Chapter 9 #2
“Miss Bennett.” His hand dropped from the wall and he shifted closer, until she could smell the horse leather and polish from the stables on his clothes.
“Would a courtship not give you several months of reprieve from your father’s machinations?
Would earning the attentions of a viscount—and then jilting him—not elevate you in society so that you could have your pick of husbands afterward?
Would attending all of the most sought-after society crushes not give you the opportunity to finally catch the eye of your marquess? ”
Her thoughts raced as she considered the idea.
It was bold and dangerous and a little bit exciting to think of pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes.
Her father would consider it quite a feather in his cap if she were to be courted by a viscount, and it would grant her a reprieve from his incessant matchmaking.
And it was true that men of the ton coveted what others had, so if she were to be seen with the viscount, it could very well bring her to Lord Hartford’s notice.
There was also the fact that a faux courtship with Brackley would mean she would have unprecedented access to the man, his associates, and his whereabouts.
There would be no more sneaking around and trying to catch glimpses of his comings and goings from the stables.
She would have ample opportunity to fulfill her duties to the Dove and, hopefully, clear his name.
Yet there were two obstacles that stood in their way. The first was Barnes, who would challenge the viscount to a duel the moment he heard the news. The second was the girls. If they thought she and Owen were to be married and then they were not, would it crush them?
Owen waited patiently while she considered his proposition. Finally, with a sigh, she shook her head. “I am sorry, my lord, but I cannot do it. What of your sisters? Would they not be devastated when the courtship ended?”
His features softened. “Yes, of course. We will have to keep it from them.”
“They will hear about it whether we wish them to or not.”
“Then we let them in on the secret.”
Ivy brightened. Most adults would not trust children to safeguard such sensitive information, but Ivy happened to know the Brackley girls were excellent secret keepers.
She was pleased that Owen was inclined to involve them, enough so that he was willing to risk one of the girls slipping up and exposing their charade.
She agreed instantly. “That solves that problem, but there is still the issue of Barnes. I fear, after what I witnessed, that my brother would not take the news well. It is apparent he does not like you.”
“Barnes does not dislike me, he hates me.”
Ivy leaped at the chance to learn more. “What happened at Harrow?”
“It is complicated.” Before she could pry further he added, “I must admit, infuriating Barnes is part of the appeal.” He eased away from her, and Ivy took her first, deep breath in minutes.
“Well, you are nothing if not honest, my lord.” And yet despite Brackley’s indifference, she could not lead Barnes to believe she was intent on marrying his mortal enemy. “If we do this, and I am not saying I have agreed to it, we must tell Barnes the truth as well.”
Brackley scowled.
“If he knows it is a farce, that it has an end date and that you have no intention of actually marrying me or compromising me, he may be more amenable.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
Ivy propped her fists on her hips. “Barnes does not get to orchestrate my life. I will make him see reason.”
“As you wish. Do we have an agreement?”
“What about my position as the governess?”
His eyes flicked to the sconce on the wall and he frowned. “You cannot stay on as the governess if I am courting you, but you cannot simply leave my sisters, either.”
Ivy twisted her fingers together as she thought.
“I have a good friend, Diane, who is in between governess positions. I could invite her to take the position, and I could stay for a while to ease the transition for your sisters.” That way, Ivy would be able to squeeze in a little more time with the girls before she was forced to leave.
Brackley gave a curt nod. “Yes, that should be suitable, assuming your friend is a satisfactory replacement.”
Ivy took a deep breath. “Then yes. I will do it.”
His green eyes bored into hers. “I am trusting you to quietly end the courtship on a mutually agreed-upon timeline, Miss Bennett.”
Ivy laughed and patted the breast of his jacket. “Do not worry, my lord. I will not require you to follow through with our ruse. If I cannot have Lord Hartford as a husband, I do not want anyone.”
His gaze sharpened at the name before it dropped to where her fingers remained pressed against his coat. She quickly removed her hand, and he cleared his throat. “You should call me Owen, now that I am courting you. At least in private.”
“And you may call me Ivy.”
“Ivy.”
The way he said her name, as if he were wrapping the sunny syllables in silky shadows, made her shiver.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she was in over her head, but she quickly dismissed the thought.
Brackley—no, Owen—had just bought her several months of freedom and the possibility of making herself known to Lord Hartford; she would not waste this opportunity worrying about what could go wrong.