Let It Be Love Read Free Page B

Father’s hostess and helping with my stepsisters.”
    “There are three, aren’t there? And two are twins?”
    Fiona nodded. “And I could not care for them more than if they were my own flesh and blood, which in itself compounds my dilemma. Father knew if I had only myself to consider I would never marry a man I had not met.”
    “What would you do with your life, then?” Oliver asked mildly. “I cannot see you becoming a governess.”
    “Nor can I.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or a lady’s companion or anything else of that nature. I would probably do exactly what I have done.”
    “Throw yourself on the mercy of your closest living relative?” He grinned.
    “Most certainly.” She flashed him a blinding smile. “You and dear Aunt Edwina would never abandon me and throw me into the streets. Still, I—or rather we—cannot impose on your hospitality forever.”
    “You are certainly welcome to do so. I daresay my mother is beside herself at the idea of having four young women under her wing. She has long bemoaned the fact that she had no daughters and only one son who has not yet done his duty and provided her with a daughter-in-law.”
    Fiona laughed. “That does seem to be a constant theme in her letters.” She sobered and shook her head.
    “Regardless, we cannot live here for the rest of our days as…as poor relations.”
    “You most definitely can,” Oliver said staunchly. “You are the closest thing I have to a sister.”
    “Oliver—”
    He held up a hand to stop her. “However, I can understand how you would not wish to be”—he rolled his gaze toward the ceiling—“poor relations, although Mother and I would certainly never think of you as such. Now…” Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Let me see if I understand this correctly. Uncle Alfred left the bulk of his fortune to you, primarily in the form of a dowry, with substantial amounts also set aside for each of your stepsisters to provide for their dowries.”
    Fiona nodded.
    Oliver studied her. “He left nothing for you to live on? To maintain a household, that sort of thing?”
    “A minimal amount for household expenditures, mostly in the hands of his solicitor, only enough to provide for expenses until such time as my”—it was hard not to choke on the word—“intendedarrived from America. Father knew if he left too great an amount at my disposal I would find a way to elude this marriage he has arranged. He was right, of course.” She resumed her pacing. “Once I learned of the terms of his estate, I used everything I could get my hands on plus what little I had saved to pay for our passage here. I can assure you, from now until the day I die I shall have a tidy surplus of cash hidden in my mattress for unforeseen circumstances.”
    “In the event you once again have to flee a foreign country to avoid an unwanted marriage?” Oliver’s voice was serious but there was an amused twinkle in his eye. She ignored it. “Exactly. Which reminds me.” She paused, clasped her hands behind her back and adopted a casual tone. “I should mention, as most of that money was intended for household expenses, there might perhaps be an unpaid account, a creditor or two who might take it upon themselves to follow us—”
    Oliver raised a brow. “All the way from Florence?”
    She waved dismissively. “Expenses might have been a bit more than father anticipated. Honestly, Oliver, you needn’t look at me that way. Death is not an inexpensive proposition, you know. Mourning clothes for four young women do not come cheaply—”
    He frowned. “Your clothing does not appear suitable for mourning.”
    “That too was Father’s doing. He stipulated mourning clothes for no more than three months, as he did not feel black was attractive on young women. I suspect he did not wish for me to meet my future”—she wrinkled her nose—“husbandlooking like an overblown, red-haired crow. It was most thoughtful of him.”
    She cast Oliver a rueful