— and embellishment was an artist’s stock-in-trade. “It took a little while for Hugh to grow on me.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She did her best to look troubled. “I read the papers, you see, and as I am sure you are only too aware, my lady, they hinted at such a . . . dubious reputation.”
“Dubious? What a wonderfully polite way of putting it, Minerva. You do not need to sugar the lemon for me, my dear. Let us always be honest with each other and call foul where necessary.” Hugh’s mother rolled her eyes before skewering her son with her stare. “I am well aware of what they printed and am only relieved they didn’t print the half of it. He was a complete scandal, Minerva. A complete scandal . . . although not as bad as Giles, of course.”
“I should think not.” Lord Bellingham took mock offense at the suggestion. “Nobody is more of a scandal than me. I am the dictionary definition of the word ‘scandal.’ Just ask my father . . .” He winked at Hugh’s mother, who couldn’t completely hide her smile. “Could somebody pass me the biscuits? If Minerva is about to launch into the gripping story of the day they met, I shall need sustenance to survive it.”
“I love this story, too.” Like Lord Bellingham, Diana was enjoying herself far too much. She smiled at her partner in crime and helped herself to one of the biscuits on the plate he now cradled. “It is so romantic.” Minerva was going to strangle the Judas as soon as she got her alone.
“Well, after we met, he called upon me . . .”
“Oh, don’t start it there!” Hugh’s mother seemed crestfallen. “I want to hear the whole thing from your perspective, especially now I know my son’s version of events cannot be entirely trusted. Let us not forget he told me you fell in love with him the second you saw him. If he got that pertinent detail wrong, heaven only knows what else he has. I think we should start with the carriage, don’t you? The one my son apparently rescued you from.”
“Yes . . . of course . . .”
Hugh came to her aid. “It was a high-perch phaeton. Your father’s . . . in Chipping Norton.” His mother glared at him with narrowed eyes.
“I asked Minerva to tell me the story, Hugh— or am I to assume she doesn’t know it?”
“I had taken my father’s phaeton against his knowledge and, as it turned out, against my woeful skill at driving it. I was going down the lane a tad too fast and something spooked the horses . . .”
“What spooked them?”
Hugh had neglected to tell her that bit. “I am not entirely sure. It could have been anything. Horses are difficult creatures at the best of times. All I can say for certain is they went off like a shot and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I dropped one of the . . . er”— What was the stupid word?— “ribbons. . . . While I was scrambling about trying to reach them, the carriage started to rock quite alarmingly on its axle. As it hurtled toward a dense copse of trees, I thought I was done for, then out of nowhere appeared Hugh on the back of Galileo . . .” A nice believable detail she was quite proud of. “He galloped alongside and tried valiantly to grab the ribbons himself. When that didn’t work, he leapt into the carriage.”
“From a speeding horse? About to careen into a dense copse of trees?”
“It was quite a feat of derring-do. Very heroic . . .” And Minerva was in danger of over-egging it and losing her audience. “But thankfully, he managed to grab them and then he wrestled the horses to a stop in the nick of time. My very own knight in shining armor.” A comment that would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic. That it hurt was her own stupid fault. She knew better than to expect anything from a man. Knew, too, her taste in them couldn’t be trusted. Once again she had had her foolish head turned by a fine pair of shoulders and a twinkling pair of eyes, and worst of all, she couldn’t really blame Hugh for being like all the rest of them, because he had warned her what he was.
Repeatedly.
She took a fortifying sip of her tea, both to calm her bouncing nerves and to avoid huffing in frustration at her own stupidity, then smiled at Hugh, hoping she appeared sincere rather than fuming. “And that, as they say, was that.”
“But I thought you just said it wasn’t love at first sight?” There were obviously no flies on Hugh’s mother.
“It wasn’t.” How on earth did Hugh keep track of all his lies, when Minerva was already struggling? Because he was shallow and selfish, the wretch, and she had substance. Or at least she did— before she had stupidly allowed him to mine through her defenses! The false smile began to slip, so she ruthlessly nailed it back in place. There were forty pounds up for grabs, and there would be time aplenty to castigate herself for the mistake later. “After he stopped the carriage, he escorted me home, and unbeknownst to me, asked my father’s permission to call upon me again before he left Chipping Norton.”
Hugh’s mother sipped her own tea a little too casually for Minerva’s liking, then turned to her son. “You never did explain how you came to be in Chipping Norton in the first place, dear.”
“Oh yes I did, as well you know it. You just want to see if Minerva knows all the gory details.” He took a sip of his own tea, his even stare never leaving his mother’s. “But Minerva does know all the gory details. There are no secrets between us. She knows I was at a questionable house party in Long Hanborough hosted by Lord Ashby.”
The older woman turned her nose up. “I have always disapproved of Lord Ashby. I especially disapprove of his questionable house parties.”
“Which is exactly why I always went to them. And it was a jolly good thing I did, too, else I never would have met Minerva and fallen instantly in love— and would probably still be at a highly questionable house party as we speak.”
“How long did it take for Cupid’s arrow to strike you, Minerva?”
Hugh had said they were inseparable immediately, but it suddenly galled her he never had to work for anything. Life came too easily to undeserving men like him.
“Several visits over many, many weeks.” She took another sip of her tea and smiled winsomely over the rim as if remembering it all fondly. “He even proposed before I agreed to allow him to court me.”
“He did?”
“Indeed. Twice.” She held up two fingers. “I turned him down on both occasions.” She had the satisfaction of seeing his normally twinkling eyes narrow. “I didn’t want to rush into something I might bitterly regret afterward. Marry in haste and all that . . . and I needed to be sure he wasn’t the man I read about in the scandal sheets. I knew I could never love— or even particularly like— a bounder that . . . mercenary.”
“What a sensible girl you are, Minerva.” Hugh’s mother seemed impressed. “Most young ladies would have jumped at the chance of being a countess. In fact, I’ll wager they wouldn’t have looked past his title.”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t— but wealth and status alone have never been enough to impress me. I believe in judging a man by his measure rather than the size of his purse.” And like every other man who had disappointed her, Hugh now fell woefully short.
“I raised all my daughters with a strong moral code.” Lucretia nodded sagely, shamelessly taking the credit for Minerva’s pragmatic restraint. “I always told them never to settle for anything less than the very deepest, most abiding, all-consuming love. The sort I shared with their father . . .” Her voice caught, and her eyes clouded convincingly. Minerva had to give her that. “God rest him . . .”
“Well, anyway.” Unchecked, they’d have to suffer through another one of the actress’s emotional monologues, and they had suffered through at least three already. There was only so much Vee could take, and it would be prudent not to test her limits after what happened at the inn. “After he rescued me so selflessly, then diligently courted me despite my blatant indifference, Hugh gradually wore down my justified reservations and I began to see his true worth.”
That made him sound almost noble, drat it. “The poor thing was quite desperate by the time he proposed for the third time. He was so persistent and so hopeful I came to realize he truly did love me if he was prepared to put himself through endless torture simply to win me, and I came to believe he did intend to change his selfish ways.”
“And thanks entirely to you, he turned over a new leaf.” Hugh’s mother sighed and nodded, then beamed at her son. “How very romantic.”
That little devil inside her couldn’t resist one final dig. “Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to turn him down again, could I? He was so besotted, I firmly believe another rejection would have crushed him.”
“Oh, it would have!” She found an unlikely ally in Lord Bellingham. “He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Could barely function in those dark days after Minerva refused his second proposal. It was tragic to watch. But I told him— Hugh, old boy, nothing good comes without hard work. Prostrate yourself on the altar of remorse and beg that girl to take a chance on you.”
