Page 21 of The Rules of Matrimony
Ian watched him go but did not release his own hold on Miss Tyler. His protective instincts had never been so ignited. His hand seemed glued to her arm, as if needing to assure himself that Miss Tyler was well and safe. “Are you hurt? Is anything wrong?”
“No, and nothing that cannot be remedied.” She visibly swallowed. “I have made my decision. I am prepared to marry you forthwith.” She held up her chin, her determination palpable. For a fleeting moment, with her petite jaw set and her shoulders back, he could actually picture her as not just a viscountess but a future countess as well.
The image rocked him.
Perhaps she was far more prepared for this arrangement than he was. He took a glance to the back of the house following the path Mr. Nelson had taken. Whatever vile thing he had said or done had driven Miss Tyler in the opposite direction. The direction Ian had been vacillating about moments ago while tying up his horse. It was time to solidify his own mindset once and for all. There was one certain way to do this for him. He cleared his throat. “Then, are you prepared to meet my family for dinner next week?”
This would be the ultimate test, a personal show of commitment, and Miss Tyler’s last chance to cry off.
Miss Tyler visibly swallowed. “I am ready to do whatever is required of me.”
An answer to a proposal of marriage had never sounded less romantic. Which meant everything was going exactly as planned. “I will send my carriage for you Friday at seven. Dinner will be at eight.”
She squared her shoulders. “I will be ready.”
Brave as she may be, he would do everything he could to protect her. “Very good. Let’s find your uncle.”
Chapter 8
Lord Reynolds had kindly senthis carriage to collect Amie and Mama for dinner with the earl and the countess. A constant stream of her mother’s nervous chatter bounced in Amie’s ears more than the constant rumble of the carriage. Both the conversation and the conveyance stopped at the same time in front of an elegant house three stories high. Two stone lions flanked the stark, black door. Beside them sat two ornamental potted trees. Amie had been to London a time or two, but her excursions were limited to the shops in Cheapside. The respectable suburb was nothing to the rich opulence here.
“Oh, dear me.” Mama gasped. “I knew I was underdressed.”
Mama had borrowed a nicer cast-off gown from Aunt. No one would know, as it had been taken in to fit her narrow frame perfectly. “You look very well tonight, Mama. Truly.”
Amie smoothed her own gown. A new one. She hadn’t had anything new in a very long time. The style was simple since the modiste had needed to work quickly to finish it in time, but the fabric was fine, the deep burgundy color a welcome change from the drab colors of the rest of her wardrobe. Aunt’s maid had spent a good hour taming Amie’s hair into submission, too, adding pomade to smooth out the wild tangles.
A footman assisted them from the carriage and the great black door to the house opened for them. Lord Reynolds stood waiting just inside the vestibule. If his appearance had been pleasing before, it was uncommonly so tonight. Indeed, her intended came from an elite class in looks as well as position. He was unnervingly handsome.
Besides his appearance, he was doing an admirable job at pretending to be a dutiful suitor. Bless him for meeting her at the door. She had been anxious about the possibility of making introductionsbefore his own arrival. He dipped his head, and she and Mama curtsied.
“Good evening. You look well, Mrs. Tyler. And, Miss Tyler, you look”—he paused, appraising her. She waited on bated breath for his approval or, worse, his disapproval—“different,” he finally said.
Her brow creased. Different? Was that a good different or bad different?
He dragged his gaze away from her before his eyes could give her any clues.
Before she could overthink his words any further, he spoke again. “How was your ride?”
Her ride? Well, her ears were ringing from Mama’s incessant talking, and her hands were shaking, but she forced a smile and said what was expected of her. “Comfortable, thank you.”
Mama inserted herself into the conversation. “Not merely comfortable, your lordship. The seats were softer than pillows, the ride as smooth as butter, and the anticipation of the dinner positively thrilling.”
Lord Reynolds’s opened his mouth to respond to Mama, but he closed it again.
Mama had that effect on people.
“How is Tiny?” Amie asked quickly.
Lord Reynolds’s jaw flinched. “He chewed up one of my favorite boots.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I am so sorry.”
“I gifted the second to him, so I hope he is generous and spares the others in my closet.” He motioned to the corridor with his head. “My parents are waiting in the drawing room with our other guests. May I?” He extended his arm to her.
She set her trembling hand on his. He noticed it and glanced at her, a flicker of concern passing over his features.
She averted her gaze, and he said nothing. He pulled her down a corridor on the right, her mother trailing behind.
