If Faith thought she’d heard the worst news, she had a shock coming.

He turned to her, ignoring the others. “The journey passed without incident until a week before we landed. A storm whipped up from nowhere, and before we could gain the safety of our cabins Stephen slid down the deck and fell overboard. Vivian tried to save him.” He gripped her hand tightly.

She swallowed, her face white. “Stephen is dead?”

He nodded. “Vivian too.” No whitewashing the facts. The Faith he’d known had faced death multiple times.

Her ladyship heaved a sigh, and when he glanced at her, John could have sworn he saw a touch of genuine sorrow in her eyes. So far she hadn’t shown even that. He’d given her the tidings this afternoon, as soon as he’d arrived. Perhaps she had grieved in private.

“I could save neither. The sailors tied a rope around my waist to secure me to the railings behind me. Without that I would have died too.”

“But you didn’t,” Faith murmured, her expression calm, but her eyes stricken.

“No,” he agreed. “Self-evidently, I didn’t. I’m particularly glad about that part. I’m sorry.” He paused, remembering the men he’d known for most of his life but only truly understood during that last journey. “Truly. I’d have done anything to save them.”

The storm had come out of a blue sky, the clouds scudding across to cover the sun. Torrents of heavy rain pelted down with the suddenness of the tropics. Stephen didn’t have a chance with the sailors milling around, heading for the sheets and the sails getting in his way, tripping him. They wore rope shoes that had a heavy grip, but Stephen had his ordinary boots on, no purchase on the smooth leather soles. When the ship lurched he was nowhere near anything he could catch hold of.

“Are there any other heirs to the title? Any closer than me?”

Silently he prayed to every god he’d ever heard of. Let there be an heir! “Anyone else at all?”

Lady Graywood’s voice broke into the still silence that fell after the question he had to ask. “No. You are the sole hope of the family.

However I have Roker, our man of business, researching the matter.

The third earl had a large family, which included five boys so the possibility exists.” She sniffed. “An adventurous family, the Dalkington-Smythes. You are the de facto Earl of Graywood.”

John felt Faith stiffen, a slight quiver shivering through her delectable body. Because he had to face it, she had a lovely form, one he could scarce fail to notice. Even though her gown was a little too old in style for her, the neckline too high, the fabric too loose to flatter. He added another needle to prickle her skin, wondering how she would respond. Would his challenge please her? Was the rigidity a sign of her delight or her dismay? “At least I have my countess waiting for me.” He lifted her gloved hand and merely touched it with his lips. Even that gesture was a trifle forward, but the woman was his purported wife so if anyone should kiss her hand, he should.

When she turned her head towards him for an instant, he caught a fleeting expression. Panic, terror, something of that nature.

Certainly not delight, not pleasure. She didn’t want to be a countess any more than he wanted to become an earl.

Before that look, he’d considered her an adventuress, pure and simple, but in that case she’d have been delighted at this change in fortune. That unconsidered, fleeting glimpse he’d had wouldn’t have happened.

He’d willingly stand in the middle of a battlefield naked rather than face this stress. He’d fled half way across the world to avoid this kind of disturbance, right after Lady Graywood had declared he must marry one of her daughters. That had formed the final spur to his desertion of his homeland. Two years had passed and the girls weren’t married yet.

He glanced at Faith again, took in her clear skin, the thick, curly hair, gleaming in the candlelight. Desire seized him by the balls, a place he shouldn’t be thinking about here. It seemed a long time since he’d had a woman.

“I have called upon Roker to attend at your convenience.” The dowager sounded as if she was addressing a public meeting. “He will instruct you on your duties.”

She spoke as if he had no idea what the duties involved. He’d endured summers at the country house so they could give him the basic instructions in How To Be An Earl, or to be more precise, how to be an earl’s steward. Something he’d run from with huge relief, not least because of the constant humiliations handed out by the existing steward’s son, David Carlisle. He could have been playing cricket, or fishing, or any other damned thing. But no, he’d spent days, weeks, in the damp muniments room with the rent table in the middle studying books and ancient documents.

Opportunities for Carlisle to sneer at and belittle him.

They’d been sitting here for about an hour, as far as he could tell.

The withdrawing room clock was one of those delicate, feminine affairs without a chime, impossible to read if he stood more than three feet away. His watch ticked happily in his pocket, but he could hardly press the repeater button in company. Frustrating, with so many timepieces around, that he could only assess what the time was and how soon he could get away.

“If my wife is agreeable we will meet Roker together.” He gave the countess a regal nod, then turned to Faith. “Are you content with that, my dear?” He bestowed a positively honeyed smile on Faith.

Here came that blush again. He found the pink tinge enchanting, and a welcome change from the haunted glances she kept shooting him when she thought he wasn’t watching.

Before she could speak, the dowager jumped in. “Women have no part in such discussions.”

He begged to differ. “If there’s no law against it, I’d prefer my wife present. If she can bear it, of course.”

Faith blinked. “I didn’t think you’d want me at a business meeting.”

“Then you thought wrong. It’s your life too.” If she were his wife in truth, then he would want that. Besides, he wanted her nearby.

Less likely to bolt. And he wanted her to know what she’d come close to possessing before he denounced her. Oh, he’d use her, maybe even bed her, and she’d make a convenient shield for the next month or two, while he found his feet in this new life, but then he’d find a way of ridding himself of her. He wanted no part of her deception.

He was perfectly aware anger fuelled his decision, but he didn’t care. That this brave, beautiful woman he’d wasted years admiring from afar deceive his family in this way infuriated him. Had she taken him in too?

Her mouth opened, closed, then she said, “If you wish.”

What would she have said had they been alone? Probably the same. “I do. It’s better if you understand the ramifications of this shift in our lives. All of them, for that matter.”

“I’m still coping with the effects of not being a widow,” she snapped. Her eyes widened. Expressive eyes that revealed everything she was thinking.

“You would rather return to your sad state?” He didn’t wait for a reply. He didn’t want to hear her answer; since he feared it might not be one he desired. “I can sympathise with your confusion, my dear. I’ve had time to come to terms with the news. Two weeks since the storm that took both the previous earl and his brother.”

He caught the gaze of the woman opposite him—Charlotte, the oldest of the dowager’s daughters. For once, she’d lost the little-girl appearance and he saw the woman. Not for long, because the vapid expression returned. But he knew what she would have said. “What about me?”

At least she had money and a family. She didn’t have to rely on her wits alone to find a place in life. Or her body. Camp followers made themselves acceptable with bed privileges and by cooking and cleaning. He’d known them to take their man’s job when he’d been killed in battle to provide for the children, if another man didn’t offer them protection. Officers generally turned a blind eye to the practice, especially if they fell short of fighting men. He couldn’t imagine either Charlotte or Louisa thriving in those circumstances.

Faith, though. Ah, she was entirely different. He would discover why a woman he’d last known as the wife of another man had claimed to be his widow. For the money, perhaps, but she didn’t know exactly how much he was worth. Few people did. She’d have had access to his officer’s salary, a small annuity and a modest manor house in the country. And, it appeared, a house in Red Lion Square. He’d abandoned them all when he’d turned his back on Europe, but it seemed, someone else had not.

Her actions pointed at her taking advantage of opportunities that came her way in order to better her situation in life. On the other hand, she might well have taken the step from desperation.

Time to find out.

He got to his feet. “Come, my dear. We should retire. Events have exhausted you; do not attempt to deny it.” He could question her more effectively in private.

“I will have a meal conveyed to your chamber.” The dowager stood too, her bearing stiff, but then it always was. So far she’d shown little emotion when he’d given her the news he dreaded conveying, but God knew, as a serving soldier he’d had the experience in doing so. If she held off from that, then she’d hardly demonstrate any when given a setback. “However, I fear the earl’s chambers will not be ready for you until tomorrow.”

“Anywhere will do. We cannot turn you out of your own apartments.”

The dowager sent him a cold stare. “I moved out when my husband died. I have not occupied them for some years and they will need airing. I’m sure we may find a room for you tonight.”