Chapter Ten
Ophelia had anticipated his immediate refusal, which was why she had filled the calendar with more events and activities than she needed.
That way she could strike a few out, giving the appearance of compromising on what he wanted.
She knew the Viscount well enough now to know he needed to feel as if he were gaining ground even if he really wasn’t.
So, she schooled her features. ‘Oh, why not?’ she asked innocently.
While Ophelia was known for verbally forcing her opponent into submission, the Viscount required a more measured and reserved hand when being guided to do what he hated.
‘This is excessive, to put it mildly. No man should be forced into so many…appointments,’ Lord Worthing replied with a shudder. ‘Especially one who does not enjoy people.’
Ophelia twisted her lips to avoid smiling. ‘So, what would you suggest?’
‘None,’ he replied drolly.
‘Well, we must settle somewhere between none and this then. Let us each pick one square we do not wish to part with, and we will continue from there.’
He watched her with suspicion.
She smiled sweetly and could hardly wait to begin. They had often engaged in such a strategy in the orphanage when dividing up chores, and Ophelia was quite masterful at it. Trudy and Hattie would be proud.
‘Blank square with no activities or commitments on the 23rd then,’ he offered first.
‘Masquerade ball,’ Ophelia countered, with an inward smile, knowing he’d pick the squares with no social engagement listed on them first.
He sighed but didn’t look surprised, and then continued. ‘Other blank square on the 29th.’
‘Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.’
He groaned. ‘Truly?’
‘Yes,’ she answered sweetly. ‘It is in our favor they are still open so late in the season this year, from what William relayed to me. We must take advantage of our good fortune.’
Lord Worthing muttered a curse under his breath and continued. He paused. ‘Why are there so few blank squares?’
She shrugged. ‘There is little time to be lost, my lord. Matchmaking does require interaction with others. How else can I know if you are truly a match or not?’
‘I suppose you have a point, despite how irritating it is.’ He went back to the calendar, studied it closely and then smiled. ‘Meeting with you tomorrow.’
‘Excursion of my choice on the 1st of October,’ she countered.
He balked. ‘Wait. What does that mean?’
‘Exactly as it says. I will choose our excursion on the 1st October.’
‘Then, I select the last remaining blank square on the 7th,’ he said with a frown.
‘Noted. I select an afternoon drive in the park in your carriage.’
He groaned aloud and his shoulders dropped. ‘How many more activities are we selecting? I thought the whole point was to remove some of these squares?’
Her stomach flipped with excitement. Her plan was working perfectly. Now all she needed to do was throw out the last lure for him to bite.
‘We will, my lord. How about we select two more squares each, and then I shall strike out the rest if you will allow me to schedule a weekly reintroduction to Society lesson with you on Mondays? That would be less than twenty days selected.’
‘And some of those are the blank squares with no activities on them that I selected. That will not change?’
‘No, those will not change.’
He studied her before crossing his legs at the ankle, leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers on his kneecap. ‘And why would you allow such concessions?’
She looked down at her gown.
You almost have him. Tell him the truth and he will agree, even if you feel exposed.
She released a steady breath and lifted her head to meet his gaze.
‘I believe we both agreed we need a refresher of sorts on how to flirt and positively gain the attentions of…others. I propose that we practice with one another, if you will agree to doing so during our Monday Society lessons. This will ensure we can put our best selves forward and no harm will come to anyone else by misleading them or making errors in expressing our interest that could land us in trouble. I think it is a fine compromise. What do you say?’
‘Are you suggesting we engage in flirting lessons together?’ Lord Worthing said, looking startled but lowering his voice.
‘Will your chaperone approve of such measures?’ He cast a dubious glance toward the open door of the study, a reminder they were not truly alone.
Trudy was next door in the parlour and his servants could be travelling anywhere in the hallway and overhear them.
She sniffed and her cheeks heated. Lowering her voice to match the hushed pitch of his own, she replied, ‘My chaperone cannot disapprove of things she does not know about, can she?’ This was a necessary part of her plan, and she knew Trudy and Hattie would not agree to such a scandalous suggestion.
But how else was she to prepare both herself and the Viscount for being in London Society?
He needed to improve upon his flirting, as did she, and there were only a handful of true chances available for them to make a grand impression and catch the eye of an eager mate.
The subterfuge was necessary.
Or at least that was the lie she told herself.
She was being reckless to even suggest it.
He might end her employment right here and now for such impropriety, but it was a measured risk she felt she had to take. She gripped her hands tightly in her lap awaiting his decision.
He studied her, his gaze dropping to her mouth, and the action made her stomach swirl. Perhaps this was a dangerous idea. The man ignited something within her when he looked at her in such a way, but he was her client, nothing more.
Or at least that was the second lie she’d told herself today.
‘Your methods never cease to surprise me,’ he murmured, shifting on the sofa, looking away as if deep in thought.
She held her breath. Perhaps she had risked too much with her request.
After another beat, Lord Worthing met her gaze, studied her, and then analyzed the calendar.
‘I agree to your terms. Then the rest of this nonsense will be removed,’ he answered. ‘Another calendar will be made, and the final version duplicated and sent over to me after we finish here. That way, I can…prepare for each event as needed.’
Ophelia sucked in an eager breath through her teeth before replying.
What she truly wanted to do was squeal in delight as this was the plan she had hoped would unfold: scheduled and agreed upon days for him to be out and about in Society, so she could see him interacting with more ladies.
The flirting lessons were an inspired addition to her plan, but it would benefit them both and positively impact those interactions they had on their scheduled outings.
The fewer mistakes they each made with the ton, the better.
From what she could tell, they were a rather unforgiving lot, and she had no wish for either of them to make any additional mistakes.
The future of her business was riding on the success of finding him a match, but heaven knew if thirty days would be enough time for him to become the most eligible bachelor in London and her the most sought-after lady matchmaker.
It had not taken Miss Granger nearly as long as Lucas had hoped for her to draft out a new schedule and send it on to him.
It was hardly even dusk, a scarce few hours after they had wrapped up their meeting earlier in the day, and here he was holding the revised plan in his hands.
He couldn’t help but ignore the words and focus on the beautiful scrolls and flowers she had inked in along this calendar of hers.
She had an artistic touch, and he wondered if she too had some hidden talents like his own. Perhaps she painted?
For a flicker of a moment, he imagined inviting her to see his studio and the paintings he had once created. Would she like them? Hate them? Tell him to hide his talent away as his father had?
A future Viscount has no need for art. You will have far greater responsibilities to manage. Stop wasting your time.
His father’s words still angered him, even though they were a distant fragmented memory of a time long, long ago. Lucas let go of the parchment and let it roll closed. What his father would think of him now, he didn’t know. Perhaps it also didn’t matter.
The only added irritation was that he had been given homework of sorts between now and their next meeting the following day.
It was essential they prepare and have one lesson before the masquerade ball this Saturday, or so she said.
His task was to come up with one social lesson to share and teach when they met.
Evidently, Miss Granger would do the same.
They would listen to each other’s lesson and then practice together.
It sounded dreadful if it were a lesson of etiquette or small talk, but if it were a true lesson on flirtation…
his mind cast in another direction. One of whispering touches, wayward glances, and the mingling of lips and other limbs.
He shook his head. If she were less attractive, it would be far easier for him to not have such base thoughts and longings.
But she was beautiful and could be no less enchanting than she was. Just as he could be no less abhorrent than his scarring allowed.
The reminder dampened his budding desire for her. He needed to focus on the possible matches for a future wife and dismiss these ridiculous feelings and urges for Miss Granger. But at least he could help her navigate the dangerous waters of the men of the ton.
And he knew exactly the lesson he would teach her tomorrow.
He smirked. She would hate it.