Read the book: «A Vow For An Heiress»
The vow of a lord
In exchange for an heiress!
With a bankrupt and crumbling estate, Lord Ashurst’s situation is well known to the ton. He needs a wife, and she must be rich! He leaps at a marriage of convenience with heiress Rosa Ingram. She may be beautiful, kind and brave, but after discovering the truth about her past and family wealth, he’s torn by his sense of honor. Should he marry her now?
“An intriguing and uncommon opening will have readers wondering what could possibly happen next.”
—RT Book Reviews on Carrying the Gentleman’s Secret by Helen Dickson
“A Cinderella-like tale, Dickson’s newest is one of healing and hope.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Foundling Bride by Helen Dickson
HELEN DICKSON was born and still lives in South Yorkshire, with her retired farm manager husband. Having moved out of the busy farmhouse where she raised their two sons, she now has more time to indulge in her favourite pastimes. She enjoys being outdoors, travelling, reading and music. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure. It was a love of history that drove her to writing historical fiction.
Also by Helen Dickson
The Devil Claims a Wife
The Master of Stonegrave Hall
Mishap Marriage
A Traitor’s Touch
Caught in Scandal’s Storm
Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant
Lord Lansbury’s Christmas Wedding
Royalist on the Run
The Foundling Bride
Carrying the Gentleman’s Secret
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
A Vow for an Heiress
Helen Dickson
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08863-3
A VOW FOR AN HEIRESS
© 2018 Helen Dickson
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Version: 2020-03-02
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Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Extract
About the Publisher
Prologue
1816
The Indian sunset was magnificent, illuminating the towers and domes of the Rajinda Palace in a princely state in the north of India. They caught the light—bright gold in the flaming glory of the setting sun. On the wide horizon the gold gradually turned to rose and purple. It was a vision of fantastic splendour—one William had marvelled at since he was a boy. A deep, aching sadness touched his heart. He was soon to leave this beautiful country, the land of his birth—his home, never to return.
Having served as an officer with distinction in the honourable East India Company, William’s ambition and ability elevating him to the position of Colonel, on receiving a letter informing him of the demise of his cousin, bound by the ties of family, he had resigned his post. He was to go to England to take up the position of the sixth Earl of Ashurst, an event he looked on with little joy. India held his heart and his imagination, and it would be hard adapting to life as a member of the English aristocracy.
Throughout the years with his regiment he had been motivated by a sense of adventure and driven by the excitement of battle, but the sights of the battlefields and the loss of his friends had left their scars.
He passed through an enormous gated entrance, large enough for elephants two abreast and an army to pass through. Being a familiar figure at the palace, allowed to come and go at will, he was not apprehended. The vast, marble magnificence of the ornately decorated royal residence with its orchards and groves inside the massive, crenellated Mogul walls never failed to impress him. He walked beneath tall archways and through scented courtyards full of statuary and on through marble pavilions to a place where a cool breeze drifted through detailed latticework from the flower-scented gardens. Colourful ring-necked parrots graced the branches of mango trees, loud with quarrelling monkeys and squabbling mynah birds.
As a surgeon in the British East India Company, William’s father had come to the palace on the request of the Rajah—the present Rajah’s father—to treat his youngest son, Tipu, who had been thrown from his horse and almost trampled to death. His medical skill had saved the boy’s life, although the accident had left him crippled. His father had been highly thought of by the Rajah and he had brought William with him on many occasions to spend time with the Rajah’s youngest son.
William watched as a figure materialised from the shadows. This was his friend Tipu Chandra, dressed in silks and winking jewels. He was small and slight, his eyes brilliant and watchful. Tipu was intelligent and imaginative, a man of brains and breeding whose enthusiasm for life had been broken by the crippling riding accident. He was twenty-six years old, yet he shuffled towards him like a frail old man, dragging his injured leg behind him. There was close friendship and brotherhood between them, and a great measure of mutual respect. The two men embraced, then Tipu stepped back.
‘William, my friend. I am so glad you have come. I understand you are to go to England.’
‘I am. I have had word that my cousin has died. I am his heir and must return to take over the running of the estate—such as it is at this present time. According to his solicitor it is practically bankrupt, so you understand my haste to leave India.’
‘Knowing you, my friend, you are most reluctant to leave. I know you look upon India as your home.’
‘You are right, I do, and I would not have left without seeing you, Tipu.’
‘And you will not forget me when you are no longer in India?’
‘I could never do that.’
‘That is good. You are much changed from the boy who came to the palace with your father all those years ago and took pity on the crippled child.’
‘I never pitied you, Tipu. You know that.’
‘I do and thank you for it. I always looked forward to your visits and valued the time you spent with me. Few people wanted to spend time with a cripple, but you were different.’
‘I’d like to think I saw beneath your disability. You are my lifelong friend and I shall miss you. I got your message saying you wanted to see me. What about?’
‘My nephew—Dhanu. I have an important and rather delicate task for you to do for me. In fact...’ he paused, studying William’s face ‘...it is a task I am taking a tremendous risk in entrusting to you. But I know that you can do it. If anybody can, it is you. I want you to take Dhanu with you when you go to England.’
William’s eyes opened wide. ‘What? Why would you want me to? Tipu—has something happened?’
‘I am afraid for his safety. Here anything might happen to him. It is not only wild beasts that prowl beyond the walls that are a danger to him. It is here, within the palace. My brother’s wife, the Rani, and her brother Kamal hate him. Kamal is ambitious. All he wants is power, lots of it. He is greedy and cruel and if he could get rid of my brother so much the better, once he has dealt with Dhanu. He will use his sister’s children like counters in the games he likes to play and once he has achieved his aim, he will sit upon his achievements like a large spider and weave his plots. The boys will be like pawns in his games, to be put forward as bait, to draw rich prizes into his web. I do all I can, but I cannot watch Dhanu all of the time.’
William knew Kamal Kapoor and how throughout the years he had taunted Tipu mercilessly about his crippled state. He also knew how much Tipu loved the boy, the five-year-old son of his brother, Rohan, the Rajah. He also knew how deeply he had loved Zoya, Dhanu’s mother, how devoted to her he had been. But her ambitious family had overlooked the crippled Tipu in favour of the more able-bodied, more powerful Rajah. Something in Tipu’s eyes caught his attention. Ever since Zoya had died, he had seen a deep sadness in his friend’s eyes. But now it was worse. It was more than sadness—it was fear. Fear for Dhanu.
When Zoya had died, the Rajah had taken another wife, Anisha. She was very beautiful. Her position was strengthened by the birth of their twin sons. Courtiers flattered and fawned on her and hastened to ingratiate themselves with the new power behind the throne—not so Tipu. Intrigue and ambition haunted the new wife’s quarters. Anisha was a devious woman, a woman whose heart would never rule her head. She would not rest until she had put her firstborn son in Dhanu’s place, such was her jealousy of the boy.
Unfortunately, the Rajah was besotted with his new wife and he did not see what was happening. On the birth of their sons, suddenly his firstborn was of less importance. He would do anything to please her. She held him in the palm of her hand. Her hatred of Dhanu knew no bounds. She would not be secure in her position until the Rajah’s eldest son was removed. Accidents had begun to happen and Tipu now employed an official taster for the child lest she try to poison him.
‘Steps have to be taken to protect Dhanu,’ Tipu said. ‘He is still grieving deeply the death of his mother—he misses her every day. Take him with you—in secret—until it is safe for him to return.’
‘And his father—the Rajah?’
‘My brother is weak. He would do anything to please his wife. Despite my own aversion to the woman and other differences, as brothers we have always been close. He has agreed to let me remove him from the palace.’
‘But not to have him go to England.’
‘He is so blinded by his love and susceptible to his wife’s influence, I doubt he will notice he is gone. I will deal with him when he finds out what I have done.’
The Rajah’s deep affection and his protection of his younger brother could not be denied, but how he would react when he discovered Dhanu had been spirited out of India William could not imagine. ‘You have been more of a father to Dhanu than his own, Tipu. Zoya should have married you.’
A sad smile touched Tipu’s lips. ‘No. She was very beautiful—such beauty would have been wasted on a cripple. It was enough for me that I could be near her. You are my good friend, William. I beg you, do this for me and you will be suitably rewarded.’
‘You and I are friends, Tipu. I look for no reward.’
‘Nevertheless I will not forget what you have done for me, my friend—or your father. Had he not treated me when I was thrown from my horse when I was a boy and everyone almost gave me up for dead, I would not be here now. Better to live the life of a cripple than to have no life at all. So—you will do it, you will take Dhanu with you?’
‘Yes—I will take him.’
‘You will protect him, I know.’
‘I will protect him with my life. You know that.’
‘Do not underestimate Kamal Kapoor, William. You know the depth of his cruelty, his deviousness and his mastery of poisons and debilitating drugs. Keep what you are to do to yourself. If he hears of it, he will strike before you have a chance to board ship.’
William’s expression was grave. ‘I will not utter a word, although I would not put it past him to follow me to England to do the deed—or hire someone to do it for him.’
‘That is my concern. Take care, William—of yourself and Dhanu. You are precious to me, both of you. Because of our friendship Kamal hates you enough to tear your life to shreds. Be warned.’
Chapter One
Having left the ship that had brought them from India, William Barrington, the Earl of Ashurst, escorted the child and his Indian nurse, Mishka, along the busy wharf of the East India Dock. The air heavy with the odour of hemp and pitch, it was a seething mass of noisy humanity. A number of heavily armed Company-owned vessels were at anchor in the deep water. Tall masts and webs of rigging swayed with the motion of the River Thames, the charcoal-grey water lapping at the great hulls. Workshops and warehouses all within a mile of India House stored all kinds of exotic commodities from the east that stirred the imagination. Ropes and barrels were piled high and stevedores carried trunks and crates from the ship.
Dhanu, the five-year-old child, had difficulty keeping up with William’s long strides so he hoisted him up into his arms. Tall, lean and as olive skinned as a native Indian, his hair dark, thick and curling, William was a man who inspired awe in all those he met.
His mind was very much on what he had to do now he was in London. After much deliberation and letters passing to and fro between him and his solicitor, there was only one solution that he could see to satisfy the creditors. He must marry a rich wife, a prospect he little relished after his ill-fated betrothal to Lydia Mannering. Lydia was the only daughter of an Englishman who had made his money in India as countless others had done and continued to do. Lydia was beautiful, witty and fun to be with, he had adored her, believing she would fulfil all his yearnings and dreams and light up his life with love and laughter and children. She was impressed to learn he was the cousin of the Earl of Ashurst and enthralled with the idea of going to London and mixing with the cream of society. Despite his aristocratic connections, William came from the poorer branches of his parents’ respective families. He did not have a private fortune and did not give a damn for titles, when all Lydia’s mercenary heart cared about was wealth and rank.
How utterly stupid and gullible he had been to let himself believe she cared for him. On returning from a long tour of duty he was devastated to discover Lydia had married someone else, an officer whose credentials and wealth far outshone his own.
William was the last in a long line of Barringtons. If he didn’t produce a legitimate heir, the title would become extinct. It troubled him more than anyone realised, and he knew he could not ignore the issue. He would marry with great reluctance, unless he could find a wife who would bear his children and make no demands on him. Hurt and angry by Lydia’s betrayal, with grim determination he had forced himself to come to grips with what she had done, managing to keep his emotions well hidden. Never again would he let his emotions get the better of him, and he vowed that he would not allow himself to be so weakened by a woman’s body and a pair of seductive eyes. His heart was closed to all women.
Apparently his solicitor had a wealthy client, the mother of a man—Jeremiah Ingram—who had made his fortune as a sugar cane planter in the West Indies, and she was looking to marry her two granddaughters to titled gentlemen. He was to be introduced to the eldest of the two before he left the city for Berkshire. William was single-minded and completely unreadable, and at that particular moment he had an uneasy feeling of being watched. His stride was unhurried and, apart from a muscle that ticked in his clenched jaw, there was nothing about him to betray the fact that every nerve and faculty was tense and alert. His sharp, bright blue eyes observed everything that was going on around him, looking closely at individuals and probing the shadows for the dark faces of the two men who had followed him from India on another Company vessel, two men who posed a direct threat to the child.
As he left the docks he was unaware of the two figures that emerged from the shadows. One of the men was Kamal Kapoor. His dark eyes held a steadiness of sinister intent as they followed in William’s wake.
Glancing out of the window of her grandmother’s well-sprung travelling chaise, Rosa Ingram wished the weather wasn’t so depressingly dull and cold, with rain falling heavily. Clouds darkened the sky, obliterating the sun as if it was probably too afraid to show its face.
Rosa felt no attachment to England. With its depressing weather and capital city a confusion of people and noise, it was a world away from the vibrancy and gently waving palms against the splendid vivid blue sky of her plantation home on her beloved island of Antigua, where she and her sister, Clarissa, older than her by two years, had been raised. A lump appeared in her throat when she thought of the circumstances that had brought them to this day, of the anguish that had engulfed them, almost drowning them in a sea of despair when their beloved parents had been laid to rest.
Abiding by their father’s wishes, they had come to England on his demise to live with their paternal grandmother at Fountains Lodge in Berkshire. With just her maid, Dilys, for company, Rosa was travelling to Berkshire after staying with Aunt Clara and Uncle Michael in London.
Their grandmother was resolved to find suitable husbands for both her granddaughters before her death, which, since she suffered ill health, could happen at any time. She was afraid that should it come to pass before she had seen them both settled, as immensely wealthy young women they would be besieged by fortune hunters. It could prove disastrous with no one to guide them. She was assured their beauty and wealth would secure some penniless nobleman.
But how Rosa wished she could put her share of their father’s wealth to better use. Shoring up some penniless nobleman’s estate seemed a dreadful waste of money when so many people were in want. Deeply concerned with the sorry plight of London’s destitute children, Aunt Clara was involved in charity work. It was the kind of work that appealed to Rosa, something she could apply herself to that would be both worthwhile and rewarding. When she had broached the subject with her aunt, much as she would welcome the funds that would benefit her charities, she had refused, telling Rosa that she was far too young to become involved with such things. Besides, Rosa’s father had made his mother, Amelia Ingram, her guardian. It was up to her to decide what she should do.
And so Rosa had set off for Berkshire. Clarissa had protested tearfully against marrying the Earl of Ashurst, openly declaring her love for Andrew Nicholson, a young man she had met on Antigua. He had been visiting friends on the island and had travelled to England to visit relatives on the same ship. His family home was on the island of Barbados, where his father, like their own, also had a sugar cane plantation. The Nicholson family were wealthy and well connected and held considerable influence on the island. Clarissa had appealed to her grandmother to let them wed before he had to return to Barbados, but she had dismissed Clarissa’s entreaties, stubbornly refusing to discuss the matter further.
She believed she had found the perfect match for her elder granddaughter in William Barrington, the Earl of Ashurst. Having distinguished himself as a soldier in the East India Company, he had recently returned to England to fill the role of the next Earl of Ashurst, heir to the vast Barrington estate in the county of Berkshire. Unfortunately it was almost bankrupt. To avoid closing the house and selling land and the Barrington town house in Grosvenor Square, an enormous amount of money must be acquired—and quickly. With no means of his own, William Barrington had agreed to his lawyers’ suggestion that he found himself a wealthy wife.
The Ingram family’s small land portion bordered the Ashurst estate. Miss Clarissa and Miss Rosa Ingram’s widowed grandmother had been in London for the sole purpose of calling on the Earl’s lawyers to propose a match between the Earl and her eldest granddaughter. Matters had been approved but nothing signed, and following a brief meeting between the Earl and Clarissa, their grandmother had returned to Berkshire with Clarissa. Unfortunately, Aunt Clara had taken to her bed with a severe cold. Concerned for her aunt, Rosa had remained behind until she was well enough for her to leave.
The travelling chaise pulled into the yard of a busy inn, where coaches going to and from London stopped for their passengers to partake of refreshment. Rosa uttered a sigh of relief. The journey was proving to be long and tedious, made worse by her maid’s sniffles and coughing. The poor girl did look most unwell. The sooner they reached their destination and the girl was in bed the better.
‘Come along inside, Dilys,’ Rosa urged as they climbed down from the coach, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head to protect herself from the relentless rain while stepping round the deep puddles that had formed in the yard. ‘Something to eat and a hot drink will probably make you feel better.’
The inn was thronged with a rumpled assortment of noisy travellers, trying to get close to the warmth of the crackling fire as they waited to resume their journeys. Seeing her dismay on finding the inn so crowded, the driver sought out the landlord. After speaking to him they were shown into a less crowded room.
Rosa found a quiet corner for herself and Dilys while the driver left them to take care of the horses. After removing her fur-trimmed cloak and bonnet and ordering their meal, she glanced at the other occupants. Her gaze came to rest on a foreign woman and child seated across the room. She was conspicuous in the silk tunic of an Indian lady and she was trying to coax the child of the same race to eat. She was perhaps nearing thirty. A purple silk scarf was wrapped around her head, framing and half-covering her face. She appeared to be ill at ease, her eyes darting around the room and constantly looking towards the door.
Rosa’s observations were interrupted when food was brought to them, but she did notice the gentleman who came into the room and went to sit at the same table as the foreign woman. His eyes flicked around the room. They met Rosa’s briefly and without undue interest, then moved on.
Distracted, Rosa found herself staring at him. She judged him to be about thirty years of age, and he was tall and impressive—over six foot and lean of body—in the athletic sense. His skin was a golden olive shade—almost as dark as those people of mixed race on her island home. His hair was near black and thick, but it was his eyes that held her attention. They were piercing and ice blue, darkly fringed with lashes beneath fiercely swooping brows.
Unlike her sister and most of her friends Rosa was not a romantic at heart, but she thought him to be the most handsome man she had ever seen. He had an unmistakable aura of authority about him, of forcefulness and power. He also had an air of unease and the deep frown that furrowed his brow told her he didn’t appear to be in the best of moods. Her attention was diverted when Dilys was suddenly overcome with a fit of sneezing. The man shot a glance of irritation in their direction before concentrating his attention on the boy.
Having eaten and eager to be on her way, Rosa left the inn. Dilys excused herself and disappeared into the ladies’ retiring room. The yard was busy with carriages and people alighting and some setting off. Holding her skirts free of the puddles, she pushed her way through the people mingling about. The woman and child she had seen inside the inn were among them. Rosa heard the sound of hoofbeats and could feel them pounding the ground. She saw the crowd break up and part and then she saw a coach and four careering madly towards them.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement next to her and two hands seemed to leap out of the crowd beside her. The next thing she saw was the little boy suddenly propelled into the path of the horses. Without conscious thought she leapt forward and grasped the child, pulling him back before the horses galloped past and came to a halt. The child began to cry and the woman, who had been distracted and was looking the other way, turned back and took his hand.
‘What are you doing? You must be more careful.’
The woman spoke crossly in a voice whose faintly sing-song intonation alone betrayed the fact that it was not an Englishwoman who spoke.
The dark, frightened eyes of the child overflowed with tears. ‘I—I was pushed,’ he cried. ‘Someone pushed me.’
The woman focused her attention on Rosa. On seeing the flush on her face and her closeness to the child, she immediately assumed Rosa to be the guilty party, having no idea that she had just saved the child from being trampled to death. She was unable to truly comprehend what had just happened but the look she cast Rosa was cold and accusing.
The small, silent boy, who now had tears streaming down his cheeks, stared up at her, clasping the Indian woman’s hand. He was a strikingly attractive child, his Indian ancestry evident in his features and his jet-black hair. What entrapped Rosa more than anything was the compelling blackness of his eyes. They were large and widely spaced and fringed by glossy lashes. The woman began to drag him away, but not before Rosa had heard the child say in a small, quivering voice, ‘I was so frightened.’
Then the man she had seen inside the inn stepped between them and gently brushed away the child’s tears while bending his head to hear what the woman had to say. They spoke together in a language Rosa did not understand. After a moment he stood up straight and looked at Rosa, anger blazing in his eyes.
Some deep-rooted feminine instinct made Rosa’s breath catch in her throat at being confronted by a man of such powerful physical presence. He had an expression of strength and marked intelligence. His eyes drew another’s like a magnet to a pin. They were so full of life, so charged with the expression of their owner’s awareness. Unexpectedly, she found herself the victim of an acute attack of awkwardness and momentarily at a loss for words, for in such close proximity, his overwhelming masculinity seemed more pronounced. When her eyes locked on his she was quite unprepared for the effect he had on her—her pulse seemed to leap. With his piercing blue eyes and his rich dark hair, he was an extremely attractive man.
‘The child is unhurt—’
She was brusquely interrupted. ‘No thanks to you.’
His words had an aggressive ring to them. Bright colour flamed in her face and her slender figure stiffened and drew itself erect. She stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He looked at her full in the eyes, fixing her with a gaze of angry accusation. ‘I realise that your carelessness may have been accidental and if that is the case then I advise you to be more careful in the future.’
His condemnation was unnecessarily severe. She thought his anger had been brought about out of concern for the child, but she would not excuse his rudeness. ‘I would be obliged, sir, if you would voice your unjust accusation in a more temperate manner and apologise.’
The young woman’s anger and animosity might at any other time have amused William and, looking into a pair of eyes the colour of green moss in which gold and brown flecks shone and seemed to dance about, he might have taken time to admire her slender form and the flawless beauty of her face beneath the high-brimmed silk bonnet, but now, his major concern being for the child, he did not smile. His temper was not improved by her bold attack, which caused his lean features to darken and his lip to curl scornfully across even white teeth.
Chapter Two
It seemed to Rosa that she was entering a new world as she rode through the wrought-iron gates. When the gatekeeper closed them behind her she continued along the winding drive. Riding slowly past the lake, she took a moment to pause beneath the leafy canopy of a great sycamore tree. A cascade of water tumbled down a hill into a deep pool on the other side of a gracious three-arched bridge which spanned the narrow head of the lake. The still surface of the water was broken by the occasional swallow diving for midges on the surface. A boathouse could be seen in a recess among the trees on the other side.
She breathed deeply, the summer smells wafting about her. A sudden glow warmed her heart. She decided there and then that whatever drawbacks the Earl of Ashurst might possess, she would be well compensated by the beauty of Ashurst Park.
Coming to a halt at the foot of a low flight of stone steps, she dismounted. As she looked about her, a young man she assumed must be a groom hurried towards her.
‘Is Lord Ashurst at home?’
‘Yes, miss. Would you like me to take your horse?’
‘Yes—thank you.’ She watched him walk away leading her horse before climbing the steps. When she stood facing the door, she experienced her first signs of genuine apprehension. As if on cue the door was opened by a middle-aged male servant attired in black jacket and knee breeches.
‘I am here to see Lord Ashurst.’
He nodded. ‘Who shall I say, Miss...?’
‘Ingram,’ Rosa provided.
Waiting for the servant to return and removing her bonnet, Rosa looked about the large panelled hall. It was sun filled, polished and scented. She stood in awe of her surroundings. Beautiful artefacts reposed on a gleaming table in the centre, and on the walls were paintings of long-dead family members in gilded frames. The house exuded an indefinable quality—a sense of order, centuries of happiness and disappointments, memories of men and women who had lived and breathed within these walls—all folded into the fabric. The house was living, breathing, but empty of life.
Her eyes shone and she felt a peculiar excitement. It was unlike anything she had felt before and she found herself ensnared, as if this wonderful house was trying to wrap itself around her. She wanted to claim it for herself—she felt it was part of her destiny.
An elaborately carved oak staircase rose on one side of the hall to the upper floors, forming a gallery. She was conscious of a small contingent of curious maids lurking there. Open to their searching scrutiny, she was aware they stole lingering looks down at her. She managed to direct a self-conscious smile at them, but her mind was braced on the meeting with the Earl of Ashurst.
The servant reappeared.
‘Lord Ashurst will see you now. Please come this way.’
Keeping her eyes straight ahead of her, Rosa followed in his wake along an assortment of corridors, taking note of everything she saw. The house was awe-inspiring and, despite the crippling debts that the Earl was desperately trying to meet, the atmosphere was of comfort and luxury, of elegance and a style of living she could never have imagined in her island home. The servant swept open a pair of carved oaken doors and stepped aside to admit her into the study, a comfortable, tastefully furnished room lined with books and discerningly furnished. Large French windows were open, the scent of freshly mown grass drifting in.
The servant closed the door behind him as the man she assumed to be the Earl got up from his desk with a welcoming smile on his face, clearly expecting to see Miss Clarissa Ingram. He halted in surprise, staring instead at a vaguely familiar, beautiful young woman wearing a stylish riding habit.
Rosa was equally surprised when she recognised him. In that moment she noticed the startling intensity of his light blue eyes and again she thought how extraordinarily attractive he was. His tall frame was clad in impeccably tailored dark blue trousers and coat and white shirt and neckcloth at the throat. He stood, his shadow stretching across the room. Then he was striding towards her. The room jumped to life about him as his presence filled it, infusing it with his own energy and vigour.
Her heart seemed to suddenly leap in her chest in a ridiculous way. ‘Oh! It’s you! You are the man I met at the inn the other day. Are you the Earl of Ashurst?’
Momentarily stunned, William continued to stare at her. His blood stirred as she came into the light thrown by the sun through the leaded windows. The young woman was a beauty, her hat dangling by its ribbons from her fingers, a riding crop in her other hand. The rich vibrancy of her chestnut curls framed a heart-shaped face and the green eyes beneath long dark lashes that had caught his attention previously held his gaze now. She had a healthy and unblemished beauty that radiated a striking personal confidence. There was about her a kind of warm sensuality, something instantly suggestive to him of pleasurable fulfilment. It was something she could not help, something that was an inherent part of her.
‘I am Lord Ashurst, the Earl of Ashurst.’
On discovering the identity of her hoped-to-be husband and recalling their contentious previous encounter, she remembered that as she had walked away from him he had made a strong impression on her. And now here he was and the irony of it was that if her grandmother had her way then he was about to become betrothed to her sister.
Her momentary shock gave way to a cold anger. ‘Had I known who you are I would not have come here. You were very rude to me.’
His mouth curled into a thin smile. ‘After spending my entire adult life as a soldier, Miss Ingram, I’m afraid I shall have to relearn the art of gallantry. But as a matter of fact, I agree with you. My behaviour towards you was unmannerly. Believe me when I tell you that my conscience smote me and I wanted to do the right thing and apologise to you properly, but when I looked for you, you had left. Can I offer you refreshment?’
‘No, thank you. I have not come here to make polite conversation, but on a matter of the utmost importance. I realise you are a busy man so I will be brief and take up as little of your time as possible.’
He lifted an eyebrow. Tilting his head to one side, he gave her his whole attention. ‘What brings you here with such urgency?’
There was something in the depths of his eyes that Rosa could not fathom. Blue and narrowed by a knowing, intrusive smile, they seemed to look right past her face and into herself. For that split second she felt completely exposed and vulnerable—traits unfamiliar to her, traits she did not like. His direct, masculine assurance disconcerted her. She was vividly conscious that they were alone. She felt the mad, unfamiliar rush of blood singing through her veins, which she had never experienced before—not even with Simon. Instantly she felt resentful towards the Earl of Ashurst. He had made too much of an impact on her.
‘I am Rosalind Ingram—everyone calls me Rosa. I have come to speak to you about my sister, Clarissa. I don’t quite know how to begin. I have never done this sort of thing before, you see, and...my grandmother knows nothing of this visit. When she does I will feel the full force of her displeasure, but it will be worth it if you agree to what I propose. I have come to ask your help. I realise it is very presumptuous of me, and of course you are quite free to refuse, but the matter is urgent.’
‘Is there no one else who can help you?’
‘No—I’m afraid not. If I had...’
‘Because of what transpired between us on our first encounter you certainly would not have come to me.’
‘No, that’s not right. I’m afraid you are the only person I can ask to help.’
A muscle twitched in his cheek and his light blue eyes rested on her ironically. ‘My curiosity is aroused as to why you have come here without your grandmother’s knowledge to visit a man you don’t even know.’
Crossing to the fireplace, he draped his arm across the mantel and turned, regarding his visitor with a cool and speculative gaze. He could not help but admire the way she looked. Her overall appearance was flawless and he was quickly coming to the conclusion that she would set the standard by which all other women have to be judged, at least in his mind.
Her hair had been arranged artfully about her head and several feathery curls brushed her cheeks, lending a charming softness to her skin. The appeal in her large, silkily lashed green eyes was so strong that he had to mentally shake himself free of their spell. Something stirred within him that he was at a loss to identify.
‘I am intrigued. Please—sit down,’ he said, indicating a chair placed at an angle in front of the fireplace. ‘Now, tell me, what can I do for you?’
Now she knew the identity of the Earl of Ashurst, Rosa’s regret at coming to Ashurst Park increased a thousandfold as she perched stiffly on the edge of the comfortably upholstered chair. Never had she felt so unsure of herself.
‘So, Clarissa is your sister. I thought there must be some connection. She is well, I hope?’
‘She is perfectly well—only...’
He waited a moment, studying her with those strongly arched eyebrows slightly raised. When she wasn’t forthcoming he prompted, ‘Only? Only what?’
‘She—she does not want to marry you and I recognise that I must lend her all my support.’
‘I see. Do you mind telling me why?’
‘Because she’s in love with someone else.’ Apart from a tightening to his jaw, his expression remained unchanged.
‘Then that is as good a reason as any. Why was I not told this earlier—and why has your grandmother not thought to inform me?’
‘I’m sorry. She was following my father’s wishes in arranging Clarissa to marry a man with a title. Clarissa has never defied our father, sir. She loved him dearly and understands perfectly why it was so important to him that we both make suitable marriages.’
‘And you have ridden all this way to tell me this?’
‘Yes. I—I thought you should know.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, nothing has been signed so there is nothing to bind us.’
‘You—will not pursue her?’
‘No, Miss Ingram, I would not do that. To force the issue when she is in love with another man would make her loathe me.’
‘If you discerned anything in her manner when you met in London—which, she has told me, was brief—you would know that she does not loathe you. Clarissa is the most gentle person you could wish to meet.’
‘That is the impression she gave me,’ he said, remembering that when he had met Clarissa Ingram how he had admired her refinement of character, her charm and sensibility—in fact, there was nothing about her with which he could find fault and he could not deny that he had been tempted by her grandmother’s proposition that she become his wife. But that had been in London.
As a soldier, he listened to his head and not his heart in all things. Nothing in his life was accidental or unplanned and everything was carefully thought out.
He’d agreed to consider his lawyer’s suggestion that he marry a wealthy woman, which would enable him to retain Ashurst Park, but his abhorrence to doing such a thing was as strong as ever. Miss Rosa Ingram’s revelation had come as something of a surprise to him and also a relief that he would not have to do battle with his conscience.
‘However, it is clear to me that your grandmother made the proposal without a thought to her finer feelings. It changes things considerably and has helped me with my decision. I will go and see your grandmother and tell her that I have changed my mind about marrying Clarissa—which is the truth. I would not contemplate marrying a woman whose heart is elsewhere.’
‘Not even to save your estate?’
‘No. Not even to save Ashurst Park,’ he answered with icy calm. ‘Since I agreed to consider marriage to your sister I, too, have had a change of heart. So you see, Miss Ingram, I am not as mercenary as you think.’
Taken by surprise, Rosa stared at him. ‘I see. What did you intend doing about it?’
‘I was going to see your grandmother to explain.’
‘But—I have come here to offer a solution to your problems.’
‘And how did you intend doing that?’
‘I—have come to offer myself in Clarissa’s place. I wondered if you would consider marrying me instead.’
His eyes flashed unexpectedly. ‘Good Lord!’ The words were exhaled slowly, but otherwise, he simply stared at her. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’
She tossed her head, causing her hair to shimmer. ‘I assure you I am quite sane.’
‘Are you serious?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘I am perfectly serious,’ she replied, thinking everything about him bespoke power and control. He was much too in command of himself to toy with.
‘Yes, you are,’ he replied coldly, ‘and the answer is no.’ It was an instant response. Unconsidered. Automatic. Already William could feel his pride and self-respect being stripped away bit by agonising bit. Her proposal unsettled him. The feeling was something complex and disturbing. Instinct told him he’d be best served not to prolong Miss Ingram’s visit, for he was quite bewildered by his own interest in this young woman. Her manner was forthright, but there was a vulnerability about her. She had no flirtatious wiles and her candour threw him somewhat, so what was it about her that disturbed him—and how was it possible for her to have made such a strong impact on him on so short an acquaintance? Her eyes seemed to search his face as if she were looking into his soul.
Suddenly he found himself wondering what it would be like to have her as his wife. Would she light up his life with warmth and laughter? Would she banish the dark emptiness within him? He caught himself up short, dispelling any youthful dreams and unfulfilled yearnings he had consigned to the past. He had experienced them once before and realised his mistake in the most brutal manner. He scowled darkly as he realised Miss Ingram was suddenly bringing all those old foolish yearnings back to torment him. He would have none of that. After his turbulent relationship with Lydia he had reconciled himself to a life of transient affairs, which satisfied and relieved his body and left his emotions intact, but he suspected that if he were to take Rosa Ingram as his wife she would be a threat to everything he had determined never to feel again. His hurt went too deep. However difficult his life had been since Lydia’s betrayal, he had not deviated from his determination never to fall into the same trap again.
What might this woman do to him if he let her?
Disappointed by his response, forcing herself to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, Rosa ploughed on before her courage and confidence deserted her. ‘Please—hear me out. I have given the matter a great deal of thought and I have decided that it is a solution that would suit us both. I should mention that my father left both Clarissa and me a substantial inheritance.’
‘My lawyer has made me aware of that. Whatever you have heard about me and expected to find when you came here, I am not a charity case, nor am I a beggar who is so impoverished that I will grab the offer of a proposal of marriage from a woman I do not know and sink to my knees with gratitude.’
‘Not for one moment would I expect you to do that. It would be ridiculous.’ Seeing how one well-defined dark eyebrow shot up in annoyance, she plunged bravely on. ‘I would like to point out that marrying me instead of Clarissa would make no difference to the money. A large dowry I am sure would make marriage to me palatable...’ She fell silent when he held up a hand and halted her.
‘Miss Ingram, let me assure myself that I understand you,’ he said, recovering from the shock her proposal had caused. ‘You are asking me to throw over your sister for you? Is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘You must excuse me,’ he said, controlling his ire with difficulty. ‘I have never before been engaged in such a conversation, and to be frank I do not know the rules of the game.’
‘Neither do I,’ she admitted. ‘But let me assure you that it is not a game, Lord Ashurst.’ Rosa flushed violently and stiffened with indignation. She refused to retreat now she had come so far. ‘I know it may sound mad to you, but it is not like that at all. You are not the first Englishman who finds himself down on his luck and required to marry a wealthy woman as an answer to his financial difficulties. I am not ignorant of the fact that in the upper classes large sums of money and extensive estates are involved in such marriages.’
With surprise, she was conscious that he was studying her with a different interest. She sat and returned his look. His expression did not alter, yet she felt the air between them charged with emotion. He cocked an eyebrow at her and for a moment it seemed as if he would agree, then he looked away.
‘You are very sure of yourself, Miss Ingram.’
‘I have always been sure of myself, Lord Ashurst. It is other people that often puzzle me.’ When he looked at her once more, his eyes hard and direct, she sighed. ‘You don’t want to marry me, is that it?’
‘Miss Ingram, I don’t want to marry anyone,’ he said, going to sit in a large winged chair opposite her, propping his right ankle on his left knee and steepling his fingers in front of him. ‘I find the manner of your offer a cold-blooded business arrangement—in fact, some might call it vulgar for a lady to discuss money matters and propose marriage to a complete stranger.’
Mentally chiding herself for lacking the poise and behaviour of the lady she had been brought up to be, Rosa lifted her chin, undaunted. ‘Yes, I suppose they would, but I have no time for such niceties. I came here to make you an offer since I have no one else to speak for me.’
‘You do have your grandmother.’
‘She does not always see things my way and I know she was hoping you would marry Clarissa.’
He was silent for a full ten seconds and then he gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘How old are you, Miss Ingram?’
‘I shall soon be twenty.’
‘I see. Why are you so intent on marrying me?’
Uncomfortable with both his question and the penetrating look in his eyes, Rosa tried to smile and make light of his question.
‘One of the reasons is that I have fallen in love with your house. One cannot fail to be impressed by it. Ashurst Park is beautiful.’
‘I cannot disagree with that. The fabric of the house is as it was when I was here as a youth. My inheritance is both ancient and beautiful, and I consider it a privilege to call it my home. Although,’ he said, his mood somewhat despondent and thoughtful, ‘in this present financial climate one cannot fail to observe unavoidable signs of wear and tear here and there. Countless tasks await me to be done in order to restore the estate to its former glory. I have not yet had time to discover the full extent of the neglect. The lawyer has kept on a skeleton staff even though there was no family member living here. According to my lawyer, a great deal of money is needed to put things right.’
‘Have you considered selling the estate and returning to India?’
‘I confess that it did cross my mind—but I considered it no further. I am bound by the ties of present and future relationships to the house of Barrington. I had a vision of my grandfather and his proud and noble bearing and of the long line of my forebears who suffered to preserve intact the honour and noble name of Barrington, who subdued their own lives and fought their own individual battles for that same sense of honour—some making the ultimate sacrifice in one battle or another. I owe it to them to see that Ashurst Park is made secure for future generations.’
‘Finding yourself in such dire straits, I am sure they would understand if you were to sell.’
He shook his head. ‘If I were to do that, then the Barrington ghosts would be justified in rising up in anger at my dishonourable deed.’
‘That is where I come in. You want a rich wife. I am available.’
Not a muscle flickered on William’s face. He was silent, looking at her hard, incredulously, as though she had suddenly changed before his eyes. His face instantly became shuttered and aloof. He looked her over carefully, as if to judge her for her worth, and appeared dubious as his brows snapped together and a feral gleam appeared in his narrowed eyes with angry disgust.
‘Contrary to what you might think, Miss Ingram, I cannot be bought. I am a man of honour and honour cannot be bought or measured in wealth. No matter how much money you may bring with you to shore up the walls of Ashurst Park, what makes you think you are worth it?’
Rosa stiffened her spine. ‘Now you insult me,’ she declared, a surge of anger rising up inside her like flames licking around a dry log, furious with herself to think she had been so stupid as to think he would accept her offer.
‘It is not my intention to give offence. Forgive me if I appear surprised, but I fail to understand why you would wish to marry a complete stranger. And why would you think I would agree to marry you? Since your sister is no longer available to me, there is nothing to stop me looking elsewhere for another heiress to marry if I so wished.’
‘Surely one wife is much like another if she comes to you with a fortune.’
‘I disagree,’ he replied, thinking that Miss Rosa Ingram would prove to be more trouble to his carefully held sensibilities than she was worth. ‘Although there must be hundreds of ambitious parents who would be only too ready to offer their daughters for an increase in position—a generous dowry in exchange for the grand title of Countess of Ashurst.’
Rosa looked at him directly. ‘I am sure you are right—which is exactly what my father was thinking. The choice is yours, of course. But, unlike Clarissa, I am not in love with another—so it is not as difficult for me to accept.’
‘Accept?’ His face might have been carved out of stone when he fastened his hard gaze on hers and there was a saturnine twist to his mouth. ‘I do not recall proposing marriage to you, Miss Ingram—or your sister, come to that.’
Lord Ashurst’s taunting remark flicked over Rosa like a whiplash. The hot colour in her cheeks deepened and her soft lips tightened as she exerted every ounce of her control to keep her temper and her emotions in check. ‘No, of course you haven’t. How could you? Where Clarissa is concerned I thought there was an understanding.’
‘No. Our meeting was brief. Nothing was decided.’
‘You must bear with me, sir. I have only recently come to England myself and I have much to learn. I frown upon marriages arranged without reference to the feelings of the bride—with sole regard to titles and the increase of family fortunes. When Grandmother has seen Clarissa settled in a marriage of her choosing, it will be my turn. An arranged marriage is what she intends for me.’
‘And your father, by all accounts. It is not my intention to be disrespectful towards your family, Miss Ingram, but from the little I know of him he set more importance to his daughters marrying a title than he did their happiness. Finding yourself in the same situation as your sister, how will you react if you do not approve of your grandmother’s choice of husband?’
Rosa’s face had taken on a youthful dignity as she looked at his directly. Her age and inexperience were evident, yet she was prepared to stand her ground to defend her father’s good name if required. ‘My father was a private man, Lord Ashurst, and benevolent, with a rational and cultivated mind. There was no one better.’
‘Yes—I am sure you are right and your loyalty towards him is to be commended.’
‘I have never defied either him or my grandmother. I loved my father and I love my grandmother dearly and understand perfectly why it is so important to them both that Clarissa and I make suitable marriages. But I will find it difficult to meekly submit to my grandmother’s rules as a matter of course, which is why I have decided to be my own advocate and make my own case. If I fail in this I will be completely helpless and defenceless before my grandmother’s determination to find me a husband of the nobility.’
‘No helpless female would dare to come all the way here—alone, I might add—and propose marriage to a complete stranger. A woman who can do what you are doing, Miss Ingram, is not helpless—or defenceless. Reckless, yes, but certainly not helpless.’
Rosa looked into his eyes, trying to read his expression. There was a moment’s silence and William watched her face with a slightly cynical lift to his eyebrows.
‘I salute your courage and your boldness. I feel this is your style—setting out on some impulsive adventure, with little thought of the consequences. I cannot for one moment believe you have thought it out properly. You are being a little selfish in throwing yourself at me, a stranger, daring me to take advantage of your offer. But have you not for one moment thought that you might be playing with fire? I will not satisfy your scheme.’
Rosa’s heart fell at his unexpected cynicism. She had agonised over the steps she had taken. Did he understand nothing of what she had said at all? ‘Whatever you think of me, my offer was well meant. If you think my coming here is nothing but a silly, reckless adventure on my part, then there is nothing more I can say to convince you that it is otherwise.’
William studied her gravely for a moment. ‘Perhaps you do have it all worked out. You are undeniably brave—and beautiful—and impetuous, with very little thought of the consequences of your actions. What you are doing for your sister is highly unusual, Miss Ingram—and commendable, though it leads me to question your motives.’
Rosa’s green eyes snapped with disdain and for a brief instant William glimpsed the proud, spirited young woman behind the carefully controlled façade. ‘I told you. Clarissa is in love with someone else. It would break her heart if she didn’t marry him.’
‘Then why put yourself forward? You didn’t have to. Your sister is twenty-one, old enough to make her own decisions. She could just walk away.’
‘Not Clarissa. Our father wanted the very best for her: marriage, title, everything he aspired to be himself—he always did have aspirations of grandeur—which was why, ill as he was and knowing he would not be around to see his wishes for both of us come to fruition, he placed us in Grandmother’s hands with the stipulation that she finds us noble husbands. Clarissa loved and respected him too much to go against his wishes.’
‘Your grandmother is a formidable lady.’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘So why me? If it is a husband you require, then surely London is full of gentlemen who would prove to be far less trouble than me—although in exchange for your wealth you would obtain a title if I agree to the marriage.’
‘Titles are meaningless to me. Besides, I know it is my father’s money that attracts them to me and nothing else. It would act like a beacon to every impoverished nobleman in England.’
‘Then I am no different from them—an impoverished lord who would be marrying you for your money.’
‘There is a difference. I chose you, Lord Ashurst. I see marriage to you and being able to reside at Ashurst Park a good way of investing in my own future.’
‘I see,’ William replied caustically, getting to his feet and turning from her. In silence he took a thoughtful turn about the room. He was feeling more humiliated and degraded than he cared to admit.
His immense fears as his lawyer had told him the extent of the estate’s insurmountable debts was deep-rooted, and the shadow of Lydia continued to haunt him, making it impossible for him to get on with his life with ease. She had been a bright and beautiful beacon in his world and he had found an untold happiness when he was with her. She had used all her witchery to captivate him, making him her willing, pliant slave. He had later come to deplore the fact that he had kept such a large streak of naivete in his make-up and had found it hard to grasp the guile behind the soft smiles and fond words. He had believed she loved him. How soft and persuasive her voice could be. He could not have guessed for a moment what weight of treachery it concealed.
It was strange that Miss Ingram’s presence and her proposal had brought what had happened with Lydia—that ultimate betrayal when she had thrown him over for someone else—back to him with each sordid detail. He stopped in front of her, knowing he was right to turn her down. ‘I am sorry, Miss Ingram. I cannot help you. I cannot make rash promises I may not keep.’
Rosa stared at his rigid stance. ‘I do understand how difficult this is for you, Lord Ashurst.’
Struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice, he said, ‘Believe me, Miss Ingram, no part of this dilemma is remotely easy for me. You have so much money that what you do should not be a problem. You’ve had life handed to you on a silver platter. Wealth gives you an advantage over me I don’t like.’
Rosa stared at him. A great wave of crushing disappointment filled her heart, banishing everything but her regret that she had been foolish to come to Ashurst Park and humiliate herself before this stranger. She averted her eyes. She had at least done what she could. But it was small comfort. She knew with rising dread that no one could push the Earl of Ashurst into any decision not of his own making. She realised how misguided she had been. For the first time since she had devised this wild scheme, she knew the real meaning of failure.
Her small chin lifted primly and her spine stiffened, and before his eyes William saw her valiant struggle for control—a struggle she won.
The free sample has ended.
