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:
**
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**
**
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.**
“I fear it is much too late but I appreciate the sentiment nevertheless.” Hugh waggled his arm at Minerva. “Let’s get this over with, then, shall we?”
She waited while Jeremiah and the reverend escorted Olivia through the ancient doors before asking the question that had kept her up most of the night. “Do you think we got away with it?”
“Thanks to your quick thinking, yes.”
“Entirely?”
“She is too busy with her outrage at her menfolk to give Lucretia much thought. She’s furious at Jeremiah for plying Lucretia with drink and she’s more furious at me for the Mozart and for lying to her about your musical abilities simply to make her look stupid.”
“I am so sorry about that.” She squeezed his arm and quashed the urge to run her hands up and down his biceps. “I’ve never had an ear for music—but in my defense, I did try to warn you.” Music, like the sound of the church organ wafting toward them as they sauntered down the path, all sounded like noise to her. Noise that simply varied according to the tempo. Pleasant but instantly forgettable. She could hear the different instruments, appreciate the skill it took to create, but could rarely identify the difference between the melody of the verse and the chorus.
“Which explains why you were the only one not wincing at Lucretia’s caterwauling. And there I was thinking you were the consummate actress…”
“I feel most sorry for your poor mother. But bless her, she carried on regardless.”
“As did you … and you did it for me.”
“Well—you are paying me.”
He shook his head. “You did it because I asked you to and I am humbled by your generosity. You are a very nice person, Minerva.”
“‘Nice’? I thought you considered that word an insult. An insipid and uninspiring word.”
“I believe I am coming to see one can be thoroughly nice without being either.” He paused beneath the archway. “Are you braced for the curious stares and whispers?”
“Of course. How bad can it be?”
“Spoken like a true daughter of the city, used to the faceless thronging masses. But this isn’t the capital, my darling Minerva, and the country folk really do have nothing better to do than speculate on the naughty Earl of Fareham’s elusive fiancée.” He patted her hand as if she were old and senile. “It is going to be torture. Hold your head up high. Smile. Try not to take anything you overhear personally. If we are lucky, the next hour will only feel like three interminable weeks.”
He led her through the doors, and instantly she felt like a scientific specimen under a magnifying glass. The Reverend Cranham hadn’t lied when he had said the entire village had turned out. Every pew, bar the family seats at the side, was stuffed full of people squashed together. In the aisles more were standing, and every face and pair of eyes were instantly glued to hers as Hugh led her toward the altar. Then, almost by tacit agreement, the whole congregation began to whisper, the noise not dissimilar to that of an enormous, agitated hornet’s nest and, exactly as he had intimated, not the least bit subtle in their curiosity or their judgment.
She’s tall …
Not how I pictured her …
Unfashionably dark …
Old … best get her skates on if the mistress is to get grandchildren …
Unusual … pretty … sickly … consumption … He could do better … I heard they have to get married …
Minerva had never felt so exposed and self-conscious in her entire life. When they reached their pew at the front, conveniently in full view of everyone behind them, Hugh opened the little gate that separated the Standishes from the masses, helped her sit in the seats behind his family and her sisters, then sat next to her, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes suddenly gone.
He reached out and took her hand, doubtless as a show of support or to show the curious onlookers he was suitably besotted, but the innocent contact instantly set her pulse jumping as the Reverend Cranham took his place at the lectern and smiled at his flock while he waited for silence.
“Today is the first Sunday of Advent. A time when we eagerly anticipate the celebration of the birth of Christ our Lord and pray for him to once again walk amongst us as he promised. The term ‘Advent’ comes from the Latin word adventus—meaning ‘beginning, commencement … or arrival.’ Arrival … A fitting word for us all here today, I think. Although not being cynical by nature, I choose to believe you are all here in such unusual abundance to celebrate the true meaning and spirit of Advent—and not to shamelessly scrutinize the newest member of our flock.”
The vicar stared pointedly at Minerva for a moment, then back out to the subtly chastised congregation. “But before we commence our celebration of the birth of Christ, let us celebrate another eagerly anticipated joyous occasion.” He picked up a piece of parchment and positively beamed.
“Today I am delighted to publish the banns of marriage between Lord Hugh Peregrine Standish, the Earl of Fareham…” She felt Hugh’s fingers tighten around her hand as all the air whooshed out of her lungs. Surely Olivia hadn’t been able to orchestrate this so fast? “And Miss Minerva … Concordia … Merriwell”—her own hand gripped back at the sound of her real surname included alongside the alias—“Landridge.” By his sharp intake of breath, Hugh also expected the Almighty to smite them at any moment, but being a gentleman he still held her hand so they would go to hell together.
Merriwell!
What a disaster!
Directly in front, both Diana and Vee also stiffened, but there was something about the way her baby sister’s body immediately shrank in the seat that suggested she knew how this new, terrifying state of affairs had come to pass.
“This is the first time of asking.” The vicar’s voice was like the clanging chimes of doom. “If any of you know cause of just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it now.”
Both the Reverend Cranham and Hugh’s mother smiled as the long silence stretched, so intense, not a soul seemed to breathe. All Minerva could hear was the rapid beating of her own heart in panic. She didn’t need to hear Hugh’s to know he was feeling exactly the same. They were gripping one another’s fingers now for grim death.
After what seemed like forever, the reverend finally spoke. “Then as there are no objections, let us commence our Advent celebrations with an uplifting carol which also fittingly celebrates an arrival and a joyous new beginning. Hymn one hundred and sixty-six—‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’…”
Chapter Nineteen
“I cannot believe she arranged for the blasted banns to be read!” Hugh was in danger of wearing a groove in the parquet as he paced angrily in the portrait gallery that evening. “Behind my back! Behind your back! When we have both expressly told her there will be no blasted wedding until Saint Valentine’s Day!”
His mother had seemed to take the postponement well, had even agreed it would be the perfect date for the wedding if they couldn’t get Minerva’s fake family from the Cairngorms to Hampshire by Christmas. But as usual, his mother was a law unto herself, paying her customary lip service to his desires while plotting her own agenda behind his back.
Hearing his name read in church, unexpectedly announcing his impending nuptials, had made him feel peculiar. Not queasy exactly, which still surprised him, but he’d had to hold Minerva’s hand very tightly for the ground to steady, then keep holding it throughout the service in case he panicked some more. There was a finality about the banns and a stark reality he had never wanted to experience, like a death knell to all he held sacred banging in the distance. The suddenly foreboding sound of Giles’s voice echoing in his mind like a prophecy. They have to be read three times before they’re official.