Married to a Stranger Read Free Page A

not the intelligent and poised young woman he had thought six months ago. Then she shut her mouth—her wide and generous mouth—thought for a moment and asked, ‘Why should you wish to marry me, Mr Chatterton?’
    Ah, yes, the intelligence was there, and the courage. Her chin had come up; she was taken aback, almost alarmed by his unexpected proposal, but she was not going to allow him to fluster her. He recalled the first time he had seen her after he had returned home. He had been half-drowned, battered, bruised, hoarse with shouting through the long, desperate night for the brother whom the sea had taken, and he had been in no state to be gentle with her.
    Sophia had fainted when he’d told her the news, but when she had recovered her senses she had been calm, undemanding and firm with her mother who was indulging in hysterics. From the depths of his own misery Cal had found himself unable to care very much about Sophia and her feelings, only to be grateful for her restraint and the way she retreated behind the mask of the civilised things that one says and does to somehow hold the wild expressions of grief at bay.
    He told her a little of what had happened and he had been unprepared for the generosity of her response when she could well be blaming him for failing to save her betrothed.
    ‘I was on the deck, Daniel was in one of the boats, helping the women down,’ he had explained. ‘A great wave took it. I could not find him.’
    ‘You went in? You tried to save him?’ she had asked in horror. In her wide eyes he saw again images of tumultuous seas, of darkness and rocks, and heard rending timber and screams.
    ‘Of course.’ Cal recalled staring at her blankly. ‘Of course I did.’
    ‘Please.’ She had reached out and touched his cheek, her fingers burning hot against the chill of his skin. ‘You must get warm or you will take a fever.’ Weeks later, as the deep cold inside him had begun to thaw, he had recalled that touch, her instinct to comfort and nurture instead of demanding comfort herself.
    Other memories had come back as he learned to live with his loss and to remember Dan. He had nagged his brother to remake his will when he was putting his own affairs in order and Dan had been evasive. He would get round to it, he promised. Nothing was going to happen to him, after all. He had shrugged off all the illnesses that India could throw at a man, had missed being bitten, stung, eaten or mauled by the assorted lethal wildlife—what was Cal worrying about? Besides, if anything did happen, his twin would look after Sophia, he knew that.
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Cal had agreed. ‘I would care for her as though she were my own, I swear it. But even so—’ But Dan had not done anything about his will and then, when it had come to it, Cal had done nothing to help Sophia. He had been sunk in grief and shock and with a black hole where the consciousness of his twin had been for his entire life. As he recovered that promise came back, niggling at his conscience.
    He pulled himself back to the present and the young woman in her drab gown who watched him from behind wary blue eyes. She had grown and filled out from the scrap of a girl he remembered almost ten years ago, but she was still too slender, too pale.
    ‘I found myself looking forward for the first time in months and I thought it time I married. I am almost twenty-eight, I have estates now to consider as well as a career that involves entertaining. A wife seemed … logical.’ Dull, perhaps, after the high-fliers who had been warming his bed and helping fill the long night hours when he would prefer not to sleep, and certainly not to dream.
    ‘I can see that,’ Sophia said, a trifle tartly. ‘But why me? You are the brother of an earl, you are in London where you may meet any number of eligible young ladies who, if you will pardon my frankness, will have several more childbearing years ahead of them than I have. I assume an heir is one of your