The Major's Faux Fiancee Read Online Free PDF Page B

hypocrisy to demand anyone else get leg-shackled. Your vehemence surprised me, that’s all. I wanted to make certain you’ve thought this through.”
    She turned away so he wouldn’t see her clench her jaw. She did nothing but think things through. Why did he imagine she was choosing charity work over marriage and family?
    Of course he couldn’t imagine abandoning the world of routs and soirées willingly. He’d been king of the ballrooms and the prince of every young lady’s fantasies.
    In fact, that was the primary reason she’d chosen him for this farce. He would make her a terrible husband, and she would make him a terrible wife. Hades would freeze over before Bartholomew Blackpool would limit himself to any one woman. Much less give up the glittering world where he’d reigned supreme. Therefore he could be counted upon to dissolve the contract willingly and promptly.
    “I have thought this through,” she said quietly. “My future—England’s future—is the only thing I think about. Improving the world we all share is the worthiest goal there is. ’Tis all I do, from the moment I rise to the moment I tumble into bed, exhausted. It’s what I want to do. Become a housewife is not.” Her mouth tightened. “Your ‘competition’ out in the front parlor? Trust me, they’re better off without me. I have no time for anyone if I’m worrying about everyone.”
    Those were most of her reasons. There was one more. One she was unwilling to admit aloud. The true reason she would never marry.
    Fighting for thousands of faceless individuals was so much easier, so much safer than allowing someone into her heart.
    Everyone she’d ever cared about left her. In the worst ways possible.
    Her mother had died in childbirth. An accident, of course, but the catalyst for Daphne’s fervor to help others, to improve medical conditions. Her father’s father had also been a vicar. Daphne adored her grandparents. They died. Scarlet Fever. Then it was just her and papa, on their own.
    She’d thought, At least I have Papa . At least I’m not alone .
    She was wrong.
    Papa had focused on his “sheep.” His parish. He’d believed the only virtue came from helping his flock. He’d had little time for his daughter.
    Daphne had done her best to do the same, to live up to his standard, but she was young. She’d longed for friends. The closest neighbors were twin boys, too old to be proper playmates. Soon, they too had gone away. It hadn’t taken her long to realize her life was fated to be lived alone.
    Even her new guardian didn’t want her.
    She had no doubt she would never have seen Bartholomew again had her circumstances not been so dire. If her father hadn’t died. If her guardian hadn’t threatened her with an asylum. If rakish, fashionable Bartholomew Blackpool hadn’t got his leg shot off and found himself so bored with his long recovery that he was reduced to reading something so mundane as a newspaper.
    For him, this visit was nothing more than a diversion. For her, it would define the rest of her life.
    She turned toward the door. “Come on, then. It’s time to meet the others.”

Chapter Six

     
    At first, Bartholomew couldn’t identify the unsettled edge to his gut, or how the deuce his palms could be clammy during a British winter.
    And then it hit him. The most improbable, unlikely, unfathomable of all circumstances had actually come to pass. He was nervous.
    Nervous . Him!
    He didn’t have to wonder if he’d ever felt such a sensation before. He well knew he hadn’t. From the mindlessness of youth to the bravado of university days to the swagger of the haut ton to the zeal of fighting enemy soldiers—no. Not once had he been nervous.
    How could he have? He was always the best. Of course he could climb that tree. Trounce that prefect. Win that game. Race that horse. Steal that kiss. Live through anything.
    Even war.
    And yet here he was, in the cottage of a deceased vicar of all places, about to be