After a time, Peter stood and held out his hand. “It seems we have an agreement.”
CHAPTER ONE
July,1814
A week before the wedding...
The world tilted for Peter Watson in a way he’d never anticipated. “Are you absolutely certain I’m the rightful heir?”
His new brother-in-law, David Hawke, slapped his shoulder. “It’s confirmed. Not only are you the heir, but you are the recipient of a sizeable fortune to go along with it. You are wealthy now Peter. Or I should say Sir Peter Watson. Congratulations my friend.”
Peter gulped past the lump in his throat. He’d dreamed of this but never truly imagined he’d ever inherit a title or fortune from a cousin so little remembered he’d needed to comb through old letters to find mention of the name. He was, or would be very soon, a baronet. It was all a bit much to digest so quickly. “What do I do now?”
David smiled. “A trip to London and then to Hereford to visit your holdings. It should all be settled within a month. I took the liberty of investigating your London townhouse before we came down to tell you the news. A very proper set-up. Servants, a town carriage and even a few horses, although they might be a bit long in the tooth for prolonged riding. Your relation was an invalid up until he died so be prepared for a degree of shabbiness about the house in the beginning.”
Peter nodded slowly. A comfortable life beckoned. He’d be able to hold his head up with pride at last. He met Abigail’s gaze and saw her beaming smile. He shook his head. “It seems impossible.”
“I can hardly believe my brother will be a baronet too, but I am so happy for you,” she gushed. “We rushed down as soon as we could to tell you in person.”
Abigail also hadn’t been able to stand still since the moment they’d appeared at his door direct from London. He hadn’t seen her so happy in years, well except for her wedding day, and the day Hawke had proposed. “Then London it is.”
“Wait,” she cautioned. “What about your wedding? You are to marry Imogen next week.”
Peter scrubbed a hand through his hair while thinking the matter through. If he could settle his inheritance before he married Imogen then his conscience would be clear. He would rather be seen to marry because he wanted to than because he was the next best thing to a penniless beggar and desperate for funds. Imogen would marry Sir Peter Watson and become Lady Watson. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he told her the good news. “I’ll go see her now.”
“Very good,” Hawke gazed about him with a barely suppressed smile. “We can leave for London tomorrow, early, settle the issues of the inheritance, and return as soon as possible to have you leg shackled. The place could do with a woman’s touch.”
Abigail’s mock punches to her husband’s midsection were pathetically half-hearted at best. The small dog wedged under her arm yapped at her behavior.
Hawke slipped his arm around Abigail and quieted the dog. “We’ll be at home all evening should you need us.”
When they were gone, Peter hurried to make himself presentable enough to call on his future bride, taking a moment to smooth his hair and straighten his appearance. It had been an eventful afternoon, but the thought of seeing Imogen tied his stomach into greater knots. She’d always had that effect on him, except now they were to be married the sensations only intensified. She was to be his wife. Never mind their arrangement had never involved mention of intimacies. He was to be her husband. He was determined never to let her regret her generous offer. He would prove her faith in him however he could.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he tapped on her door. Her butler welcomed him with a smile and led him toward the sitting room. Usually Imogen greeted him with a soft easy smile, but today her expression was wary, her eyes were hooded in shadows as she dipped into a curtsy, her mouth set in a grim line.
Puzzled by it, he moved toward her and kissed her hand when she held it out, the absolute limit of their personal interactions. Her tiny hand slipped from his too quickly, as it always did.
“Good afternoon, Sir Peter.”
His head snapped up. “You’ve already heard.”
Imogen’s dark brows drew together causing frown lines to appear. “This is Brighton. News travels remarkably fast.”
He chuckled and stepped back. “That it does. David has only just confirmed the details. A house in London and all that entails: a Hereford property and sufficient income to support us in greater comfort than we could ever want.”
“I am very happy for you.” She tipped her head to study him. “The title suits you already.”
His heart swelled. Imogen did not
dole out compliments she didn’t mean. He had enough experience of her temperament before the proposal to know such a comment was heartfelt. “It will suit us both very well.” When she sank into her chair again, Peter took the seat opposite. “There is one catch.”
“You are leaving.”
Her soft words caught him by surprise. How the devil could she know that? He’d only just decided he needed to go. Was that the cause of her odd mood today? “I am. David believes it can be all settled within a month. He feels the quicker it is done the better for all concerned.”
When her smile didn’t reach her eyes, hope flared. Would she miss him? Even if their arrangement had started out as a loveless affair, he longed to hear she would think of him every now and then while he was away, or even a touch more than that.
“David is an imminently practical man. I admire sensible decisions.” She drew herself up straight. “Which is why I feel it best to release you from our engagement.”