Make-Believe Wife

  “What I need is a make-believe wife, Roxanne. A woman who can play the part of my fiancée, and, if necessary, marry me.

  “The marriage would be annulled later—and you would receive a generous settlement. You could then live your own life—abroad should you wish it—or perhaps have a nice house in the country, where you could entertain your friends.”

  Roxanne was stunned, speechless at first, and then firm in denial. “That is ridiculous, sir. I do not know how you could suggest such a thing. You do not know me—and I do not know you. Even if I agreed, it would be wrong to deceive your grandfather so cruelly.”

  Luke frowned. “Last night, you said it could be a business arrangement. What is different about my proposal?”

  “I meant a young woman of good family who would marry without love for the sake of a home and children—a lady who would be content to remain at home in the country, while you lived as you pleased in town. Is that not the way many marriages are arranged?”

  “Yes, of course, but I explained how I felt about that—the distress and misery it can cause. A proper business arrangement, where the lady in question is paid a sum of money and understands her position from the start—that should not cause unhappiness at all, should it?”

  Make-Believe Wife

  Harlequin® Historical #317—October 2011

  Author Note

  Roxanne is escaping from the gypsy who wants to make her his woman. Her friend has protected her but now she is alone—and, worse still, she has no idea who she really is. Roxanne hopes to reach London and become an actress. But on the way, she discovers a man called Luke Clarendon.

  Luke is fleeing from his conscience when a fall from his horse makes him unable to walk unaided. When the beautiful and mysterious girl brings back his errant horse and helps him to reach safety, he makes her an outrageous proposal. If she will pretend to be his fiancée and perhaps, for a while, his make-believe wife, he will help her to become an actress and give her enough money so that she will never be at the mercy of Black Bob again.

  Can Roxanne trust her heart not to become involved with this arrogant but charming man or will she wish they had never met?

  This is a fun story that I hope my readers will enjoy. I love writing books for you and very much enjoy readers’ comments through my website. I think the digital age is bringing many new readers to me and I look forward to hearing from any of you, as well as from my already established Harlequin Historical readers.

  Make-Believe Wife

  ANNE HERRIES

  Available from Harlequin®Historical and

  ANNE HERRIES

  The Abducted Bride #135

  Captive of the Harem #145

  The Sheikh #157

  Rosalyn and the Scoundrel #166

  A Matter of Honor #173

  *A Perfect Knight #180

  *A Knight of Honor #184

  *Her Knight Protector #188

  **Lady in Waiting #202

  **The Adventurer’s Wife #208

  ††Forbidden Lady #209

  †An Improper Companion #227

  ††The Lord’s Forced Bride #231

  †A Wealthy Widow #235

  †A Worthy Gentleman #243

  ††Her Dark and Dangerous Lord #249

  ‡Marianne and the Marquis #258

  ‡Married by Christmas #261

  ‡Marrying Captain Jack #265

  The Unknown Heir #269

  Ransom Bride #276

  ††Fugitive Countess #279

  Bought for the Harem #285

  The Homeless Heiress #292

  Secret Heiress #297

  Bartered Bride #303

  ‡‡A Country Miss in Hanover Square #312

  ‡‡An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square #314

  ‡‡The Mistress of Hanover Square #316

  Make-Believe Wife #317

  ANNE HERRIES

  lives in Cambridgeshire, England, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Afterword

  Prologue

  ‘Damn you, sir. I have had enough of your wild behaviour,’ the Earl of Hartingdon thundered at his grandson. ‘I shall not tolerate the disgrace you have brought upon us.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Luke, Viscount Clarendon, said and looked contrite. ‘This should never have come to your ears. Rollinson was a fool and a knave to come prattling to you, sir.’

  Tall and almost painfully thin, yet with a commanding presence, the earl’s bushy white eyebrows met in a frown of disapproval.

  ‘Do you deny that you seduced the man’s wife?’

  Luke hesitated. The truth of the matter was that he had no idea whether or not he had seduced Adrina Rollinson. The evening in question was hazy to say the least. He had been three sheets to the wind and, when he’d woken to find himself lying next to the naked and undoubtedly voluptuous beauty, he had hardly been given time to wonder before her husband came storming into the summerhouse to demand satisfaction.

  ‘I can only tell you that I have no memory of it happening, sir.’

  ‘What sort of an answer is that, pray?’ the earl demanded. ‘You puzzle me, Luke. You have had every advantage and yet you insist on carrying your wildness to excess. If you cannot recall making love to a woman like Lady Rollinson, you must have been drunk.’

  ‘Indeed, that I shall own,’ Luke said instantly. ‘I would not call the lady a liar, but I doubt I was capable of making love that night.’

  ‘I suppose your taste is for whores?’

  ‘I do not know what you may have been told of me, sir, but I assure you I have done nothing of which I am ashamed.’

  ‘Indeed? I know that you have bought a house and intend to set up your mistress in Hampstead.’ The earl’s top lip curled in scorn. ‘You are a disgrace to your family. Thank God your parents did not live to see what you have become.’

  ‘Perhaps had they lived I might have been otherwise.’

  ‘Are you blaming me? Impudent pup!’ The earl’s eyes darkened with temper. ‘Well, sir, I have done with you. It was in my mind to make you my sole heir, for although the estate is entailed, the patent allows the title to pass through the female line and my fortune is my own to dispose of as I wish. However, I have a cousin who would restore both honour and fortune to the family name.’

  ‘Horatio Harte, I presume? I wish you joy of him, sir.’ Luke’s temper was barely in check. ‘Good afternoon. I shall not trouble you with my presence again.’

  ‘I did not give you leave to go.’

  ‘Yet I believe I shall. You have never liked me, sir. I have done things of which I am not particularly proud, but I am not the rogue you think me.’

  ‘Come back here!’ The earl’s voice rose petulantly. ‘You will hear me out. I shall give you one more chance, but you must marry a decent girl—one with perfect manners who knows how to behave in good society. I need an heir I can be proud of before I die.’

  Luke turned at the door, denial on his lips. He would marry when and whom he wished and meant to say so, but even as he began the earl made a choking sound a
nd sank slowly to his knees before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

  ‘Grandfather! Someone, give me some help in here.’

  Luke rushed to his grandfather’s side. Rolling him on his back, he saw that his colour was slightly blue and acted swiftly in untying the tight starched cravat at his neck. He felt for a pulse and discovered a faint beat and yet his grandfather did not appear to be breathing. He was for a moment unsure of what to do for the best; then, recalling something he had once witnessed a vet do for the foal of an important mare, he opened his grandfather’s mouth and made sure there was no obstruction in the throat. Then he pinched the earl’s nostrils and breathed into his mouth. Luke repeated the action three times and noticed that a more natural colour had returned, though he had no idea if his actions had helped.

  A voice spoke from behind him. ‘He has had one of his attacks, my lord. He will recover in a moment.’

  ‘He just keeled over. I thought he was dead or dying.’

  ‘Milord has had one or two close calls, sir. Nasty little attacks that the doctor can’t quite make out.’

  ‘Why was I not told?’ Luke rose to his feet. The colour was back in the earl’s cheeks now.

  ‘He did not wish to bother you, sir.’

  ‘The stubborn fool—’ Luke began and stopped as he heard a sound. The earl had his eyes open. He was staring up at them.

  ‘Don’t just stand there, fool. Help me up, Marshall.’

  ‘You should have told me you were ill, Grandfather.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense! It is nothing. As you see, I am perfectly fine now.’

  Luke and the butler helped him to his feet and assisted him to a sturdy mahogany elbow chair. Luke felt his body trembling and realised how thin and frail his grandfather had become. When had this happened? Why had he not noticed?

  ‘Forgive me, sir. Had I known you were ill…’

  ‘What? Would you have mended your ways?’ The elderly man’s eyes gleamed. ‘Want to make amends, eh? You know my terms. Get yourself wed and give me an heir.’

  ‘I am sorry you are ill, but I shall not make a promise I cannot keep. However, I will promise not to become so drunk that I do not recall with whom or where I go to bed.’

  ‘Not enough,’ the earl growled. ‘Leave me to Marshall and come back when you have a wife.’

  ‘Grandfather, that is unfair,’ Luke protested, for he was genuinely upset by the news of the earl’s ill health.

  ‘Unless you oblige me I shall not leave you a penny—and, what’s more, I’ll tell the lawyers to cut the allowance you receive from your paternal grandfather’s fortune.’

  ‘You cannot do that, sir. I have commitments…’

  ‘To your mistress, I suppose? Well, the choice is yours, Luke. The terms of the Marquis’s will state that I can limit your income until you are thirty if I so choose. I have never done so, but now I shall make a change. I need an heir soon, Luke—and I want you to give me a grandson. Marry well and everything will be as it was. Turn your back on me now and you’ll find yourself short in the pocket. Show me that you intend to settle down and make me proud of you.’

  Luke hesitated, a grim set to his mouth. Had he not just witnessed his grandfather’s collapse he would have told him to go to the devil and bought himself a pair of colours while he still had the money. Yet despite his harsh words, there was something vulnerable about the earl, something that made Luke realise that deep within him he cared what happened to the old devil.

  ‘I must have time to think this over, sir.’

  ‘Yes, of course, and to find a suitable girl—but do not take too long, Luke. I may not have more than a year or so left to me.’

  Luke inclined his head and left, feeling his temper surge as he curled his nails into the palms of his hand. He ought to walk out and never return. The lawyers would probably tell him that the earl was lying through his teeth—yet if it were the truth Luke would be in trouble.

  He had made a promise to his best friend and nothing would make him break it.

  Chapter One

  Roxanne glanced back over her shoulder, listening for the sounds of pursuit, but all she could hear were birds calling one to the other as they flitted between the trees and the occasional snuffle of a small animal in the undergrowth. The woods themselves held no fear for her, but she was afraid of being made to return to the camp.

  She had been walking for hours without stopping, but now she was hungry. She was fairly certain that no one had followed her. It must be safe now to stop and eat some of the food she had packed. Placing her larger bundle on the ground, Roxanne spread her shawl on the dry earth and sat down, opening the cloth that carried her bread, cheese and the preserved fruit she had brought with her. Sofia had always kept a jar of dried fruits on her shelf, because she said figs, dates and apricots were good to eat in the winter when they could not pick fruit from the hedgerows.

  She missed Sofia so much! Her friend’s sad death had left her alone and in fear of the future. She had no one who cared for her and no one to care for. She was not sure which felt the worst, because she had enjoyed caring for her friend in her last months when she became too feeble to care for herself.

  Blinking away her tears, Roxanne rose to her feet and gathered her bundles. Sofia had been one of a band of travelling players, almost a mother to her, and she had given Roxanne so much, even her name.

  ‘If anything happens to me you should go to London,’ Sofia had told her only a few days before she died. ‘You are a fine actress, my love. You could find fame and fortune—and perhaps marry a man of substance and be the lady I believe you truly are.’

  Roxanne had begged her not to talk of dying, tears stinging her eyes, but after her death it had become clear that Roxanne could not stay with the band of travelling players with whom she had lived for the past five years. She was in danger and her only choice was to run away before he returned to the camp.

  She had made up her mind that she would get to London if she could, though it would mean walking for many days, perhaps weeks. Before she reached the great city, she would need to find work for a few days to earn her food.

  Lost in thought, she was startled as she heard a loud cry and then a horse came crashing through the trees towards her. It was saddled, but without a rider, its reins hanging loose, and she realised that someone must have fallen.

  Instinctively, she ran in the direction from which the cry had seemed to come. She had gone only a few yards when she saw a man lying on the ground. His eyes were closed and his face looked pale. Her heart caught and for a moment she thought he was dead. Dropping her bundles, she knelt by his side and touched his face. He felt warm and she drew a breath of relief. His fingers were moving and he was still breathing, though seemed unaware of her. He must have been knocked unconscious by the fall from his horse.

  She hesitated, then unwound his white stock from his neck; taking out her precious store of water, she poured some of it onto the fine linen and began to bathe his face. His lips moved, a groan issuing from him, then his eyes flickered open and he looked up at her.

  ‘What happened?’ he muttered. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Roxanne. I think you fell from your horse. It came rushing at me through the trees and I heard your cry.’

  ‘It was the fox,’ he said and pushed up into a sitting position. His dark grey eyes fixed on her face. ‘It started up just in front of us. I tried to stop, but I was riding hard and the stupid horse reared up in a fright.’

  ‘The horse was startled. They are nervous creatures, sir. If you were riding too hard, the fault was yours.’

  ‘The devil it was.’ His slate-coloured eyes narrowed, became intent and suspicious. ‘What is a lady like you doing alone in these woods—dressed like that?’

  Roxanne hesitated, for to tell him her true story was too risky. She did not know him and should use caution. He was undoubtedly a gentleman and Sofia had warned her to be careful of the gentry, for they were not to be trusted.

>   ‘I was with a band of travelling players, but I had to leave. I am trying to get to London to find work as an actress.’

  ‘Are you indeed?’ His gaze was unsettling. ‘I see you have water, Miss Roxanne. Will you give me some?’

  ‘I used some to bathe your face, but you may have a few sips.’ Roxanne handed him the stoneware flask and he lifted it to his mouth, drinking deeply. ‘Please leave some. I may not find a stream to refill my flask for hours.’

  ‘I passed a stream not far back,’ he replied. ‘But if you are making for London you are walking in the wrong direction.’

  ‘Oh…’ Roxanne frowned as he handed her back the bottle. ‘Perhaps you could—’ She broke off as he attempted to stand and shouted with pain. He swayed and would have fallen had she not caught hold of his body and supported him. ‘Where does it hurt?’

  ‘My right ankle,’ he groaned. ‘I think it must be broken. If I sit down again, could you take the boot off for me?’

  ‘Do you think that wise, sir? The boot will probably have to be cut off if your ankle is broken—and a doctor should do it. Sofia would have known how to treat you, but I do not have her skills.’

  ‘Who the hell is Sofia? Is she with you?’

  ‘She was my dearest friend and she died recently.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, his face white with pain. ‘I have a knife. Cut the damned thing off and bind the ankle with the stock. It will have to do until we can find an inn and a doctor.’

  ‘We—are you expecting me to go with you?’

  ‘How do you imagine I can get anywhere alone? Or were you planning to go on and leave me here?’

  ‘Your temper does not help your cause, sir. If you will sit, I shall attempt to do as you ask—and, no, now you mention it, I was not planning to abandon you.’

  His eyes narrowed in annoyance, his mouth set hard. ‘You speak in the tones and manner of a lady, yet you say you are an actress. You must be a clever one.’