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Milady wasn’t even the worst of it. It was even fancier when you used the whole title—Evangeline, The Countess of Anglesey, or Lady Anglesey for short.
I would stick to Eva, thank you.
Evangeline made me feel like I should be prancing around in a regency novel with a fancy dress and a parasol, trying to catch the eye of an eligible bachelor.
Since I’d already done that, the parasol and the prancing seemed rather obsolete.
Also, Evangeline was what everyone called me when I was in trouble.
I was still partially living out of suitcases, getting used to this huge manor house that was now my home, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the title I held. I hadn’t been when we’d been announced as The Earl and Countess at our wedding, and I wasn’t now as I tried to settle in the Anglesey seat.
I felt rather like a fraud, if I were to be honest. Especially since I would still be known by the title when we divorced until such a time I remarried, as protocol dictated.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would do that. Get re-married when our union reached its planned end. One wedding was enough of a headache, thank you very much.
Dresses and centrepieces and shoes and flowers and menus and photographs and tiaras and—
Since I’d never intended on getting married, actually getting married had made it crystal clear that it was definitely not something I was going to do a second time around.
Far too much fuss and drama for my liking.
I still wasn’t entirely sure why I’d accepted his wild scheme when he’d suggested it—not that it mattered, given that I had the ring on my finger.
We were two sides of the same coin, and we both wanted the same thing out of life.
To never get married and be beholden to another person.
So if we had to, doing it this way seemed a far better option than the other one.
Sure, it was insane.
We barely knew each other, not a deep level. Obviously, we’d slept together several times and got along just fine, but I could barely tell you how he took his tea, what his favourite colour was, or what he liked to eat for dinner. I’d wager he felt the same about me, which was fine.
Aside from the physical activity necessary to conceive a baby, I didn’t need any other kind of relationship with him. Friendship would be nice, even good friends, considering we lived under the same roof, but at the end of the day, all we needed to do was get along, pretend we were desperately in love whenever we had to attend a party or dinner together, and carry on as normal when we returned home.
Not to mention that we were both more than happy with that arrangement.
Naturally, our engagement had come as quite a shock to everyone who moved in our circles. Me, the ever-single duke’s niece who lived on the fringes of aristocratic society, and the enigmatic bachelor earl who swore never to marry, engaged.
Playing along with the engagement for the past several weeks had been tough—we’d had to spend more time than ever together, but it’d worked. We’d successfully convinced everyone that we’d been secretly seeing one another for months prior to the engagement.
Technically speaking, we had been. In hotel rooms. In the dark. In various positions.
But we hadn’t been seeing each other. Not the way everyone believed we had.
As far as I was concerned, this was perfect. Unlike Adelaide who’d fallen for the fairy tales of love and happily ever afters—and was now living out her own as her wedding approached this summer—I’d truly never harboured dreams of finding my own prince charming and riding off into the sunset.
No. I truly believed that all one needed to be happy was a good book, a good cup of tea, and a good dog.
Or a naughty dog.
Any dog, really.
On the bright side, I had inherited three of those with the marriage. A springer spaniel named Lucy, a Jack Russell inventively called Jack, and a big bloody German shepherd called Baxter who weighed one hundred pounds but fancied himself eighty pounds lighter.
All in all, this deal worked for me. Matthew and I would live as friends in private and act as a couple in public.
With some sex thrown in.
Since I knew he was more than a little proficient in the bedroom, I couldn’t complain about that at all.
“Eva.”
I blinked and looked at Matthew. “Sorry. I was daydreaming.”
“I said your name three times.” His lips tugged up into a small smile. “Anything interesting?”
“Not really. What were you asking me?”
“I was asking you what your plans are for the day.” He leaned against the edge of the counter. “I’m sorry that I’ve had to get right back to work and haven’t been able to show you much of the estate.”
