Chapter Two #2
“Yes,” she said, her voice shaking as though she were about to be led out to the lions. “Yes, I am Miss Jessica Chance. You… You have a message for me?”
It was all he could do not to gawp in dismay.
This—This was Miss Jessica Chance? This was Miss Chance, wallflower? Part of the illegitimate line of the Chance family, her father a by-blow of the late duke? The eldest daughter and so, Reginald had calculated, the most desperate to be wed?
Of all the women he could have picked…he had to have chosen the least attractive?
Well, she wasn’t entirely unattractive. She had the dark-chestnut curls that he always liked in a woman, and there was intelligence there in those sparkling yet fearful eyes.
Yes, there was something there. Not outstanding beauty, perhaps. But something.
Well, he had come all this way—and it was not as though it truly mattered which one he married. Miss Chance had just seemed, from his understanding, the most likely to accept him. Perhaps her paling in comparison to the others would only be another mark in his favor.
So, on with the question. Reginald grinned, as though he could not have been happier that his future bride was covered in lemonade. “Excellent. Will you marry me?”
Perhaps he should have expected the surprise. Perhaps the shock of the family was to be predicted. After all, it was not the most usual approach to courting.
What Reginald hadn’t expected was for Miss Chance to laugh.
But she was—she was most definitely laughing. “Y-You know, I thought—I thought for a moment that you said—”
“Jessica,” the woman clutching her glass of lemonade murmured.
“—but you couldn’t—you wouldn’t…” Miss Chance fell into peals of laughter again.
It was all Reginald could do to hold his head high.
She was laughing at him. At him. Here he was, proposing matrimony to her, and she thought it was amusing?
Shame, piercing and shocking, roared through him.
It was just like it had been before; his family name would never recover.
He would never recover. There would never be a societal event he could step into without hearing laughter, hearing the muttered rumors, knowing that all were staring because of the shame his brother would soon bring on them.
Was he never to be free of it? The whole point of the plan had been to reduce the future laughter, remove the stain upon his family. And instead, she—
“Would you repeat that?” Miss Chance was smiling, and Reginald’s stomach jolted. She was a tad striking when she smiled. “I believe I misheard you.”
Reginald swallowed and tried to maintain his expression, as though he had not been cut to the quick by her derisive laughter.
The plan, man. Keep to the plan.
Clearing his throat and ensuring that his voice was clear, Reginald said loudly, “Miss Jessica Chance, will you marry me?”
He had not expected to need to propose more than once, but he supposed twice was acceptable. The trouble was, it appeared that he may need to do so a third time because after his second pronouncement, absolute chaos reigned.
Some of the Chance family were squabbling.
“No, he could not have meant—”
“Did he perhaps mean Irene? They look so similar, after all—”
Two of the Chance family of the older generation, perhaps Miss Chance’s parents, were also arguing.
“—going to give him a ding about the—”
“No, Frederick, wait!”
A few of them were happily chattering away about something else, as though he did not exist.
“—and I told Frank, if she were truly serious about engineering—”
“Don’t be daft, you know Society isn’t ready to accept a lady engineer!”
And amongst it all, staring with parted lips and wide eyes as though she had never seen a gentleman before in her life, was Miss Jessica Chance.
Reginald grinned.
Well, he would be a fool if he didn’t know what an attractive prospect he offered. Ignoring the family scandal, which few had heard about yet, he was tall, handsome, and titled. Any woman would be fortunate to have him.
Any woman, and especially Miss Jessica Chance. Why, she had none of the sparkling brilliance of her sister beside her, nor the presence of Lady Lilianna, or the gravitas of—
But she could move quickly.
“What the…?”
Miss Chance had stepped forward faster than Reginald had thought possible, and the wind had been completely knocked out of his chest as she had grabbed his arm and propelled him like a siege engine away from the picnicking family.
It was fortunate indeed that he was able to get his legs moving quickly enough, or she would have borne him to the ground.
Though now he came to think about it, as Miss Chance pulled him relentlessly across the lawn to a pretty sort of grove of trees, perhaps Reginald should have allowed himself to fall. Then Miss Chance would have fallen upon him, and they would have had to get married.
There was still time to try that.
“What,” hissed the somehow not-out-of-breath-at-all Miss Chance, “are you playing at?”
Reginald straightened himself as she let go of his arm, pulling on his riding coat and trying to grin.
Of course, he should have expected this. So overcome by his proposal, it was natural that Miss Chance would wish to speak to him privately to ascertain just how besotted he was with her.
Well, he was happy to allow flatter her, even if he did not know her from Eve. Whatever he had to do to secure her.
“Miss Chance,” he said with what he knew was a winning smile. “How wonderful to meet you at last.”
That certainly surprised her. The woman hesitated, biting the corner of her lip and still staring, wide-eyed. “Why?”
Why?
Reginald was thrown. Ladies were not supposed to ask questions like that. She was supposed to be flattered, then accept whatever compliments he had decided to throw at her, then accept his proposal of marriage.
Goodness, he’d had no idea this was going to be so much work.
“Because I wish to marry you. As soon as possible, actually,” Reginald said truthfully, trying to listen to whatever conversations were still occurring back at the picnic.
Perhaps he should have done this differently. Her father, perhaps, should have been the one with whom he spoke first. Yes, that was it. She was undoubtedly concerned that she had not gained the permission of her father.
Well, that would only take five minutes.
“Do excuse me. I will go and speak to your father and gain his permission for your hand, and I shall return posthaste,” Reginald said with a wink.
He had not stepped two feet before there was a hand on his arm again.
“Why?” repeated Miss Chance, her eyes full of suspicion. “Why do you want to marry me?”
Ah—right, what was the speech I practiced on the ride again?
“I am sure it has not escaped your notice that you are most beautiful, most radiant, and most charming,” Reginald said, trying to inject this tone with what he supposed was what affection sounded like.
“It would be the greatest honor of my life if you would agree to marry me, Miss Chance. As soon as possible.”
“Yes, you said that before,” she said, cheeks now blazing red and her gaze fixed not so much on his face, but on his footwear. “But you don’t know me. We’ve… We’ve never met before. How can you think me charming?”
She did not even ask about her beauty and radiance, Reginald noticed. Well, the woman was not blind. She must have known that she was hardly the most beautiful of her family. It was not a pleasant thought, but it was not unkind. It was merely a fact.
“You are charming,” Reginald repeated, lost for additional words.
After all, what woman did not want to hear that she was beautiful, and charming, and all the rest? Truth be told, he had not prepared any other compliments.
He had not thought he would need them.
But apparently, Miss Chance was not to be so easily won. “You and I have never met. Why… Why me, of all my cousins? Why any one of us?”
Blast it all to hell.
Reginald should have known he would have to answer this question sooner rather than later, and there were two approaches he knew he could take.
He could lie, and tell her that he had heard tell of her majestic elegance and found himself so attracted to her when they had met—she had forgotten, he would not hold it against her—that he simply knew he had to have her.
His pretense at not knowing which one she was had been only to heighten the experience.
Or he could tell the truth.
Reginald grinned. “Oh, we have met, Miss Chance. It was on a warm night last summer at Lady Romeril’s party when—”
“I was not invited to that party,” Miss Chance said curtly.
He stared. “Not… Not invited?”
But he had done his research; he had been most thorough. The entire Chance family, all of them, had been invited to Lady Romeril’s party.
The pink in her cheeks was a deep red now. “I…I was forgotten. She forgot to invite me.”
If it had been in any other scenario, Reginald would have laughed. It was ridiculous; how could Lady Romeril have forgotten the eldest daughter of Viscount Pernrith?
But she was so…so forgettable. Miss Chance did not catch his eye, or smile at him, or flirt back. She did not patter pleasantries, or wear a gown that showed off her presumably impressive bosom. Her gown was not designed to attract attention, but rather to forego it.
Reginald swallowed. This was getting out of hand, and he needed a Chance bride as soon as possible. Announcing himself for Miss Chance before the whole family had been a mistake. Now he couldn’t go back and request a different one.
Blast it all to hell.
“Perhaps it was not Lady Romeril’s party, then. Perhaps another—”
“No, we have not met,” Miss Chance said quietly, and her focus was piercing as she finally lifted it to his own. “I want the truth, sir, whoever you are. The truth. Please.”
And there was something in the way she’d said it—something that tugged at Reginald’s heartstrings in a way he had not expected.
Something else had tugged too. Her eyes, when they looked like that…the intelligence in them, the determination…
Well, it was devastatingly erotic.
Reginald swallowed, his mouth somehow dry. Focus, man! Focus on the plan. You are here to marry a Chance, and Miss Jessica Chance seemed like your best option.
Do not lose her.
Allowing his shoulders to sag, Reginald decided on the truth. Not all of it. But enough to give Miss Chance sufficient reason to consider him to be truthful.
“I am Blakley. Reginald Blakley. I wish to improve my family’s reputation.
The Chance family is a noble and respected one, as you well know, and I can think of no better connection,” he said quietly, and he found much to his discomfort that the shame in his voice was not aped, but genuine.
“I need a good match, a marriage with a prominent family. I don’t want to waste time with a matchmaker and I… I thought you would accept my offer.”
And all of that was true. It was not the whole truth—wild horses would not drag that from Reginald.
That his brother was a traitor to the Crown.
That his sister had gone into hiding because of the soon-to-be scandal.
That Miss Chance was supposed to be dull and dour, and he did not want a wife who could bring more gossip to the Llyne estate.
That he was starting to wonder whether Miss Chance had not been the foolproof choice at all…
He would not tell her he was Baron Llyne yet.
If she did not recognize him as the baron by name or face alone, that was for the best. But if he brought up the Llyne estate, well…
perhaps news of his brother had already spread this far.
He had to secure her promise before he’d test the waters when it came to the Llyne name.
“So, will you marry me?” Reginald asked brightly.
She would say no. He knew she would, and perhaps he could play the whole thing off with the Chances as a jest, an attempt to entertain them. Perhaps he could stay and charm one of her sisters or cousins. He would just have to hope they wouldn’t spread the story in London once the house party was—
“Yes,” said Miss Chance simply, her cheeks still pink. “Yes, I will marry you.”