Page 12 of In With a Chance

So when Michael had said quite clearly, when he’d discovered that Ernest had been staying in a hotel, that he must leave the hotel immediately and should stay with his family, Ernest had felt…a little less alone.

Wait a moment. That he should stay with his family. Not that he had made any sort of arrangements.

Oh, hell…

“Michael… Michael said I had been invited to stay,” Ernest said stiffly, drawing himself up and retreating back into the title. He was Baron Frasemere. He was Lord Frasemere. It was acceptable for him to speak this way. “I mean—he said you’d said—I was under the impression that I was… Well. Invited to stay.”

He had not quite intended to sound so bewildered by the end of that speech, but he couldn’t help it. Michael was always such a whirlwind; he never could stay in one place more than five minutes—marrying a sea captain made all the sense in the world.

What did not make any sense at all was how his thoughts were not in this room, desperately hoping the Chances would give him refuge now that he’d given up his hotel room and couldn’t really afford to return there in any case…and instead were with the woman who had marched out of it mere moments ago. The woman engaged to be married.

Enough, you fool.

“Well, of course you can stay,” Lady Pernrith said amiably, and Ernest felt some of his panic melt away. “How… How long would you like to stay for, Lord Frasemere?”

And Ernest hesitated.

He had long ago given up hope of a love match. Had in fact resigned himself once before to a comfortable marriage, if not a romantic one.

So he would not need long to form the right kind of connection.

He needed to find a wife, a wife with money. He knew full well that Michael’s sisters had no money, no dowries at all, and besides, there was only one unattached sister left and she looked like a mouse hiding behind that pianoforte.

Besides, a man had to have rules with his friends, and marrying a friend’s sister was absolutely out of the question.

And besides that, the woman who had caught his eye in this household had declared her engagement, snarled at him, and slammed a door as she’d marched away. Hardly the actions of a woman ready to be wooed.

And besides that…

Ernest cleared his throat as thoughts of raven hair and sparkling, blue eyes filled his mind. “At least a week, if that is quite acceptable, my lady. At least a week…if not longer.”

Chapter Three

September 5, 1841

Dear Miss Chance,

I would like to invite you to take tea with me at Mrs. Wainright’s Teashop and Emporium at eleven o’clock today with my aunt, the Baronetess Stuart, who has been a mother to me these last few years. It would mean a great deal to me if you would accept.

Yours faithfully,

Lord Ravenshurst (Your Betrothed)

Gwen smiled. Now that was more like it.

Well, except for the strange clarification at the end, as though she might have forgotten that just three days ago, she had agreed to be his bride.

And except for the fact that she had believed she’d dodged the entire matter of a mother-in-law.

And except for the fact that there did not appear to be a reciprocal invitation for her own mother, which would have been expected, given the circumstances.

Gwen’s smile faltered, but she resolutely forced it to remain on her face. Except for those things, it was definitely a step in the right direction.

“You look pleased, Gwen,” said her mother from the other side of the breakfast table.

The temper Gwen barely held down immediately flared. “And is there something wrong with that?”

As Gwen looked up above the letter she had received from Lord Ravenshurst, she saw immediately that she had reacted too harshly. Her mother was blinking at her from over a cup of tea, clearly bewildered by the vehemence in her daughter’s voice.