Never Fall for Your Fiancee

“I’d like to hear your evidence for that grievous accusation.”

“You are an early bird—like me. And usually people don’t get up in the morning unless they have a good reason to.”

“I like to have first dibs on breakfast.”

“Liar. You work in your study. You start every morning at six. Payne told me.”

“Payne thinks I’m working and I’ve never done anything to dissuade him from thinking it. But the truth is I go to my study at six because I’ve usually just arrived home from a night of debauchery and I grab a quick forty winks in my study to ensure I am in a fit state to be seen at breakfast.”

“I think your wily butler would know if you’d been out all night.”

“He’s not that wily.” Hugh was smiling as he maneuvered his horse around a pothole with a confidence she envied. “For years I’ve been pretending to go to bed, purposefully rumpling the bedcovers so they look slept in, and then I climb out of my bedchamber window to do unspeakable things with highly questionable associates.”

“Unspeakable things? Really?” She couldn’t help but smile at the flagrant lie. “What unspeakable things can you possibly get up to in this sleepy corner of Hampshire?”

“Gambling, mostly. Drinking and carousing.” He ticked them off his fingers. “And philandering, of course. I’m a slave to hedonism in all its many forms.” Then he winked at her flirtatiously, looking every inch the dashing scoundrel, and the feminine part within Minerva inwardly sighed at the sight. “Fortunately, after darkness has fallen, the village transforms into a den of iniquity.”

“Payne says you meet your estate manager every day when you are in Hampshire, and when you are not in Hampshire, insist on weekly letters from him and travel down at least twice a month to oversee things.” The wink had made her pulse quicken exactly as it had when his strong arms had lifted her effortlessly onto Marigold earlier. “He claims, despite appearances, you are fastidiously diligent when it comes to estate matters, therefore I must conclude you are a very responsible gentleman after all—against all your vehement claims to the contrary.”

He didn’t deny it. “You and Payne suddenly seem very cozy.”

“You are not the only curious person with questions. At least Payne answers mine honestly.”

“Honestly. Good grief! I don’t like the sound of that. What else has the tattler said?”

“That you haven’t increased any rents for the last five years because of the difficult economy and that your tenants universally love you.”

“If they love me, it is because of my acute and universal lack of business acumen, of which they can easily take advantage.” He gestured to the church now only a little ahead of them. “That’s Saint Mary’s. William the Conqueror built it. He set up home in Hampshire for a while—back when Winchester was still the capital.”

He really didn’t want to talk about himself, or at least the less frivolous side of himself at all, but she decided she wouldn’t be swayed. The more time she spent with him, the more he intrigued her. Yes, he was handsome and charming, witty and addictively likeable, but those twinkling blue eyes of his saw more than they let on, and she was coming to believe the mischievous rogue he played so well covered up a very different sort of man. The sort who rescued damsels in distress and knew exactly what to say to prevent a situation from being awkward. Shallow men weren’t intuitive. Nor were they so alluring. “Payne says you are an excellent landlord who looks after them and treats them with respect. He says you always take the time to listen and frequently heed their advice.”

“I pretend to listen to them. It’s one of my few talents. I can appear completely engrossed in a conversation whilst avoiding hearing any of it at all. My tenants think I listen to them. Payne thinks I listen to him and you wrongly assume I’m listening to you now, when in reality, all I am thinking about is lunch. You see? As shallow as a puddle. Here you are, trying to have a meaningful conversation, and all I can think about is myself.”

Something told her he thought about everyone, which was an admirable trait. It made no sense he would try to deny it. “Yet your estate is thriving—largely thanks to all the modern farming techniques you have implemented. I’ve seen all the new books on the subject in the library. And they have been read.”

“Not by me.”

“Payne says you are a better landlord than even your father was, and everybody apparently loved him, too. He says despite your best efforts to the contrary, you are actually very much like your father. Peas in a pod, in fact. Is that true? You’ve never really mentioned him.”