He took a moment to study her, trying to judge whether he could trust her not to blab to all and sundry once she’d left his office. The last thing he needed right now was for this to be circulated around social media or the Press. He was already taking enough risks talking to the women he’d approached so far and it could only be a matter of time before his luck ran out.
‘Go on. What harm can it do?’ she murmured, giving him a reassuring smile. There was something about her that encouraged confidences, he realised, and for some reason he felt, deep down, that he could trust her.
He sighed, deciding that he may as well tell her the whole sorry tale since she knew most of it already anyway. Plus, he didn’t really have anything more to lose at this point. And who knew, perhaps she could help in some way?
Stranger things had happened.
Getting up from his chair, he paced over to the window and stared out at the pleasure boats transporting tourists up and down the wide river. ‘My late great-aunt owned the house I live in at the moment.’ He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. ‘It’s the place I’ve considered to be my home for my entire life. It was meant to go to my father next, but he passed away a few years ago, so I’m next in line to inherit it,’ he said, glancing back to check she was listening.
She was. She gazed back at him with an open, interested expression, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
‘It’s been in my family since 1875, ever since it was built for my great-great-grandfather,’ he continued, turning back to look at the river again. ‘It’s the house where I spent all my holidays from boarding school and the home I intend to live in until I die.’ He paused for a moment, feeling his throat tighten as he remembered how he used to say it was the place where he and Harriet would always live, before—well, before his whole life was turned upside down.
Shaking off the tension this memory produced, he moved away from the window and sat back down on his chair.
‘In order to inherit the place, though, a covenant in the will states I have to be married within the next month.’ He tried not to grimace as he said it.
She nodded slowly. ‘Okay.’ Frowning now as if a little puzzled, she said, ‘Could I just ask—why the rush? Haven’t you known about this for a while?’
‘No. Apparently my great-aunt wrote it into her will a couple of years ago, but she was in a coma for eighteen months after suffering a massive stroke. I only found out about it three months ago when she passed away.’
He paused and swallowed, shaking his head as a wave of sadness at losing the woman he thought of as more of a mother figure than a great-aunt flooded through him. ‘I only inherit it if I’m married by my thirtieth birthday and remain married for at least a year, otherwise it gets passed on to my cousin, who is already married,’ he grimaced, ‘and the most immoral, wasteful, tasteless man I’ve ever met. He’d sell the place to the highest bidder in the blink of an eye.’
There was a heavy pause where he watched her eyes widen and her mouth twitch at the corner.
‘And before you ask, no, he wouldn’t sell it to me. We don’t exactly get on.’
‘I kind of gathered that from your description of him,’ she said with a smile.
He tried to smile back but he couldn’t quite muster the energy needed. Mirth was a hard response to summon when you were about to lose the only place in the world that really meant something to you. The place that held all your childhood memories and felt like an integral part of your history.
Your home.
He’d feel baseless without it, adrift, disenfranchised.
‘Well,’ she said, her eyes alive with what looked suspiciously like amusement, ‘that’s quite a conundrum you have there. It’s like something from a soap opera.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘And not a very good one.’
Rubbing his hand over his brow, he felt the tension this predicament had caused under his fingertips. ‘I’d have to agree with you.’
‘Your great-aunt sounds like a real character.’ Her eyes still sparkled with amusement but her smile was warm.
‘She was a little eccentric, yes.’
Crossing her arms, she peered down at him. ‘And I’m guessing no one you’ve asked so far has said yes to this rather unusual proposal?’
‘Correct. Not that there have been many suitable candidates.’ He leant back in his chair and mirrored her by crossing his own arms. ‘The fact we’d have to live together to make it look like we’re a real couple—apparently a solicitor will be deployed at random times to check on this,’ he added by way of explanation, ‘but not have a real relationship hasn’t exactly caught the attention of the women I’ve approached so far. I’m really only interested in getting married as a business arrangement; I’m not looking for true love.’
Her brow furrowed at this. ‘You don’t want to fall in love?’
‘No.’
There was a small pause before she asked, ‘Why not?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s just not for me, that’s all. Despite my great-aunt’s insistence that it was the best thing that ever happened to her, I don’t believe falling in love with someone can really make you happy.’ He sat up in his chair. ‘In fact, I think it does the opposite. It didn’t work out for my parents, or for a large population of the country, and I intend to learn from their mistakes.’
Not to mention his own near miss—though he wasn’t about to tell her about that humiliating experience.
‘Just out of interest, what does your temporary bride get out of this arrangement?’ she asked in a faltering voice, jerking him out of his scrambled thoughts.
There was a tense pause
