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“No matter what my eyes say, my lord, I doubt very seriously you know what I am thinking at this moment.” Sarcasm; he noticed she resorted to it often when she was embarrassed. His compliments seemed to discommode her, fitting though they were.
He laughed again and sat down at the table. “Lady Grace, I assure you I know exactly what you are thinking.”
She held her hands out in anticipation.
After taking a bite of pigeon pie, he said, “First, you are wondering how on earth I can eat at a time like this. For some reason, women always seem to find it abnormal that men can eat in times of duress.” He took a few more bites, laid down his fork and carried his coffee back to the chair before the fire. He continued in the same vein. “Secondly, you are wondering why I am being so blasé about this affair.”
Her mouth opened in surprise and then she shut it and took up pacing again.
He chuckled.
“Very well, my lord, you excel at mind reading. Perhaps you also know sleight of hand and can make our circumstances disappear?” she quipped sarcastically.
“My dear, you are certainly not dull, which is fortunate. I abhor dull women.” He crossed his legs before saying, “Shall we calmly talk this through?”
“Yes. We need to come to some kind of decision before we reach London tomorrow. This cannot tarnish Lydia in any way. If you think a temporary betrothal is the only way to accomplish that, then I will agree. But a broken engagement must be included in the plan.”
“Lady Grace, much of my fear was dispelled when you indicated your wish to be rid of me. I am thankful that you do not want this marriage, either, though to be honest, I do fear that when you get to London and find out what a coup it is for you, you might well change your mind.” He said it with a straight face, and watched as she stared at him, stunned. Then she laughed despite herself—just as he’d intended.
“Humble, too, I see. You may consider marriage to you a coup, but I do not.”
“No, Grace, I do not consider myself a prize. I was speaking of the fortune hunters and title seekers. Oh, and their mothers, of course.” He did not want her to see the bitterness he felt at that part of his life, so he finished with flair. “Now fathers, they are a different story altogether!”
This time she did not take the bait.
“Despite the prize,” she went on, “I have no desire to be married to you or anyone else. I am perfectly content running my father’s estate and household. This Season is for my sister. You need not fear I will back out of any agreement we come to on breaking our ties.”
“The problem, my dear, is that we cannot go to London tomorrow and immediately cry off. With the Marchmont harpies spreading their tales, it would only add to the gossip surrounding you and your sister. I believe we shall have to play along for some period of time.”
He smiled at her. “Believe it or not, if you think about it for a moment, our betrothal may even benefit both of us, for as long as it stands.”
She looked at him with furrowed brows. “My lord, it will be a lie. Whether it benefits us or not, I cannot live a lie before all of London.”
“Grace, it is not a lie. We are engaged.” He wondered if he wished to convince himself as much as her.
Before she began an indignant reply, he put up his hand to stop her. “Hear me out. I do have entrées into some of the highest circles of the haute ton, despite my reputation, which could be of help to you and your sister. And, being already betrothed, I need have no fear of the matchmaking mamas. It may surprise you, I know, but there are more than enough people in Town who dislike me. When you do jilt me, you will be considered quite the heroine!” He looked at her with a decided twinkle in his eye. “I know it is hard to believe, but there it is.”
“How absurd you are. Are you never serious?”
His whole manner changed. “I am being quite serious now. I will not mislead you, my dear—my reputation as a rake is well earned. Though my position carries with it some advantages, there will be many who will want to put you on your guard with stories about me, and a few who will give you the cut direct for your connection to me.”
“I see. Hmm, a rake who becomes betrothed because he thinks—merely thinks, mind you—that he has compromised a lady, and then warns her about what she will face at his hands? You are a fearsome creature indeed. I am beginning to wonder if you simply enjoy making people think you are a rogue.”
“You have discovered my secret, my lady.”
“Very well, Lord Weston,” she said. “Enough teasing. The engagement is settled, so the only thing left to do is to become acquainted with a few details of our lives. Perhaps we may do that on the journey to London, assuming you will join us in our coach?”
She paused, then looked him in the eyes. “My lord, I am truly sorry for the trouble I have caused you.” The sincerity in her voice was heartfelt.
He turned away from her. He wished he did not have to share this part of his past, but he preferred that she hear it from him. He would ponder the reason for that another time. “You may tell me about your youth while we travel, but I would prefer it if your sister and your maid did not hear about a particular incident from mine. At least, not in my presence. They will hear it soon enough when we are in Town. Truth to tell, I would prefer you not hear it, but some gabster will be only too happy to repeat the story, so you might as well hear it from me.”
Now he was angry, and he could feel the tic in his jaw at the tension and self-chastisement the memory still evoked.
“My lord, it seems to me you have been completely honest with me. You have told me people will cut you, and perhaps me, and you have told me outright that you are a rake. Whatever tattle your enemies wish to share with me will only be part of your past. It was a time in which I played no part. I am in no position to judge you.”
He looked up, astonished at her words and her candor. But they did not negate the responsibility to prepare her to meet with his past. He began his story quickly, wishing it over and done with. “You will hear from my sisters that my father and I never got along. My mother died when I was relatively young, and both of my sisters are older than I am. As his only son, he had high hopes for me. Too high, perhaps. I could never live up to his expectations, so I began to live down to them.
“I finished my education and assumed I would begin to help undertake the duties of my father’s estate. But everything I did was wrong, and I realized he would never respect me. I asked him if he would buy me a commission in the army, something to allow me to feel myself useful. But I was the heir and he refused me even that. Idle and miserable, I left for London and began making the ever present name for myself. My actions tortured my father to distraction.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Finally, I committed the cardinal sin.”
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“I was two and twenty and I fell in love.” He began pacing the room. “Unfortunately, the lady was already married. She told me she was much younger than her husband and that he treated her cruelly. I decided to save her, and I ran off with her one night.”
He went to the window, even though it was too dark to see out. “Perhaps you will not be surprised that her husband followed and caught us. When she had talked of his advanced age, she failed to mention it was all of four and thirty.” His smile was cynical as he shook his head. “And her idea of cruel was that he had cut off her already excessive dress allowance for the rest of the quarter. But when he challenged me to a duel, I thought I was fighting for my lady’s honor.
“I was the better shot, which it turns out she was counting on. But I did not kill him. When she realized he was not going to die, she told me I had ruined everything. It took me several minutes to understand what she was actually saying. You see, had I killed him, she would have been free and very wealthy.” He turned back and walked to the fireplace. He was far from complacent and even the retelling of the story caused him more unease than becoming betrothed to a woman he’d just met.
“Perhaps you will now better understand my reluctance to be bowled over by marriage.” He pulled himself away from the fire and faced her. “Once the husband healed, he took his wife abroad. To own the truth, I have no idea what became of her. But the scandal had sullied my family name, and I am sure you can imagine my father’s disdain.”
He could not tell her the rest. He could not say that his august parent had died only a few months later. His heart had given out, the doctor said. His sisters told him over and over that his heart had always been weak. They all knew he drank to excess; it was the reason Brandon did not imbibe. But as far as Brandon was concerned, he might as well have taken a gun to his sire’s head.
He looked intently into her eyes as he asked, “Still think there is nothing to judge, Lady Grace?”
He was trying to shock her, and he expected some kind of horrified response, perhaps even a refusal to go through with their plan. Instead, she stood in front of him with a serene countenance. “I have already been told you abhor dull women, and I fear I shall fall off of that pedestal when I prove guilty of dreary repetition. But I still say I have no right to judge you or anyone.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe. Your goodness and innocence are clear to anyone with a brain, of which I am one.”
“God’s grace is greater than all of our weaknesses, my lord. I thank Him for that every day.”
He stood dumbfounded.
“Do not worry, I am not trying to convert you. I am trying to say that we all have faults, myself included.”
She waited, but he was stunned into silence. “Now that we have that out of the way, I think we have another few hurdles to overcome. I hope we may be able to solve them tonight and be on our way first thing in the morning.”
He stared at her in astonishment. She was an amazing woman! He wondered if he’d ever be able to tell her how much her acceptance meant to him. Well, it would not be now. There was still much to do. But he vowed he would let her know one day, no matter the outcome of this coil.
Chapter Three (#ulink_6f396f23-2e31-59b2-b3ac-f32e2f3768b1)
“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.
