Page 15 of The Rules of Matrimony
Miss Tyler cleared her throat, taking a half step back. Her voice came out far more timid than before. “And this is my cousin, Mr. Robert Nelson.”
Ian needed no explanation. The spoiled cousin who wanted Miss Tyler for himself, as though she were an item to possess and not a person with feelings.
“What happened to your hair?” the cousin asked her, his eyes darting to Ian. “Did he touch you?”
Her hands flew to her head and patted around until she located the misplaced tufts. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. “I must’ve snagged it on a branch when I was in the garden.” She did something with the pins in her hair, which smoothed back some of her curls. “Please, do not disparage Lord Reynolds,” Miss Tyler said quickly. She seemed on the verge of tears. “He had no part in this—in any of it.” She seemed to steel herself. “In truth, the whole matter is a mistake. I—”
“I should have asked properly,” Ian said, cutting her off. His heart pounded like an executioner’s drum. The weight of what he was about to say cost him dearly. But it was the right thing to do, and heaven help him, he had to do it. “I take complete blame.”
“What?” Miss Tyler said, her voice small beside him. “No.”
He turned to her. “May I call again tomorrow? I should like to take you on a ride in my curricle.” He gave her a pointed look. “We have a great deal to discuss.”
Her whole coloring was off, but she gave a tremulous nod.
He turned to Mr. Nelson. “Is that acceptable to you?” Ian stood straighter and took on what his friends called his intimidating stance. Ian had used it to the Rebels’ advantage on more than one mission, and it had worked fair enough for the butcher in Town recently.
Mr. Nelson looked from Ian to his son, who shook his head furtively. “I suppose I cannot refuse, but I would like to go over the particulars of the marriage agreement.”
Ian waited for the bile to form in his throat, but surprisingly, his stomach now felt oddly calm. “That can be arranged.”
He turned and bowed to Miss Tyler—hisintended. “Until tomorrow.” He strolled from the house, his boots clicking on the tiled floor until they met the gravel path just outside.
What had he done? He scoffed. No one would believe him.
He did not even believe himself.
Chapter 6
Amie did not own anythingfine enough to wear on a ride with a viscount, or better yet, masquerade as his intended. She and Mama had lived off the charity of relatives for so long that her wardrobe was worn and depleted. Aunt was not one to converse greatly, unlike her husband and son, but she did insist Amie take one of her better shawls. She also instructed Mama to make an appointment with her modiste before Amie embarrassed the family.
Amie appreciated the generosity. With so many other concerns, her poor wardrobe was the least of her worries, and her need to understand this new situation she found herself in superseded her fears and hopes for the future. She wrapped her aunt’s floral silk shawl tightly around her shoulders as Lord Reynolds spoke to Mama just beside his sleek, black curricle. Thankfully, her relatives were otherwise engaged and not hovering during an already awkward meeting.
“There is a slight breeze, so do not keep her long,” Mama instructed Lord Reynolds.
Amie withheld her sigh. The breeze was but a trifle. Honestly.
Lord Reynolds took her mother’s hand. “I shall shield her from whatever wind until I can return her to your side.”
Mama’s eyelashes began to flutter, and a faint blush crept into her thin cheeks. “Forgive me, my lord. I have no doubt you will do right by her in every way.”
Lord Reynolds stole a glance at Amie, his face stern, before returning his eyes to meet Mama’s. “I shall endeavor to try.”
Amie swallowed. He was kind enough to Mama, but Amie was not certain yet what to make of this Lord Reynold’s character. Whether he was good or not, he didn’t seem to hold a very highopinion of her. This engagement was growing stranger by the minute.
“Do enjoy yourselves, then,” Mama preened. She hadn’t shown an ounce of guilt when learning Lord Reynolds was alive. And by the looks of Lord Reynolds today, he wasmorethan alive. He was quite robust in his dapper attire tailored to fit his broad shoulders and trim middle to perfection.
Lord Reynolds dipped his head with more patience than a saint.
Mama gave a little wave with her handkerchief, her grin full of silent congratulations—congratulations all directed at herself and the masterful marriage she had arranged for her daughter.
A hand appeared in Amie’s periphery. Lord Reynolds intended to assist her up. She accepted it but wasn’t prepared for a second hand to meet her waist. Before she could even gasp in surprise, strong arms propelled her into her seat. Amie slid to the opposite side of the single bench, leaving as much room as possible for Lord Reynolds to climb up beside her. She grazed her hand on the partial roof folded back behind her, and her eyes drew to the skyline. The weather could not have been better for an open ride, especially after the terrible rain the night before. There’d been thunder too. The very thought of it sent a chill down her spine.
She hated thunder. Despised it, rather. So, at least something was going in her favor this morning. Sunshine was a balm to her soul, whereas the opposite wreaked havoc on her anxiety.
Lord Reynolds settled in beside her with his tall, intimidating form and gave a final parting nod to Mama. Amie stole a glance up at him, all thoughts of the weather fled. Why, she was riding with a man drawn straight from a magazine. Aunt had enough fashion papers around that Amie should have made the connection before.
It was more than his clothes. Lord Reynold’s hair was cropped short in a Titus fashion, and his face was worthy of an artist with his serious brow, angular jaw, and prominent cleft chin. No one would have thought to take downherphysical description and memorialize it anywhere. She was his opposite in every aspect, not just inappearances and social position but in personality too. It made the whole act of sitting as a couple seem all the more pretend. Except the game they were playing came with dire consequences if she lost. Or, should she say,whenshe lost.
