Two Wrongs Make a Marriage. Christine Merrill

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else in society,’ she responded. ‘If you scratch the surface, you will find many in a similar predicament. It is hardly unusual.’

      ‘You claimed that you needed to marry. You pretended to be fond of me.’

      ‘But that was true,’ she insisted earnestly, glad that he was finally understanding her. ‘I did need to marry. And it would have been difficult to gain your attention any other way than kidnapping. You were the most sought-after man of the Season. Even if I’d have caught your eye, your interest would have waned when you realised that my family was inappropriate.’

      ‘As it did,’ he admitted. ‘Though it might have faded more slowly had I the chance to enjoy your favours, as I’d expected to.’

      She gave a little gasp of shock to hear him freely admit that he’d meant to use her so, knowing full well that it would be a trick.

      It did not seem to bother him in the least. He was still too focused on his own selfish complaints. ‘You did not need to claim an attraction where you felt none.’

      But she had been attracted to him. There was no way to escape that, for he was a most handsome and charming fellow. And the kisses he’d given her, when she’d allowed it, had been quite wonderful. But she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing so and allowed herself a small white lie, by avoiding the accusation with a scoff. ‘You would have noticed no difference had we married.’

      ‘And this is what honesty is worth,’ he said with a dramatic gesture. ‘The least you could do, now that you are trapped with me, is to spare my feelings and pretend that you once liked me.’

      She had not intended to hurt his feelings, not that she truly believed he had them. ‘I liked you as well as any other man,’ she allowed. ‘I have always known that the match I would make might be decided after a brief acquaintance, and based on fondness rather than grand passion. Had we married in truth, I would have given you the same wholehearted devotion that I’d have given to any other man.’

      If possible, he looked even more injured. ‘It is faint praise to know that any man could have taken my place and received similar affection.’

      ‘You would not have minded, I assure you.’ She raised her head with pride at her one accomplishment. ‘I have been properly educated on that score and would have made you a fine wife.’

      ‘This I must hear,’ he said with a lascivious smile. ‘Tell me what sort of education you have that would lead us to be in the situation we are sharing. Did it involve tricking men into having you? Or are there other skills I might appreciate?’ He gave a waggle of eyebrow to imply the sorts of things her mother had all too candidly explained to her.

      ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ She did her best, but the thought that he might see easily through the falsehood was acutely embarrassing. ‘I know all that is important for a wife to know. I can sing and dance and play the pianoforte. My watercolours are deemed to be quite good. I can net a purse and embroider with silks. I can manage the servants of a large household and plan all sorts of entertainments. My manners are impeccable, whether on a morning visit to a friend or a court presentation. In addition, I am quite well read, can speak and understand French and read a bit of Italian. Most importantly, I am willing to be led in all things by the wisdom of my husband. What more could a man expect?’

      ‘I stand corrected,’ Jack said with an ironic smile. ‘Apparently, you are all I could want. The fact that you are poor as a church mouse and cannot hide your contempt for me does not enter into the equation.’

      ‘The poverty cannot be helped. It was not my doing. And I hold you in contempt because you lied to me,’ she said. ‘You pretended to be someone you were not. Your name, your family, your stories of India—not a word of it was true.’

      ‘I was acting,’ he insisted. ‘I played the role I was hired for.’

      ‘But I believed in you and your stories.’ And she was most thoroughly disappointed to find that the man she had convinced herself she could love did not exist at all.

      He brightened. ‘Which is proof that I am a better actor than I have been given credit for. I wish, my dear, that I could take you to meet some of my critics and show to them how completely convincing I am in this part. They would take back what they said about my performance of Mordaunt Exbury in Love and Fashion. They said I was not lordly enough,’ he added indignantly. ‘And some wag in the audience had the nerve to throw a rotten potato.’

      ‘I hope he hit you, you miserable cur,’ Thea said with sincerity. ‘You stood before God and lied through your teeth about staying with me until we were parted by death.’

      ‘And as far as you knew, we would have been.’ He thought for moment. ‘It is almost the truth, when you think about it. A real Kenton existed. But he is, in fact, dead.’ He smiled at her in encouragement. ‘Perhaps you are already a widow.’

      ‘But I did not wish to be his widow. I wished to be his wife. And in any case, I did not marry that man, rest his soul. I married you.’ She raised a finger in a dire gesture of accusation, hoping that he would see the difference and the dilemma it put her in.

      He caught her hand out of the air and pressed it to his lips for a quick kiss. ‘And we must endeavour to make the best of that unfortunate mistake. We are just coming to Spayne Court. Let us tell all to the earl and see what he makes of it. I am sure that, once he has explained the advantages of the situation, you will be a most happy widow.’

      ‘Once I know you better, I am sure I shall.’ She snatched her hand back from his, ignoring the tingling in the fingers where his lips had touched it, and hurried to exit the coach as soon as the servants could open the door.

      Chapter Five

      Even before she’d set her cap for Kenton, Thea had known that Spayne Court was as venerable a house as one could hope to find in England. As the guidebooks had assured her, it looked like a castle. And that was what it had been when the first earl was awarded the land and title. The current Spayne was rumoured to be an enigma. He made few trips to London for Parliament, and none at all for social reasons. By turns the gossips described him as frail, in ill health, and healthy but suffering tragically from grief after the death of his wife, though this had occurred some ten years earlier. The ton speculated that the sudden appearance of Kenton was a sign that he was failing at last and the coronet was likely to be passed sooner rather than later.

      But the man that greeted them when they entered the great hall seemed spry enough. He was healthy, well groomed and barely past middle age. He was also smiling broadly at Thea and gave no evidence of debilitating grief.

      She could see from the first why he might have chosen Jack to imitate his heir. Though the resemblance was not strong, their blond hair, straight noses and sparkling blue eyes were close enough to alike that it was not hard to believe them father and son.

      ‘Jack.’ Spayne stepped forwards to clap the back of the mock Kenton, as though there were nothing strange or unfamiliar about him. ‘Back from London at last and with your lovely bride. Let me have a look at the girl.’ He stepped away again, turning to Thea and giving her a thorough, head-to-toe examination before holding out his hands to her in what seemed to be a sincere gesture of welcome. ‘My dear Cynthia.’

      ‘Lord Spayne.’ Her knees buckled instinctively into a curtsy and her head

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