thought to keep an innocent man from being forced into marriage.” He could not restrain his laughter at her description of him. She continued in spite of it. “I can see now that I...misjudged the victim.”
“My dear woman, I wonder how you suppose I got to be the age of five and thirty and unwed without your help,” he said in wonder. “I have been avoiding scheming chits for the last fifteen years, and now I am in the basket because I had help! You must allow me a slight vexation.” His look dared her to deny him.
“Sir,” she began quietly, “you are the most insufferable man I have ever met!”
“We shall start a list, shall we? Each time you think of a new description of me, we will write it down and keep it handy.”
She put her head in her hands and groaned.
“I know! Stubborn might be the next one.”
“My lord,” she said through clenched teeth, with fists at her sides, “obviously, I misheard the part of the conversation that indicated you were such a catch! Indeed, that hordes of women are actually trying to marry you!”
He grinned. He believed he might have finally met a woman with whom he could match wits!
“My sole thought was to approach you before that woman could get you alone with her. I thought to explain what we had heard, and warn you to beware of her. How was I to know you go about kissing the hands of complete strangers?”
He sat back down and smiled.
She paced again. “Lydia warned me to leave well enough alone. Did I listen? No, and now I am talking to a madman.” She put up her hand to stop him from speaking. “No! Do not talk about a list. Just tell me why you said we were betrothed.” He noticed her blush as she remembered their very slight intimacy, and was again touched. She was a determined champion of chivalry one moment and a green girl the next. But he would be who he was...it was most entertaining.
He steepled his fingers and added, “I am afraid, my lady, that I did overstep my bounds with the kiss to your hands. I should have been more circumspect, especially with the knowledge that my actions were in plain view. And yet everything would be fine had Charlotte Marchmont not witnessed the scene. The Marchmonts have been on the Town for two or three Seasons. They are not only on the catch for a rich, titled husband for Lady Charlotte, they are also the biggest gossipmongers in all of London.
“The minute I realized she had witnessed our exchange in an out-of-the-way inn, I had no choice in the matter. I had compromised your reputation. So I indicated we were betrothed, for your protection.”
He stopped and looked into the fire pensively. “Hard to believe, I know, but even the rake in me could not hurt such a green girl.” He could not tell her the ramifications this day might cause. She’d thought she was helping him, but with one sentence, he may have jeopardized all he had worked for the previous two years.
Brandon’s wild escapades had been curbed considerably over that time, as his mentor gave his life real purpose. Lord Langdon had become more like a father to him than his own, and his lordship might withdraw his support and his voice in high places should Brandon become involved in a scandal. More importantly, he might withdraw his friendship.
He came back to the present as she began to speak. “No one knows us in London. What if we delayed our arrival a week. Would any fervor not have died down?” She paused, possibly answering her own question in her mind. “In any event, who would believe Lady Charlotte’s insinuations about us when we arrived in London? I am long on the shelf and I am certainly too managing by half to tempt you. Only witness our current situation!”
He was completely thrown off guard by her response. She could not possibly believe that! Long on the shelf? She was the beautiful daughter of an earl and the most engaging woman he had met in a long time. He wished he had by the neck the miscreant who made her feel such an antidote.
“My dear, this story will be all over Town by morning. And if you think being secluded with a well-known rake without the protection of an engagement would not stop your sister’s presentation before it ever started, then I think whoever sent you to London on your own ought to be horsewhipped. You are no more prepared to face it than a newborn babe.” He stopped, turned toward her and looked directly into those green orbs. “I am afraid, my dear, that I will not be a part of your ruination.”
“Do all the women you know stand by and let you insult them to their face? Indeed, I understand the damage gossip could do to my sister. That is why I wish to see this situation resolved before that gossip can spread. Just tell me how we might fix this, and then we may go on our way.”
He looked at her in amazement. “Madam, the only ‘fix’ is to continue with the engagement. We are betrothed and my next step is to go see your father.”
He supposed it must happen at some point; but in his mind’s eye he had never envisioned this!
* * *
How had things to come to this?
She stood before a gentleman she had known for the space of an hour, who was telling her they had no choice but to wed. “My lord, I believe you may be overreacting. We cannot deny the engagement without risking my reputation—very well. But there is no reason to continue it. If the Marchmonts claim we are betrothed, all we have to do is decide we do not suit,” she said, practically. “I believe engagements are broken all the time.”
It was not a falsehood—engagements did not always last. But she was too practical not to realize that she couldn’t end the engagement immediately without consequence to her reputation. If nothing else, she would be the talk of the Town for having an engagement announced and ended within the span of an evening. No, it could and should end at some point—but that was unlikely to happen right away.
No matter how little she liked the idea, she was veritably trapped in this arrangement...at least for now.
* * *
“Lady Grace, as relieved as I am that you wish this marriage as little as I,” Lord Weston said casually, “I am afraid I know not the correct etiquette for breaking engagements these days. Do you have a plan as to how that might be done?”
She was saved from answering by the landlord knocking at the door. He entered with several footmen bearing trays of food and drink, which were laid on the large table in the center of the room. “Will there be anything else, yer lordship, sir?”
“Would you like more tea?” Lord Weston asked Grace. “I believe yours was interrupted quite a while ago.”
“No, thank you.”
“You know,” he said, pouring himself a cup of hot coffee, “you have the most expressive eyes of any woman I have ever met. They are flashing emeralds one minute, and the next they are cool pools of sea green. You should know, in the event none of the clodpoles from Essex have told you, they tell of your thoughts, though you say not a word.”
“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
