Chapter 5
Michael had agreed to meet Claire the following day in the park, a convenient location, as Miss Dahlia Warrington was set to sketch her and her sisters there. Their grouping sat upon a thick quilt spread over a tarpaulin so that moisture wouldn’t seep through and ruin their outing.
Claire straightened her jacket with a yank and glanced around the park. It was a beautiful day. Billowing white clouds dotted blue skies that promised sunshine and nothing more. She held the requisite lace parasol, one that perfectly coordinated with her fetching grey ensemble.
Though Claire didn’t want to admit it, she was just as excited as her other sisters for the additional dresses Miss Warrington was designing for them.
Still, her mouth slanted downward whenever she noted how often her brother’s eyes lingered on Dahlia, and how little he endeavored to hide his interest.
Claire wondered if it was always that plain when a man was fascinated with a woman, or if it was just because she knew William so well that she could see it clearly. Claire certainly hoped that if any man ever looked at her that way, she would be observant enough to notice.
Birds twittered. A gentle breeze ruffled the ash-brown tendrils that had slipped from the low bun at Claire’s neck. Her sisters were preoccupied by the scratch of Dahlia’s pencil against her notebook, but Claire subtly searched the other occupants of the park.
Lily shifted at Claire’s side. “Do you think she’s drawing me?”
“No,” Claire lied. Based upon the way that Dahlia glanced up often at Lily, she absolutely was sketching her, but Lily was terrified of it for some reason. “I think she’s sketching Margaret.”
Lily sagged and a breath of relief gusted through her full lips. “Thank goodness.”
“Why does it make you nervous?” Claire asked, even as she scanned the horizon for Michael.
“I just don’t like attention, at least not that intently.”
Claire made a rude noise. “You do realize that you’re about to receive nothing but attention this season?”
“That’s different.”
“How so?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Because everyone will be receiving the same amount of attention.”
If Claire hadn’t known her to be genuine, she would have thought Lily’s shyness was an act of some kind to lure the gentlemen in. But in truth, Lily was relentlessly unaware of her own beauty.
She possessed luminous skin, large blue eyes, and an abundance of light brown hair that curled into loose waves even without the intervention of a curling tongs.
As if that weren’t enough, she had a lovely figure, a soft voice, and a charming, sweet personality.
Perhaps if Lily hadn’t been so kind, or if she hadn’t been her own sister, Claire might have disliked her.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Claire said slowly. “It simply depends on how many gentlemen are interested in courting any given lady.”
“Of course, but there are so many gentlemen, I’m certain there’ll be enough attention to go around.”
Claire shook her head, bemused by her sister’s way of thinking. Not another young lady in the ton would have answered as she did—even Beatrice and Margaret had admitted they were afraid of competing with their sisters for the same man.
Despite her stated positive outlook, Lily fussed with the delicate eyelash lace at the edge of her sleeve.
“You know you might confide in me,” Claire murmured lowly so that the others wouldn’t hear. Not that there was any danger of it—two children flying kites had captured their collective attention. “What bothers you?”
“I’m just afraid that someone will find out,” Lily whispered.
“William and I are the only ones who know, and neither of us would breathe a word to anybody.”
After a moment, Lily admitted, “It’s only that I wasn’t completely honest with you.”
“About what?” Claire’s eyebrows drew together.
It was unheard of for Lily to tell a falsehood. Which was why it had been such a shock that dreadful morning nearly sixteen months ago when Claire had gone to Lily’s bedroom to find her missing, a short letter of explanation the only thing she’d left behind.
But that part of Lily’s life was over now—as were the many lies Claire had told to cover the truth from their sisters. William knew the entirety of it—he was the one who’d found her, in the end— but he and Claire shared a rare spot of consensus that no one else should ever find out.
For all his faults, William truly did seem to want to give his sisters the opportunity to achieve excellent marriages. The truth of what Lily had done put the entire family name at risk, though in retrospect, Claire could hardly blame her.
“It was about how I left,” Lily murmured.
“It’s all but forgotten. We needn’t speak of it.” Claire patted her hand—partly in reassurance, partly to still the thin fingers that still plucked at the expensive lace.
“Not how I left home…” Lily whispered, but Claire had already been distracted by a tall figure across the park.
“That’s Michael,” she said.
Lily gave a tremulous smile. “Oh, are you two speaking again?”
Claire frowned. “We never weren’t speaking.”
“My mistake.” Her sister blinked. “I thought he’d done something to upset you.”
“No.” She didn’t like lying to her sister, but it was far preferable to admitting the truth.
“I thought he’d hurt your feelings,” she pressed.
“How would he have the power to do that?” Claire laughed, but it rang hollow even to her own ears. She rose gracefully from the picnic blanket and adjusted her parasol. “We will stay in view,” she said, signaling to her maid, Mara, that she need not follow.
William gave his acquiescence, and nobody so much as arched an eyebrow in interest, except for Dahlia. Claire heard her murmur something to William, but she was already walking briskly down the garden path toward Michael.
“Good morning, Miss Preston.” Before she could react, Michael plucked her hand from her side and knelt over it, depositing a lingering kiss on the knuckles. “You look very lovely this morning.”
“What on earth are you doing?” Claire tried to yank her fingers from his, but he held fast. She only succeeded in pulling herself closer to him; they stood chest to chest.
“I’m courting you, am I not? I thought that was the point of this game.”
“There’s hardly anyone about,” she said, flustered.
“All the more reason to pretend.”
Though she knew Michael was only doing as she’d asked, Claire could feel her face flush.
She’d never stood so close to a man before, certainly never been looked at in this way by one.
If Michael saw her embarrassment, he ignored it.
He deftly tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked slowly down the pathway.
“It’s not even the beginning of the Season yet,” she protested, out of habit more than anything else. Claire was not used to losing arguments; on principle, she felt she should continue until she had the upper hand.
“Not even married yet, and I’m being henpecked. It’s hardly fair. A fellow ought to have all of the pros if he’s going to have the cons,” Michael said.
“What on earth are you blathering about?”
“Only that you make it difficult to even pretend to court you when you’re frowning up at me in such a way.” Here he tipped his hat to Lord and Lady Worthington. “Though perhaps it’s all the more believable,” he said once they’d passed. “If you were simpering, no one would ever believe it.”
Claire resisted the urge to yank her hand from his arm and swat at him. He was telling the truth—people were watching, no matter how subtly they were doing so. She settled for pinching the crook of his elbow. She was rewarded with a low chuckle that heated her cheeks even further.
“Why, Miss Preston, that’s not at all appropriate.”
Michael was right, and she was flustered. Claire tried to bring her focus back to the task at hand.
“I apologize,” she finally said.
“Why on earth would you apologize?”
“For pinching you.”
“I never said I didn’t like it.” Michael smiled down at her.
“Besides, if we’re to present a convincing charade, you should behave as you normally would.
Knowing you as well as I do, I feel very safe in asserting that no gentleman would escape a courtship with you without getting pinched at least once for his impertinence. ”
Claire sighed deeply. They’d gotten off to a terrible start today—she was completely befuddled. She took a deep breath to collect herself.
Before she could regroup he said, “I’ve been giving this much thought.”
“Oh?”
The seriousness of his words gave her pause.
For some reason, Claire thought she was the only one thinking about the plan.
She was the one who had coerced him into this arrangement, not the other way around.
If Michael had been thinking about their charade, Claire thought he might have been trying to figure out how to get out of it.
“Indeed,” he said. “And I think that much of the success of this endeavor depends upon you.”
“Well, of course. It was my plan, after all.” Claire felt the need to point that out, as he was suddenly counseling her on how they should go about it.
“In order for this to succeed, I have to pretend to be fascinated by you. And, at the very least, you have to act as if you’re interested in me.
No man will feel threatened by our courtship—and therefore be more inclined to make an offer to you—unless he believes you’re truly considering my romantic overtures. ”
“Well, of course not, but—”
“I think that might be a problem,” he interrupted. “I’m not sure you can be convincing enough to prop up our act. Forgive me for saying so, but am I correct in assuming that you’ve never been seriously courted before? Other than by me, of course?”
She lifted her chin. “I have not.”
It wasn’t an embarrassment to admit as much—not when the only men who’d visited her home after her first Season had been bill collectors. She hardly was going to run off and marry one of them—they had all the social graces of a wounded bear.