Chapter Two
St. John Richard Mountford Randall the Third was enjoying himself enormously. Fate, in the shape of the delightful Louisa Lloyd-Jones— his cousin by marriage, had conspired rather nicely to deliver his potential bride into his hands.
“Take a trip to nowhere, Sinjun,” she’d told him. “Find yourself a place where you can think. Take off your clothes, feel the sun on your body and let go of your past. Give yourself chance to consider the future and what it is youreallywant, before you commit to anything.”
He’d snorted, but then wondered if she was right. Hence his journey to his friend’s estate. Although he wasn’t planning on lounging around George’s grounds stark naked. Not many gentlemen of his acquaintance did that. Not while sober, anyway. But then again, right at this moment he wasn’t feeling terribly gentlemanly.
A gentleman would probably have pointed out that his new friend was on the wrong road for Lark’s Cross. And then immediately revealed his identity as soon as he recognized her unique name. A gentleman would also have returned Miss Charis to the bosom of her family, thus to await his formal proposal of marriage.
He smiled. Gentlemen must lead awfully dull lives.
“So.” He began the conversation. “I’m going to take a guess and assume I’m assisting in an escape of sorts.”
She glanced at him, eyes wide, innocent and very blue. “What on earth makes you think so?”
“The bag. The dusty shoes. Not to mention the traveling cape. You’re not exactly going for a short stroll down to the village.”
“Observant, I’ll give you that.”
“Meeting a lover?”
“God, no.” It was vehement, to say the least. “Avoiding one if you must know.”
“Really?” He infused the question with curiosity and interest. It worked.
“I refuse to marry a lackwit.” She nodded decisively. “It is not to be tolerated.”
Sinjun swallowed. “A lackwit? Surely not.”
She shrugged and within moments the story was laid bare. Or at least her version of it. “So you see, he’s probably an old, drooling imbecile. Or worse.”
“There’s worse?”
She ignored the comment. “I expect he only wants me as a brood mare anyway. Isn’t that why men marry? To get heirs?” She turned and looked at him. “Can you think of any other reason?”
“Um…well…” Sinjun thought about that for a few moments. “Perhaps he needs the settlements?”
Charis shrugged. “Possibly. They must be quite hefty to induce him to offer for me.” She faced forward. “There is one thing I omitted to mention.”
“Oh?”
Her throat moved as she gulped. “I’mruined, you see.”
“Ah.” Sinjun stifled a grin. “Would that be ruined as in penniless? Because you don’t look ruined as in a twelfth century sacked church or something.”
She flashed him a glare. “You’re making light of it.”
“Well, until I fully understand, I’m not sure how to react.”
Charis sighed. “Are you married, sir?”
“I was. Once.” His mouth hardened. “She died.”
“I’m sorry. My sympathies.”
“Not necessary. It was a long time ago. I prefer not to think of it.”
“I see.” She nodded. “A wise course.”
