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Grandfather? Eric’s eyes narrowed on her face as a wisp of memory materialized at last.
A tiny child with a cloud of dark hair, trailing behind the vicar at every church function. A skinny girl in a secondhand frock giving out coins and sweets to the parish children as they exited after Christmas services. A gawky adolescent smiling shyly at him as he passed through the streets, gazing at Liza as if she were some sort of exalted angel.
The vicar’s granddaughter.
How old had she been when last he’d seen her? No more than twelve or thirteen at the most.
Well, it was five years later. And the skinny girl, the gawky adolescent, were no more. To be sure, the forthright young woman who stood before him, her nose streaked with dirt, bore traces of the child she’d once been. Slender and petite, the crown of her chestnut head scarcely reached his chest. Her features, too, had remained dainty, from the delicate line of her jaw to the fine bridge of her nose to her high, sculpted cheekbones. Her manner of dress, a result of financial hardship, he suspected, was also unchanged; her gown, beneath its newly acquired layer of dirt, was as plain and well-worn as ever.
And yet—Eric’s probing gaze continued its downward scrutiny—despite the gown’s faded, rumpled state, it could not detract from the feminine curves it defined; curves that had not existed five years past and which completely belied the hoydenlike behavior he’d just witnessed.
This unexpected whirlwind was a far cry from the person in his dim recollections.
“My lord?”
With a start, Eric realized she was speaking to him—and he looked up swiftly, seeing the uncertain expression on her face. “What?”
“I merely noted you seem a bit unnerved, which is understandable given Noelle’s narrow escape. May I offer you something? A cup of tea?”
His decision burst upon him like gunfire.
“Yes, you may offer me something,” he pronounced. “But not tea.” He caught her elbow, staying her initial steps toward the church, curtly dismissing her objective in lieu of his more pressing one. “Miss Curran—it is Miss Curran, is it not? I see no wedding ring on your finger.”
She glanced bewilderedly at his viselike grip on her arm.
Instantly, he released her. “I’m not going to harm you,” he affirmed, sarcasm lacing his tone. “In fact, my intentions are uncharacteristically honorable. Now, is it or is it not Miss Curran?”
“It is, my lord,” she confirmed, brows drawn in puzzlement.
“Excellent. You’re unmarried. Next, are you betrothed? Bound to one suitor? Promised to … ?”
“Lord Farrington, this has gone far enough,” the vicar broke in. “I’ll save you time and trouble. The answer is no.”
Eric cocked a brow. “No? Meaning your granddaughter is not spoken for?”
“No. Meaning she is not going to become your wife.”
Brigitte gasped. “Wife? May I know what you two are talking about?”
“Indeed you may.” Eric silenced the vicar’s protests with an authoritative sweep of his arm. “Enough. Your granddaughter is a woman grown. Let her speak for herself.” With that, he returned his attention to Brigitte. “Miss Curran, I’ll be blunt. I’ve just made your grandfather a business proposition, one that would benefit both the church and the entire parish—and one he seems reluctant to accept.”
“What was this proposition, my lord?”
“I offered him ten thousand pounds in exchange for finding me a suitable governess for my niece, Noelle. Further, since the chosen candidate would be expected to reside at Farrington—which is deserted save Noelle and myself—I agreed, for propriety’s sake, to make the appropriate young woman my wife. This would render her the Countess of Farrington, complete with mansion, title—albeit a tarnished one—and more wealth than she ever dreamed possible.
“In return, she would be expected to shoulder the difficult and distasteful job of overseeing Noelle, who, as you’ve just witnessed firsthand, is an uncontrollable demon. Since gossip travels quickly, I’m sure you know that Noelle’s been taken in by every respectable family in the parish and, just as quickly, turned out. As of today, the supply of decent families has been exhausted. Hence, my need for a drastic and immediate solution. Frankly, I’ve never seen anyone manage Noelle as well as you just did. You mentioned having experience teaching children. Being the vicar’s granddaughter, I’m certain your character is above reproach. Tallying all those factors together, I’m prepared to offer you the position I’ve just described. Would you be interested?”
Brigitte’s eyes had grown wider and wider with each passing word. “You’d give ten thousand pounds to the parish and take on a wife you don’t know or want just to provide care for Noelle?”
“Exactly.”
“Why not care for her yourself?”
Eric’s jaw clenched. “That, Miss Curran, is my concern, not yours.”
“What about your own life, then? What if, in the years to come, you find someone you truly love? You’d never be able to give her your name, having already bestowe
d it upon your governess.”
