Page 8 of A Symphony for the Earl

“You needn’t worry. I shall find a husband and take myself off your hands. Father put aside a modest trust for me, which I shall have access to when I reach twenty-one. Until then, there should be a bit of money coming from the sale of our plantation in Barbados. I’m well able to take care of myself, you know. I’ve lived apart from my father these last six years.”

“You had no parental figure—no chaperone—in Dublin?”

“I was a companion to my elderly aunt who passed away at Christmas.”

“My condolences on the passing of your aunt, Miss Rafferty. You must have been close if she was your only relative.”

“Oh, not really. Aunt Muriel was kind enough, but I spent most of my time at school. I understand that since my father’s will granting your Uncle Carlisle guardianship was never changed, that’s how I landed on your doorstep. Quite literally.” Her eyes still glimmered with amusement.

He didn’t appreciate Miss Rafferty’s misplaced merriment. This bizarre situation was growing worse by the moment.

“Well, Lord Seldon, are you convinced I am not some designing imposter? May I meet the rest of your family? They must be on fire with curiosity.”

“Do you always say what you think, Miss Rafferty?”

She cocked her head. “Why, yes. Don’t you?”

He ignored the impertinent question. “I don’t want to seem indelicate, but might I ask your age?”

“I turned nineteen in November. Does that make me too old for the Marriage Mart I’ve heard so much about?” she asked archly.

“As my ward,” he said in a dampening tone, “you will be a Merrick, so it will not matter. This is my sister’s first London Season, so we will introduce you to society alongside Valentina. My mother is very adept at these things. I am sure we will find an agreeable candidate.”

“How glad I am to be marriage worthy.” Her voice suggested otherwise. “However, I would like to discover more about life in London before I decide on my future.”

“You are my responsibility now, Miss Rafferty. Tomorrow, I will speak with my solicitor and navigate a suitable arrangement for your future. The situation is regrettable, but not without hope.”

“Though I appreciate your offer, Lord Seldon, I am no one’s responsibility. As in the past, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself and deciding how to proceed.”

He decided this was as good a time as any to establish the parameters of their relationship.

“You are misinformed, Miss Rafferty. As a dependent living in my household, you are legally under my care. I am your guardian and that means you have very few decisions to make. We shall discuss what is expected of you at a later time. As for now, my family is anxious to meet you.”

Before she could form a protest, he walked to the library door and held it open.

*

Fiona had the most childish impulse to stamp her feet and refuse to leave. The earl infuriated her, but she realized there were few other options available at the moment than to stay at Merrick House.

The ten-hour journey by boat from Dublin to London and the uncomfortable ride aboard the public coach to Mayfair had been grueling. She was weary to the bone, fighting a case of the blue devils, and she sorely missed her father.

Though Fiona longed for nothing more than a soft bed and a comfortable room, meeting the family was her first order of business. Then, she would recover and make plans of her own. Lord Seldon would soon discover that a Rafferty didn’t take orders. Even from an earl.

She followed him into an expansive drawing room. Three faces swiveled in her direction from a blue-striped, satin sofa. The first Fiona judged her to be near fifty but still very beautiful, with the perfect roses-and-cream complexion so common among the English. The young lady next to her was breathtakingly lovely, a younger version of her mother.

Lord Seldon introduced them as Lady Amelia Merrick and Miss Valentina Merrick. Before he could continue, the adolescent girl sitting with them jumped to her feet.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters? It would be ripping to have someone to play with.”

“No, I am afraid not,” Fiona answered her. “How lucky you are to have both.”

“This is Miss Octavia Merrick.” Was Fiona mistaken or did she see a trace of indulgence in the earl’s expression?

“She is twelve and resists all our attempts to tame her. Please sit, Octavia, and no Cockney tonight, I beg you.”

Octavia had chestnut-brown hair like her brother, escaping in tendrils from two beribboned plaits. Her features were too irregular for beauty, but pleasing nonetheless.

Lady Merrick patted the space beside her, but Octavia ignored her and danced around the room.