Chapter Four #2
‘I should like that,’ she said politely, unsure of where this was going.
Shouldn’t they get right in to discussing ways to get out of their shared nightmare?
This making small talk was pleasant, she supposed, but there was hardly any point to it.
They had no need to learn one another’s ways when they were hopefully not going to know each other for long.
But even though she thought it, she did not say it.
The words were too blunt, too unkind. She might not be herself right now, but she never wanted to be cruel.
Although cosy, the lounge was large, which made the dedication to the blue theme all the more impressive. By the time Lord Christopher brought them to a stop, she had to strain to make out the individual words of her mother and the other two.
‘Here.’ He picked up an ornately carved box, the size of a large hardback book, and held it out to her.
She took it from him, careful not to touch his skin. Holding it up to the light, she admired the elaborate pattern carved on each panel of the box.
‘Do you think it was blue beforehand and picked for this room, or that the buyer requested the piece be painted afterwards?’ she asked, when she had studied it from every angle.
‘I want to think it was found exactly like this and added to the room because it fitted the blue theme rather than the other way around because…’ he leaned over and flipped open a latch she hadn’t noticed ‘…I like to believe I am the only member of this household who has ever known about this.’
Inside was another complexly carved box, the design different but no less beautiful.
Taking her time, she studied every loop and whorl, amazed that someone had the patience and skill to produce such a work of art.
Finding another latch, she glanced up at him.
He was watching her progress intently, a small smile emerging when he realised what she had found.
He nodded, indicating that she should open it.
Within was yet another box and then another, each one as blue and as gorgeous as the first but each with its own unique design.
‘This is the last one,’ Lord Christopher told her.
She shook it gently. ‘Are you sure? It sounds as if there is something inside.’
‘There is, but it is not a box.’
‘Am I allowed to see?’
‘Of course.’
Lifting the lid, she found four tiny warriors, holding miniature swords, their blue faces somehow fierce despite their diminutive size. She took one out and held it up towards the window to get a better look. ‘I love them.’
When she turned to look at Lord Christopher, he was grinning at her.
Heat rushed through her body at the thought that he was laughing at her.
But he was stepping forward, holding out his hand to take back the miniature toy.
‘I am glad you like them. I used to play with them when I was younger. They were my secret, and now yours too.’
Not sure how to take that, she watched as he reassembled the box, taking more care with it than she would have thought, given his reputation as an irresponsible rogue.
‘Why did you show me that?’
The slight hesitation in closing the lid was the only sign he heard her. That was fine; she was prepared to wait. In showing her the box, he had given her time to compose herself, which, she realised, may well have been the point. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as reckless as the rumours suggested.
‘What is your plan for getting us out of this engagement?’ she asked, when he placed the ornament back on the shelf, his long fingers running over the wood, before turning to face her. ‘Because now would be the time to do it, before Mama gets too excited by the idea and reserves the church.’
He tapped the lid of the box before lifting his dark eyes to look at her. ‘I think we will need to go along with it for now.’
‘What!’ The word exploded out of her, before she could stop it. ‘I mean,’ she said more demurely, ‘why would we do that?’
Glancing over at where members of their families were seated, he gestured that they should step even further away.
Without thought, she obliged him. ‘It has been pointed out to me, quite forcibly,’ he said as they strolled towards the far end of the room, ‘that you ending this engagement now, would result in your complete ruination as well as that of your sisters.’
Her stomach lurched alarmingly. She once accidentally ran into a door frame, the shock of it winding her. This was worse.
A fly repeatedly hit the glass of the window; Sophia watched its foiled escape rather than look at him. ‘I did not want to agree to our engagement last night, if you remember. I knew it would be impossible to get out of and yet we cannot marry.’
‘Trust me,’ he said dryly, ‘I am unlikely to forget a moment of last night.’
Heat spilled across her cheeks, burning her skin. She tugged on her neckline, trying to get some cool air against her flushed skin. ‘I do apologise for throwing brandy over your legs.’ The memory of that had truly haunted her during the long night.
‘It was my fault for taking you by surprise.’ He paused in his strolling. ‘Is that what you meant earlier?’
‘It was, but I was hoping you had forgotten about it.’
His lips turned up at the corners and for the first time, she could see why women might find him irresistible.
The gesture did interesting things to his face, giving him the trace of a dimple and a slight twinkle in his eyes.
‘I am unlikely to ever forget turning a respectable young lady to drink from horror at the thought of marrying me.’
‘Oh, I…’ She’d been about to say it was not all because of that, but she realised that would be a lie.
From the deepening of his smile, she guessed he’d fathomed her intention and her reason for stopping.
She needed to pull herself together and stop acting like a green girl in front of this man.
She tried a different tack. ‘I do appreciate you taking my reputation into consideration; it is kinder than perhaps my family deserve given the circumstances.’ She wasn’t going to mention Marrisa’s intention to trap the duke into marriage, but he had to know about it.
He had been the one to mention Marrisa, and that couldn’t have been because he was arranging a tryst with her sister.
Marrisa was not subtle. If she were interested in the Dashworth brother standing next to Sophia at this moment, the whole world would have known about it.
Somehow, he must have become aware of Marrisa’s plan to trap his older brother and, like her, had travelled to the conservatory to stop it.
She did not want to dwell on that part of the evening, or any of it really, but they had to.
‘However, you must see that we cannot marry.’
‘I do, but I am struggling to come up with a plan of how to end it without it being ruinous to everyone involved.’
At least he was trying to come up with a plan; that was the first bit of good news she’d had since the debacle had begun. ‘I am afraid I do not have any ideas either, but surely together we can resolve this. There must be a way out. You have more experience at this sort of thing than me.’
He raised an eyebrow and her skin heated at her bad manners. The remnants of the brandy must still be affecting her thoughts.
‘Are you referring to the pigs again?’ he asked.
‘You must know that pig racing is not the only story circulating the Ton about you.’
‘What else is being said?’
‘I am not sure we have enough time today to go through it.’
At least he had the grace to look slightly shamefaced.
‘Well, unfortunately for you there might be time in the future for you to tell me all of them.’ He pushed back his shoulders.
‘But you are quite right, I do not want to get married, nor do I want to cause an almighty scandal that resonates through both our families, so—’ he shrugged ‘—here we are.’
‘Here we are,’ she repeated softly.
‘There is one other thing.’ He scratched the top of his head, ruffling his dark hair.
‘I know you think I am a foolhardy cad, and in a lot of instances, you are probably correct, but you were trying to do right by my brother last night and… I do not want you to be punished by Society for your kindness.’
At an utter loss for words, she had no idea what to respond.
It wasn’t often that her gestures were noticed, and that Lord Christopher, of all people, had perceived her actions for what they were, surprised her.
Besides, if it hadn’t been for her rambunctious family, they would not be in this position.
Out of the two of them, he had the more reason to be angry and to chafe at the restrictions this fake betrothal would entail.
‘Let us try and make this the least scandalous ending of a betrothal,’ he said when she didn’t respond. ‘ We will need to work together. Can you do that?’
At least he was still committed to ending this.
If they were both moving towards the same aim, they could rub along well enough.
‘I can certainly agree to everything ending. Only, I will need a plan, one that we must achieve. And, I cannot let my family get too excited about this. Before I left home, my sisters were designing the hats they were going to wear to the wedding. There may not be enough feathers left in London if we proceed for much longer. We will have to move quickly.’
‘Very well.’
As he was always planning escapades, she waited for him to start suggesting things, but he remained silent, his hands behind his back, his dark eyes watching her, waiting for her to speak again.
Never having planned a false or real betrothal, she had nothing much to say on the topic, but she was remiss for not letting him know how grateful she was for his discretion.
He could have been hateful about the whole thing, but he had been gracious and kind. ‘I should thank you too.’
‘What for?’