A NECESSARY WIFE

  SAINTS AND SINNERS

  BOOK FIVE

  HEATHER BOYD

  CONTENTS

  About the Book

  Copyright

  The Saints and Sinners Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by Heather Boyd

  About Heather

  Their marriage was meant to be practical, passionless—until desire made a liar of them both.

  Widower Milo Westfall lost his faith in love the moment he discovered the wife he adored was guilty of repeated infidelity. But ever a practical man, he wants a mother for his children and comfortable companionship. Distrustful of all women though, he’s determined to avoid the marriage mart entirely by making a logical, passionless match to his best friend’s spinster sister. What he did not expect was the passion a new wife could bring to his bed…or the suspicion that giving in too often might lead to deeper feelings he’s learned to fear.

  Betrayed by a sister who eloped with her beau, Amelia Reynolds has good reasons for accepting Milo’s unexpected marriage of convenience offer: he’ll provide her the children she’s always longed for and she’s not expected to love him. But as she adjusts her new role as mother and wife, she is compelled to mend her husband’s broken heart, for the sake of improving their friendship at first. Yet the more she understands, the more she succumbs to passion, the greater her feelings for him grow—but falling in love with him would certainly ruin their entire arrangement and drive a wedge between them forever since he’s promised never to love her, too.

  A NECESSARY WIFE

  Copyright © 2026 by Heather Boyd

  ISBN: 9781925239-54-2

  Editing by Kelli Collins

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE SAINTS AND SINNERS SERIES

  The Duke and I

  A Gentleman’s Vow

  An Earl of Her Own

  The Lady Tamed

  A Necessary Wife

  CHAPTER ONE

  Amelia Reynolds glanced up from the garden bed she was contemplating, sensing a presence directly behind her. She twisted around and almost fell onto her bottom at discovering Lord Milo Westfall or rather the newly elevated Lord Chatham, her brother Anthony’s best friend, standing there.

  Slightly embarrassed at being taken by surprise, she adopted a haughty expression as she struggled to her feet. “Can I help you, my lord?”

  Chatham, an earl she was long acquainted with, winced. “I hope so.”

  Then he looked her over from head to toe—and smiled.

  Amelia glanced down at her attire and blanched at the state of her gown. She had been in the garden since first light, though even this state of grubbiness was unusual. The faded blue muslin usually hid spoiling, but she had two highly visible dirty spots where her knees had rested on the ground as she added new plants to the garden bed.

  It had rained last night but usually no one was awake this early to see her, and she was surprised that Chatham was. Her brother and his guests usually kept very late hours.

  When she glanced across at Chatham, her cheeks grew warmer from embarrassment as she hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance that morning. Chatham was resplendent, as always. Dark green velvet coat, buff breaches that hugged his thighs, and glossy high-top riding boots. He only lacked a riding crop and a horse to complete the image of Corinthian splendor. He was every inch an earl today.

  By unspoken agreement they usually avoided each other, because she remained unmarried and he was a widower with no need for a second wife. They were of similar ages though, him slightly older. He spoke only to her in her brother’s presence and that suited Amelia perfectly. She much preferred to remain in the background of her brother’s busy life and go about her usual solitary routine. Something must be wrong if Chatham sought her out.

  “Are you in need of my brother?” She gestured toward a distant manor house. “He’s likely still asleep, I’m afraid.”

  “He is indeed which is why I concluded this was the perfect time to speak with you,” he said, glancing around the garden.

  Amelia studied the man with disappointment. A widower of some four years, she wisely took a step back in case he was feeling lonely. He was handsome but troubled, and she knew exactly why that was, not that she would dare attempt to offer sympathy—or her companionship.

  Amelia was no mouse, frightened of men, but she was wise. She harbored an abundance of distrust for men in general. She made an effort not to show it while she discreetly dusted off her fingers a little more, hoping he would leave with no encouragement.

  Still Chatham lingered, and she glanced around, looking for rescue from any direction.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you done here?”

  She faced him. “Done, my lord?”

  He sighed. “With your brother’s estate. You’ve been tending the Upper Folly garden for all the years I’ve known you, and it has never looked more perfect.”

  She blinked in surprise for the unexpected compliment. “You’ve been watching me?”

  “Not for the last few days, of course, since you were abed with…a regular illness,” he said.

  Amelia struggled not to blush. She’d kept to herself for the usual few days of her monthly cycle, as she always did, despite her brother’s pleas that he had an important guest to entertain and she couldn’t be absent from the dining room for so many nights in a row.

  Well, Anthony should have consulted her calendar before he’d issued an invitation to anyone beyond family. But as usual, she’d managed the household and her own needs without giving the newly elevated earl much thought beyond ensuring his stay was a pleasant one.

  Apparently, she’d been missed by more than her brother.

  Amelia couldn’t be more surprised.

  Chatham tipped his head toward the manor. “I’ve admired your diligence to your brother’s concerns for some time, and of course, noticed your influence extends far and wide on the estate. I expect both your thumbs are green.”

  She was halfway to checking the state of her thumbs when she caught a hesitant smile playing upon his lips. He had made a jest…or was making sport of her, as others in her brother’s circle often did.

  She narrowed her gaze on him, annoyed because she could not determine the intent behind his smile immediately.

  Lord Chatham was not given to levity very often, at least not around her. But he often said things in a way that could have two meanings, and it amused her that everyone else seemed oblivious to the alternative meanings.

  “I enjoy tending my brother’s estate,” she admitted in the end. “I spend half my time out here in the garden.”

  “Yes. Even in inclement morning weather, too. You fearlessly trudge outdoors to bring order to the grounds. Well done.”

  Cautiously, she decided he was complimenting her. A flush of pleasure filled her and brought more warmth to her face. She was usually immune to flattery from handsome men. She inclined her head, accepting the praise.

  Chatham shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced around again. “I thought to take a stroll about your garden before your brother returns.”

  “It is not my garden, my lord,” she said firmly. Nothing was hers. Nothing could be, here. But soon she would reach the advanced age of eight and twenty, and could finally claim her own garden to tend and a little cottage to live in not too far away. She was counting down the days till her birthday, though no one else would be.

  Her brother had not thought her serious about living alone the first time she had mentioned her intention to quit Upper Folly, but there was bound to be an outcry when she took over her inheritance and disappeared. There was always something for the family to complain about where Amelia was concerned.

  “That is a shame, isn’t it? That nothing is yours after so many years of diligent toil.” Chatham scowled. “Perhaps we might talk about the chances of changing that as we walk together.”

  She frowned at the man who, like many others, had ignored her for years. “There is nothing to talk about.”

  “Take a walk with me, Miss Reynolds,” he said firmly, making it more of a demand. “I wish to speak with you of important matters.”
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br />   Her eyes widened in shock at the bold demand, and she glanced around for rescue again. They were already alone in the garden, yet still within full view of the house.

  Walking off with an unmarried man would not be good for her reputation, and her guard rose against Chatham, as it did with all men who made similar propositions.

  Yet, he had always been polite if disinterested in her in the past. Perhaps his desire for conversation related to something her brother had done. “Does this concern my brother?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he said, after a significant pause.

  Amelia owed her brother a great deal for allowing her to stay here this long after her scandal, and so she eventually nodded, agreeing to the stroll, but she would only walk along the most used paths with him.

  She inclined her head, and they strolled away from the garden bed she had just finished planting, Chatham with his hands behind his back, hers clenched at her waist.

  He stopped under a tree, where the shade was deep and cooling, and they could be seen from any direction.

  Chatham cleared his throat again. “I have been giving my situation some thought of late.”

  Amelia barely managed not to groan that Chatham was a man who believed she’d be delighted to hear of his problems. “I assumed you wished to speak of Anthony.”

  “I wish to speak of you,” he said, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his mouth again as his eyes met hers. “I feel it is necessary to marry again and hoped for your opinion,” he continued.

  Amelia winced and looked away. “I am the last person who should offer anyone advice on making a marriage, especially a second one.”

  She’d rather pluck out her eyes than debate the merits of one silly debutant’s value over another with him.

  “I disagree.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I think you are uniquely qualified to offer an unbiased opinion of my chances of making a second match. I am convinced you are fully aware of what happened in my first marriage, so you already understand my hesitation to wed again.”

  She shrugged. Chatham had been a topic of conversation after dinner for many years in her brother’s home. She probably knew far too much, and Chatham could be offended if she revealed the details to which she’d been made privy. “Some of it. I…”

  “Your brother gossips like a fish swims, Miss Reynolds,” Chatham warned. “So does everyone else in society. Of course you know the whole of it.”

  She exhaled. “Yes, everyone does love to gossip. So I must assume that you are well acquainted with the details of my own scandal, too.”

  He inclined his head, confirming her suspicions. “Your brother recently expressed an unhappy opinion that you will never wed, despite receiving several offers. I can sympathize. I am familiar with the pressure a family can bring to bear in such a situation.”

  “The pressure to marry has always been there.” Amelia laughed bitterly. “Unlike you, I never had any desire or opportunity to return to London again, to seek a more faithful beau.”

  “What if there was an offer made to you here and now?”

  She blinked. “I would refuse.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head. “My lord, you should not ask such questions.”

  He kept his hands behind his back but leaned forward. “Why not?”

  “Because you will not like my response.” She shook her head. “No one ever does.”

  He squinted at her. “You will not marry because you will not, cannot, trust another man with your heart.”

  She took a step back from him because that was the answer she usually gave, and no one had ever wanted to hear it or believe her in earnest.

  Chatham inhaled. “I have said I will not remarry for exactly the same reason. I do not trust women. You do not trust men.”

  She scoffed. “What a pair we make, then.”

  “That was my thought when I saw you out here digging away at your brother’s garden at dawn. We could be perfect for one another.”

  She squinted at him. “Did you stare into the rising sun for a long time this morning, too, my lord?”

  His lips quirked but then his expression instantly became serious. “I will not love a second wife,” he admitted. “I will not allow myself to be foolish or betrayed. Yet, a wife remains a necessity for a man in my position. I have friends to entertain, a household to be managed, a neglected garden to be tended, and two small children of an age that requires constant supervision.”

  “Servants can be trusted with all of those tasks, my lord,” she reminded him with a careless shrug. Yet, for all the absurdity, it was the most interesting and honest conversation she’d ever had with a gentleman. She was almost flattered that he thought they might be compatible. Or desperate enough to accept his offer.

  “Servants come and go. A wife is forever, usually,” he said, shrugging away the death of his first wife, Serena, as if it were of no great consequence to him now.

  However, Amelia knew that Chatham’s profound grief continued to this day, years later. It was unsurprising that he had little faith in women or a desire to love another when he had been so thoroughly cuckolded.

  “I understand your hesitation, but I know men, too, and they are fickle in their affections as well.”

  “Some are, yes,” Chatham murmured. “Miss Reynolds, I adore my children, but they require a steady female presence guiding them to adulthood and to receive affection from. It is my hope that a second wife could love them. That is all I want from a second marriage.”

  She glanced away, pained for the children and their likely loneliness at that moment. She’d missed her mother’s guidance since the scandal, and longed for gentle arms to wrap around her and tell her she was still worthy of love. “I’m sure anything is possible.”

  “Countess when we marry, and one day a duchess,” he declared, throwing out a lure meant to entice her to agree.

  “No.” Amelia shook her head at how ill-suited she was for those esteemed honors. Society would be horrified. No one would ever call her a diamond. No one in society would clamor for her favor if she were titled. His suggestion was preposterous. “I never aspired to make so grand a match, but many debutantes fresh to the marriage mart in London do. I wish you good hunting.”

  “A debutant would imagine I could love her.” He frowned. “Priceless jewels to wear even while you garden, generous pin money each month, an army of servants and such to do your bidding. Would that sway you to accept?”

  She gave him full marks for offering the greatest of his wealth, as he saw it so bluntly. “No, my lord.”

  “Then there is but one thing left I can offer you.” He rubbed his jaw. “A babe of your own, then?”

  She gasped in shock and her eyes flew to his, expecting disdain or worse. Yet he seemed as serious as he ever was. Even so, she must refuse. “No.”

  He nodded. “You are still of childbearing age, judging by your brothers hints to explain your absence from the dinner table these past few nights.”

  Amelia gasped again, and could not contain a blush of embarrassment that he knew that much about her bodily functions—and would speak of them out loud. It was hardly spoken of between women in the same family and was an unseemly topic between near strangers of the opposite sex.

  Amelia was closer to thirty years than twenty, and in her determination to never let herself be hurt by the fickle affections of any man ever again she had given up on the dream of having any children.

  But she longed for them still.

  Chatham was proposing. Proposing never to love her, as well…but offering her one last chance for motherhood. He suggested a marriage of convenience that made an odd sort of sense from his point of view. And from hers, too.

  This could be her last and only opportunity to choose her own path.

  She gnawed on her bottom lip, thinking of why she should refuse. A marriage of convenience would be challenging, difficult, and awkward for certain. Yet it might be mutually beneficial, given the right assurances that she would have autonomy and credit for her efforts.

  She met his gaze.

  “We will marry then,” he said evenly, smiling as if she had agreed to his proposal. “I’ll speak to your brother when he returns and leave for London immediately to obtain a special license and come back to marry you.”