Necessary Nuptials

Lady Grace Endicott never would have dreamed she’d be ruined by a rake. But after an innocent encounter with notorious scoundrel Lord Weston is misconstrued, her beloved sister’s introduction to society—and her own reputation—are put at risk. The only way to avoid a scandal is a betrothal.

Brandon Roth—Lord Weston—doesn’t quite know what to think of his independent fiancée…or their growing friendship. Yet their engagement ruse is quickly becoming more than a temporary fix. If he can convince Grace that his wicked ways are now far behind him, he’ll be able to prove that he wants nothing more than to care for the lovely lady…

“My dear, this story will be all over Town by morning.

And if you think being secluded with a well-known rake without the explanation 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 may fix this, and then we may go on our way.”

He looked at her in a very peculiar way. “Madam, the only ‘fix’ is to continue with the engagement. We are betrothed, and my next step is to go see your father.”

MARY MOORE

has been writing historical fiction for more than fifteen years. After battling and beating breast cancer, Mary is even more excited about her career, as she incorporates some of her struggles throughout her books, dedicated to encouraging others in the Lord and using her writing for God’s glory.

Her debut novel, The Aristocrat’s Lady, won several acclaimed awards, including the 2011 Reviewers’ Choice Award by RT Book Reviews for Best Love Inspired Historical, and the 2011 Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers for Best Book by a Virginia Author. She also received an Award of Merit for Best First Book and Best Long Inspirational by the VRW.

Mary is a native of the Washington, DC, area, but she and her husband, Craig, now live in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains in southwestern Virginia. When not writing, she loves to read, minister in her church and spend time with her husband, either at home or traveling.

Mary would love to hear from you! She can be reached by visiting her website at www.marymooreauthor.com, or you can email her at mmooreauthor@swva.net.

Accidental Fiancée

Mary Moore

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God.

—Ephesians 2:8

This Book Is Dedicated To:

Jesus Christ,

My Savior and Lord

And To:

My Mom,

Jeanne Callaghan O’Leary.

Her life was such a tremendous example of grace and love that it touched everyone she met.

I love and miss you, Mom.

Special Thanks To:

Craig,

My husband and Best Friend

And To:

My Agent, Jenni Burke.

Without her help, encouragement and passion, you would not be reading this today.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

En Route to London, 1817

“Oh, Grace, it can be none of our concern!” Grace’s younger sister, Lydia, warned softly. “I am persuaded it would be better if we did not get involved.” But Grace was already walking toward their parlor door at the Blue Swan Inn.

Sitting quietly over a pot of tea in their private parlor, Lady Grace Endicott and her sister had been surprised to hear voices from the next room come clearly through the inn’s thin walls.

“I tell you, Mama, it was Lord Weston pulling into the yard,” said a faceless voice in a tone of loud frustration.

“But, dear, what does it matter?” asked a harried older woman in response.

The first voice, more menacing now, drawled, “Really, Mother, must I spell everything out for you?”

Grace now had the two women pictured in her mind and she did not like the view. Would a daughter really speak so to her parent?

“My dear Charlotte,” the mother complained, “Lord Weston is rich, to be sure, but should you like to be married to him? He has quite a reputation as a rake.”

Charlotte snorted loudly. “What a singularly stupid question. Do I wish to be a marchioness with more pin money than you can even imagine? He must marry sometime. He has to beget an heir. Once I have provided one, I will be free to go my own way...with all the money I need to do so.”

Charlotte’s mother responded, “So you have a plan?” Then she asked eagerly, “You think you can catch him?”

“Mother, dear, I have a splendid plan,” Charlotte replied, her tone oozing with evil intentions. “I will happen to encounter him when he enters the inn. I will insist he join us. He cannot refuse to pay his proper respects to my beloved mother. When I bring Lord Weston here, you must rush past us, claiming that you are ill, and leave the room. I will keep the marquess in here long enough to be fully compromised.” She laughed wickedly. “He will be honor bound to marry me, and I will be very rich!”

That was the point at which Grace knew she must do something. She knew it was none of her affair, yet she would not wish such a thing forced upon an innocent person. She was appalled at the way Charlotte and her mother had spoken to one another. That they would contrive to trap a man into marriage went beyond her comprehension or experience. A husband at any price? Grace did not remember Society to be so avaricious in her own Season. She knew she and Lydia would never fit in with London’s ton if deception and plotting was the way of life there.

Lydia was so looking forward to her Season, the purpose behind the girl’s first trip to London, but Grace had visited the city many times and had always felt the people to be cold and calculating. She regretted having to leave her country home, even for a short while. She also worried that Lydia’s innocent and kind heart would be hurt by the cruel ton.

The best way to protect her precious sister would be to lead by example, through helping others in need whenever possible.

Grace would start now.

“Darling Lydia, I cannot stand by and allow such a malevolent act.” She walked out of their parlor, intent on saving this man from his conniving assailants. She knew she would appear forward to address a stranger, but that was a small price to pay if she could warn him of their intentions.

Grace need not have feared identifying the marquess; there was only one man and he was with the landlord. He was large, with the blackest hair, and he was obviously a Corinthian—as men of fashion were often called—based on the number of capes on his driving coat. With a short prayer, she walked up behind him.

“Sir?” she asked, summoning her most charming smile. “When you are finished making arrangements with Mr. Dobbins, may I speak to you a moment?”

As the most handsome man she had ever seen turned to her with a question in his dark eyes, she held out her hand, and indicated a small table centered in front of the benches beside the entryway.

The gentleman raised a brow and asked, “I beg your pardon?”

He began smiling lazily down at her, waiting for her to explain herself. But those eyes were awake upon every suit, despite his smile.

“Will you not sit, my lord?”

“I prefer to stand, I thank you.” He looked at her askance. “But I should like to know how you know me.” He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I admit I am quite at a loss as to know how I might be of help to you.”

“No, sir,” she said, almost in a whisper. “It is I who wish to help you.” As he laughed out loud, Grace began to seriously regret not listening to Lydia’s pleas.

* * *

Brandon Roth, Lord Weston, had no idea what was afoot, but he was enjoying himself immensely. When the tedium of the journey to London had initiated the stop at this inn, little had he known what awaited him. The woman before him was behaving in a peculiar fashion, to say the least, but he sensed no malice from her. He could not help but be intrigued by her plea for a private conference. They were in full public view, so he felt relatively safe from the traps normally set for him. Yet he remained wary.

“My lord,” she said, “I have overheard a plot to compromise you into marriage, and I wished to put you on your guard.”

He had not known what to expect, but he would have never guessed this! She appeared to be telling the truth, and he wondered at such innocence in one certainly out of her girlhood. “You overheard?”

“Yes. You see, my sister and I were taking tea in that parlor there, and the women in the room next to ours were talking quite loudly.”

“Ahh, an eavesdropper, are you?”

“Of course I am not...” She put her hands on her hips, frustrated. “You are making sport of me when I am trying very hard to be of help.” Her voice had a low timbre. He would not go so far as to say sultry, but it was soothing, even in the exasperation he caused her.

Brandon did his best to avoid laughing. He wondered whether she was coming from or going to London. Already he hoped the latter and that their paths would cross again in Town; though he supposed even she would lose her charm eventually.

“Very well, madam. Why don’t you finish your tale and we may proceed from there.”

She tried to explain to him about the conversation she and her sister had overheard, and she finished with, “I thought if I could get word to you before she appeared, you would be able to handle the matter in whatever manner you wished.”

He asked, “Did you by any chance catch the, ah...lady’s name?”

She turned red at his insinuation. “Oh, dear, it was Charlotte, I think. Yes, I am sure it was Charlotte.” She bowed her head, saying, “Godspeed, my lord,” and turned to go.

He could not think of a Charlotte at the moment, but truth be told he was not terribly concerned with her. It was obvious this woman was unaware of his reputation, but somehow, he thought she would have offered her help even if she had known of his well-earned title of rake. For the first time in a long time he was touched. Amused, but touched.

He grasped her hand as she turned away, and she looked askance at him over her shoulder. He pulled her back, to face him, and took hold of her other hand, as well. She smelled good—of lavender, he thought. He was still intrigued by her; he wasn’t ready for their tête-à-tête to come to an end.

“As a man too often in the presence of grasping and manipulative women, I apologize for my behavior to one who is obviously not.”

“Great guns! You are the strangest man I have ever met!”

“‘Great guns’?” he repeated, and threw back his head in laughter once more, squeezing the hands he was still holding. “What a delight you are, my dear!”

“Shh! I beg your pardon,” she said, eyes downcast. “I am not in the habit of having to watch my tongue.”

He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. “On the contrary, you are the most delightful and—”

A gasp from across the room broke the spell, and his rescuer broke the hold he had on her hands. She nervously smoothed her gown. Looking over, Brandon felt his smile immediately give way to a frown. It had never occurred to him the Charlotte she had mentioned could be Lady Charlotte Marchmont, one of the most outrageous gossipmongers in all of London.

The lady’s eyes were mere slits and her voice was insinuating. “Well, my lord, either you are being much less discreet, even for you, or it appears you have kept a budding romance secret from the ton. I wonder which it could be.” Apparently if Lady Charlotte was kept from carrying out the seduction overheard through the walls, she would, at the least, be sure of retribution. Brandon feared it would be directed at the perceived interloper. So here he stood, free of Lady Charlotte, but bound now, in honor, to protect this woman. Her reputation could soon be in tatters, if Charlotte Marchmont had her way.

He could walk out that door as though nothing had happened; Charlotte could spread any tale she liked of his actions; Society would forgive him. And there would be no penalty to Lady Charlotte for spreading unsavory tales, from a society that loved juicy gossip more than reputations.

No, the consequences would rest solely on the woman in front of him, who had done nothing to deserve them.

He had not expected the backbone of the lady before him as she retorted, “I am not a secret anything to this gentleman. And I will thank you—” she said, just as Brandon announced:

“Lady Charlotte, may I introduce you to my betrothed?”

Both women turned to stare at him as if he had grown two heads.

“Mayhap, my love, we should take our discussion into your private parlor,” he drawled. “Landlord, please have my horses stabled and a room prepared for me. I would appreciate dinner within the half hour.” Brandon thought he did a very creditable job of not clenching his teeth.

He was now betrothed to this unknown woman. He must keep up appearances. “Let me just give my coachman a word on the horses and I will join you, my dear.”

As he passed by the first doorway, he bowed to the flashy redhead and smiled. “Charmed, Lady Charlotte.”

If the caterwauling coming from the room after the door slammed shut was any indication, she was not happy with the turn of events.

His coachman was still in the foyer, so giving him his final instructions of the night took very little time. Brandon leaned against the doorjamb outside of his new betrothed’s private room. Despite his attitude of nonchalance, he knew he was in as much danger from the unknown woman as he was from Charlotte Marchmont.

He would use the same tactics she had used: seeing what he could glean through the thin walls.

“Oh, Grace, dearest, what kept you? I thought you were just going to warn him and come right back. The lady in the next room has been ranting. I had to cover my ears, it was so loud.” He listened, not recognizing the voice that spoke. He would guess she was a younger woman, likely the sister who had been mentioned. “Oh, dear, are we in the suds this time?”

“Lydia, darling, we are not in the suds. But I must clear up some confusion with the gentleman. We will be on our way to London on the morrow as planned.” From the tone she used, it was clear that the second woman was someone “Grace” loved very much. “I think if you will just go up to bed, it will be easier to make the necessary explanations.”

“Cor, my lady,” interrupted the clear voice of a servant. “We can’t be leavin’ you alone with a gentleman, ’specially one you are unacquainted with.” Hearing her called “my lady” by the maid made him more wary. It could complicate matters considerably.

“For pity’s sake, I am six and twenty, not sixteen.” So, this beauty had fire in her! “I apologize. Everything will be fine once I have spoken with the gentleman. The staff and guests here think I am betrothed to the man, so there is no reason for anyone to wonder at us being in here alone.”

“Betrothed to him?” the one called Lydia asked.

“But I,” Grace continued, as if she had not been interrupted, “cannot have the two of you watching us as we discuss what must be done. He did not seem in a particularly good humor at the end of our meeting, so I should like to get over this rough ground as smoothly as possible.”

Hmm, she had been able to detect his shift in mood after the charade stopped being interesting. She was more than just a pretty face. He listened again. “I will join you upstairs directly.” She resorted to pleading. “Please, Lydia.”

He stepped back into the shadows as the door opened and two women left the room. From his vantage point, he could not see their faces, but one was definitely a servant and the other a very young lady.

When he entered the room, lowly lit by the fireplace, he found the mysterious woman leaning against the mantel, staring into the flames, and he had a few moments to study her as she remained lost in thought. She was not a conventional beauty, but standing in the glow of the embers, she almost took his breath away. She was a little taller than most and the colors of the fire turned her brown hair to a shining chestnut. Her tanned skin indicated she spent much time out-of-doors. It would not help her in the marriage mart, where porcelain skin was envied, but he thought it becoming to her.

She was an enigma to be sure, but until he knew her mind he would keep his guard up. Since he’d been nineteen years old women had been trying to entice him or entrap him into marriage. He knew every trick in the book, and if that was this woman’s plan, he would put her in her place soon enough. For some reason, however, he believed her when she said her only thought had been to rescue him. If that proved true, he must act honorably now. He could not afford a scandal, at least not this Season. The stakes were too high.

“Well, madam,” he growled, scowling from the doorway and making her jump. “Perhaps we should be properly introduced!”

* * *

My but his scowl was fierce! She hoped it was just to frighten her and not because he meant her physical harm. “Sir, you can glare at me from now until doomsday, but that is not going to accomplish anything. If you are trying to frighten me, you have succeeded. If you would like to sit down, we can discuss what we must do.” She was frustrated, but still trying to speak calmly. “I owe you an explanation, and most likely an apology....”

“Definitely an apology.”

“Is that not what I just said? I completely bungled what happened earlier, but if you think I am going to take all the blame for this fiasco, you are fair and far off the mark.” She paced in front of the fire, then stopped and stared at him. “What could have possibly possessed you to announce we were betrothed? For all you know I may already be married with five children!”

She crossed her arms over her chest as he burst out in laughter.

“Perhaps, madam,” he responded, “it was because we were holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes in front of witnesses in a backwoods inn! I cannot entirely dismiss the fact that I have a certain, ah, reputation that does not help in this situation. But before we decide where to lay the blame, perhaps you would kindly recall that you were the one to first step forward and impose yourself on me.”

“Oh, dear, it is all so complicated, and will you please stop calling me ‘madam’ in that odious way?” She stopped pacing and said, “Will you please sit down? I have already expressed that your intimidation tactics are working splendidly.”

Lord Weston walked toward her, causing her a moment of fear. However, he moved past her and went to the chair in front of the fireplace, where he settled himself. “I realize it is very rude to sit while you stand, but as you will not sit first, I will obey your order. Only because I have been on the road a long time today. I am hungry, tired and, it seems, betrothed.”

“Why, my lord, would you ever have said that? We were in a public place. There was nothing clandestine about it.”

He made himself comfortable and looked up at her. “It is precisely because we were in a public room, my dear. Anyone was free to see you approach me with no hesitation, and lead me immediately into a private conversation. Wicked minds need little encouragement to draw the worst and most damaging conclusions even from innocent behavior.” He stopped and stared at her for a moment. “You know, when I came into this room and saw you against the backdrop of the fire, I certainly wondered why you were not married. No doubt I will discover the reason soon enough.”

He was smiling at her! Was he teasing her? She could not tell.

“And since calling you madam seems to offend you, despite the politeness with which I have offered it, I will remind you that I actually have no idea what your name is. Should you grace me with that information, I will be able to address you as such.”

She smiled at him. “Grace, my lord.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name is Grace, Lady Grace.” She spoke each word slowly.

He looked at her in the oddest fashion and then they both burst into laughter, letting go of the tension that surrounded them.

“My lord,” she said, trying once again to look severe, “this is getting us nowhere. We must consider how to go on. And we must be quiet about it. As you now know, these walls are very thin and the entire inn could hear our conversation.”

He had a wicked glint in his eyes as he asked, “Who are you?”

“I am Grace Endicott and I am taking my sister to London for her presentation this Season.”

“Endicott?” he asked. “Where do I know that name? Who are your parents?”

“My mother passed away some time ago. My father is Robert Endicott, Lord Pennington.” She was surprised when Lord Weston covered his eyes with his hands and began to shake his head.

She jumped when he growled, “Great guns! I have compromised the daughter of an earl!”

“Do not be absurd! You have compromised no one. Just tell me how we may extricate ourselves from this and we need never see each other again.”

He looked at her in a peculiar way. She stood still as he rose and came to stand before her. “Never see each other again? I am afraid, Lady Grace, that far from never seeing me again, you will soon be my wife!”

Chapter Two

He lifted her chin with his finger and turned his most dazzling smile on her. “I believe we will take London by storm.”

“My lord, are you never serious? Could you please speak sensibly for a few moments?” Her frustration was palpable, yet while they were far from being out of danger, he had to admit he was beginning to like her even though he had only known her this hour or more.

He was brought back to the subject at hand as she stood staring at him with her arms akimbo. “My apologies,” he said, falsely contrite. “Lord Pennington...the family seat is in Essex, is it not? He studies rare tapestries and something else I cannot think of at the moment.”

“Perhaps we will get to the problem at hand tomorrow!” she said nonchalantly. “You are the most frustrating man. Oh, what is the use? The estate is in Ware, more specifically, and my father is interested in artifacts, but his particular interest is suits of armor. My mother was the one who loved antique tapestries. They used to travel extensively, but he rarely leaves the estate anymore.” She bit her lip and he could almost hear her mind at work. He waited for the inevitable. “Do you know my father, sir?”

There! She was finally beginning to understand there was more to this situation than playacting. Their positions in Society meant that any news of an engagement between them could not be brushed aside or ignored. If he did not unravel this mess as soon as possible, they were all doomed to serious repercussions.

“Your father and I have never met, but we are members of the same club. I have read several papers he has published. I believe his last was on the Elgin Marbles.” He mumbled as an aside, “Will that debate never end?”

“Good,” she said, relieved. “If you do not know him, there should be no problem in that regard.”

He did not tell her that, on the contrary, it might complicate matters tremendously.

She began to pace and wring her hands again, a habit he now recognized as signaling her agitation. “I did not have time to formulate a particularly good plan.”

“Ah, I see understatement is your forte,” he said with a straight face.

“I only 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 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

“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.

Chapter Four

After plans had been finalized, the trip to London passed uneventfully. Lord Weston sat languidly, listening to Grace and Lydia talk, speaking only when there was a specific question in his mind.

Even though Grace was still upset that he had kissed her to make a point, she could not forget his distress as he’d told her of his youthful indiscretion, reminding her that he had not always been so blasé where feelings were concerned. She wondered how many rakes were actually born to it and how many were driven to it by some horrible circumstance in their past. Father, this man needs Your grace and Your forgiveness. You give it so freely. Help me to show him that.

She told him as much as she felt he needed to know about growing up at the Abbey, without boring him to tears. She thought she saw surprise a few times when she talked about the estate matters she handled on her own now, her father trusting the training he had instilled.

“So tell me the truth, Grace. Why are you still unmarried? Though estate managers have never been to my taste,” he said, winking at her, “I cannot fathom why you remain unwed.”

“My lord, that has little to do with our arrangement.”

Lydia, always proud of her older sister, said softly, “She has had three offers, my lord.”

“Lydia!” Grace exclaimed.

“Oh, dear, I am sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Grace felt instant remorse for taking her mood out on her sister. “I am sorry, Lydia. I did not mean to bark at you. It is not...appropriate to speak of offers one has received, and it is of little consequence here.”

“I am sorry, Grace, I did not know.” Grace patted her hand, but Lydia apparently felt the need to fill the silence. “Perhaps you and his lordship should discuss your interest in father’s armor, as that is one of the reasons we have established for his visit to the Abbey.”

“I should not think that a matter of too much importance once we are discovered to be betrothed. According to his lordship, all of London will be lining the streets to see us when we arrive.” Still ignoring him completely, she spoke directly to her sister. “That I have become attached to one or two of Father’s collection will be of no specific use to him.”

Lydia was so soft-spoken and shy, Grace didn’t have it in her to staunch her conversation when she began again. “He will need to know about Max, the one in Town. To own the truth, I cannot wait to meet him myself.”

Grace blushed at Lydia’s mention of it. Max was her particular favorite, a sixteenth century Maximillian suit of armor that adorned the foyer of their London town house. But she did not wish to discuss him with Lord Weston. Max was private, only for herself.

She had been in awe of him since she was a child, and called him Sir Maximillian when her father told her his proper name. He was the pinnacle of plate armor design, made of steel and iron with curved surfaces. Tall and imposing, he had stood guard at the bottom of their winding staircase for many years.

As a child, Grace had made up many stories about his adventures. She held back a smile, remembering the number of times rescuing her had been a part of those adventures. Max had become her sole knight in shining armor when she had given up hope of falling in love. One day, when her father was gone and Lydia was married, he would take up residence at Pennington Abbey with her.

She began to blush as she realized that even now she still thought of him as a real being rather than a fixture in their London home. She turned to find two sets of eyes searching her face. “I beg your pardon, I did not hear your question.”

“Where did you go, Grace?”

“Nowhere important, I assure you, my lord.” But she could feel his eyes watching her.

* * *

He had been listening to Lydia’s prattle, but was watching Grace. She was blushing at the mention of a suit of armor in their home, which went by the name of Max. Why would she be so embarrassed by that?

Perhaps it was the mention of a trail of broken hearts she had left behind her that caused her blushes. He certainly was not surprised that she had been asked for her hand in marriage, and more than once, but he found himself wondering who these men were. Did they all spring from the surrounding countryside in Essex, or had it been during her own Season?

In fact, he did not know if she had even had a Season. She was nine years younger than him, and he likely would have given her no notice. But if the offers had come from someone in Town, he might actually know her suitors. Was she embarrassed at the thought of running into one of them while escorting Lydia?

“Perhaps, my dear, we should discuss those prior offers of yours. I might learn what you like and do not like in a suitor.”

If a look could kill, he would definitely be a corpse! “There is nothing to tell, my lord. And, as I told Lydia, it is of no consequence and no business of yours.”

“I am sorry, Grace, I should not have talked of it,” said Lydia, contritely.

“I pray that we may now put an end to this ridiculous topic,” she exclaimed.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He stared at her from under his lazy lids. “Why,” he asked, “did you turn them down?”

At Grace’s angry silence, her sister spoke up. “She assumes she is too old for love, and will not settle for a marriage of convenience. She told me once that none of them made her laugh.” Lydia pursed her lips. “I never knew that would be an object in accepting someone’s suit. But Grace loves to laugh, so it is important to her.”

“Oh, Lydia,” Grace groaned.

Brandon never took his eyes off of Grace. Young Lydia might not understand such a sentiment, but he certainly did. Indeed, it was one of the things he liked most about Grace. However, he had no time to ruminate on it.

“One of them is from home. He never comes to town, so you would not know him.”

“Lydia, say no more on this subject, please? I am thoroughly humiliated.”

“Would you wish to tell this man the truth, Grace?” Brandon asked her quietly, with no hint of his usual sarcasm. He found himself holding his breath while waiting for her answer.

“I do not need to tell him anything at all. Besides, by the time he hears of it, the betrothal will have been broken and I will be back there. And you, sir, were the one who said the fewer the people who know the truth, the better.”

He laughed at her. She continually amazed him with her innocence. “My dear, I do hate to disillusion you, but as the announcement will go in the papers as soon as we arrive in London, he will know of it.” He turned his gaze to Lydia. “They do teach the young men of Essex to read, I presume?”

Lydia smiled, but seemed afraid to say any more. Grace appeared to be thinking of something else.

“An announcement in the papers?” she asked. “Is that necessary?”

“Not to make it known, as the Marchmonts have had a head start, but in terms of propriety, it is definitely necessary,” he said, frustrated. “Grace, you must get it through your head that we are going to do this the proper way. I should have gone immediately to your father, however, I did not wish you to face the London tabbies alone. So, I must settle for sending him a letter as soon as I reach Town.”

He watched as she physically blanched. Prepared for her next thought, he hurried to say, “Yes, yes, I know you are of age, but asking his consent is required for our betrothal to be valid. Your neighbors will know soon enough.”

He knew her conscience was once again pricking her. She looked back and forth to her companions. “Father must know the truth. He certainly knows he never met you before.”

“It is up to you, my dear,” he stated categorically. He leaned forward, face-to-face with her. “You must think seriously before you make the decision to tell him. What will your father do if your Essex suitor goes to him, waving the announcement in the newspaper? Will he be able to convince your young man that we are in love? Will you want him to?” He noticed Grace beginning to twist her hands in agitation. He took them into his. He did not wish to upset her, but she must accept this.

“Listen to me. If you decide to tell your father the entire story, he has no choice but to truly make us marry. I insulted you in public, and his honor and mine require that we wed. If you decide we do not suit a month from now, and end our engagement, I would have to accept it. Your father would not. He would still demand that you marry me.”

“This is a nightmare. My lord, I...I...cannot.”

Lydia broke the tension with her question. “You insulted her? When? How?” He saw the righteous indignation take over her expression, and laughed.

Grace looked at him as if she would like to land him a facer. “Lydia, it makes no difference,” she said. “Leave it be.”

“I was caught gazing into her eyes and I kissed her hands tenderly. It was at the inn. Did Grace not tell you? Actually, I also kissed her lips, but no one saw that, so it cannot be part of the reason.” He grinned, winking at her.

“Of course I did not tell her.” Her color once again heightened.

Now he was surprised. “What in the world do you expect her to do when she sees us kiss in London? It would certainly not do to have her be surprised or shocked.” He shook his head in exasperation. “No one will believe us to be in love at this rate.”

Lydia was amazed. “He kissed you, Grace? Then there should be no farce, you must marry!”

Grace’s ire rose. Taking matters into her practical hands, she said, “This has gone far enough. Lydia, I told you the Marchmonts saw us in a compromising position. The exact nature of the incident makes no difference.” She turned fiery green eyes on him and said, “If you make one sound, say one more word, I will box your ears. I vow I will.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender.

“As far as kissing in London, Lydia will see us together and will not be shocked by an occasional kiss on the hand, or you standing up with me for more than two dances, which is all Society would expect from an engaged couple.”

He made a negligent gesture. “We are almost to Town—let us not arrive in fisticuffs. I think, however, we must come to a final decision.” He turned serious once again. “Grace, are we to go ahead with our plans for a betrothal that will be broken once Lydia has made her match?”

“My lord, my father...”

“As I said before, I will write to your father posthaste. Did you not say that he rarely comes to London?” At her nod, he continued, “I will create an excuse for not calling on him before speaking to you, and I will promise him a visit to arrange all of the settlements.”

He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting him. “I know you do not wish it to go so far, but as I told you from the beginning, I am honor bound to do so.”

“Do you think I am happy about that? I may have ruined your life as well as mine. I do not take that as lightly as you do, my lord.”

He must make her see it was in the best interest of all three of them. “We are doing everything in the proper way to protect us all. You will be betrothed to me, and either you will find reason to break it off later in the Season, or you and I will be married by the end of it. I assure you, I must take every precaution to be an honorable gentleman and to keep your reputation intact, as well as mine. If I did not write to your father or put a notice in the Times, no one would believe us.”

He did not even wish to think about what might happen should Lord Langdon think the engagement anything other than honorable and appropriate.

He went on, “Grace, you cannot dismiss the signs of affections that will be required. With my reputation, if I am to have fallen in love, the only way Society will believe it is if they see it. There must be some such contact.” He waited, trying to be prepared for whatever spirited reaction she would show him.

That she would be rational had never occurred to him!

“My lord, as we both know, to be thought in each other’s pocket is very bad ton, and I suppose you would hate that even if you were in love.” He was becoming quite reconciled to the fact that she would always surprise him. “Couples do not kiss each other in public. So we will show the required amount of affection, when necessary, and we will act like rational adults the remainder of the time.” She turned to look out the window and began to hum to herself. Maybe it gave her some sort of peace in the middle of a brangle. Whatever the reason, it was a clear indication that the conversation was at an end.

As they were now on the outskirts of London, he let it drop, while Lydia pointed out some sights in excitement. Grace was naive, but beautiful and intelligent, and if she thought for one minute he was going to change his personality, she had a few surprises of her own in store!

Chapter Five

When they reached their town home in Berkeley Square, Grace asked that she and Lydia be allowed to greet their aunt alone.

“What? Ashamed of me already?” Brandon asked.

She turned and smiled when she saw the amusement in his eyes.

“I would like to explain our betrothal to my aunt without your presence complicating matters.”

She thought he would understand, and she was right. As he handed her down after leading Lydia to the doorstep, he whispered into her ear, “Prepared to face the dragons, love?”

“To tell the truth, I do not think I am at all prepared, my lord. But I did think you might be a little more put out than you appear to be. I admit to being quite exhausted already, and the charade has only just begun.”

“On the contrary, my dear, I believe this will be one of the least tedious Seasons I have attended in a long time!” He kissed her hand and then returned to the carriage, saying, “I will give you a day or two to gather yourselves, and use the excuse of your need to be properly outfitted, but I do not know how long I can keep my sisters tethered. I will put the announcement in the papers tomorrow and will write to your father first thing in the morning. If you need me in the meantime, just send a message to my house in Grosvenor Square.”

He stepped away from the carriage once again and walked back to Grace. He leaned down close and whispered, “Try to keep from rescuing any other poor unsuspecting souls until you hear from me.” He then entered the carriage, tapped the ceiling with his cane, and he was gone before she could say a word.

Upon entering her home, Grace found their ancient London butler waiting patiently for her to enter as the trunks were brought in by the footmen. “Welcome to London, my lady,” Jamison said in his stateliest manner. “Lady Lydia has already joined your aunt in the drawing room. If you will permit me to take your cloak and hat, you may join them there while I send for the tea tray.”

“Jamison, you always know just what the situation calls for. It is good to see you again, too.”

Grace had not been to the town house in almost two years and realized she had forgotten how beautiful it was. Her mother had done the interior decor, and since her father rarely left Pennington Abbey now, everything remained much the same. Her mother had used several of the antique tapestries she so loved to adorn the entry hall. They struck awe and drew the eye upward for closer inspection.

Grace always thought it the most spectacular room in the house, with the tapestries and the Baccarat crystal chandelier from the seventeenth century. But, of course, the best piece by far was Max. When she was very little, she’d been almost afraid of the intimidating full suit of armor. But as she got older, her love for him grew. Right now, he was a welcome sight. “How are you, Max?” she said aloud. “Have you missed me, my knight?” she whispered.

Grace looked around and wished she were here as Lydia’s chaperone, as she’d planned, rather than as the betrothed of London’s most notable rake. And she wished more than anything that she did not have to deceive her aunt and her father. Would that it were not so important for Lydia. But it was too late to repine now, so she turned to the drawing room to keep her aunt from having to search for her.

She crossed the threshold and stopped to take in the room and the two women seated on the divan. She had forgotten how beautiful this room was, as well, done in subtle shades of rose. With the fire and the candles, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. For a moment she was sad that her mother was not here.

Her aunt, still regal for her fifty-some years, was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief and holding Lydia’s hand. She rose quickly at Grace’s entrance and hurried to embrace her.

“What a watering pot I have become, and you know I am usually no such thing. Stand back and let me look at you. I am afraid my tears started when I saw how much Lydia looks like your mother.”

“I understand completely, Aunt Aggie. It is hard not to miss her when we are here.” Grace received and returned a loving embrace. Her aunt always smelled of rose water and lavender. It made her feel at home.

Grace knew why Aunt Aggie had insisted upon her help to chaperone Lydia. Just as Grace believed Lydia was wasted in Essex, so Agatha believed Grace herself was. She had no doubt Aunt Aggie planned some husband shopping for her, as well. At least this fantastic tale concerning Lord Weston would put a stop to that. She knew her aunt still had hopes for her. But Aunt Aggie would not understand. Grace wanted love. She wanted a marriage like her parents had; they had shared everything. But at six and twenty, she doubted she would meet such a man.

Her aunt placed her hand in the crook of Grace’s arm and led her to the chair in front of the fireplace, across from Lydia.

“The thing we need to do in London, girls, is highlight your differences.” Grace was brought back to the present at her aunt’s words. “Lydia, in the country, men are as much interested in experience with estate matters as beauty, and if my letters from your father are any indication, Grace has both in abundance. There are just as many men, admittedly more in London, who want more ladylike accomplishments and a quiet demeanor, as well as beauty. When we go shopping this week, we will take all of these things into consideration, and you both will take the Town by storm!”

The time had come. She must tell her aunt about Lord Weston. She had secretly held the hope that Aunt Aggie had already heard the rumors and would berate her almost as soon as she walked in the door. Perhaps Lord Weston had exaggerated the Marchmonts’ power.

“Aunt Aggie, we feared word would arrive ahead of us, but it seems you have not heard about the...betrothal?”

“The betrothal?” Aggie exclaimed. “Are you referring to the engagement of Lord Weston? I did not realize you had ever met him. The Marchmonts have been spreading the tale but I put no stock in it. He has yet to be caught...” Suddenly she looked at her blushing niece. “Never say...you do not mean you are the ‘nobody?’”

Grace sighed. She remembered she was supposed to be in love with Lord Weston. “The announcement is to be in the papers tomorrow. I am so sorry we could not let you know before you heard it in Town. It all happened so quickly.” She could not even feign happiness these first few hours in London. She and Lydia would both be ruined at this rate.

Her aunt turned her head toward Grace with eyes open wide. “Grace, my darling!” she gushed, as she jumped up and pulled her out of her chair, to embrace her again. “Why, this is all that is wonderful. Finally, you have met the man who will appreciate your character as well as your beauty.”

Grace was stunned. “Pardon, Aunt, I thought you would be a little more concerned. I know he has somewhat of a reputation!”

“Nonsense! Lord Weston has had a hard life, and in my opinion, he has become so bored with the ton that many of the most outlandish exploits he devises are for his own amusement. All he needed was the right woman to straighten him up—you!”

She was smiling from ear to ear. “I cannot wait until all of London finds out tomorrow that it is true and it took my special niece to catch him!” She actually clapped her hands!

“And as for you, Lydia,” Aunt Aggie continued, completely unaware of the nervous tension in the room, “with your sister settled so well, we will have every other man in London bowled over by you! We would have done just fine with my connections, you know, but with Lord Weston’s sisters as sponsors, you will be invited everywhere!”

Grace felt awful. “Aunt, I have not even met Lord Weston’s sisters. We cannot vouch for their cooperation when they find out he is marrying a country nobody.”

“What is this all about, Grace?” asked her aunt. “You must not know Brandon Roth very well if you think he will allow his sisters to treat you with anything but respect.”

Lydia said, “Aunt Aggie, that is just it, you see. Grace does not know him very well. They met, and before any of us knew what had happened, they were betrothed. It has been a whirlwind, and you know, dear aunt, Grace has never liked to be the center of attention.”

Grace sent her sister a silent look of thanks for her gentle description of events, but still wrung her hands.

“Dinner!” Agatha proclaimed. “That is what we need. I will hear the story over dinner and we will decide how best to proceed. You both run upstairs to your rooms to freshen up and I will see you in half an hour.”

As Grace walked past Max to go up to her room, she looked up at him and sighed. “Rescue me, my knight in shining armor,” she said in a low voice. But Max stood steadfast and stoic. “I know, dear friend, I’ve gotten myself into hot water and there’s no rescuing me this time!”

* * *

Lord Weston’s temper flared as his sisters overtaxed his patience.

Upon arriving at his home and being welcomed by his butler, he had settled into his library in front of a roaring fire. His thoughts were on the past two days and a pair of marvelous green eyes. He was tired, but Hinson had informed him that his sisters had called several times already, so he knew he did not have long to wait for them. Face them he would, but he would give a great sum of money to be left alone with his thoughts for the rest of the day.

Within the half hour, Hinson again knocked on his library door and announced that Lady Wright and Mrs. Hale had been shown into the front drawing room. He rose and followed his butler out. He teased his starchy retainer by saying, “On the attack, are they, Hinson?”

“I am sure I could not say, my lord,” he responded very properly. “They have been all that is polite each time they have come.”

“They must be sickening for something,” Brandon muttered as he turned the door handle to the drawing room. As he entered, a slightly older, female version of himself came to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Brandon, I am so happy you are home. We heard of your betrothal. It is glad tidings, indeed!”

Brandon broke into an Irish brogue to tease her. “Maggie, me dear, I do believe you’re lookin’ prettier than the last time I saw ye! How is that Irish husband of yours? I hope ye’ll tell me he’s in Toon, too, so we can have a ride together for old time’s sake.”

“Oh, stop making fun,” she said, smiling. “He is not with me this time. I came to refurbish my wardrobe and see my old friends this Season. But it was worth leaving Patrick and the boys to know I will be here for your wedding.” She hugged him again and bade him sit with them.

His sister Maggie had always been his favorite. She was older than him by four years, but she adored her younger brother. He would never forget that whenever his father had belittled or berated him, Maggie always took Brandon’s side, and came to his room afterward with a treat.

As he approached the fire and his oldest sister, he was expecting a very different welcome. “Good evening, Liza,” he stated, bowing his head. “What a surprise to find my two siblings visiting me so soon upon my return.” He smiled at her innocently.

“Brandon, do not call me that horrid nickname, and do not pretend you are at all surprised to see us. We want the truth about this betrothal so we may scotch the rumor mill. We will not be put off.”

“I am fine, Elizabeth. How good of you to ask. I hope you, too, are well.” He got too much enjoyment out of baiting her.

She sniffed. “I am in no mood for your nonsense. I do not appreciate the fact that Amelia Broadstone brought me the information that my brother is engaged.”

“You should, perhaps, discuss that with Amelia Broadstone. I do not know the lady, but I do not doubt that she was only thinking of you as she spread the tale.”

“Spare me your sarcasm and tell us what you have done this time.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door and he was surprised for a moment that the tea tray was being brought in. Realization was not long in coming. “Elizabeth, feel free to order my servants around anytime you wish.”

“Must you two always be at loggerheads? I have not seen either of you in over a year and I feel like I am in the exact same conversation as last time!” Maggie interrupted, very put out.

“A thousand apologies, Maggie, me love, though if we cannot argue, we will be left with nothing to say. You have just condemned us to being dead bores.” He pinched her cheek and shuddered. “Anything but that. My reputation, Maggie, you must remember my reputation!” He went to lean against the mantel, one booted foot crossed over the other. “The rumors are true.” He loved the gasps, even knowing they were for different reasons.

“Oh, Brandon, I am so happy for you. Who is she? The gossipmongers are calling her a nobody, but I assume that is because they do not know who she is.” She stopped as something occurred to her. “Oh, dear, what have you told her about us?”

“Actually, I told her I would give her a few days to settle in and replenish her wardrobe before introducing you to her. You will not have long to wait.”

Elizabeth drawled from the sofa, “Then your betrothed is not Lady Winslow?”

He was startled. “Of course not. Where would you get such an idea?”

“So you have caused another scandal. I cannot decide which is worse, that you might have married that awful widow, or that you have apparently jilted her for someone else.”

“Well, when you decide, be sure to apprise me of it,” he said sternly. His steely voice had put down the pretensions of many ladies over the years, and Elizabeth had just gotten her own dose of it.

Sadly, his sister had been raised with their father’s scorn and was largely immune to even Brandon’s harshest tones. “Come down off your high horse, Brandon. We have been waiting this age for you to do your duty and marry, and then we hear you are engaged to a woman no one has ever heard of.” She sighed. “I think we may be allowed a little pique at your behavior.”

“Of course, you are allowed all of the temper you wish.”

“That is enough, both of you.” Maggie stood and glared at them. “Elizabeth, Brandon told us ten minutes ago he was willing to tell us what we wanted to know about his betrothed, but your barbed remarks have kept us in the dark still.”

“My noble defender!” Brandon bowed his head and kissed the tip of his fingers to her.

“Do not be flirting with me,” she said. “You are just as bad as Liza—I mean Elizabeth.”

He wanted to word his announcement carefully. Liza was determined to be unpleasant and Maggie already pictured him with six children. He decided to honor Grace’s wishes against lying to them.

“Her name is Lady Grace Endicott and she is the Earl of Pennington’s daughter.”

Elizabeth could not hold back her exclamation. “I do not know the Earl of Pennington, but if you have been smart enough to choose an earl’s daughter, then I owe you an apology!”

“I can die happy now, to be sure,” he muttered.

“Go on, Brandon.”

“I did decide during the Little Season that I might look around for a wife—doing my duty, isn’t that what you call it, Elizabeth? You may think what you like about Patrice Winslow, but I have never offered for her or given her cause to believe that I would. You may ease your minds on that score.

“I recently attended a house party in Rivenhall. While in Essex, I was introduced to Lady Grace. Her father and I share an interest in the Elgin Marbles.” Grace would have been proud of him, not a single untruth. He smiled at the thought. “My admiration of Lady Grace grew rather quickly and I offered for her.” Still the truth, although stretched to the breaking point.

“We wished to keep our betrothal a secret, as I had not yet been able to inform you. However, we both stopped at the same inn on our way to London. Grace is bringing her sister to Town for her come-out,” he added in the way of explanation. “Unfortunately, the Marchmonts were staying at the same inn and quickly saw my attachment to Grace.” He did not owe his starched-up sister any more details.

“I knew they would gossip, no matter what the circumstances, and we did not wish them to spread any malicious tale, so we informed them of our betrothal. They beat us to London. I apologize that you had to find out that way. It was certainly not our intention.

“The announcement will be in the papers tomorrow and I would ask that you both help us get over the rough ground as well as we can. What I care about most is that she and her sister are treated with every courtesy and respect.” He said the last looking at Elizabeth.

“I see nothing distasteful in what you have told us. However, the Marchmonts are relating some intimacy between you and the girl. Really, Brandon, you must learn propriety.”

“They saw no inappropriate intimacy, madam, except the kissing of her hand.” He was angry now. He would hear nothing against Grace. “She is a lady in the truest sense of the word, and I will not have her slandered by you or anyone else. You may direct anyone who does straight to me.”

“Yes, yes, this is all well and good. Having their father with them will scotch that type of thing quickly.”

“The earl has not accompanied them to London. Their aunt is chaperoning them. But I believe his name will accomplish the same outcome.”

“Who is this aunt? What is her name?”

“I cannot remember exactly,” he said, stopping as Elizabeth shook her head. “It is Grace’s mother’s sister, so I know her name is not Endicott. I think it begins with a B, but I cannot swear to it. I do know that they call her Aunt Aggie.”

Elizabeth practically jumped out of her seat. “Could it be Agatha Burstow? She has almost as many connections as we do! This gets better and better, and I had not thought it of you. If, when we meet the girl, she is passable and well trained, all will be perfect. We can plan on a wedding at St. George’s in July.”

“Elizabeth, as much as your approval warms my heart,” he said with irony, “I believe Grace is capable of making her own wedding plans. She is not a school room miss. And as to being passable, as long as I feel she is acceptable, I cannot see how that will affect you.”

“Brandon,” said Maggie, having remained silent during his exchange with Elizabeth, “tell me what she is like. Will I like her? Is she pretty? Will she like me?”

“Maggie, your husband’s Irish curiosity is wearing off on you,” he teased. “Is she pretty? Yes, I certainly think so, though I would say she is handsome—even beautiful. She has the most interesting eyes.” Her face rose before him, her verdant eyes laughing at him. “Will you like each other? I hope so. Truth to tell, I have not known her long enough myself to have learned a great deal of her tastes. But she adores her sister, so I would like to think she will like mine. She has an excellent mind and has been helping run her father’s estate for several years.”

“Enough of that drivel, Margaret,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Brandon, you must arrange a meeting between us as soon as possible so these nasty rumors may be put to rest. Do you think we could arrange tea with Mrs. Burstow two days hence? We may then decide the best plan of presentation and at which affairs you should start the Season.”

He held back a sharp response. “I told you at the start that I would give them the time they needed before being available to you. Two days’ time is barely enough. I will ask them when it is convenient for them, but if they agree to see you early, I will hear no complaints about their outmoded dress or the house being at sixes and sevens.”

“Brandon, I don’t care a jot how they are dressed. I want to meet the woman you love.”

* * *

“There is nothing of use here,” Aunt Aggie exclaimed as she threw gown after gown on the bed and over chairs, while rummaging through their wardrobes the next morning. “Girls, get your hats, we are going shopping!”

Lydia was very excited to see London fashions, but Grace knew this was all a waste of time and money on her behalf.

“I do not wish to hear one word from you, my dear,” her aunt scolded when she tried to resist. “You are to be a marchioness and will dress accordingly.” She knew no way to tell her aunt the new clothes would not be needed, so she accepted defeat as graciously as she could.

Day and walking dresses, evening and ball gowns were ordered for each of them! That was the minimum Aunt Aggie would allow. She reminded her modiste of the business she had referred her way over the years, and graciously extracted a promise that at least two of the day dresses would be ready the next morning. Reminding the woman that she was dressing a future marchioness sealed the bargain.

When they returned to Berkeley Square, the post awaited them, and the girls jumped when Aunt Aggie shrieked. “Dear Grace, Lord Weston is asking permission to bring his sisters here the day after tomorrow to meet you.” She returned the missive to the salver. “That settles it. Tomorrow we will have to go to the milliners for hats and the bootmakers for shoes. Oh, dear, and we must go to Pantheon’s Bazaar for your underclothes and stockings. It seems the marquess is eager to present you to his sisters. That is as it should be, and we will be ready!”

The day after tomorrow? Things were moving too fast for Grace. This Season was supposed to be about Lydia, and she would remind them of that. She would also have to show Lord Weston that his high-handedness would not be tolerated. He did not even have the courtesy to ask if it was convenient for them!

“Grace, there is a missive for you here, as well,” Lydia said, exclaiming over the lovely vellum.

“I cannot image who would be writing to me,” she said, perplexed. Lord Weston would communicate through her chaperone, as was proper. She glanced at the frank on the envelope. It was from Lord Weston. He did, indeed, flout Society without a care! As she unfolded the page, a newspaper clipping drifted out of the note. She bent to pick it up and noticed it was their betrothal announcement cut from the London Gazette. She turned her attention to his missive, and blushed at the first line.

Dear Grace,

I hope the day after tomorrow is not too inconvenient for you and your aunt. I fear our desire to take things slowly was a bit unrealistic. According to my sisters, rumors run rampant, and they are likely correct (as much as I hate to admit it). We must put a halt to the gossip.

However, if you are not comfortable about the day after tomorrow, please let me know and I will tie my sisters up somewhere until a better time presents itself.

Your Servant,

B.R.

P.S. I do hope the announcement meets with your approval. I left out the explanation of our falling head over heels in love to save space. I will be more effusive in the letter to your father.

Grace laughed out loud and supposed that must be the whole problem with rakes—their charm!

“Does his missive to you say anything different, Grace, dear?” Aunt Aggie asked, as she surreptitiously tried to read the letter over Grace’s shoulder.

“No, Aunt, except that Lord Weston does say if the day after tomorrow is not convenient, we must let him know and he will set a later date.”

“I suppose we may as well leave it as it is,” her aunt said with a martyred expression. “I have never met the younger one, but I can tell you from experience that his eldest sister, Lady Wright, sets herself up as a leader in Society.” She whispered to Grace so Lydia would not hear, “I believe she is a veritable dragon.”

“If you truly believe so then you and her brother agree wholeheartedly, dear aunt!”

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