Читать книгу The Unexpected Heiress - Kaitlin O'Riley - Страница 11

3

You Can’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Meredith Rose Remington couldn’t believe her good fortune.

She had only been in London a few days when she stumbled upon the most charming little bookshop just a few blocks from her aunt’s house in Mayfair. The bells above the door jingled as she walked into Hamilton’s Book Shoppe.

Immediately, she felt at home in the light and airy store, which was so attractively and invitingly arranged it almost begged for browsers to come inside the shop and look around. Books had always held a special place in Meredith’s heart, and she had practically haunted one crowded and dusty bookshop back in New York.

But this one . . . this one!

Hamilton’s Book Shoppe was entirely different. There were comfortable chairs arranged in cozy corners and lovely displays of books artfully placed on polished tables, adorned with fresh flowers in crystal vases. There was even an area with refreshments, filled with baskets of fragrant muffins and scones and pots of hot tea. Elegant signs on the shelves marked each section of books by category.

As she contentedly wandered about the shop, Meredith breathed in deep, relaxing completely for the first moment since she left New York. It had been a whirlwind of a time, packing up and leaving the only home she had ever known to come to London.

The saddest part had been being forced to leave behind the beloved writing desk that had belonged to her mother.

The day before they left, her aunt Delilah found Meredith sobbing over the elegant, cherrywood desk. She did not wish to part with it.

“It’s all right, my dear. You won’t have to give up your mother’s desk,” Delilah had comforted her. “We shall leave it next door with Mrs. Deane. She’s holding on to a few of my treasured pieces in her attic too. We can send for our things once we’re settled in London and have you safely married. But everything else is being sold with the house as is.”

Grateful that she wouldn’t have to part with her treasured desk forever, Meredith breathed a little lighter. Vowing to herself that she would send for the desk just as soon as she could, she continued packing the rest of her things with a little less heavy heart.

Then Aunt Delilah had surprised Meredith by stripping away all of their black mourning clothes.

“We will not arrive in London in black, looking like a pair of sad old crows,” she announced with a fierceness that took Meredith aback. “Don’t pack a single black dress.”

“But Aunt Delilah . . . isn’t it disrespectful?” Meredith ventured to ask.

She was in shock at her aunt’s flouting of such strict societal conventions. Her father hadn’t been gone a month yet. Proper mourning for him required her to wear black for the remainder of the year, at the very least.

“It is not disrespectful at all. I did the same thing after my first husband died. I came to America without my black mourning clothes. Joseph Remington wouldn’t have given me a second glance back then if I’d been dressed in black, moping about in widow’s weeds. And I won’t wear them this time either. I think your father would agree with me where you’re concerned and your mother, too, for that matter, would agree. You’re far too young and beautiful to be buried alive in such awful black clothing. Since we are starting a new life, where no one knew your father or my husband, we shall not remain in mourning any longer. We are both being fitted for an entire new wardrobe as soon as we get to London. We have just enough money left. It’s all a part of the plan.”

The plan.

Delilah’s great plan to save the family was to get them both married to wealthy gentlemen just as soon as she could.

The plan hung over Meredith like a heavy weight. It was more of a charade than a plan, and Meredith did not agree with it. But before she knew it, they were on a steamship heading for England, without her black mourning dresses or her writing desk.

Although the sea air buoyed her sagging spirits, her salvation onboard was writing in her leather-bound journal and continuing work on her book, The Edge of Danger. At one point about halfway across the Atlantic, she came to the realization that a change of scenery truly was good for the soul.

Relishing the journey, she walked the deck every morning and evening, the salty spray of the ocean covering her cheeks. She wrote in her journal each day, worked on her manuscript, read every book she could find onboard, and played games with Harry and Lilly, while Delilah lay miserably in her room, too seasick to do anything but whimper and moan.

But true to her word, as soon as they were safely ensconced at the London townhouse of Lady Lavinia Eastwood, Delilah had taken them straight to a seamstress to have new gowns made for their grand entrance into London society. The fashionable wardrobe would be lovely, but Meredith would rather have been at home working on her book.

Instead, she had spent a week going from shop to shop and being introduced to all of Lavinia’s friends, who declared with delight that Meredith would be wed within a month. They were already telling her about the many upcoming social events for the Season, and how Meredith just had to be at each and every one. In fact, her first entrance into English society was to be later that evening at Lord and Lady Braithwaite’s ball, and Meredith’s elegant new ball gown had already been delivered to Lavinia’s house.

As she sat waiting impatiently in a millinery shop while Delilah was trying on an array of feathered hats, Meredith gazed through the window. That was the moment she first spied the sign for a quaint-looking bookstore. She fairly flew out of the chair with excitement and informed a preoccupied Delilah that she would be across the street.

And so Meredith ventured forth on her own and found a little slice of heaven in Hamilton’s Book Shoppe.

It would be wonderful to remain in the shop and browse and read all day, but she took what little time she had, found a cozy chair and a copy of Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles, and settled in. She had heard that the book was a bit scandalous and had meant to read it for some time. It was the perfect thing to take her mind off the plan.

Delilah’s great plan was worrying her. It involved subterfuge and required Meredith to marry as soon as possible. And, as she had not suddenly discovered a great need within herself to find a husband since she’d sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, the plan filled her with dread.

“We shall let everyone believe you have inherited a great fortune from your father, so you shall be very sought after. No one in London will have yet learned that the Remington Oil Company is on the brink of bankruptcy, and you shall wed the richest gentleman who offers for you first, Meredith,” Delilah had explained. “It’s the only way to save our family. I shall put myself on the market as well, but Meredith . . . you are the young and beautiful one. You must marry well.”

“But what do we do when the gentleman discovers that I have no fortune at all?” Meredith asked anxiously. “Surely we can’t keep that a secret forever.”

Their ruse would most certainly be discovered at some point. How long could she pretend to be an heiress before someone discovered the truth?

“By then you shall be safely married, and it will be too late for him to do anything about it, and since you shan’t be wedding anyone in dire financial straits, your finances won’t be an issue,” Delilah explained with a matter-of-fact air about her.

“How do we explain the lie then?” Meredith worried.

“Once you are wed, we can simply say the lawyers only just told us of our financial situation. We’re simply fudging the timing a little, my dear. And the truth is, a few weeks ago you believed you were an heiress, Meredith. Trust me, this plan will work.”

Meredith sighed heavily. Her love for her aunt made it impossible to refuse her anything. Delilah had been incredibly kind to Meredith and taken such good care of her all these years, that she had no choice but to go along with her. Delilah Remington was all the family that Meredith had left in the world.

“It’s not my fault that my husband left me with no money, nor is it your fault that your father left you nothing when we had both been told that we were taken care of,” Delilah went on to say pragmatically. “In this world, women are taken care of by men. To that end, we both need to find husbands.”

“Can’t we simply be honest and marry that way?”

“You catch more flies with honey, my dear. And American oil money is the finest honey there is. Men will be buzzing around us. You wait and see.”

Aunt Delilah’s mind was made up, and Meredith didn’t see another way out.

The whole idea of being put on the “marriage mart” and being paraded around like a prized cow at an auction was abhorrent to her. But as her aunt indicated quite firmly, not having a home and starving on the street was even more abhorrent. Delilah Remington had a valid point there.

Meredith certainly didn’t want to be homeless, nor did she want to spend her days living on the charity of Aunt Delilah’s sister either. Lady Eastwood, a slightly older and plumper version of Delilah, had been kind and welcoming to a fault, but Meredith did not belong there in her house. In fact, she didn’t seem to belong anywhere anymore.

As much as she didn’t wish to have a husband, having a home of her own had an undeniable appeal. Perhaps when she was married and settled, Meredith wouldn’t feel so lost and alone anymore. Perhaps a husband was just what she needed.

Yet she still did not wish to marry.

What she truly wished to do was to be a writer and make a life for herself through her books. It was an impossible little dream though and not practical in the least. Still, it was all she longed to do. And Meredith just knew that if she could finish her book and get it published, she would be able to support herself from the income the sales generated. If not at first, then eventually.

She didn’t need much money or to live in a fancy home. A little place with room for her writing desk would suit her just fine. Surely, she could afford that! Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of time to see her dream through. Her book wasn’t finished yet, and she had no way to support herself in the meantime.

With a resigned sigh at her lot in life, Meredith glanced around the lovely little bookshop, watching customers come and go, browsing, and making their purchases. For a moment, she imagined her own book for sale on the shelves there. She could picture it so clearly! The Edge of Danger by M. R. Remington would be elegantly bound in red leather and embossed with gold lettering.

Just before her father passed away, Meredith had even spoken with an editor at Scribner’s Publishing in New York about having it published. Mr. Robinson had read the first few chapters and had been very interested in her story. After saying that her plotline was intriguing and her writing was quite good, he had asked her to return to his office when the manuscript was completed.

Now all her hopes would have to wait indefinitely.

Because in the meantime, she was obligated to marry a very wealthy Englishman she had yet to meet, in order to save herself from destitution. Now that sounded exactly like the plot of a novel!

How would she ever be able to find a husband who would support her writing career, let alone encourage her? It didn’t seem possible.

In general, men were very dismissive of the pursuits of women, but husbands seemed to be downright against anything their wives wished to do on their own. Becoming a married woman who had to bow to her husband’s wishes, while denying that she had any ambitions of her own, did not appeal to Meredith in the least.

She had been most fortunate that her father had been so immersed in his oil business that he’d been content to let Meredith pursue her interest in writing. But then again, her father had had no inkling of just how serious his daughter was about becoming a published author. He had always dismissed her little stories as a harmless hobby and gave it no more thought than that.

Wondering why her life, and those of most women, had to be so complicated, Meredith glanced up from the pages of her book and found the eyes of a man upon her.

He hastily turned away when she looked over at him, but he had definitely been staring at her.

My, my! He was quite the handsome fellow!

He was young, perhaps not much older than she was. He had black hair combed rather rakishly back from a clean-shaven face that accentuated a strong jawline and straight nose. His intelligent green eyes, which had remarkably long lashes for a man, were framed by thick, dark brows, giving his face an intriguing appearance. He lounged his tall and broad figure rather casually against the front counter near the entrance, his elbow propped up on the surface and his chin resting in his hand, while his coat was draped over one arm, hat in hand. He looked a trifle bored.

There he was.

A typical entitled English lord. He just had to be. He carried himself with a privileged air, as if the world and all that was in it belonged to him and him alone.

His eyes turned toward her again. For the briefest of moments they held each other’s gaze.

Then Meredith quickly looked down, a bit embarrassed to be caught perusing him so boldly. She attempted to be absorbed in Tess’s story, but she could still feel his inquisitive eyes upon her, and her skin tingled.

She couldn’t help herself. . . . She looked up again.

As he glanced away, she studied him a bit more.

He was really rather gorgeous. Perfect looking, if the truth was told. She had never seen a man so rivetingly handsome. And it wasn’t just his classically masculine features. It was his entire presence. The man practically oozed charm and strength and decadence. He would be just the sort of man she would write about as a wicked villain in one of her stories.

His eyes moved back to her, and she hastily glanced back down at her book.

It was infuriating the way he stared at her so boldly!

Peeking back up at him once more, she caught his gaze again. This time he did not avert his eyes.

He stared directly at her. A lazy half-smile played across his suggestive lips, almost as if he were daring her to keep staring at him.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Meredith kept her eyes firmly on the audaciously handsome gentleman, yet her heart raced a little and her cheeks warmed under his blatant regard.

His charismatic smile broadened, revealing straight white teeth and the hint of a dimple on one side, and she was momentarily blinded by the impact of it. The man was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it. Which annoyed her. He was probably used to women swooning over him. Flirting with him.

Well, Meredith Rose Remington would not be one of them!

She refocused her gaze, giving him an imperious look. She was not going to be intimidated by him. And just what was he doing there anyway? As he lolled against the counter, he clearly wasn’t looking to purchase a book. It almost seemed as if he was waiting for someone.

Then he winked at her.

Meredith blinked with surprise but did not look askance. She remained fixed on his bold eyes.

How dare he wink at her so brazenly! The effrontery!

They hadn’t even been properly introduced! Shameless man! She gave him a pointedly disdainful and frosty look. His smile deepened, and he looked as if he was going to laugh at her.

Meredith had had enough.

She turned her attention back to Tess of the d’Urbervilles, but the words on the page made no sense to her. Insolent beast! If all the men in England were like him, she would sail on the next ship back to New York and gladly starve on the streets.

The bells above the door of the bookshop jingled, causing Meredith to look in his direction once more. He seemed about to move toward her, which caused her a moment of pure, undiluted panic, but then he hesitated when two young children barreled past him.

“Merry! Merry!”

Her young cousins, Harry and Lilly, had spied her immediately and scampered to where she sat reading.

“Mother told us to come get you, Merry. She’s ready to return home now,” Harry announced, full of importance.

His ten-year-old face was alight with excitement at having been given such a significant task as fetching his older cousin. With his straight brown hair and light blue eyes, he looked up at her with a sense of urgency on his little freckled face.

“The carriage is waiting outside for us,” he added.

“Thank you, Harry.” Aunt Delilah must have one of her headaches if she sent the children in to fetch her.

Meredith rose to her feet, trying to remain nonchalant, as she knew the handsome English gentleman was still watching her every move. There was an expression of amusement on his face as he observed her interact with the children.

“Hello, Lilly,” she said with a smile at her cousin, ignoring the Englishman.

Lilly Remington, with her long brown curls and chubby cheeks, was only six years old and a shy little thing, peeking out from beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet. Immediately, the young girl grasped Meredith’s hand and held on tightly.

Now with the children at her side, Meredith had to maneuver her way over to the counter to pay for the book, the counter where the impudent and handsome gentleman still waited, watching her with an unashamed regard.

Although now he stood up straight and a wicked smile played across his face. He made an elegant gesture with his arm as if clearing a path for her.

She raised her chin and ignored him, giving her attention to the young female clerk who worked there. As she paid for her purchase, Meredith could feel the eyes of the gentleman boring into the back of her head. She’d never felt so self-conscious in her life.

“What are you buying, Merry?” Harry’s little voice piped up next to her.

“A book,” she responded. “Would you like to carry it for me?”

“Oh yes!” he cried in delight.

She handed Harry the package containing her book. His face brimming with pride, he held the small bundle wrapped in brown paper with reverence. Meredith reclaimed Lilly’s hand in hers and turned to exit the shop.

“Good afternoon, miss.”

Startled, she glanced again at the gentleman with whom she had been having such a strange encounter.

He was now mere inches from her, and she had to walk by him to get through the door. His voice was deep and rich, almost silky as it wished her a good afternoon. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe very well. There was an unmistakable scent about him. Masculine. Earthy. Spicy. Unfamiliar to her. But she had to admit that he smelled nice. Very nice, indeed.

She paused for just an instant, looking deep into his eyes. They were even more remarkable up close. Dark green. Intelligent. Even kind. They also danced with amusement.

She refused to acknowledge that he had spoken to her though. Insufferable man! He deserved to be ignored and taken down a peg.

Meredith walked right by, as if she didn’t even notice him. With her little cousins in tow, she waltzed out the door and into the waiting carriage.