Page 14 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Eyes narrowing as if assessing some vision, he said, “It’s your reputation we need to protect. Given mine, everyone will be perfectly willing to believe the story we’ve concocted thus far, and anything the world thinks subsequently won’t affect me in the least.” His dark gaze returned to her face. “But in all we do henceforth, we need to ensure no opprobrium of any sort clings to you.”
She had no wish to argue with that, so simply nodded.
“Ergo,” he continued, “that means we’ll have to maintain the façade—the charade, if you like—of being engaged for some months.” He arched a brow at her. “Possibly to the end of the Season?”
She weighed the prospects. “If we don’t want to set tongues wagging, then June at least.”
“Very well. Let’s say June.” His features easing, he nodded. “We hold our line until then, doing whatever we need to do to keep our façade intact, and then in early June, you can call off the engagement on the grounds that we’ve agreed that we won’t suit.”
Openly curious, she studied him. “You’re willing to be jilted?”
He shrugged lightly. “It won’t worry me, and everyone will think that you’re remarkably clear-headed.”
She could see that he was entirely sincere; regardless of the social cost, it wouldn’t worry him in the least if it meant protecting her. She was well acquainted with the innate attributes of those born to the nobility; most of the males instinctively protected females of their class, and patently, he was no different.
In this case, his entrenched instincts would work in her favor.
“All right. With that goal in mind, we need to plan our next steps.” She thought of the obvious ones. “We’re going to have to have our story straight and stick to it.”
“Indeed. Speaking of which… Margaret. Meg.” He caught her gaze. “I can’t recall if I ever knew, but which branch of the family do you belong to? I know you’re not one of Devil Cynster’s brood.”
“No, they’re my cousins. Well, second or third cousins to be accurate. My father is Demon Cynster.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Devil’s cousin. So that’s why you could manage my horses. I was wondering about that. That means you’re Nicholas and Toby’s sister.”
“Younger sister. I’m the youngest. Pru is the oldest. She’s now the Countess of Glengarah.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Given your family and mine, we’ll need to tread carefully.” He looked at her, faintly puzzled. “Why haven’t we met before? No—of course.” He waved the point aside. “Stupid question.”
“Indeed. You and I might both inhabit the more rarefied echelons of the haut ton, but socially speaking, we’ve never moved in the same circles. That’s something almost everyone will know.” She considered him. “In fact, I had heard that the major hostesses had despaired of luring you to their ballrooms and drawing rooms.”
He thrust his hands into his pockets and huffed. “Had I ever appeared at such events, I would have caused heart attacks. And of course, you’ve never been allowed to attend the sort of parties I frequent.” He paused, then added, “We’re going to have to be convincing in our story of meeting down here.”
Puzzled, she asked, “Apropos of that, why are you staying in a cottage and not at Wylde Court?”
“I drove down from London yesterday only to learn that Edith was already in residence at the Court, so I rattled on down here.” He met her eyes. “I set up the cottage years ago as my local bolt hole, for use whenever I want to avoid family at the Court.”
“Given your aunt knew to look for you here, your bolt hole is clearly no secret.” If Carter and Miller had told her that their “lordship” was staying at the Court, she would have guessed who he was and taken him there, where staff would have been plentiful and none of the subsequent difficulties would have arisen.
I wouldn’t have experienced that kiss, either.
She bundled the thought aside as being neither here nor there. He’d started to pace, clearly thinking, and she refocused on him. “Do you visit the area often enough to make a story of us meeting down here believable?”
“I’m down here every few weeks. I was last at the Court…a little over a week ago.”
“I was here then, at Walkhurst Manor.”
Still pacing, he nodded. “So by chance, we met then.” He arched a brow at her. “Why are you in Kent?”
She explained about Christopher and Ellen’s new baby. “I’ve been close to Ellen ever since they wed, and I was free, so offered my services.”
He frowned and glanced at the small clock on the mantelpiece. “Won’t they be missing you?”
“I sent word with the woodsmen, so they won’t be panicking yet.”
“All right.” He paused, then said, “It occurs to me that we might want to bolster our story of meetings somewhat. As I recall, Christopher married about four years ago?”
When he looked at her inquiringly, she nodded. “That’s right.”
