Two Wrongs Make a Marriage by Christine Merrill Page A

overhear. ‘After our wedding, I had a most enlightening talk with Cyn’s father. It seems I misunderstood much of our courtship. The man was seeking a settlement from me.’
    There was an agonising silence in the room, as Spayne contemplated the meaning of that. Thea held her breath, waiting. His response, when it came, was not the angry outburst that she feared. The man blanched white, his welcoming smile frozen on his face. He said nothing. And though she felt an almost convulsive tightening on her hands, he did not release them.
    Jack continued. ‘I have explained to my lady wife much of my recent history. But I think further discussion is necessary.’
    That pause continued a moment longer, then Spayne seemed to thaw, returning almost to the lively gentleman he had been only a few moments ago. ‘Things have not gone to plan, have they?’ He gave a slight sigh and released her hands. ‘But that is the way of things, in my experience. They are never what they seem.’
    ‘I agree,’ Jack said, with a touch of asperity.
    ‘No matter. It cannot be helped.’ Spayne’s response was firm, and showed no judgement against her, though it seemed to hold some unspoken warning to Jack. ‘Let us go into the library. There is an open brandy bottle and a stout door to keep the world at bay. Just the way I like things.’ Absently, the earl wandered towards a door to the left and Jack followed at his heels.
    They would retire to the library to decide her fate and she would be excluded from the decision. Miss Pennyworth had assured her that it was a woman’s lot to be treated thus, hammering away at her unfortunate tendency to behave as her mother might, insinuating herself into the situation, offering opinions and speaking altogether too much.
    But it irked Thea that she was to be at the mercy of the scheming men who had hatched the plan that had got her married to Kenton. They had also left no instruction as to what she must do while they retreated. The least they might have done was call for a maid to take her to a parlour for a small glass of ratafia to steady her nerves.
    Then, the earl, who was framed in the doorway of what must be his sanctum, glanced back at her and gestured. It was the merest twitch of a finger, inviting her to follow. ‘You must be a part of this discussion, my dear. After all, you are family now.’ There was no irony at all in his voice.
    Perhaps that meant he was a better actor than Jack.
    Thea hesitated, then followed a step or two behind, as the earl led them to the library and closed the doors behind them. It was a comfortable room full of well-used books and deep soft furniture, almost Oriental in its opulence. She had the impression that this place, rather than a more formal study or office, was where Lord Spayne spent the majority of his time. ‘Come, sit. Refreshment, Jack?’ He gestured to the decanter. ‘It is rather early. But I think, under the circumstances, a good stiff drink is in order.’
    Jack looked longingly at the bottle—and then refused. It surprised Thea. Of the many qualities he possessed, she would not have counted self-denial as one of them. It seemed that being in the presence of Lord Spayne intimidated him. Or rather, that he treated the man with the sort of respect an actual son might give to a beloved father.
    ‘My dear?’ Spayne looked at her now. ‘Do you enjoy brandy? Or something weaker, perhaps.’
    ‘No, thank you, my lord.’ Now that the man had made the offer, her desire for a restorative vanished. It put her quite in sympathy with Jack. If there was to be punishment for the muddle they had made, better to get the truth out of the way quickly and have the drink after.
    ‘Very well, then.’ He turned to Jack. ‘I sent you to marry for money. It seems you have failed and married for love instead.’
    ‘No, my lord. Not love, certainly.’ Jack was waving his hands in denial, as though embarrassed at the idea that he had failed so completely in