TWO
FERGUS, if he’d ever given the matter any thought, might have concluded that most women would be glad to have all the hard work done for them. But, then again, perhaps not. Who wanted a partner that some well-meaning relative had decided was ‘suitable’? He, more than anyone, had reason to be sympathetic.
‘Is that important?’ he asked. ‘The “Lady” bit?’
‘It is to her. I was once engaged to an earl; she’s never forgiven me for not making it to the altar.’
‘An earl?’
‘An earl with an estate in Gloucestershire, a house in Eaton Square and a castle in Scotland.’ She paused. ‘Of course, it was only a little castle.’
‘Is that why you changed your mind?’ he asked. ‘Because the castle was little?’
‘No. I fortunately discovered in time that I wasn’t countess material. I didn’t want to give up my career, you see. That’s the test, wouldn’t you say? How much you’re prepared to give up for someone.’
‘I believe so. But would you have had to give it up? Your career?’
‘I told you. I wasn’t cut out to be a countess.’
Which didn’t actually answer his question, he noted. ‘You gave up the castle for your career?’
‘Without hesitation,’ she agreed.
Despite her cool manner, she was finding the conversation difficult. But he persevered. ‘Then it’s the idea of marriage that’s repellent, rather than your mother’s choice of suitable grooms?’
‘I’ve no particular objection to marriage as an institution, Mr Kavanagh. I can see that the right wife to organise his domestic life must be a wonderful asset for any man.’ His sisters would undoubtedly agree with her. ‘Unfortunately, I’m far too busy organising my own life to undertake the task for anyone else. I know my own limitations and I’m just not wife material.’ She paused. ‘I just don’t have the necessary qualifications.’
‘I didn’t know you could take a course in it. City and Guilds?’ he asked. ‘Or Royal Society of Arts examinations? Do they run a course for prospective husbands?’
‘Maybe they should.’ Her smile was a touch strained. ‘I do always find myself asking, if all these thirty-something bachelors are so perfect, why hasn’t someone snapped them up long ago?’
‘It’s an interesting question, Miss Grant,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘Maybe, like the best wines, they need a little extra time to mature.’
The touch of irony was not lost on her, and for just a moment he thought he detected the faintest blush colour her cheeks. ‘Oh, dear. That was tactless of me, wasn’t it?’
‘Probably,’ he agreed easily. ‘But illuminating. Tell me, is your opinion based on personal experience or simple prejudice?’
She allowed herself the smallest of smiles. ‘I refuse to say another word on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.’
‘That’s a pity. I was rather enjoying the conversation.’ And to reassure her, he went on, ‘I have to admit my own pitiful excuse for not coming up to scratch is simply that I’ve been far too busy.’
Her brows shot up. ‘Doing what?’ Then there was that hint of a blush again. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t ask.’
‘Working, raising my sisters. I was dumped in at the deep end when my parents died a year after I graduated.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ And the quick compassion in her eyes told him that she wasn’t simply being polite. ‘My own father died when I was at university. I still miss him. So does my mother. They were, I think, the most perfectly happy couple—always together.’
‘Mine too. And they died together, too. I don’t think either one of them would have been capable of living without the other.’ It was the kind of love that seemed to strike every member of his family sooner or later. He wasn’t sure whether he welcomed the idea of it happening to him or dreaded it, and in a sudden flash of insight he wondered if maybe, after all, that was why he had so assiduously avoided all the marriage lures thrown in his path during the years. Then he realised that Veronica Grant was waiting for him to continue. ‘Unfortunately my father had no interest in business, or anything very much except my mother. Kavanagh Industries was in comfortable decline, everyone too cosy to institute the painful process of bringing it up to date; the family estate was in much the same situation, and I had two considerably younger sisters to distract me should I ever find myself with five minutes to spare.’ Not that he hadn’t had his moments. But he’d never allowed things to progress to anything deeper, more involving. Never even been tempted.
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Veronica said, ‘Work can take over.’
‘And teenage angst is not conducive to romance,’ he continued with relief. ‘Either Poppy or Dora always seemed to have some crisis …’ And they had always come first. While he had been talking, he had been toying with his breakfast. Now he straightened and looked at her. ‘Why are you still on the marriage market, Miss Grant?’
Having bared his own soul for her curiosity, he decided it was perfectly reasonable to expect her to do the same for his, and she did not appear to object. Yet she regarded him levelly for a moment, as if wondering whether he was really interested, or simply passing the time. ‘I’m not on the marriage market, Mr Kavanagh. I told you, I’m not wife material.’
‘You’ve never even come close since the earl?’
‘Have you?’ she demanded.
Fergus sat back. ‘I apologise. It was impertinent of me to ask.’
She seemed to take a moment, gather herself. ‘No, Mr Kavanagh, I’m sorry for snapping. You see, most people don’t dare bring up the subject.’ She took a bite of her toast. ‘I’m considered rather formidable,’ she confided. ‘Except, of course, by my mother, who is formidable with a capital F. She believes that marriage is the only suitable occupation for a lady.’
‘She’s a bit old-fashioned?’
‘Positively prehistoric.’
‘Perhaps you should have just sent your regrets to your cousin, along with your best wishes,’ he suggested. An option not open to him. ‘Attendance isn’t compulsory if you’re not one of the major players.’
‘On the contrary, in my family we expect a full turn-out for dress occasions. Weddings, christenings, special anniversaries—’
‘Funerals?’
‘Those too.
‘And I’m very fond of Fliss. I couldn’t miss her big day. Besides, if I didn’t go, people would think I was sulking.’
‘Because of the biological clock ticking away in your ear?’
There was a pause, brief, barely noticeable, but it was there. ‘I don’t think my biological clock ever got wound up,’ she said.
Fergus
