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.**
“Bring back some damned brandy, too, while you’re about it!” Jeremiah was openly seething. “And as God is my witness, if so much as one drop goes near Mrs. Landridge, heads will roll!”
One after the other, they traipsed back into the room on leaden feet. Oliva sat, as cool as a cucumber and every inch a lady, and gestured for them all to follow suit as if this were just any polite afternoon tea and not the complete end of the world.
“Well, that was embarrassing.” She slowly scanned all the faces. “I am intrigued to hear what you all have to say for yourselves.” Her eyes settled on her son. “Experience tells me I should start with you, Hugh—as this ridiculous debacle bears all your hallmarks.”
Minerva heard him exhale, and she slipped her hand in his for support.
“Where to start? You see, the thing is…” The sound of muffled voices in the hallway momentarily distracted him. “Two years ago, in an act of complete desperation, I…”
“Let me in, I say!”
It sounded as if someone’s fist was hammering on the front door.
“This is official business!” The sound of the strange raised voice in the hallway had them all turning.
“The family are not at home, sir. If you could come back later.” Payne’s voice was agitated and strained, as if he were wrestling with the caller.
“I demand to see Miss Merriwell! This man is her father!”
By this point, all Minerva had the strength to do was swallow while Hugh groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “I suppose there is always still that beach in Italy.…”
In manacles, Alfred Merriwell was instantly brought in by two burly men while the waiting constable twisted his hat in his hands.
“We arrested him drunk in Winchester, my lord, after the innkeeper accused him of passing fake coin. On his person we found this.” He deposited two piles of banknotes on the table. “Most of these are real, to be fair.” Only because Hugh had given them to him. “But these ones here are blatant forgeries. Mr. Smith here claims you gave him the lot and says you will vouch for his innocence, what with your being betrothed to his daughter and all.”
No doubt after hearing the kerfuffle, Vee finally deigned to make an appearance. Her face was white with fear behind her spectacles as she took in the damning scene, but to her credit she said nothing. Still, her heartfelt glances toward her feckless father were tragic to witness.
Hugh looked toward Minerva for any sign how best to proceed, and she squeezed his arm. “That is true, sir. Hugh gave him the money to … er … purchase things for the wedding.”
“Were you aware you were passing off counterfeit money, my lord?”
“Of course I wasn’t! My man of business gave me the notes at our last meeting, and he procured them directly from my bank in London as he always does.” Sometimes being an aristocrat had its advantages. One of them was the law for the rich and the law for the poor were unfairly different. Alfred Merriwell would have to prove his innocence. The authorities would have to prove Hugh’s guilt. Powerful men had people to withdraw their money for them while they did more important things. Like sit in wingbacks at White’s and complain about the state of the world. “Somebody there must have failed to notice they were forgeries.”
“Then whoever that was, my lord, might want to consider investing in spectacles, as they were very poor forgeries indeed.” But the constable smiled and clicked his fingers at his burly minions. “Let him go. And thank you for your time, my lord.” He bent and picked up the smaller pile of banknotes. “I am afraid I will have to take these. All counterfeits must be destroyed. It is the law.”
“Perfectly understandable.”
“Perhaps the bank in London will compensate you for your loss?”
Hugh waved away the helpful advice. “It’s just money. I have plenty of it.”
After a patronizing and interminable lecture on what to look for in a forgery in case Hugh was inadvertently duped again, the constable and his men thankfully refused his mother’s polite offer of refreshments and left. As Payne saw them to the door, the rest of them sat like statues. It was a brittle, awkward silence, finally punctuated by Vee.
“Papa!” She ran into her father’s arms. “I’ve missed you.”
Diana, on the other hand, couldn’t hide her disgust. “Would you look what the cat dragged in.”
The butler returned, glared at Hugh, and then stalked to the fresh decanter of brandy he had only minutes before placed on the sideboard. He gripped it by the neck, yanked out the stopper, and swigged directly from the bottle.
“Payne?” His mother took a regal sip of her rapidly cooling tea as if such a sight was commonplace. “When you have finished with that, can you instruct Cook to prepare the fatted calf? Such a feast is traditional, I believe, when a miracle occurs and a dead, frozen parent defrosts in the Cairngorms?” She smiled without humor at Minerva. “You should wake your mother, dear. She will be delighted to have him back.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Hugh watched Minerva’s wastrel father subtly reach for the remaining banknotes on the table. “Don’t you dare!” No longer caring, because frankly, there was nothing left to salvage, he marched over and snatched them up. “These are mine. You are not getting a farthing and I invite you to do your worst.”
“Let’s not be hasty, my lord.” The wretch had the cheek to smile.
“Hasty?” He grabbed him by the lapels and hoisted him in the air. “Hasty! Thanks to the generosity of your daughters and my high esteem of them, I did not hand the constable my extensive dossier on your illegal activities, nor did I apprise him of your real name, Mr. Merriwell—but I promise you this! If you dare come within a hundred miles of one of those girls in the future, I shall hand it all over and tell them to throw the book at you!” Hugh deposited him back on the ground and pushed him away. “Get out of my house before I throw you out!”
Despite clearly wanting to wring his neck, Jeremiah came to stand loyally beside him, looking menacing. But like the snake he was, Minerva’s father made a beeline to the door to save his own skin, not caring what carnage he left behind. He paused only when he gauged he had enough distance to avoid Hugh’s fist. “You’ll live to regret this, Fareham! Mark my words!”
“Papa!” The youngest Merriwell rushed after him and clutched his sleeve. “Wait … I’m coming with you.”
Callously, he ripped his arm away. “Perhaps another time, Venus.”
“But I want us to be together … to be a family again…” He stalked toward the front door, unmoved. Tear-filled eyes looked back at her sisters. “Tell him we want to be a family again. Tell him!”
It was Minerva who went to her first in the hallway, closely followed by Diana. “Darling Vee—our family was always just the three of us.” The front door closed with a bang, and the pair of them spirited her away so she could cry her heart out in private.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hugh hadn’t noticed his mother had left her seat until her hand whacked him around the head. “Merriwell?”
He nodded. “There are no Landridges. Not here and not in Chipping Norton either.”
“And if it’s only ever been the three of them, who, pray tell, is that?” A quaking finger pointed at Lucretia, who had failed to wake up once during the entire ruckus or the constable’s long visit.
“An actress I hired to play their mother.”
“Oh, I am so glad I arrived in time for all this.” Giles’s voice was muffled by the big mouthful of biscuit he had just taken. “Didn’t I tell you, Hugh, this sham was doomed to fail from the beginning?” He nudged Jeremiah, grinning. “I do so love to be right. There is nothing better than a good old-fashioned ‘I told you so.’”