Читать книгу Accidental Fiancee - Mary Moore - Страница 12

Chapter Three

“Having known me such a short time, you would not know that the only reason I would even consider a duplicitous engagement is because of my sister, Lydia. Truth to tell, the only reason I would endure another London Season at all is for her. She is so loving and sweet and beautiful. I will not let her settle for less than she deserves.”

“Very well, we have established that your sister is important in our plans. However, those plans still need to be ironed out.”

She calmly replied, “It seems to me that breaking the engagement should be easy enough. We will go for a few drives, you will dance with me once or twice, we shall have a very public disagreement and I shall play the jilt. Where is the rub?”

“It is not the end of the engagement we must settle, but rather the way we shall say it began. I have two sisters who love good gossip and will want to know where we met and how long we have been engaged. Why did we not announce it, or at a minimum, inform them? Why did I not escort you to London? When are we planning to marry...?”

“Oh, dear, please stop. I did not think of any of this.” She sat in the flanking chair and put her head in her hands.

“As long as we are being completely honest, my dear, I must admit I gave a bit of attention to a widow in London last month during the Little Season, so our attachment will have to have been of a very recent nature.”

“Oh, no,” she cried. “You are in love and were ready to be married!”

Before he could even speak, she went on. “Well, there is a simple solution to that. We will tell her the truth from the beginning, and then when the engagement is broken, you will find it was she you loved all along. It is a perfect explanation.” She sat back, entirely satisfied with the new plan. “We must tell her the truth as soon as we reach London, especially if the Marchmonts are before us spreading tales. Perhaps we should tell your sisters, as well.”

“My dear Lady Grace, you have just said the only bird-witted remarks I have heard you utter all night.”

Grace tried to hide her indignation. She was not bird-witted!

Lord Weston rose and went to lean on the mantel. “First of all, I am not in love with anyone,” he exclaimed hotly. “I no longer believe in the silly emotion. Indeed, I am not the marrying sort at all. I have a perfectly capable cousin who will step into my shoes if anything befalls me. But my sisters are aghast at that prospect and continually nag me to marry and produce an heir. I decided to allow them to rest this Season by appearing as if I was trying to find a bride. This particular widow seemed as good a place to start as any.”

She watched as he casually walked to the table and began to peel an apple with his knife.

“She would never expect too much from me, and would not be hurt when my interest faded.”

How could he talk of courtship in such a cold, methodical way? She had never heard of anyone not believing in love! She knew some were not meant for it, or never found it, but to not believe in it? Her heart suddenly ached for him.

The moment of sympathy was quite short-lived.

“She will be mad as fire to learn I am engaged, but I had already discovered she has quite a temper. More, anyway, than I wish to take on. Are you certain you will not eat anything? The pacing back and forth you prefer would seem to require more sustenance than most.”

When he saw she would not rise to the bait, he continued. “As to my sisters, I have not known either to keep a secret their entire lives, so we definitely will not tell them. Fortunately, I am not overly close to either one. But that will not stop them from descending upon you full of questions, so there will be much more we need to know about each other before we get to London. Our stories will have to match exactly.”

“This gets worse and worse. My lord, I cannot look at your sisters and lie to them. It goes against all I believe in.” She stared at him directly and tried to convey how important this was to her.

He scoffed. “If you are determined to believe it is a lie, then accept it as a little white one. What penance is required for that?”

“Lord Weston, please do not make fun of my faith. My relationship with God is an important part of my life. It now enters my mind that London will think it especially odd that their favorite rake would even marry a woman like me.” She began to wring her hands.

The marquess put what was left of the apple on the table. He came to her and took her hands to pull her up before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, there was a knock on the door and Lydia stepped into the room.

“Grace, I cannot in good conscience stay away any longer. You have been closeted with this gentleman for more than an hour and it is not seemly.” She turned her eyes to the man standing behind Grace. “I did not see you earlier. Are you Lord Weston?”

Grace looked back at him and started to laugh. His eyes were as wide as his open mouth! When he realized his reaction, he looked back at Grace with a decided gleam in his eyes and his dimple showing. She had been acquainted with the gentleman for a very short time, but she was already certain that was an ominous sign. Knowing there was nothing for it but to brazen through, she said, “Lord Weston, this is my sister, Lydia. Lydia, this is Lord Weston.”

“Why, I am charmed, fair beauty. Surely the men in Essex have not let you go, as well as your sister?”

Grace watched in fascination as he addressed Lydia. It was impossible to see him rallying the full force of his charms and not realize his reputation was well earned. She knew this would happen once he saw Lydia, but she had not yet warned him of her beauty.

He took her hand, kissed it and put it in the crook of his arm as he walked her into the room. “May I call you Lydia, as we are to be brother and sister? It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Grace has been telling me all about you.”

“Brother and sister?” She pulled her arm away and ran to Grace. “Are you really to marry him? Oh, dear!”

“Darling, you were right when you told me not to get involved in the machinations of the women in the next room. I shall mind you better next time.” Grace heard a “harrumph” from the other side of the room, but ignored it. “My foolishness put me in a rather awkward position, and as a result, Lord Weston and I must be betrothed for a while. There is no doubt we will find we do not suit,” she said. She shot him a glance that indicated he would be sorry should he interject once again. “But we must make our plans tonight so we may leave in the morning. I promise you I am quite safe with the gentleman. He has no interest in me beyond helping us out of this coil.”

Grace turned as she felt him approaching.

“Lydia, Grace is correct—neither you nor she need ever fear me.”

“Now, darling, Lord Weston and I have a few more items we need to work through, so you may go up to bed with a clear conscience. Do not worry, I will be up soon.” She walked her to the door, kissed her cheek and wished her good-night. When her sister left the room, Grace turned on him. “May I just jilt you now and that will be the tale we will respond with when asked?”

“My dear, you have made me laugh more tonight than I have in a twelvemonth!” When he came toward her and held out his hand, she had no fear of putting hers into it. “Own up, you looked so smug when your sister came into the room. You assumed I would immediately fall at her feet, and I wanted to show you that beauty is insufficient to sway me.

“She is beautiful, I grant you, Grace. But I am far more interested in you. We have been here this hour or more and I have not once been bored. You have a quick and intelligent answer ready for almost everything we have discussed.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” she stated, matter-of-fact, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks at his peculiar compliment. “We have much to decide tonight, so the sooner we start the sooner we finish, my lord.”

* * *

When Lydia entered the parlor for breakfast the next morning, Grace and the marquess were still at loggerheads. A more complete explanation of the situation filled her with dismay. “Oh, dear! Must you go to all this trouble simply to avoid casting a shadow on my Season?” She paused only a moment and said clearly, “Grace, I do not need to be presented this year. I—”

“Lydia, we are definitely—”

Lord Weston cut them both off in a voice Grace had not heard from him. “Lydia, we must be concerned about your Season. There is no question about that. And,” he said, shifting his gaze to her sister, “Grace’s reputation is at stake here, as well. Her standing in London and Essex is no less precious than yours for this Season. I will hear no more about it.”

Grace became aware of an overall feeling of security. Though Lydia’s character was more important in her eyes—the dear girl deserved to make an excellent match, while she herself had no such concerns—Lord Weston wanted to protect her, as well. Grace had not wished to betray her own fears on that score, but he understood what this meant to her. She had always been responsible for taking care of herself. She was surprised at how happy she felt that someone was looking after her!

Breakfast turned into lunch as they struggled to concoct a narrative of their courtship that would satisfy Society and not violate Grace’s innate honesty. She feared they would need to postpone their departure one more day.

Lord, please forgive me for putting all of us in such an awkward situation. Proverbs says, “A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.” I have erred by trying to direct the lives of others. Please lead us through this in Your way, protecting our path.

By luncheon, they had decided on a plausible way to explain how they had met. They would say Grace’s father and Lord Weston had a mutual interest in the Elgin Marbles, which was true. When Lord Weston and Grace met, their speedy courtship had followed, which was also true.

It was then that Lydia, sitting on a bench watching travelers through the window, broke in on the discussion, “Grace, will you tell people that Lord Weston has fallen in love with you?”

“What?” The exclamation in response came from both Grace and Lord Weston at the same time.

In a much smaller voice Lydia answered, “I only meant... I did not know... Well, why else would you become betrothed?”

“I could have just as easily decided your sister would make me a proper marchioness after meeting her.”

Grace became unusually quiet. She did not know how to answer that question, and to own the truth, the idea of it made her nervous somehow.

But Lydia suddenly overcame her fear of him. “Do you not see, my lord, it is that which will make the story work—the idea that Grace reformed the unreformable rake.”

His lordship’s only reply was to roll his eyes.

Grace finally spoke, but with such a blush she could barely look at him. “I am beginning to believe Lydia has the right of it.” She saw the surge of anger starting to overtake him, and continued quickly. “You were on the verge of making a marriage of convenience in the Little Season. Why would you change your mind from a known individual to an unknown one in midstream?” She avoided his eyes. “I believe the only reason you would do such a thing must be a change in your...feelings.”

He looked at her intently, then said quietly, “As usual, my practical and levelheaded delight, you are correct. And do not think I appreciate it!” He smiled at her, but he also ran his hand through his hair, still visibly uncomfortable with this scenario. Fortunately, he did not see her blanch at the endearment. He had called Lydia his fair beauty. She was practical and levelheaded. It was the first time those words coupled with her name had ever bothered her.

“Very well, I have developed a tendre for Grace. What would it be based on?”

This time she actually groaned. “I am persuaded if my ego survives this discussion, it will be no thanks to you.”

He smiled at her, got down on one knee next to her chair and took her hand. “My dear Lady Grace, I did not mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was, despite your undeniable charms, we must find the thing, the one thing that would make me want to marry you, when I have always considered marriage a miserable prospect.” He had been looking deep into her eyes and now kissed the hand he was holding. “My aversion to marriage, and marriage to an...innocent, is common knowledge.”

“Oh, do stop flirting with me, you rogue, and make up something dazzling about me. You are the expert on women!” she said, pulling her hand from his clasp.

Was saving Lydia’s Season worth this?

* * *

It was at that moment that Brandon realized, if he could not get out of this incredible fiasco, that she would be the perfect candidate for a marriage of convenience. The thought surprised him, but indeed, she had every attribute he would seek in a wife.

She was not an ethereal beauty as her sister was, but he had already decided she was the more handsome of the two.

She had wit and intelligence, and could hold her own in any conversation with him. She made him laugh.

He found, of a sudden, he would be interested in her views on many topics, and he could think of worse ways to spend an evening than in her company. He could also see her easily being included in the business endeavor he and Dennis had begun under the aegis of Lord Langdon.

“Perhaps it is not one thing that would make me choose you.” He nodded his head as he walked around the room, thinking out loud. “Maybe it is what we have just been saying. You are quite different than my usual style, and that in itself could be enough. Most of those close to me know it is the sameness in women that bores me.”

He stopped pacing and said with serious foreboding, “Very well, I will play the reformed rake. I know it will be hard, even awkward at times, but it will only be for a few weeks. I think it will serve.”

“Oh, dear, I am losing my mind. We cannot tell people we are in love! The ton would laugh us out of Town.” Then she said, less heated, “And it is a lie.”

He began to realize that the faith she touted could cause some problems. It was more than a walk to a village church on Sundays. The thought of even telling a little white lie made her unhappy. He did not understand it, but he did not like to see her so troubled.

“Lydia?” he asked politely. “Will you leave us for a moment? I need to talk to your sister alone.”

* * *

Lydia did as she was bade, and as he closed the door behind her, Grace walked over to the window and looked out. She felt chilled to the bone, but it was a beautiful March day, so she knew it was not from the weather. She spoke, still staring out, “How I wish I was at home and all of this was a terrible nightmare.”

He walked up behind her and lightly took her by the shoulders to turn her to face him.

“Look at me, Grace,” he said in a low voice. She glanced up at him in surprise. It was another tone of voice she had not heard him use before. “This is not meant to offend you, but I wish to show you something.” He pulled her a little closer and continued to gaze into her eyes. “Do you know, Lady Grace, it is good that you do not lie, because you say the most amazing things with your eyes.” She did not notice that his face moved infinitesimally closer to hers as their gazes remained locked.

He was speaking in a mesmerizing voice, low and subtle, and she was shocked when he very lightly touched his lips to hers. It was her first kiss. She did not even know it was coming, and her surprise turned to shock. He immediately drew back and her eyes widened at the realization of what had happened.

“What can you be about, my lord? How dare you take such liberties? I trusted you!” She was rambling, but she was angry and confused. She could still feel his lips, the sensation was odd but so tender. Yet tender was the last word she would ever use to describe him.

His eyes, only moments before so close to hers, changed, then he took a step back and straightened the cuffs of his coat. “I am sorry if I frightened you. I needed to show you that we shall have no problem proclaiming a relationship...without any words at all. Of course, most in London will never see such scenes, but it is obvious that we can be convincing as a couple for the amount of time you need to get Lydia married off.” He turned, walked to the table and finished the cup of coffee he’d nursed earlier.

It had all been a game! The kiss was to show her that he could make her fall in love with him! Her fists balled in rage. “How dare you?” she growled in anger. “I have known you less than twenty-four hours!” She did not want her first kiss to be part of a game. It had come and gone, and meant nothing to him.

“I told you I meant no insult. I am sorry, but you have known me less than twenty-four hours and we are betrothed. You must come to terms with this, Grace.”

“Very well, my lord,” she said coldly. “You have made your point. I am going to go get my hat and pelisse, and have the horses put to. Perhaps, as we journey to London, you will tell me how we are to handle the widow you mentioned.”

* * *

“You keep overstating that situation.” Now he was angry! They were in her carriage and he knew she was still upset about the kiss. “During the Little Season I danced with her more than some others and took her up in my curricle once or twice. Since then, I have been at my estate and at Lord Southby’s house party, and there has been no contact between us. As I told you before, she is not seventeen years of age, and has some experience of the world. She may have believed I was declaring my intent because of those few things, but I assure you I did not.”

“As you wish,” she said, turning to stare out the window. “The only thing left to settle is the termination of our betrothal. What causes that? Is it public or private? And what will that mean in terms of Lydia’s prospects?”

“It could be a private decision between the two of us that we do not suit. One of us might wish to leave Town for a while.”

“I will go, gladly. Home is where I wish to be,” she said stoically.

He continued as if she had not interrupted him. “More than likely, however, with Lydia’s beauty and her dowry, she will be spoken for even before we end the engagement. Then you can either leave or stay, as you please. Though I hope you will stay.”

She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side.

“Assuming, however, that Lydia is not betrothed, you must stay. It will be the great on dit of the Season. And whatever cause Society assigns to the break, the sympathy will be with you in any event.”

He wished they had the time for him to soothe her feelings and make her laugh. But they must work together now to save their reputations, and a sullen attitude would not help the situation. Seeking a way to make her smile, he said, “You really do have to get in the habit of calling me Brandon, or at the very least Weston, or no one is going to believe any of this. Why, even a significant sigh when you say my name would not come amiss a time or two.” He winked at her as he said the last.