Never Fall for Your Fiancee
- Автор: Heath Virginia
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: St. Martin's Publishing Group
- Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
Электронная книга - «Never Fall for Your Fiancee». Краткое содержание книги:
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Virginia Heath's fun characters and situations will have you laughing out loud! Don't miss this wonderful read! - Sabrina Jeffries, *New York Times* bestselling author**
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The first in a new historical rom-com series, a handsome earl hires a fake fiancée to keep his matchmaking mother at bay, but hilarity ensues when love threatens to complicate everything.**
“How can you say that when you are such an excellent artist?”
The lovely compliment warmed her. “I have one dexterous talent but I can assure you it is the only one … on the subject of which, I must warn you I cannot dance, so ensure I am never asked to do so. I have two left feet and appalling balance, absolutely no ear for music, and lack all grace. I blame my height. My limbs are so long, when I move with the beat it takes forever for the end of the appendage to catch up.”
He threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound did odd things to her insides. “Duly noted. Although I cannot think of a reason why you would need that skill here.” He picked up his empty cup and frowned into it. “Do you think we could squeeze in some more tea before breakfast?” After a cursory glance at the clock on the mantel, he stood decisively and yanked the bell. “All this talking has left me parched.”
“Speaking of bitter ends—how did my dear papa pass?” Minerva sat back in her chair and folded her arms, knowing the tale would be vastly entertaining. For all his faults, Hugh was a brilliant storyteller.
“He was walking in the Cairngorms.”
“In January.”
“Yes indeed—and against all his loving family’s advice. But he was a stubborn man, as Scots are prone to be.… Did I mention you were half Scottish?”
“Like so many things, you neglected to apprise me of that detail.” Only a day in and already she thoroughly enjoyed sparring with him—but obviously only in a benign and platonic way. Sparring wasn’t flirting. It might sail a bit close to the wind on occasion, but she was much too sensible nowadays to allow her head to be turned by a man like him, or by men in general, for that matter. Forewarned was forearmed, after all, and even if Hugh hadn’t forewarned her of his lack of substance, she had had ample experience on the subject in her twenty-four years. Enough that there was a limit to how much she would allow herself to be charmed. “Is it pertinent?”
“Only inasmuch as he was there in January to visit his family. The Scots do love to gather for Hogmanay and he always saw the month out with the Landridges.”
Apart from Payne, the Merriwell family had been introduced to all the servants as Landridge—the name Hugh had given the fictional Minerva on the day he had supposedly rescued her from the runaway carriage. “Landridge doesn’t sound like a typically Scottish name. In fact…” She riffled through her notes to find the niggling detail, then jabbed at it with her finger. “You stated I came from the Chipping Norton branch of the Landridges because—and this is a direct quote—‘nobody who was anybody ever ventured to Chipping Norton on purpose so nobody will be able to properly question your lineage.’”
“And believe me, that pertinent detail is something I lost a vast amount of sleep over until I found a fascinating book on Scottish history in the library. Thanks to that, I made your father the son of an English Landridge and a Scottish lass from clan Macpherson—a clan, I might add, whose ancestry is genuinely rooted in the Cairngorms.” Even Hugh was chuckling at the ridiculous twists and turns of the story he had woven. “My mother is a stickler for such details.”
“What happened in the Cairngorms?”
“It was a bitter January. The fresh snow lay thick on the ground and more was expected. Despite the grim forecast, your father still ventured out for his daily constitutional, convinced he would be back before the threatening storm started, but alas…” Hugh shook his head, those twinkling blue eyes alight with humor. “They found his body three days later once the blizzard passed. Buried under several feet of snow. Frozen solid. Such a grave, grave tragedy.”
“I am starting to think you might be a lunatic.” But she was laughing. How could she not? He might be an incorrigible rogue—but he was an entertaining one.
“That’s simply because you are hearing all this in one go and the abridged plot is not dissimilar to a Mrs. Radcliffe novel…”
“Mrs. Radcliffe’s books are more believable than The Trials and Tribulations of Miss Minerva Landridge.”
“But imagine those chapters gradually dripping out over the course of the past year and a half.” He blithely glossed over her interruption, pretending he hadn’t heard her. “Trust me, the tale flowed seamlessly. As in all good works of fiction and in life, I might add, there were short periods of great drama and longer months where not much happened at all. I am simply giving you the highlights.”
“Of which there are an unrealistic glut.”
“However and most importantly, regardless of the glut of trials and tribulations fate threw at poor Minerva—my mother is completely convinced of my sincerity.”
“Because the Standish male is such a convincing liar?”
He nodded, and for a second appeared resigned and a little lost again. Something she was undoubtedly imagining to make herself feel better for taking his forty pounds. Or for liking him irrespective of his acknowledged faults.
“I blame heredity.” Then he grinned smugly, making her think she had definitely imagined it. “She asks about you in every letter.”
“Oh dear.”
“Only a pessimist would say ‘oh dear.’”
Hugh paused as the tea tray arrived and watched intently as Minerva poured. His scrutiny unnerved her. The mundane task of pouring tea seemed like a test. Not that he was looking at the pot—more he was looking at her. She had never felt so self-conscious in her life. Was she pouring wrong? Was he assessing her speech? Her etiquette? Her woefully inadequate best dress? All she had to save herself from cringing was her own stubborn pride. “Poor Papa. And poor me. To escape the jaws of death only to lose a loved one so rapidly afterward. Fate can be so cruel.”
“I know. But despite all that, you were magnificent. Brave. Stoic.”
“Perhaps I should also be considered a candidate for sainthood? After all my suffering, I still have to put up with you…”
“Honestly, it is a mystery to me you haven’t. You were a rock for your family this past year. An absolute brick. Without your strength, your mother would never have coped with her grief.”
“I have a mother? Interesting. What is she like?”
“Fortunately, I’ve always been hazy on the details concerning your family.”
“That’s very unlike you.” She blew on her tea before risking a sip.
“I know! But clearly I had some foresight. At least now, once we meet her, we can take her as she comes.”
Minerva choked on her tea.
“Meet her! Surely you haven’t hired me a mother?”
“I told you I meticulously planned everything.” He seemed inordinately proud of himself. “She’s a professional actress, too! Giles is a huge fan of the theatre. He personally recommended the woman and propriety dictates you need a chaperone.” Something that hadn’t bothered either of them so far. Downtrodden young women from Clerkenwell didn’t have time for the luxury of propriety.
“Should you take recommendations from a man who wrote the words ‘pains in my liver’ and is proud to be a complete scoundrel?”
This seemed to bring him up short. “Giles wouldn’t intentionally sabotage me.… Or at least I don’t think he would.” He took a moment to consider it and then brushed it away like a fly near his face. Another vast difference between them. Minerva had learned to expect the worst from people, and he had never needed to learn that lesson. “Either way, she arrives next week, so if she fails to pass muster, we can issue her marching orders well before my mother arrives.”