Page 16 of As the Earl Likes
“I know I said we would avoid it, but it may be that we must do so again.” He gave her a sympathetic look, and at this proximity, she could make out the depth of blue in his eyes. They were darkest at the center and faded to a lighter blue at the rim of the iris. And his lashes were ridiculously long for a man. “Now that I think about it, I’m certain my mother will arrange for us to dance a waltz at our betrothal ball.”
Jo resisted the urge to groan. A ball in their honor and a waltz. Could anything make this ruse worse?
“I trust your parents will be in attendance,” he said. “I do think their public support would be good for the overall scheme.”
Yes, something could make it far worse.
“I am not sure you know what you are asking for.” Jo couldn’t remember the last time her parents were together. At least ten years ago, probably longer. “My parents rarely speak.”
“I didn’t realize their relationship was contentious.”
Jo grimaced. “It’s nonexistent. My mother has had a lover for five years, and my father moves from lover to lover like a bee searching for an elusive perfect pollen.”
Sheff’s eyes rounded. “I had no idea.”
“Why would you? Their behavior is not of interest to the ton, though it will be when our betrothal is announced.” She locked her gaze with his as they continued to twirl, somewhat effortlessly, to her surprise, around the floor. “You may wish to change your mind.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to. Besides, I’ve already paid you. And we shook hands. We are committed.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “I won’t be angry if you do.”
“Do you want me to? It occurred to me I’ve been shortsighted with regard to how this betrothal will affect you. I don’t want you to be miserable, Jo, especially not to help me.” He seemed genuinely concerned.
She appreciated his words more than she would have anticipated. “I’m glad you understand,” she said softly. Then she raised her chin and tossed her head. “I don’t think I shall care what others say.” He was paying her enough money to not give a thousand figs to care. “However, you must be prepared for people to find me wholly unsuitable. Though, I suppose that is one reason you chose me.” She smiled.
“It is indeed. Will you need to tell your parents the truth about the betrothal?” His brow creased. “We didn’t discuss them. I apologize for that.”
“I should take my mother into my confidence, else she will be angry. She will keep the secret. My father, however, should probably believe we are actually engaged to be married. He is not very good at being confidential. In fact, he has never met a piece of gossip he didn’t love to chew.”
Sheff’s dark brows arched briefly. “I see. Well, I shall leave it to your discretion. Only tell me what I must do. Should I call on your father to ask for permission to wed you?”
Jo laughed. “He would adore that.”
“Have you any idea where he might be this evening? I’d like to call on you tomorrow to officially ask for your hand.”
It was possible that Jo’s mother would take offense to her father being asked for permission to wed their daughter since she had raised Jo almost entirely by herself. However, once Jo explained to her mother that this was entirely fake, she would understand.
Jo would tell her of Sheff’s plan later. Or in the morning, since by the time Jo returned to the Siren’s Call this evening, it was likely that her mother would have retired with Marcel—either to her suite or to his house near Soho Square. It had been a few days since they were together, so Jo expected they would seek each other’s company tonight.
As to her father’s whereabouts this evening, he could be any number of places… “I’m not sure where you may find my father,” she said. She gave Sheff a list of her father’s favorite haunts. “Wait, it is the first Friday of the month. He is likely at Lord Gerard’s soiree.”
Sheff’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve heard of those. Rather eccentric occasions, aren’t they?”
“I have never been. It is one of the few social events to which my father refuses to take me. He says they are too close to debauchery.” She arched a brow at Sheff. “I’m surprised you’ve never been.”
“I’ve never received an invitation.” He wrinkled his nose. “Nor would I want one, as I believe my father attends once in a while.”
“Then I understand why you would avoid it.” She sent him a look of caution. “Do be careful tonight. You know how susceptible you are to debauchery. And you need to be on your best behavior now that you are betrothed—or at least nearly so.”
A smile teased his lips. “You know me too well. I will exercise great prudence—tonight and for the duration of our ruse. Until I inevitably trip up and you have no choice but to protect your heart and toss me aside.” He hung his head in mock defeat.
Jo stepped on his foot again. “My apologies, my lord,” she murmured with a mischievous smile.
Sheff sniggered as the music drew to a close. They released one another, and Jo was shocked and perhaps a little dismayed at how much she’d enjoyed dancing with him.
“I will see you on the morrow, my fair Josephine.” He gave her a gallant bow.
Jo sank into a curtsey and gave him a sweet smile. “Never call me that again. Only my mother calls me by my full name. Shall I call you Clive?”
