His Unsuitable Viscountess

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‘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 you sigh and bat your eyelashes. Or one of your competitors who feels sorry for you when the new furnace doesn’t arrive on time. Oh, yes, you needn’t look so surprised. Uncle told me all about how you saved Moles and why. They pitied you, Eleanor.’

Her butler gave her an apologetic look when she raised an eyebrow. The last thing she needed today of all days was an interruption from Alger non.

Why couldn’t he be like normal vicars and be interested in his parishioners, or failing that some esoteric academic study? Why was he coming to plague her—and so early in the day?

One would think he’d have the decency to wait until the afternoon, or better not even to appear without sending a note round. And, from the belligerent set of his jaw, it appeared he intended to stay awhile.

‘Ah, Algernon,’ Eleanor said, forcing her voice to stay calm and pleasant. ‘I see you have inherited my stepfather’s bad habit of twisting history. It had nothing to do with my feminine charm—something that you always accuse me of lacking. It is precisely because I pointed out the financial opportunities to Mr Smith and Mr Oley that Moles flourished and became the company it is today. Moles bought all of Mr Smith’s iron ore until he retired and then we bought his business. We continue to share transport with Mr Oley—only now his swords are shipped with ours, instead of the other way round. It saves costs and benefits everyone. Business, not pity.’

She finished with a brilliant smile.

Algernon opened and closed his mouth several times as he went his special shade of puce. ‘I will take your word for it.’

‘Why are you here, Algernon? I feel certain it is not to go over my various triumphs in business. However, if you insist, I must warn you it will take some considerable time.’

‘Francis Percy, the curate at Broomhaugh, contacted me about your pathetic scheme this morning.’

The back of Eleanor’s neck prickled. Her life needed fewer complications, not more. ‘Who is Francis Percy, and why should he contact you about me? Does he wish to purchase a sword? If so, I would suggest he go through the proper channels. We do have a backlog of work and cannot make exceptions … even for your friends.’

Algernon jabbed his finger at her. ‘There has been a query about posting banns for one Eleanor Blackwell.’

‘Has there?’ Eleanor laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. It would appear Ben had wasted no time. She should have thought of holding the wedding at the Broomhaugh church. It would solve a multitude of problems. ‘Fancy that.’

Algernon stuck his nose in the air. ‘Merely posting the banns with some unknown does not mean you will fulfil Uncle’s will. I have instructed Percy to ignore the request.’

‘You have instructed him to ignore the request?’ Eleanor gripped the table and struggled to breathe. Was she going to have to fight everyone for this wedding? ‘Will he do so?’

‘I have every reason to suspect he will. He thought the enquiry a bit unusual, as the man was unknown to him and you don’t live in the parish. He asked for my advice, and I was happy to give it.’

Eleanor’s heart thudded. If Ben had waited she would have had it all organised and done before Algernon started creating complications. ‘Your advice was worthless. Do you know what you have done?’

‘It may surprise you, Eleanor, but I’m held in the highest regard in certain circles. My advice is actively sought. Even the bishop—’ Algernon stopped and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Your ploy is painfully obvious.’

‘Ploy?’ Eleanor stared at him. ‘Why would making an enquiry about posting banns be a ploy? I am attempting to follow your reasoning here, Algernon.’

‘You intend to plead a broken heart,’ he said with a huge sigh. ‘Left at the altar in the last moment and therefore in need of more time. However, I have hardened my heart and I intend to enforce the will to the letter. The very letter. You need to post banns and marry like a good Christian woman—in the church where you intend to worship.’

Eleanor stared at Algernon. Was it just her or did he think that all women lacked intelligence?

‘What happens to members of the clergy who wilfully refuse to post genuine banns? What sort of sanction is sued against them?’

‘That is not the case here.’ He gave an insufferable sigh. ‘I know you went over to that area yesterday. And Percy has indicated that it was a note, rather than an actual face-to-face meeting. He has no knowledge of the intended bridegroom. Neither you nor this phantom bridegroom lives in that parish. Why should banns be posted there?’

Eleanor choked back angry words. Algernon was a duplicitous snake, but becoming angry with him would not solve her problem. Calm. Cool. Collected. Her grandfather had always told to hold her temper. Knowing about a problem was halfway to solving it.

‘It is good to know that you are having me watched and are so busy blackening my name, but it was my intended who made the enquiry, not me,’ she said finally, when she’d mastered her emotions. ‘He currently resides with Sir Vivian at Broomhaugh Hall.’