A Seven Year Hitch by Mary Beeken Page B

“And I’ve never taken you for a clumsy oaf.”
    “My sincerest apologies ma’am to you and all the other ladies present. Pray forgive me ,” he smiled albeit somewhat distractedly at her and acquitted the room.
    “What’s the matter with the boy?” Aunt Clara asked rhetorically. “Looks like he’s seen a ghost .”
    “So did Erica !” observed Fiona who smelled a mystery. “She even turned as white as one!”
    A speaking look to his mother and a nod of consent returned; Trevellyn made his excuses and stood up.
    “I am afraid I received too many blows to the head this afternoon in the pillow fight and find my brain quite addled. If you ladies would forgive me, I feel I am in need of some quiet time .”
    “Of-course son ,” his mother agreed. “Such a devastating blow to your pride as well as to your head. We perfectly understand so off you go.”
    Quitting the drawing room, Trevellyn spied Boodle and Mrs. Kavanagh in the entrance whispering frantically to each other, but as he approached they stopped and turned towards him. He was taken aback by th e scowl he received from Boodle; a man normally the epitome of an English butler, and the speculative gleam on the face of the housewife.
    Their combined looks stirred a memory, a hazy and dreamlike memory that had flitted through his dreams and flirted with his subliminal mind for many years.
    “Where’s Miss Wilmshurst?” he asked the servants and was not surprised to hear an answer devoid of information.
    “She’s occupied on urgent business, My Lord .” Boodle’s training refused to permit him to be rude to a guest, although he had desperately wanted to tell him to mind his own business.
    Before Trevellyn could shake the truth out of him, he heard raised voices coming from the study.
    “How could you not have recognized him, Erica?”
    “I only saw him briefl y, if you remember. You however spent a whole twenty-four hours in his company. And he was your best friend for that short time I seem to recall. So why didn’t you recognize him?”
    Sir Richard was the heard to intervene. “Children! Children! Bickering is getting us nowhere. Lets consider the positive. We are now aware of his full identity and he is here in the house. We can now proceed with terminating this intolerable situation.”
    “But he’s a Marquis, damn it! We won’t be able to get rid of him that easily. With a family as prominent as his, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to keep it hushed up. It’s a fiasco!” Gerald declared. 
    “It’s a pity you didn’t think about that, Gerry, when you forced me into holy matrimony with him!” Erica said hotly.
    Trevellyn strode to the door saying “Boodle, make sure we are not disturbed .”
    He glanced around the room. Sir Richard was sitting behind the large desk; he was leaning his elbow on the top and was pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. Gerald was standing before the empty fireplace while Erica herself was slumped in leather, winged chair. He entered and closed the door softly.
    Erica became aware that someone had entered the room by a sudden draft that gently ruffled her skirts. And the look on her brother’s face informed her of the newcomer’s identity.
    “Lady Trevellyn, I presume?” he drawled, allowing his gaze to wander over her delectable figure, lingering on her voluptuous breasts in a manner calculated to provoke her ire.
    Sir Richard looked up sharply when he heard his voice but retained his calm demeanour.
    “Ah, Trevellyn. Please join us. Can we assume from your comment that you are aware and accept that you are married to Miss Wilmshurst?”
    “Lady Trevellyn, ” Trevellyn corrected him and Sir Richard bowed his head, acknowledging his error. He took a seat opposite Erica in a chair identical to hers before saying, “I am more than delighted to acknowledge Erica as my legal wife, believe me,” Trevellyn announced.
    “Then why the hell have you been hiding for the last seven