Page 13 of Not his Marchioness
“Yes,” Rhys uttered, his face grim. “As I have come to discover, he wasn’t entirely wrong. I spoke with my steward, and now two of the gentlemen interested in the horse-breeding venture are pulling back because of that ridiculous rumor involving the Prince of Wales’s cousin. A second cousin, at that.”
“I know,” Gideon said. “It was one of the Lords who brought it up. My father told me when he returned from Parliament yesterday. I don’t know how anyone could spread such rot.”
“The truth rarely matters when the lie is more interesting. And a lie will be halfway around the world before the truth can even put on its shoes. They care about the semblance of truth. If it seems possible, it’s easier to believe than to investigate.”
“And so?” Gideon prompted.
“So I thought, how can I maintain my current lifestyle while placating all these fools?”
“And… you’ve found an answer?”
“Yes,” Rhys replied. “Lady Charlotte.”
“Lady Charlotte?” Gideon chuckled. “The Scarlet Lady?”
Rhys exhaled through his nose. “Yes, her. And precisely because of that ridiculous nickname—and everything else that’s been written about her—I think she’s the ideal match. I would gain a wife respectable enough for the Lords, and she could save herself from complete ruination.”
“And have you spoken to her about this?”
“I have. I saw her earlier today.”
Gideon leaned forward eagerly. “And? Don’t keep me in suspense. What did she say?”
“She was hesitant,” Rhys admitted. “She had doubts.”
“You don’t say,” Gideon said dryly. “An arrangement with one of the realm’s best-known rakes, just to avoid marrying another rake? Hardly seems like an improvement.”
“It is,” Rhys insisted. “She will have freedom as my wife. A title. A house. Carriages. And I’ll be able to rebuild my reputation. It will be a mutually beneficial alliance.”
“The two most scandal-prone people in England, reforming each other?” Gideon scratched his chin. “It could work. It would make for a good story, at least.”
“Better than any alternative I’ve come up with,” Rhys affirmed. “She saw my point in the end, but… she hasn’t decided. She saidI would regret it, which I probably will. And so might she. But I see no better option for either of us.”
Gideon lowered his hand from his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Then you’ll need to give her a little push. If she’s still on the fence, you can’t risk her changing her mind.”
“A push? And how exactly am I meant to do that?”
“Announce it,” Gideon answered, shrugging as if the answer were obvious. “Or better yet, let me handle it. I’ll feed a story to one of the scandal sheets—that the Marquess of Ravenscar has offered marriage to Lady Charlotte. A whisper in the right ear, and it’ll spread like fire. I’ll say that the two of you were secretly engaged, and Lord Emery’s interest was an attempt to break you up. Instant romance.”
“I already suggested something along those lines to her,” Rhys said, unwilling to let his friend take full credit.
“Then we’re in agreement. It’s a grand story. Two rebels, misunderstood by Society, finding each other. It’ll sound like true love and redemption. Once word is out, she won’t be able to refuse. Not without inviting a second scandal on top of the first. And that’s something she absolutely cannot afford.”
Rhys hesitated, then gave a single nod. “I suppose.”
“Excellent.” Gideon rose from his seat. “Leave it to me. By the time the sun sets tomorrow, you’ll be officially engaged.”
CHAPTER 6
The carriage rolled to a halt in front of the dower house at her sister’s estate outside of London. Charlotte flung open the door and rushed up the steps. Her sister’s home had always been a refuge.
The dower house had seen much. It had been the battleground of Evelyn and Nathaniel’s early squabbles, back when they hardly liked each other and argued with the frequency of adversaries.
Now, it was home to Evelyn’s charitable organization.
That was where Charlotte found her—sitting at a table, surrounded by fresh pamphlets still warm from the press.
Evelyn looked up. “Charlotte!” she gasped, standing to rush into her sister’s arms. “How are you? I’ve been so worried.”
