Miss Bradshaw's Bought Betrothal

With a sigh she flopped down into the grass. Perhaps going off to visit Fergus alone was not such a good idea. She would probably lose her nerve the moment she laid eyes on him, anyway, and any reprimand would come out sounding squeaky and pathetic. She should probably just return to the house.

For several minutes Evie just sat there, until a pretty butterfly floated passed. Only then did she remember why she had come here in the first place. Freedom. She had intended to enjoy and embrace life on her own, not sit around waiting for life to come to her. Here she was, sat in a beautiful meadow. The sun was shining and she was all on her own. Instead of feeling miserable she should be revelling in this. Why was she in a hurry to seek out Fergus when he was clearly in no hurry either? Aside from five thousand pounds, she owed Fergus nothing.

And as there was nobody to see her here, why was she suffering? Feeling emboldened, Evie yanked off her silly slippers, then rolled off her stockings. She could put them back on nearer to her destination, but for now she would enjoy the pleasant sensation of the air around her bare legs. It was delightful. So delightful that when she had her own house she would never wear stockings in summer. Or corsets.

Feeling a little naughty and rebellious at such scandalous thoughts, she wiggled her toes and then unbuttoned the high neck of her dress all the way down to her collarbone before rolling up her sleeves as well. It was too hot for buttons and sleeves. For good measure, she took off her big straw bonnet and stuffed her discarded clothing into it, then tied the ribbons to make a carrying handle before she set off again at a much more leisurely pace. Already that all felt so much better and unrestricting. She would embrace the inevitable freckles joyfully. She had long ago accepted spinsterhood, so why should she care if her skin was not fashionable? If she had not been on her way to visit Fergus, she would have also unpinned her hair. Perhaps, when she bought her own house here, she would ensure that it also had a secluded meadow so that she could go completely wild and strip off to just her shift while she cavorted amongst the flowers like that butterfly?

From then on her little walk was like an adventure. Evie stopped to watch the different birds as they went about their business, stared at the shapes made by the clouds and picked some of the prettier meadow flowers, even tucking a vibrant, fat dandelion carelessly behind her ear. When she found her path blocked by a wide stream it did not faze her as it normally would. At most, the crystal-clear water was barely five inches deep and, because she was now at one with nature, Evie decided to wade through it rather than find a way around it. Except, the moment her toes came into contact with the refreshing water, she could not find the motivation to move from that perfect spot.

As a child she remembered paddling in the sea on a trip to Brighton and that memory took her back to happier times when there had just been Evie and her parents. Mama was in fine health, laughing and holding her hand, and Papa was threatening to splash them both. How long ago had that been? Too long, she realised with a jolt. Almost fifteen years since she had enjoyed the joyous pleasure that came from simply splashing in the water.

On a whim, Evie tossed her bonnet basket back on to the bank and then bent down to knot her skirt above her knees. This afternoon, she would splash again. Simply because she could.

* * *

Finn was seething as he crested the hill, an emotion that he did not experience often but one that his brother almost always managed to rouse. Why did Fergus always do exactly as he wanted without any thought to the consequences? And how wonderful must it feel to selfishly skip through life without the burden of even a modicum of guilt for the chaos that you left in your wake? Once again Fergus had made a mess and left Finn to clear it up. What he expected him to do with his new fiancée, Finn had no clue. The small, loyal part of him wanted to make excuses for his brother, but his conscience would never allow that. It would be the kindest thing all around if he told her the truth. Yes, it would break her heart in the short term, but in the long term she would be spared the awful reality of being shackled to Fergus for all eternity. Nobody deserved that. The sooner he appraised Miss Bradshaw of the truth, the better. With her gone, life would return to normal and he would have peace and quiet again.

Horatio, his favourite horse, meandered towards the stream. They usually stopped there on their way back from the village so that the old boy could take a drink and a rest, and despite his bad mood, Finn could not quite bring himself to deprive the animal of that tiny pleasure. It was hardly Horatio’s fault that Finn’s brother was a scoundrel of the first order. Besides, the longer it took him to get back to Matlock House, the longer he could delay having to tell his brother’s future bride that the reliably unreliable Fergus had disappeared.

But as they got to the stream, fate decided that the bad news could not be put off any longer. Miss Bradshaw was there. Not that she had seen him yet, which was no surprise since she had her back to him again. Finn would have called to her, but she was having far too much fun kicking water into the air like a child. Despite his foul mood, there was something sweet and arresting in the sight of her so easily content which made him pause and simply watch her. Her ugly dress was hoisted above her knees to keep it out of the water. She had managed to get it soaked regardless, so it clung heavily to her shapely legs as she dragged her feet aimlessly through the water.

Finn quietly slid off of his horse and began to walk towards her. As he got closer it became apparent that Miss Bradshaw was also singing—although her voice and choice of song were surprising. For a woman who squeaked and blushed at everything, that voice was surprisingly strong and earthy as she sung some song about a highwayman who was wooing two women simultaneously. If she had of been a tavern wench as he had first thought, that voice, like her figure, would earn her a small fortune.

She must have heard him because she suddenly stopped and whipped her head around. A cheerful yellow dandelion hung listlessly from her hair and her mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise at being caught. Thanks to the open buttons, Finn got to witness the ferocious blush as it spread up her neck and bloomed over her face, and found himself inexplicably charmed by the sight.

‘Lord Finnegan!’ Her hand came up to her throat and denied him the view of the hint of cleavage he had spotted under the blush, and then as an afterthought, she snatched the lolling flower from her hair and held it limply in her hand. ‘I was heading to the inn to see Fergus.’

‘Then I shall save you the journey. He’s not there.’

Miss Bradshaw bent slightly and wrestled with the wet knot in her skirts and the hint of cleavage came back into view, reminding him that he was a man and that he had not seen that particular part of a female in a while. Finn felt a pang of guilt at the temptation to stare and forced his eyes to focus on the top of her head.

‘Perhaps he has headed to Matlock House and you missed him.’ The knot was finally worked free and her heavy skirt fell back to her ankles and floated on the top of the water.

‘He is gone, Miss Bradshaw. He apparently left first thing this morning.’

She stared back at him in shock. ‘Gone where?’

‘He left you a letter which I have in my saddle bag. I dare say that might give us some clue as to his destination.’ Finn gestured back to his horse with a shrug and then started back along the bank to fetch it. Miss Bradshaw followed, although she chose to still wade parallel through the stream, apparently oblivious to the fact that her petticoats were now absorbing it.

When he handed it to her, she hastily broke the seal and scanned the contents with a look of pure irritation, then refolded it and stuffed it into a hidden pocket in her skirt. ‘He says that he has gone further north, but does not state how long for or why he has gone there.’

Which left Finn with an uncomfortable dilemma. Should he tell her what he suspected or pretend that Fergus would return presently? In the end, lying seemed futile. He owed Fergus nothing and the very last thing he wanted was a pair of uninvited houseguests for a prolonged period of time. ‘Did you give him any money, Miss Bradshaw?’

Her eyes widened and he realised that they were quite an unusual shade of brown. The golden flecks in the irises gave them a feline quality. ‘I did give him a little.’

‘How much did you give him?’ Because that dictated how long he would leave the poor girl stranded. Fergus got through money as though it was going out of fashion.

‘Oh, dear.’ She stared down at the dandelion in her hand and Finn experienced a trickle of unease.

‘How much?’

‘A thousand pounds.’

‘A thousand! Are you mad? Fergus will only gamble it away.’

Her dark eyebrows came together and her plump lips flattened. ‘At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.’

‘Well, congratulations, Miss Bradshaw. With a thousand pounds in his pocket, I doubt you will see your beloved for months.’

She took this news remarkably well. ‘He will have lost it all in a few weeks, not months. Fergus is not a particularly talented gambler.’

Which begged the obvious question. ‘If you knew that, why on earth would you give him the money?’

She turned away from him then and idly swished her foot from side to side in the water. ‘He is my fiancé and it is only money.’

‘But it is your money, Miss Bradshaw, and you seem to be forgetting the fact that he has dumped you in my house and then abandoned you as if you are of no consequence while he goes off to spend it.’ Harsh words, but the truth none the less.

She was quiet for a long time, aside from the incessant swishing of her foot as she stared off into the distance, and then he watched her inhale slowly and straighten her shoulders. ‘I suppose this all appears a trifle odd from where you are standing, Lord Finnegan, but it is what it is and I shall make the best of it.’

Did the woman have no pride? ‘And that is it? You have been abandoned without so much as a by-your-leave, one thousand pounds poorer, but that is of no matter? I can only believe that my original assessment of you must be correct, because only a woman who is, indeed, scraping the bottom of the matrimonial barrel would accept such shoddy behaviour just to get wed.’ She turned to him then and he saw the flash of pain in her eyes at his cruel words.

‘I am scraping the bottom of the matrimonial barrel, Lord Finnegan. Of that fact, I am painfully aware. I hold no illusions that your brother holds me in any regard whatsoever because you summed up my situation perfectly. I am a plain spinster who has been left on the shelf but I am, as you so crudely put it, obscenely rich and we both know that Fergus is in dire need of money. Beggars cannot be choosers. It might not be the most romantic of arrangements, but your brother is agreeable to it and I find that it suits me well enough.’

Finn wanted to tell her that she wasn’t plain at all, in his opinion. She had beautiful eyes and a mouth that begged to be kissed. Not to mention that she had a body made for sin, but saying that felt disloyal to Olivia. ‘Surely you could do better than Fergus?’ There was a stubborn glint in her eye that made him wonder if Miss Bradshaw might actually have a spine after all, until she spoke and spoiled it.

‘I am content with Fergus.’

‘Oh, content, are you? I am glad someone is. Meanwhile, it is me that is now stuck with you! How typical of my brother to leave me with his problems while he swans off to have fun.’

She recoiled as if she had been slapped and Finn felt terrible. ‘I did not mean to refer to you as a problem, Miss Bradshaw, I merely meant that—’ She held up her hand to stop him.

‘You are quite right, Lord Finnegan. He has shamelessly foisted my aunt and I upon you and for that I am sorry. Perhaps you would be good enough to arrange for our luggage to be transferred to Stanford House immediately so that you are not inconvenienced further?’ She stood proudly, her elegant hands clasped in front of her, the whimsical dandelion now dropped into the water and despondently floating away much like all broken dreams did eventually.

It was the matter-of-fact stoicism that undid him, almost as if she was quite used to being considered an unwelcome burden and treated with a lack of respect, and for some reason that bothered him. ‘There is no need. Stanford House is a wreck and there are no servants there to attend you. You can stay at my house while I make the necessary arrangements to return you to London while you wait.’

The flash of temper was so sudden and unexpected that it shocked him. ‘I will not be returning to London!’ By the stunned look on her face it had also shocked her. She sucked in a deep breath, blinked twice and then continued. ‘I am resolved to live in Yorkshire from now on, sir, and nothing with dissuade me.’

‘Fergus could be gone for months! And I am to be inconvenienced in the process? Until yesterday I had no idea you even existed and now I am expected to be responsible for you and your aged aunt, while Fergus goes off and enjoys himself at cards. Or whoring as he usually does?’ He watched her face pale, but ploughed on. It was better that she knew what she would be getting into with his twin before the wedding. At least then Finn’s conscience would be clear. ‘I owe my brother nothing, Miss Bradshaw, and my charity only extends so far.’ And more importantly Finn wanted to be left all alone. Away from people and their lives and hopes and dreams. The last thing he needed was this voluptuous creature, who sang bawdy songs and paddled in streams, and reminded him that he was a man.

‘As I have already stated, Lord Finnegan, I have no desire to inconvenience you any further and would prefer to remove myself to Stanford House presently.’

‘I keep telling you that house in uninhabitable—’ That delicate hand cut him off again.

‘Stanford House will do well enough until Fergus returns—and he will return. So do not trouble yourself on my behalf. I have no need of your charity, sir. I am an independent woman, Lord Finnegan, with independent means. A vast amount of independent means! I shall hire my own servants and make the house habitable. And because I have no desire to be considered as one of your problems, we will leave tomorrow and gladly so.’ She thrust her chin out and glared down her nose at him imperiously with outrage shimmering in her eyes. And managed to look quite splendid as she did it. ‘Good afternoon to you, Lord Finnegan, I shall not inconvenience you any further.’

With that she turned and stubbornly waded up the bank towards her discarded bonnet and shoes. She picked them up and began to march barefoot back across the meadow without giving him a backwards glance, the sodden heavy skirts slapping against her legs loudly. He could tell, by her posture, that she was indignantly proud of herself. The beginnings of a smile nudged at the corners of his mouth.

Underneath all of that awkward exterior, Miss Bradshaw had some gumption. It was obvious that she was not usually a person who took someone to task. Throughout the whole exchange her voice shook nervously and her neck bloomed with angry red blotches, but she persevered. Once she got started, there had been no stopping her. Most people just tolerated his brusqueness nowadays.

Poor Finn Matlock. All bitter and twisted. Even his wife could not stand to live with him.

It was quite refreshing to have been called on it for once. He actually admired her determination to stay at Stanford House just to spite him, although Finn doubted she would be quite so determined once she saw the place.

He swung himself back on to Horatio and nudged the beast to wander slowly in Miss Bradshaw’s irate footsteps, while he watched her delectable, wet, rounded bottom sway as she stomped purposefully ahead a few yards away, resolutely pretending that he no longer existed at all. He doubted she would be quite so enamoured of the idea of marrying his dissolute brother when she saw his home. The only thing that would make Stanford House habitable would be to raze it to the ground and start again. Once she saw it, she would have to back down and return whence she came, and that actually did make him smile. Would she be all indignant and blotchy or would the squeaky, nervous Miss Bradshaw return? Either way, it would be entertaining to watch. For the first time in a very long time, Finn found himself actually looking forward to something.

Chapter Four

Evie had gone to bed feeling very proud of herself and then slept like the dead. The other Matlock, with his cutting words and his brooding, insolent eyes, had brought out a side to her character that she never knew that she possessed. For the first time in her life, she had stood up to someone and it had felt marvellous. He had made it plain that she was unwelcome in his house and she had made it equally as plain that she had no intentions of staying there or of being shipped back to Hyacinth and her malicious daughters. The very last place she would ever want to stay was with another obnoxious and nasty person who underestimated her and undermined her at every opportunity. Not after she had spent ten long years living with Hyacinth, having every ounce of joy and confidence gradually chiselled away until there was nothing left but the doormat she hated.

Of course she was angry at Fergus. The shoddy behaviour of that vile wastrel was beyond the pale—however, it was not wholly unexpected. Not really. Not when one considered his weak character and intrinsically selfish nature—the two character traits that she had needed him to possess in order for her escape plan to work. She had not expected him to stay long in Yorkshire and in all honesty would have been glad to see the back of him had it not been for the fact that he had left her in the lurch as an unexpected and unwelcome guest of his brother.

But she had not anticipated that he would bolt within a few hours of her handing over the first instalment of his payment. Fortunately, she had had the good sense not to give him the entire five thousand pounds in one go—the rest of the money was safely stored in a locked box amongst her small things in her trunk—although he had become quite unreasonable when she had explained this to him. In fact, just before he had left for the inn he had thrown quite a tantrum, but Evie had held firm. Two staggering examples of new-found assertiveness in less than twenty-four hours! Who’d have thought it? But one thing that she had learned from her stern father, and his many years of business, was that you never paid up front for goods or services you had not yet received. While Fergus might well have delivered her to the north, he still had to uphold the rest of their bargain. That meant, from time to time, he had to play the role of her fiancé for as long as she deemed it necessary.

His curt letter had given her an address where she could reach him in York as well as a reassurance that he would go nowhere near London until Evie was satisfied that he could return without raising too much suspicion about their engagement. He made no apology for disappearing nor for failing to appraise her of the fact that he had left her at the wrong house, but he had been adamant that ‘good old Finn’ would look after her in his stead until he returned, which just went to show how little Fergus actually knew about anything.

‘Good old Finn’ could not wait to see the back of her and that feeling was quite mutual. The man was viler than his brother, but for completely different reasons. The fact that Fergus had apparently declined to tell his own brother the truth about their situation had given her pause and stopped her from sharing the contents of the letter. If Fergus did not wish his brother to know about their arrangement, there was probably a very good reason. It was obvious his twin was no fool, nor did he strike her as the type to suffer fools like Evie gladly. She sincerely doubted such an outspoken man would have a great deal of sympathy for her inability to stand up for herself in her own house. Selfishly, Evie had kept quiet because she had feared that she would be cast out on her ear if ‘good old Finn’ realised that the engagement was a sham and it was obvious he had little time for his wastrel brother.

He had said that he and Fergus were as different as chalk and cheese. Now that she had some experience of both of them that really was a very apt description. Like chalk, Fergus Matlock was weak and slowly eroding away, while Finnegan definitely left a sour taste in the mouth, just like rancid cheese. What gave him the right to say such hurtful things to her anyway?

‘You do not look like a woman who could survive on one piece of toast...’

‘Scraping the matrimonial barrel...’

‘Your precious virtue is perfectly safe with me.’

All she had spent was a few scant minutes in his company and already she wanted to kick him. He made her so nervous. During each of their brief, tense exchanges, her heart had positively hammered against her ribs and her mouth had filled with cotton wool. His twin did not have that effect on her. With Fergus, Evie felt in control. But then she held all of the cards. He was a means to an end and theirs was a business transaction. While Finnegan looked almost exactly like Fergus, she certainly did not react to his presence in the same way. The man was so vexing and disagreeable. And unfortunately, he possessed all of the intelligence that Fergus lacked. She got the distinct impression that those mesmerising dark eyes saw right through her and her veil of lies. Under those circumstances, it was actually a good thing that he wanted her out of his house.

This morning, Evie intended to move into Stanford House whether there were servants there or not. As if living in less than luxury would bother her! She who had slept for more hours than she cared to remember in a chair at an invalid’s bedside, doing all of those intensely personal and demeaning tasks that one did in a sickroom in order to spare her parents the indignity of being attended to by a servant. No, indeed, she would happily attend to both her own and Aunt Winnie’s needs for as long as it took to find some staff and she would even enjoy it. For too many years Evie had dreamed of escaping the shackles of her old life and, now that she had, she was damned if she was going to let either one of the Matlock twins spoil it for her. Especially not the one who wore his breeches better, or who had floppy dark hair and soulful, insightful, mesmerising, dark eyes.

To that end, she was already up and dressed and it was barely past dawn. The first thing she was going to do was take herself to Stanford House and prepare a couple of bedchambers for herself and Aunt Winnie. Once that was done, later this morning she would oversee the removal of their luggage from Lord Finnegan’s fine house and would never darken the man’s door again.

Charity!

Hah! He could go to hell.

Feeling empowered and invincible, Evie stomped downstairs in her most sensible gown and walking boots.

‘Good morning Miss Bradshaw! Are you looking forward to your move?’

He was leaning against the doorframe of the breakfast room with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Smiling. As Evie had never seen him smile, she was not fully prepared for the effect it would have on her. Those dark eyes were dancing with mischief, one of them slightly hidden behind a lock of hair that her fingers wanted to push back, and just like the first time she had seen him his chin bore the evidence of fresh stubble. But that smile did funny things to her insides and made her suddenly twitchy and self-conscious. She felt every inch the fat, frumpy, plain spinster she was up against his artless attractiveness. It was intimidating. However, the new improved Evie Bradshaw would not invert with shyness, no matter how much she wanted to. No, indeed! The foundations of their acquaintance had already been laid and this morning she was invincible.