Chapter Four
“Are you ever going to tell us the name of your mysterious suitor?” Felicity asked as she flipped through the pages of yet another occult manuscript.
Winifred assumed it would soon join the teetering stack beside the upholstered mustard velvet divan Felicity had occupied with her brother for most of the morning.
It was one of many battered, mismatched pieces of furniture that Winifred’s mother had banished to the library for being too hideous to allow guests to see.
“I might,” Winifred said. She tapped her slipper-clad toes on the carpet and tried to focus on the tiny print in the textbook lying on the table in front of her, but she felt as tightly wound as a clock spring.
It had been several weeks since she had reluctantly admitted she had a gentleman in mind as a potential husband, and every moment of that time had been spent with both Felicity and Vincent nipping at her heels for information.
She hadn’t intended to offer them further details—a lady needed some secrets of her own—but Marcus’s latest letter had come as such a shock that she felt she would burst unless she told someone.
She removed an envelope from her pocket and held it out to her cousin. “Here.”
“What’s that?” Vincent asked. He reached out and would have snatched the item from Winifred’s hand if it weren’t for Felicity swatting him like a misbehaving dog.
“Not for you,” she said. Then she took the letter and unfolded it. Winifred stood behind her cousin and leaned over her shoulder as she read.
Winifred,
Please forgive my frankness, but I have come to the startling realization that our problems are complementary.
You need a husband who will allow you free rein to pursue your interests, and I require a competent assistant.
If you are amenable to an arrangement, it would be my pleasure to have you as my wife.
You have my solemn vow as a member of the House of Lords, and as a gentleman, that I will never impose upon you any duties beyond those required to avoid scandal. Anything you desire, I shall provide.
Yours,
Marcus
Felicity’s eyes widened. “Marcus Deville? The Earl of Kingsbury?”
Vincent straightened. “You’re in contact with that misanthrope? You refer to him in such an informal manner of address?”
Winifred’s cheeks heated. “We have been corresponding for months.”
“Where did you meet him?” Vincent asked sharply. “Does your mother know?”
“I haven’t, and no,” Winifred said. “One of my letters was redirected to him by mistake, and he responded. In any case, I am quite certain Mother will overlook the impropriety if I become a countess.”
Felicity frowned. “Oh, cousin, what if he is an absolute brute?”
Winifred clasped her hands on her lap. The concern in Felicity’s voice made her throat tighten, cutting off the defense she desperately wanted to raise for Marcus.
Even though she had never heard his voice or seen his face, she could not believe a man who wrote with such eloquence could be a ‘brute.’ In any case, it was not as if she’d had much success finding an appropriate suitor in Toronto.
She had not yet broached the topic of keeping Felicity with her as a companion to Marcus, but she felt confident he would be amenable to her request. At least he had promised to allow her to continue her research.
That alone was worth whatever cost he demanded.
“Tell me you are not seriously considering his proposal,” Felicity said.
Before Winifred could respond to that, the door to the library flew open and her mother stormed inside. Mrs. Belltree’s black hair was confined in a tight bun at the back of her head, her light-blue eyes were narrowed, and her thin lips were pinched.
“M-Mother,” Winifred said. “We were just about to join you.”
Mrs. Belltree crossed her arms. “Do not lie to me, child. You have been spending far too much time sequestered in this dusty room. I understand your desire to entertain Felicity, but you must resume your search for a husband at once. I do not wish to see you become a spinster.”
An ache began between her temples. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried, but any suitor who spent more than a few minutes in her presence always found a reason to flee after hearing her lecture about the Destruction of Antioch or the Calcutta cyclone.
She couldn’t help it. Men, with their appraising glances and disingenuous flattery, made her nervous.
The only one not related to her with whom she’d ever held a meaningful conversation had been Marcus, and that hardly counted, as his responses took several weeks to arrive, which gave her plenty of time to organize her thoughts.
Felicity shoved to her feet. “I apologize, Aunt. It is as much my fault as Winifred’s that we have not attended events the last several nights.”
Vincent curled his lip. “Perhaps it is time for us to return home, sister.”
“No!” Winifred cried. When both Felicity and her mother looked at her, she flushed. “I-I mean… It is not Felicity’s fault. Do not punish her for my failure. It is only that my research—”
“Research!” Mrs. Belltree threw her arms in the air. “That is all you care about. Yet unlike your cousins, you refuse to educate yourself on our family history.”
Of course her mother would raise that argument, even though it had been Mrs. Belltree who had agreed to Mr. Belltree’s demand to relocate after Winifred had returned one night from her uncle’s home with their family crest branded between her collarbones, the result of a barbaric tradition.
Her mother huffed. “I have been more than patient, Winifred. If you cannot secure a husband by the end of the month, you will accept Vincent’s offer, even if I have to burn every book in this library.”
Her mother’s threat combined with Vincent’s self-satisfied smirk shattered the last of Winifred’s restraint. Becoming the wife of her despicable cousin would be worse than imprisonment, even if it pleased Felicity. She straightened her shoulders. “The Earl of Kingsbury has asked me to marry him.”
Vincent paled. “Impossible.”
Mrs. Belltree’s jaw dropped before she snapped her mouth shut and beamed. “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” She rushed forward, toppling over several stacks of books. “Tell me more about the earl,” she said as Vincent stormed out of the room. She clasped Winifred’s hands. “Has he recently come to town?”
Winifred swallowed thickly. “No, Mother. He, ah… is in Scotland.”
Mrs. Belltree tilted her head. “Scotland?” She glanced at Felicity. “If this is a joke you girls have conjured, I do not find it amusing.”
Winifred wanted nothing more at that moment than to crawl beneath the settee and curl into a ball, but her mother had her hands in a tight grip.
She had no choice. Her mother would scrutinize any excuse she made up, and she had never been adept at lying.
It would have to be the truth.
“He responded to a letter I sent some months ago regarding an article in a magazine.”
Her mother’s face turned a startling shade of purple. “And you have been in contact all this time? My dear, you are not yet betrothed!”
This was the part that would be difficult to explain, but Winifred hoped the offer of marriage would be enough to make her mother overlook any impropriety.
“Yes. He had some interesting theories on how to better predict earthquakes based on the movement of tidal currents.” She stopped there, even though returning to the subject of her interest made her want to go on for hours.
Talking to her mother about her recent discoveries would do nothing to help her situation, though.
The deep lines on Mrs. Belltree’s face eased. “Well, you cannot continue behave so improperly if you are to be a countess.”
She dropped Winifred’s hands. “I should have guessed you would find a bookish suitor. But at least he has a title.” She beamed. “This is excellent news. I will speak to your father at once.”
“So eager,” Felicity said, after Mrs. Belltree had left. “If we’re lucky, maybe she’ll book passage on the same ship as Aunt Ethel.”
Winifred ran her fingers over the folded edges of Marcus’s letter.
It was happening. If things went according to plan, soon she would be settled far from her managing parents, with Felicity at her side.
She wouldn’t have to promenade in front of suitors for hours each night, dressed in gowns that made her skin itch and her chest ache. She would have everything she wanted.
All she had to do was marry a man she’d never met.