The Convenient Bride (2 page)

She knew that she was a strong woman, she
’d had no choice but to become one, but there was only so much that even she could stand.

She was quiet as she journeyed home that evening with Max and his parents, who had been her guardians since her
own parents died seven years ago.

Having inherited a sizeable estate, she could have left them by now; she certainly had the means to. Most people assumed
that she stayed because it was improper for a woman to live alone (servants didn’t count) so even although she could have hired a companion, they didn’t question her decision. The real reason she stayed however, was to be closer to Max.

Immature
, irresponsible, irrepressible, Max.

She bid Mr and Mrs Stark
goodnight as soon as they got home and headed to her rooms, where she allowed her lady’s maid to help her undress and climbed into bed. She knew she’d get little sleep though, for her thoughts were filled with Maxwell and his proposal; equal parts thrilled with and terrified by, the idea of becoming his wife.

***

Lucy still hadn’t reached any conclusions by the following day and part of the reason was that she was lacking facts. She headed out in the carriage shortly after breakfast, not telling anyone where she was going. However, her thoughts were still confused once she had found her answers.

She returned
to the Stark house and looked up at one of the the places she had called home for the past seven years. Three stories tall and built of red brick, the Stark townhouse was elegant in its simplicity. It sat just off Piccadilly, four streets away from her own townhouse, which was being rented out while she didn’t need it. In Lucy’s mind however, her property was just a house. This was a home because a family lived here; a family who had, for the most part, accepted the little orphan girl with open arms.

Lucy went inside, n
ot in the least surprised to find that Max was still in bed. He rarely arose before noon and it wouldn’t shock Lucy in the slightest if he had gone out again, after they had returned home last night.

As she approached the study, she could hear Charles Stark coughing and
waited until he stopped before knocking. He bid her to enter.

“Lucy, come in, dear girl,” he said
, tucking his handkerchief away.

She came in and sat opposite him at the desk.
Although he was ailing in his twilight years, Charles still cut a fine figure of a man, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, which his clothes did their best to flatter thanks to a skilled tailor. His dark hair was starting to grey, especially at the temples but it gave him a distinguished air, rather than simply ageing him.

“I have a letter for you from your steward.” He handed an envelope to her and Lucy thanked him.

Ever since her parents had died, Charles had been invaluable to her, putting men in place to look after her parents’ estate and in recent years, he had been teaching her to manage her affairs for herself. It was strange for Lucy to think that despite the disparity in their ages, she and Charles were of the same social rank, he the Earl of Rochester and she, by virtue of not having any living siblings, the Countess of Canterbury.

“So what brings you here with such a grave face?” Charles asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the desk.

“Max told me of your ultimatum.”

Charles nodded gravely. “I don’t know what else to do with the boy,” he admitted.
“And for that matter, he isn’t a boy any longer. Even Michael has settled down in the Army, while Max refuses to grow up and accept his responsibilities.”

“No offence
, Charles, but the laudanum does dull your reflexes by the evening. I was hoping that you might have reconsidered by this morning,”

“My words were said in haste
, yes, but I haven’t reconsidered.”

To Lucy, Charles was a good man with the best of intentions and he had done his best to become a surrogate father to her. She knew however, that he was harder on
his eldest son than he had ever been with her, pushing responsibility on to Maxwell from an early age.

Max had rebelled, as most children are
prone to do but unlike most other children, Max had never faced the inevitable and grown up. It was almost as if he expected his father to be around forever and that he would never have to assume the mantle of Earl, nor the responsibilities that entailed.

She had understood how he felt, feeling terrified by the thought of manag
ing her father’s estate one day but Charles had been gentle with her, introducing her to the intricacies of estate management slowly over the years.

With Max he had been much forceful,
trying to insist that his son take an active role in managing the estate from an early age. Currently, Max did nothing to help his father run their estate, which he surely counted as a victory over his father.

“I know that Georgette isn’t an ideal match for him but he must realise that he isn’t a child any longer.”

“Can you afford to pay his debt?” Lucy asked.

Charles nodded. “It won’t be easy but yes
, I will pay it if he settles down and takes some responsibility.”

“But is this really the best way to get what you want? Su
rely if you told him that-”

“No!” he said firmly. “T
he fact that you know pains me enough, I will not burden the rest of my family with this.”

Lucy nod
ded, knowing that she would lose this argument, as she had lost every argument about it to date.

“But Georgette would hardly be a good match for
Max. Although I understand that her dowry is large, her parents are far too controlling for Max to ever be happy in a union with her.”

“You are right of course, but I must do something. And he is free to choose another bride, providing he can get her family’s consent.”

“He’s asked me to marry him,” she confessed.

Charles smiled. “My dear, that’s wonderful.”

“Is it?” she asked.

“Well, you couldn’t know each other any better than you already do and from my perspective, at least there will be one person I trust to manage my affairs after I’m gone.”

“And what of love?”

“Since you already love each other enough to trouble my wife on occasion, I will assume that you are talking of the all-consuming passion of Romeo and Juliet, or Anthony and Cleopatra but let me assure you my dear, that slow and steady love is the kind that keeps a couple together. Romantic love always fades in time.”

He didn’t
understand that she was already in love, and she wasn’t inclined to enlighten him. It had been seven years now but still, her feelings for Max hadn’t lessened one jot. How could she be with someone who didn’t love her the same way?

“Thank you, Charles.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear, and I do hope that you will seriously consider my son’s offer. It would greatly ease my conscience to know that he had married someone as capable and intelligent as you.”

“I will consider it,” she promised, rising from her chair.

As she left she wondered if in all good conscience, she could refuse Charles. He wouldn’t be upset if she refused Max’s proposal but he would be disappointed. Knowing how it would set his mind at ease and after everything he and his family had done for her, she felt a little guilty at even considering denying his request.

She re
turned to her rooms and took out her journal, intending to pour her thoughts onto the pages. She usually found that writing things down helped her come to a decision.

She could vividly remember coming to live with the Starks after her parents died; she had felt so lost. She didn’t even know the Starks very well but she had little other family who wanted her,
so she had been sent to her father’s closest friend and her Godfather, Charles Stark, Earl of Rochester.

Maxwell had
been away at school when she got here and when he returned, he didn’t know what to do with the strange girl who had invaded his home so while he was polite, he largely ignored her.

She had been
living with them for two months when his younger brother, Michael, had reduced her to tears once again, telling her that she wasn’t welcome here, that she should just run away and that her parents had only died because they were so desperate to be rid of her. That was nothing new for Michael, he had enjoyed torturing her since the first day she had arrived but that day was different, because Max overheard the mean-spirited diatribe. The sixteen year old Max had seemed so large and imposing to the thirteen year old Lucy, not to mention, very brave and noble. He was her knight in shining armour.

Happening upon them, Max had told his brother
in no uncertain terms, that he would whip Michael to within an inch of his life if he should ever discover that he had insulted their guest again. Then, gathering the sobbing girl up in his arms, he had taken her to the kitchen, where he dried her tears as Cook found a slice of cake and glass of milk to cheer her. Max had assured her that Michael was just a bully and if he ever said anything even slightly disagreeable to Lucy again, she was to tell him and he would take care of it.

Between him and Cook, they had
succeeded in stopping her tears, coaxed a smile and then a laugh from her and finally, Max had offered to show her around. Not like the adults had when she arrived, but showing her the things that a child needed to know, such as where the interesting books in the library could be found, where a child might spy on gatherings while remaining unobserved, which banisters were the best to slide down and the best riding trails around the estate.

Lucy could
n’t say when she had fallen in love with Max precisely; was it when he told Michael off, when he cradled her sobbing form in his arms, or when they became friends? Nevertheless, from that day onwards they were virtually inseparable. Even when Max was away at boarding school and university, they wrote to each other almost daily.

As Lucy
had approached her 17
th
birthday, people had begun to speculate about them getting married, not least of who was Max’s younger sister, May.

Despite living together,
they weren’t related after all, and they were so close to each other that it seemed inevitable. Lucy allowed herself to be swayed by their words a time or two, even though in her heart, she knew that Max saw her only as a sister and of course, no matter how much she wished it wasn’t so, she had been proved right.

Max was not a man who wanted to settle down
, with anyone.

Only now that had
all changed and he did want her, just not in the way that she had dreamed of for so long.

Maxwell Stark awoke with a sore head and when he remembered why he had drunk so much, a sinkin
g heart. He wasn’t usually prone to drinking too much, at least, not enough to leave him feeling this bad the next day, but he had needed to forget his problems for a while.

It had been foolish of hi
m to run up so much debt and in all honesty, he couldn’t blame his father for being angry with him, but he couldn’t seem to alter his behaviour either. All his life he had known that his future was to follow in his father’s footsteps, and all his life he had rebelled against the idea.

His brother, Michael, had resented him because while he would inherit some cash, Max would get the title and the estate.
Max meanwhile, had envied Michael his freedom.

From the day that he was old enough to understand such concepts, Max knew what his future was. He had no choice in the matter at all, while Michael had a world of pos
sibilities before him, from entering the clergy, to going into business, to emigrating.

When he left university, Max had enquired about the possibility of serving in the Army or Navy for a time, but his father had flat
ly refused. Then Michael had swept in, claiming that he wanted to do the same, and had been given every support possible.

Michael had chosen the Army in the end, so his father had duly purchased a commission for him and settled an amount on him, to supplement his low wage. Right now Michael was in
West Africa, on the Gold Coast, helping to protect the population of Accra against Ashanti incursions, and sending regular letters home about his adventures.

Pushing such thought
s aside, Max pulled the bell for hot water, then quickly washed and dressed when it came, before he headed to the kitchen for a quick coffee. Cook had always indulged him and didn’t mind him intruding on her space in the slightest. She prepared him a coffee, just the way he liked it and since he’d missed breakfast, she made him what she called a bacon butty, to help him ‘face the day’.

Finally feeling a little more human, he
headed up to the ground floor to face his family. He found his mother and Lucy in the rear parlour, as they usually were before lunch. His mother was embroidering a sampler while Lucy was at the writing desk, supposedly updating her estate books, although she seemed distracted.