Page 44 of As the Earl Likes
That allowed her mind to turn to what her mother had said about Sheff visiting the Rogue’s Den. Jo considered bringing it up; however, she wasn’t going to demand things of him, even if her mother had made a good point about appearances. What Sheff did was none of her business, not even in a fake betrothal. He only had to follow her rules, and, so far, he’d done a reasonably good job, the proposal kiss notwithstanding.
There had also been the kiss he’d pressed to her wrist at the park—after tackling her and holding her in a rather intimate position. Both of those activities had technically violated her rule, but she hadn’t complained. Because she hadn’t minded either one of them.
And now his hands were currently on her, his body so close to hers that she could smell his scent of pine and sandalwood. Not only did she not mind, she was enjoying the dance.
He spoke, and she was grateful for the interruption to her troubling thoughts. “I want you to know that I have no intention of convincing you to stop working at the Siren’s Call. That was not part of our arrangement, and I would not change the rules now.”
Jo was glad to hear that neither one of them wished to dictate to the other. “Does that mean if you could go back and make a rule that I don’t work there, you would?” she teased.
He grinned. “I am fairly certain you would have declined my offer.”
“You are correct. I can’t stop working, particularly now because my mother is preparing to be away from London for a time, and I am taking on more responsibility.”
His brow furrowed. “This can’t be a good time for you to be away from the club several nights a week.”
“Which is a primary reason I asked that I only have to attend two social events per week. Your mother did tell me that invitations would come pouring in after tonight, and that I would need to accept most of them.” Jo shook her head. “There is no way I’m doing that. Your mother won’t be pleased—about that or my continuing to work at the Siren’s Call.”
He shrugged as if it weren’t a problem at all. “We’ll manage it.”
“‘We’ll’?” Jo asked, slightly annoyed by his cavalier attitude. “You will manage her. I do not want to put up with her snide comments or judgmental glowers.”
“She can’t have been that bad,” he said as they moved across the floor.
“Why would you say that?” Jo blinked at him, somewhat incredulous at his obtuseness. “When you have initiated an elaborate scheme—at no small expense—to avoid her cheerful encouragement of your participation in the Marriage Mart,” she remarked with considerable sarcasm.
Sheff stepped wrong, and his foot came down on her toe.
“Ow!” She winced as pain shot up her foot.
“Sorry!” He clenched his jaw. “For the foot and my mother. I didn’t realize she was being that awful.”
“I can only hope that I won’t have to endure her company after tonight.”
“You won’t,” he said quickly. And firmly. “I promise.”
The music ended, and Sheff escorted her from the floor. Jo couldn’t shake the bead of irritation that had worked its way into her mind after his reaction to his mother’s meddling and obnoxious attitude. She could only hope that he would keep his promise. She wasn’t sure he could in the face of his mother’s demanding nature.
Jo caught sight of the duchess standing nearby and immediately extricated herself from Sheff, saying she needed to speak with her friends. Then she stalked off with no idea of where to even find them.
Thankfully, Min located her. “Jo, I’m sorry I didn’t see you before the ball.” She looped her arm through Jo’s. “My mother insisted I oversee the final placement of some flowers.” She rolled her eyes. “Come and have a respite with us. You must want some lemonade.”
What Jo really wanted was a large tankard of ale. Alas, that was not available. She settled for the lemonade, which they plucked from a table on their way to the relatively quiet corner where Tamsin, Gwen, and Ellis stood together.
Jo hadn’t had time to see Gwen this week to tell her about the “marriage of convenience.” She’d informed Tamsin when they’d gone to the park together.
“Here is the bride!” Tamsin said with a smile as Jo approached.
Jo removed her arm from Min’s and took a long drink of lemonade.
“During the waltz, we told Gwen about it being a marriage of convenience,” Min said softly.
Gwen gave her a supportive smile. “I understand you’ve been busy. And I have not been entirely available due to my recent marriage and the wound in my arm. I’m feeling much better now, especially since I don’t have to wear the silly sling any longer. I’m clumsy enough without making one arm unusable!” She laughed, and they joined with her.
A few days before she wed, Gwen had been shot by an angry mother who’d wanted Somerton to marry her daughter instead of Gwen. It was an incredible tale, but the truth had been kept quiet to keep the mother from being arrested. Everyone thought a book had fallen on Gwen, which, given her deep love of reading and persistent clumsiness, was completely believable.
“Is the marriage truly in name only?” Gwen asked. “Is there any hope it might turn out like Tamsin’s?”
Though Jo hadn’t known them when Tamsin and the baron had become betrothed, she’d heard the story. A compromising situation had prompted Droxford to propose. Tamsin had accepted, despite them not having any feelings for one another or even discussing their expectations for the marriage. They were fortunate in that they fell deeply in love. Their marriage was most enviable—if a love match was the objective.
