Chapter 8 #3
“She has lately become convinced Lady Sophronia Marsh is the answer to every difficulty in my life.”
Rosalind's thoughts drifted, however briefly, to the ballroom.
Lady Sophronia had looked perfectly at home beside him. Beautiful, accomplished, admired. The sort of young woman no one would ever question seeing on Lord William Sinclair's arm.
“And is she?”
“No.”
The answer came so swiftly that Rosalind laughed before she could stop herself.
The unexpected warmth that accompanied it caught her off guard.
She told herself she was merely relieved for his sake. That no gentleman should feel obliged to marry simply because society expected it.
Somehow, she suspected that was not the whole truth.
William smiled as well.
The laughter faded, leaving something quieter between them.
Then, with all the solemnity of a gentleman making a genuine offer, William stepped back and bowed.
When he straightened, he looked directly into her eyes.
“Lady Rosalind Carlisle... would you permit me to pretend to court you?”
Rosalind stared at him. “Pretend?”
“A false courtship,” he explained. “Nothing more.”
She continued staring.
“Hear me out.”
Despite herself, the earnestness in his expression made her nod.
“For the next few weeks, we allow society to believe I have begun paying my addresses to you. We walk together in the park. We dance when propriety permits it. I call upon your mother. Nothing improper. Only enough to give London something new to discuss.”
Rosalind frowned thoughtfully. “And why would we do such a thing?”
“Because it solves two rather inconvenient problems.” A smile touched his lips. “My mother will finally cease introducing me to every eligible young lady in London.”
“A bold assumption.”
“An optimistic one,” he admitted.
“And my problem?”
His expression grew more serious. “If the younger brother of a duke is openly courting Lady Rosalind Carlisle, society will be forced to reconsider its conclusions.”
She held his gaze.
“People cannot insist you are ruined while wondering whether I intend to marry you.”
The words settled quietly between them.
“It will not silence every whisper,” William continued. “Nothing can do that. But it will give people something else to discuss, and perhaps remind society that your father's disappearance does not diminish your worth.”
Rosalind found herself unexpectedly moved.
No one else had spoken of her future as though it were something still worth protecting.
“And while London busies itself speculating about us,” William said, “we continue searching for your father.”
He paused.
“It also gives me a perfectly respectable excuse to call upon you. To walk with you in the park. To...”
He stopped abruptly.
A faint flush crept across his cheeks.
“...to continue our investigation,” he finished, with rather more haste than before. “Without inviting further gossip.”
Rosalind felt an answering warmth rise unexpectedly into her own face. “I suppose it would.”
He cleared his throat.
“If I am publicly courting you, no one will question our being seen together. It would allow us to exchange information whenever necessary, and should either of us uncover anything of consequence, we need not resort to letters or stolen conversations in crowded ballrooms.”
He spread his hands slightly. “It seems an efficient arrangement.”
Rosalind regarded him for a long moment.
It was absurd. Entirely impractical. Almost certainly unwise.
Yet she could not deny the advantages.
If William Sinclair truly was innocent, then together they might uncover whatever had happened to her father far sooner than either could alone.
And if he was not, then she would have ample opportunity to discover the truth.
A smile threatened despite herself. “It is, I believe, the most unusual courtship proposal I have ever received.”
William's expression became almost sheepish. “I confess I have had very little practice.”
A quiet laugh escaped her as she extended one gloved hand. “Then I accept.”
Relief flashed so openly across his face that, for a moment, he looked far younger than the composed gentleman before her.
He took her hand. His gloved fingers closed gently around hers, warm and steady. “Then we have an understanding.”
“We do.”
For the briefest instant, neither of them let go. A strange little flutter stirred unexpectedly in Rosalind's chest.
She frowned inwardly.
It was only an agreement. A practical arrangement. Nothing more.
She was not accepting a genuine courtship. She was accepting the opportunity to restore her family's reputation, continue searching for her father, and, perhaps most importantly, observe Lord William Sinclair more closely than circumstances had previously allowed.
That was all. It had to be.
Yet as he finally released her hand, she found herself absurdly disappointed by the loss of its warmth.
The feeling vanished almost as quickly as it had come.
She dismissed it at once.
After all, there could hardly be a better way to investigate Lord William Sinclair than by allowing him to spend as much time in her company as possible.