Married By Midnight (4 page)

“
I barely remember what is here,” he added.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was ridiculously awkward, but quite unavoidable. She must simply find a way to push through this uncomfortable beginning.

“
Then let us discover it together,” she said. “Shall we go left or right?”

“
Your choice, Lady Anne.”

“
I choose left.”

They walked the length of the room, stopping briefly to look at each painting, saying nothing as they continued in silence.

On a few occasions Anne would have liked to make a comment or two about the individual pieces, but the tension in the air kept her from venturing forth into easy conversation. She had no idea what was going through this man’s mind. If she read him correctly, he was feeling somewhat irritable. And the mere fact of her presence seemed to weigh him down like an anchor.

“
This one is very interesting,” she mentioned, hoping to draw Garrett out and break through the rigid veneer of ice that stood between them. “I am quite partial to landscapes. What do you think?”

He glanced at the painting without interest, shrugged, then moved on to the next.

Anne’s stomach slowly began to tighten with displeasure. The Sinclairs had come to
her
, not the other way around.

The excruciating silence seemed to go on without end, while Anne grew increasingly frustrated. Could she endure this man’s reticence for a full two weeks?

Yes. She supposed she could survive anything for personal freedom, but would their performance be convincing enough for the duke? He expected a love match.

“
Garrett.” Her fiancé’s name shot over her lips rather harshly, which was not what she’d intended, but it was too late to take that back. She stopped and let go of his arm.

At last, he spoke. “You wish to say something?”

“
I do,” she replied, then began carefully. “Clearly this is an awkward situation. For that reason, I believe it will require a certain measure of cooperation on our parts. There is no point avoiding the fact that this is a sham. We both know it, but we must at least put on a good show for your father. I will do my part if you will do yours. Perhaps it would be best to discuss a strategy?”

He glanced about the room as if he needed time to reconsider all this.

“
Do you wish to change your mind?” she asked, shocked by the direction this was heading. She had only just arrived. She hadn’t even met the duke yet.

Garrett’s blue eyes shot to hers. “No, I do not wish that.”

“
Then could you at least try to be polite?” she suggested.

“
I didn’t think I was being
im
polite.”

“
You’ve barely spoken two words to me since we left the drawing room. Let me ask you again, Lord Garrett. Are you uncertain about this? If you are, tell me now, because I have no intention of
dragging
you to the altar. I am not that desperate.”

Though she
was
desperate, for she simply could not face the idea of returning to her uncle’s house, and she’d already begun to fantasize about her new life. She’d made plans in her mind—plans that included a modest, cozy little house in Oxford...or perhaps Bath.

Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “We hardly know each other, Anne, and already we are knee deep in an argument.” He began to slowly pace.

“
This is not an argument.”

His eyebrow raised in question. He glanced over his shoulder at her, as if to say
you’re still arguing
.

Anne took a deep breath and wondered how best to reply, for clearly Garrett had more than a few reservations about this situation.

“
I am certain it will work out swimmingly,” she said, working hard to sound reassuring. “
If
we resolve to help each other. I am not sure how much talent I possess as an actress, but I am willing to do what I must to convince your father that we are happily betrothed.”

Garrett glanced up at an enormous portrait of a rather fierce looking aristocrat, then took a seat on an upholstered bench against the wall beneath it.

“
I apologize,” he said. “Please come and join me.”

He leaned back against the wall. She sat down beside him, and waited for him to speak.

“
I understand what you are saying,” he began at last. “When I present you to my father, we cannot appear to be strangers. If he asks, we must know things about each other.”

“
I agree.” Ah, this was better. Now at least they were getting somewhere.

“
Tell me something personal,” he said, looking away in the other direction, as if this were torture for him. “What do you like to do? When were you born? And where did we meet?”

Anne took a moment to consider how best to stage this production—where to place the props and block the actors. “I believe it would be best if we kept the untruths and inventions to a minimum. Let us simply tell him that your brothers introduced us.”

“
But I have been out of the country for seven years,” Garrett replied, “and Father knows it. We will have to say we met in Florence or Rome. Have you ever been to Italy?”

“
No, I’ve never been anywhere.”

He glanced at her suspiciously, as if she had done something wrong. “Why not?”

“
Because I have been living in seclusion in Yorkshire for the past four years. I was caring for my grandmother, who passed away six months ago.”

There were other far less noble reasons for her seclusion, however.

Did he know about that?

“
Did your brothers tell you
anything
about me?” she asked.

“
Not really.”

“
And you didn’t bother to enquire?”

He glanced away impatiently. “I thought they made it clear in the contract that there would be no courtship between us, and we would live separate lives.”

“
Like strangers. Yes, they made that abundantly clear to me, but I thought you might wish to know who you would be marrying. I confess I am curious about
you
.”

His brow furrowed with what appeared to be fatigue. “There is nothing to know,” he replied. “I am doing this for the money, plain and simple. Once my inheritance is secured, I will leave England and return to Greece.”

She sat back and spoke dispassionately. “I see. How wonderful that we have something in common then, for money is my motivation as well.”

They sat in chilly, censoring silence.
Good Lord.
Talking to him was like wringing blood from a stone.

“
You asked me when I was born and what I like to do,” she said, forcing herself to continue, for she wanted that damned house in Oxford and was not about to let him spoil those plans by intimidating her. “I am four-and-twenty. My birthday is March 28th. I like dogs and horses. I enjoy riding. It has been my favorite pastime all my life. I also like to read. I play the piano and can sing reasonably well, and I am very independent. I crave freedom.”

“
For purposes of this charade,” he said without enthusiasm, “who are your parents, and have I met them?”

“
My father was Viscount Stanley. You haven’t met my parents because they are both dead, which is why I have been living with my uncle, Baron Penrose.”

He contemplated that for a moment. “With whom shall we say you traveled to Florence? That same uncle?”

“
My uncle would never take me abroad,” she replied with a scoff, “but since we are telling lies, and to satisfy your father, let me say yes. It was he.”

Another chilly silence ensued while they each pondered the fictional scenario that was finally taking form.

He glanced down at her hand and stared at it for a moment. “I see you are wearing a ring. Is that...?”

“
Yes, it’s my engagement ring,” she replied, lifting her hand to give him a closer look at the oval-shaped ruby surrounded by diamonds. “Your brothers gave it to me when I signed the contract. They said it belonged to your grandmother.”

He stared at it for a few second more, but made no further comment. A short while later he said, “I suspect we will have to make things up as we go along. Who knows what questions Father might ask.”

“
I will do my best to be convincing and will share what I tell him.”

“
As will I,” he replied. “When did your parents die? How old were you?”

She regarded him without flinching. “My mother died when I was nine years old, and my father passed away four years ago. I was twenty. That’s when I went to live with my uncle. And all that is the truth—not invention.”

He paused. “I am sorry about your parents.”

She was surprised by his kind words. “Thank you.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Now you know the most relevant details about me. What should I know about you? For purposes of the charade, of course.”

He shrugged, as if there were nothing to tell, before painting a few broad strokes to satisfy her. “I spent the past seven years living in Italy and Greece,” he said. “Sailing my boat around the Mediterranean. I also write poetry.”

“
Have you had anything published?”

“
No.”

When he offered no further information, she said, “I thought writers were supposed to be articulate, yet you seem to be a master of one word answers.”

“
I apologize, Lady Anne,” he replied, looking her square in the eye. “I don’t enjoy talking about myself.”

She stared at him for a long moment and frowned at his reticence.
What in the world had caused it?
He was a strikingly handsome nobleman who lived a life of leisure, sailing around the Mediterranean. Shouldn’t he be full of reckless charm and good-natured appeal?

“
I wonder why I fell in love with you, then,” she said. “For the purposes of the charade, of course.”

He gave her a dark look. “Because I am the son of a duke with a large financial settlement forthcoming to me. Is that not enough for a viscount’s daughter?”

A throat cleared in the doorway just then, and they both turned.

Lord Hawthorne approached. “I apologize for the interruption,” he said. “Father has surprised us all by joining us in the drawing room. He seems in good spirits. He wishes to see you, Garrett, and to meet your Lady Anne.”

They both stood up while Anne wrestled with a sudden rush of anxiety, for other than a few sweeping superficial details, she still knew very little about Lord Garrett. She did not feel ready to meet the duke.

“
Shall we?” Lord Garrett coolly offered his arm.

She had no choice but to accompany him. As they walked together she sensed a similar anxiety in him, for he was about to reunite with a father he hadn’t seen in seven years. A father who—according to family—was well on his way to madness.

Chapter Four

“My son. Good heavens, look how you have grown.”

Garrett was taken aback by the significant aging of his father since they parted seven years ago. The duke was shockingly thin. His hair was pure white and gone wild about his face—and those were just the physical differences.

The duke had been a harsh parent all his life and had never shown any love to Garrett, but now he approached with arms outstretched.

Garrett was intensely aware of Lady Anne stepping aside to give them room to embrace. The shock of his father’s warm welcome was enough to make Garrett wonder if he had fallen down the rabbit hole.

“
My dear, dear boy.” The duke wept as he squeezed Garrett tightly. “I feared I would never see you again, but you have come home to us at last.” As he recovered his composure and wiped his eyes, he stepped back to hold Garrett at arm’s length. He grinned mischievously. “And with a lovely fiancée, I am told?” He nudged Garrett in the ribs. “Where have you been hiding this little one, eh? She looks like an angel. Introduce me if you will, before I dash off to marry her myself!”