Two Wrongs Make a Marriage
Read Two Wrongs Make a Marriage Online
Authors: Christine Merrill
Tags: #Historical, #Fiction, #Romance
They’ve made their bed...
Lord Kenton is surprisingly happy to be lured to a moonlit gazebo, held at gunpoint by the delectable Cynthia Banester and forced to marry her. The only finger he’s had to lift is the one that’s caressed the neckline of her dress. She’s claimed a title—he’s secured a fortune. There are just two problems—he’s not the real Lord Kenton, and she’s not rich!
So they might as well lie in it!
Bound by their own deceptions, Cynthia and Jack decide to make the best of a bad deal. They may not have two coins to rub together, but consummating their vows proves deliciously satisfying....
Cynthia stared back at him, large green eyes narrowed in skepticism. “If I give up the gun, what will I have to protect me from your advances?”
Absolutely nothing.
She blinked at him, as though she had heard his thoughts, and her mouth puckered, ready to be kissed.
“Is it really necessary to keep me at a distance? You must understand that if I remain as you wish, your honor will be compromised. When we are discovered, as we well might be, I shall be forced to marry you.”
She nodded vigorously. “That was precisely what I hoped,” she said.
That was most unexpected. But it certainly saved him time in wooing. “Your methods for seeking my offer are rather unorthodox,” he said. “I will not hold them against you, should we marry. I am not opposed to the institution itself, and I am willing to entertain the proposition that there be a union between us. But I will not allow the woman I marry to bring a pistol into the bedroom.”
“Perfectly understandable,” she agreed. But she showed no sign of relinquishing her weapon.
* * *
Two Wrongs Make a Marriage
Harlequin® Historical #1109—October 2012
Author Note
Writing a story featuring an actor is so much fun, and it gives me a chance to share with you some theater history research that did not make it into the book.
The stage in Jack’s day was raked, with the front being lower than the back. Going upstage was actually like walking uphill. Scenery included a painted backdrop and flat wooden wing-pieces painted to match. These gave the audience an illusion of depth, and left actors with places to enter and exit on both sides of the stage. At the front of the stage footlights, or floats, rested in a trough of water to prevent accidental fires should a candle tip over, and they could be lowered below the stage when not in use.
The theater’s chandeliers had to be raised and lowered, as well—but never during the performance. Once the candles were lit the house lights were always up, which made it easy for the audience to watch each other as they watched the play. As they are now, the cheap seats were in the upper balcony or gallery. If the audience there was unhappy, they booed by hitting their boots on a loose “kicking board” in front of their seat.
And, as there are now, there were theatrical superstitions. Green has always been an unlucky color for a costume. Not only is it unfavorable to most complexions, it was supposedly the color Molière was wearing when he died on stage in 1673.
Happy reading. And “break a leg”!
Christine Merrill
Two Wrongs Make a Marriage
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Contents
Chapter One
K
idnapped! Dishonoured! Forced to marry one’s abductor to avoid the scandal!
It was almost too perfect. Jack Briggs could hardly contain his glee, though this was not the moment to reveal it. The plans he’d set in motion at the beginning of the London Season were coming together, suddenly, unexpectedly, and in a way almost too perfect for words. He would have a rich and well-born wife and he’d have her months ahead of schedule.
Miss Cynthia Banester was not the woman he’d expected to catch. There had been no time to lay the groundwork for a less inauspicious campaign for her hand. But she was gentle born, wealthy and more than middling pretty. Jack might go so far as to call her beautiful, for the ginger hair and full figure were very much to his personal taste. She was certainly desirable.
But more importantly, she was everything that the Earl of Spayne had requested Jack bring to his family by marrying. Of course, Jack had expected to present his choice to the peer for approval before making an offer. This impromptu abduction had changed everything. Now that weapons had been drawn, there could be no turning back. He would have her, whether the earl liked her or not.
The girl smiled at him in a hopeful, rather worried way, as though her own happiness depended on his co-operation, and edged between him and the doorway of the gazebo they shared. ‘I am sorry, Lord Kenton, but I cannot permit you to leave. If you attempt it, I will be forced to shoot you.’
Jack watched the barrel of the little pistol she held moving in twitching figure eights as she tried to keep it steady. If the gun fired, by accident or with intent, Miss Banester would become the second most beautiful woman to have shot him. But if she did not control her aim, it could prove more damaging than a hurried leap from a courtesan’s boudoir window. At such close range, there was a very real chance she might hit something he wished to keep whole.
He kept his hands raised, put on his best smile and worked his magic upon her. ‘I would not dream of leaving, my dear. Did I not come willingly to this spot when you requested me to follow you away from the other guests?’
‘That was because you expected some dalliance with me,’ she said, giving a wise nod. Her assessment was accurate, but delivered with a coldness that surprised him. ‘You thought me foolish enough to leave a crowded ballroom to go walking in a dark garden with a man who is nearly a stranger to me.’ She tightened her grip on the pistol and for a moment, it stilled, before the muzzle drooped alarmingly in the direction of his manhood.
‘I might have suspected some such thing,’ Jack admitted. ‘You can hardly blame me for it. In most instances, that is precisely what your sudden interest in a tête-à-tête would mean. But I can see that is not the case. Perhaps, if you were to lay down your weapon, you might accept my parole. I am sure we could discuss your reasons for this meeting without the threat of violence. If I have done something to upset you, I would be only too happy to apologise.’ At length, and with as much physicality as their inevitable discovery would permit.
He smiled in anticipation. The folly she’d lured him to was still within earshot of the house. One overloud shriek of delight and they would be found out. Her reputation would be ruined. And he would offer nobly, albeit with proper resignation, for her lovely white hand. If he could just coax her out of her pistol, the end of hostility would mean the beginning of seduction. Stitching together the tatters of her innocence for a church wedding would be far preferable to mending a hole in his coat or body.
She stared back at him, large green eyes narrowed in scepticism. ‘If I give up the gun, what would I have to protect me from your advances?’
Absolutely nothing
. She blinked at him, as though she had heard his thoughts, and her mouth puckered, ready to be kissed. The moonlight glinted in her copper curls and gave a faint luminosity to her already magnificent bosom, making him wonder at the rest of the body hiding beneath her ladylike muslin gown. Such lush curves brought to mind an earthy sensuality not present in the eligible innocents he’d been courting. Though her friends might shorten Cynthia to Thea, Jack thought some variation on Cyn would be more appropriate. She was sinfully tempting and everything he desired in a bedmate. It might be quite pleasant to lose his freedom to her.
He lowered his hands a fraction, turning them palms up in supplication. ‘Is it really necessary to keep me at a distance? You must understand that, if I remain as you wish, your honour will be compromised. When we are discovered, as we well might be, I shall be forced to marry you.’
She nodded vigorously. Curls and bosom bounced in response. ‘That was precisely what I hoped,’ she said.
That was most unexpected, but it certainly saved him time in wooing. ‘Your methods for seeking my offer are rather unorthodox,’ he said, lowering his hands a little farther. ‘I will not hold them against you should we marry. I am not opposed to the institution itself and willing to entertain the proposition that there be a union between us. But I will not allow the woman I marry to bring a pistol into the bedroom.’
‘Perfectly understandable,’ she agreed. But she showed no sign of relinquishing her weapon.
‘Surely, if you are intent on having me, it will do no harm to become better acquainted before that time.’ He smiled again, his mouth watering at the thought of her excessively kissable lips.
‘I have no objection to knowing you better,’ she agreed. ‘But I am sure that it can be done across this distance.’ She took a tighter grip on the pistol.
‘Are you sure?’ He adjusted his posture to make best use of the available light and felt the moon outline his profile as he stretched a hand toward her. It was vain of him to strike such a pose, but he’d heard ladies sighing over it, often enough. And until the gun was back in her reticule, he needed all the good will he could muster. ‘There would be no risk to our sitting side by side, admiring the roses through the lattice.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The air is like perfume and the moonlight tints the blossoms with silver.’
