Page 14 of The Rules of Matrimony
“I can only attempt to. As you can see, I do not always succeed.” Her hand went to her hair, mussing it further. He could safely assume it was this lie that had caused her appearance to be in suchdisarray. “I knew the truth would come out soon enough when no suitor came for me, but I hoped to prolong it long enough to find another place for my mother and me to live. Once I am unengaged, we can no longer stay here.”
He rubbed the cleft in his chin. He had thought the engagement was to take advantage of his name but had not imagined her situation or the level of despair that came with it. Instead of the firm tone he’d imagined he would use with her, he kept his voice gentle. “Unfortunately, the charade cannot continue any longer.”
The tea things arrived, and Miss Tyler set the chessboard on the floor, knocking over several pieces in the process. It felt symbolic to the apparent state of her life. He felt sorry for her. But he would speak to her uncle about the misunderstanding or help her find a friend or relative to live with if no forgiveness could be found. He was a Rebel, after all, and pledged to help those in need. He had turned a blind eye to her plight before, but he felt a sort of kinship with Miss Tyler after their two unique meetings.
As soon as the maid left again and the chess pieces were sorted, Amie sat rigidly still. “I’m sorry, your lordship. Of course, we cannot be engaged.”
“I am glad you see things my way.”
“I will tell everyone I made it up. Your reputation will be protected at all costs.”
His reputation was never truly in any harm. It was a hindrance, to be sure, and the circulating rumors would enrage his already furious father, but no real damage had been done. Not to him. It was her reputation that would be slaughtered. Women always suffered in this sort of situation. Society would shun her. She would lose all her chances to ever marry. And her own family would suffer the shame right along with her.
But the truth had to be told.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
She asked him how he took his tea, and he muttered his answer. She fixed him a cup, and they both sipped silently. The liquid burned instead of satisfied.
He was not one to pry, but he found himself asking the question before he could stop himself. “You said you were looking for other living arrangements. Have you other family who could take you in?”
“No,” she said decisively. “No other family will take us. My mother has made sure of that. But I have long desired my independence and have no shame in seeking work.”
“I see.” He lowered his gaze to her hands. Gone was any trace of her time in the garden. Indeed, they appeared too soft to work. She had an air of maturity to her but lacked confidence and the obvious experience. Would she be able to care for her mother and herself? Many would take advantage of her innocence, maybe even abuse her physically. He swallowed. Guilt held him to his seat. Minutes passed, and the tension inside him mounted. He had no reason to linger. They weren’t even speaking any longer. When his cup was drained, he set it aside and forced himself to stand before he said or did something foolish.
“I thank you for the refreshment,” he managed to get out, “but I must return to Town.”
“To London?” she asked.
He nodded, stalling for what more to say, for there was little comfort he could offer at his parting. “If there is any problem—”
“There won’t be,” she said, cutting him off. She clasped her hands in front of her, those perfectly almond-shaped eyes full of sincerity.
Or denial. How could there not be problems?
She lowered her chin. “I never meant to slander your name, and I beg your forgiveness.”
“I do not hold a grudge.” He was surprised he meant it.
She stared at him, her expression full of awe. “I do not deserve it, but I thank you.”
She shouldn’t be thanking him. He wasn’t doing her any favors. He dipped his head anyway.
“I will walk you out,” she insisted.
He motioned for her to leave first. They walked down the corridor side by side. He stole a look at her the same time she glanced at him. This was by far the most awkward meeting of his life. He was ruining her. Or better yet, letting her ruin herself. Either way, he was a cad.
They reached the vestibule at the same time the front door swung open and in stepped two men: one older with a round face and heavy jowls and one younger with a prominent forehead and a flame of bright-yellow hair. Their beady eyes, however, were identical.
“Lord Reynolds?” inquired the older one. “It’s you!” He dipped into a floppy bow just before coming right for Ian and grabbing his hand. He pumped it up and down several times before dropping it. “So, we are acquainted at last. I told my butler to call for me immediately if you ever visited. I am out of breath for my rush home. You must know, I am most unhappy about this arrangement. You should have come to me to request my permission. But as she has no dowry, you must not have been too particular. You are a viscount, or so I’ve heard from some friends.”
More guilt piled on, and the tea swirled in his stomach. But this wasn’t his problem anymore.
“Lord Reynolds,” Miss Tyler said. “May I present my uncle, Mr. Nelson?”
Ian tipped his head just as Mr. Nelson’s son bounded up beside him.
“Father, why are you not putting a stop to this madness?” He grabbed his father’s arm much too roughly, looking angry enough to hit someone. “You know this marriage would be the worst thing for Miss Tyler. For me. If he is not man enough to ask decently, he has no right to marry her.”
