Page 22 of As the Earl Likes
“I’m going to assist Shefford. His parents won’t let him alone with regard to taking a wife, so he’d like to put an end to their haranguing.”
“Of course it would be Shefford,” her mother muttered. “A temporary, fake betrothal will stop nothing. I credited him with being smarter than that.”
“He thinks it could have a lasting effect, and anyway, that doesn’t concern me. He’s asked for my help and will be compensating my efforts.”
Her mother’s brown, sculpted brows now shot up. “You should have started with that part, for that is the most important and explains right away why you have agreed to such nonsense. How much?”
Jo was not surprised that her mother would want the financial details. She’d considered lying so that her mother wouldn’t try to manage any of it, but she’d only ever lied to her mother once. She’d been nine years old, and she’d lied about taking in a kitten. Her mother had been furious and banished Jo to her room for a week. When Jo had been allowed out, she’d discovered that her mother had fallen in love with the kitten and so she’d stayed, a beloved member of their household until her passing two years ago.
“Five hundred pounds.” Jo enjoyed the gleam of approval that entered her mother’s gaze.
“Well done. I am impressed with your enterprising spirit. That is an excellent investment sum for your future. You needn’t ever wed now, not that you needed to in the first place given the income from the club. But this provides you with even more security.” She smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Liberated.” Not only did Jo not have to wed, she didn’t have to take over the Siren’s Call if she didn’t want to. It occurred to her that she was, in a way, lying to her mother by not discussing her reservations about assuming ownership of the club, but Jo hadn’t firmly decided. Until then, there was no need to broach what would surely be a contentious conversation.
“Excellent.” Her mother’s smile broadened. “There is no better way for a woman to feel. Shefford is coming today to pretend to propose? Am I supposed to also pretend?”
“Yes, he is coming, and no, you needn’t pretend—to him. He knows I’ve told you the truth. However, you are the only person who knows. Everyone else will think this is a real engagement and that we are in love.”
Jo’s mother laughed, her fan stopping in midair. “That anyone would believe either you or the Earl of Shefford would fall in love illustrates how gullible people can be. But I suppose we will see how it plays out. There will be speculation—and judgment—because of his reputation and your standing, or lack thereof. I’m sure you’re prepared for that. Enduring it will be worth five hundred pounds.”
“That is what I decided too,” Jo said, though she still felt slightly uneasy. There was no predicting what would happen once she attended a ball. Perhaps she’d be given the cut direct. “There is one other thing.” Jo braced herself. Her mother wouldn’t be angry, but she would feel inconvenienced, and she disliked that intensely.
“From your tone, I can sense that I will not be enthused. I think I can surmise that this involves your father. It’s only reasonable to think that the two of us will need to publicly endorse the betrothal, probably in person.” She wrinkled her nose. “But he won’t know the truth?”
“No. In fact, Sheff tracked him down last night and sought his approval for the betrothal.”
Her mother interrupted. “At Lord Gerard’s Friday soiree?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Some people seem to think I want to know what your father is doing,” Jo’s mother replied with a shrug. “But even if they didn’t, Gerard’s soirees are precisely where I would expect to find him on the first Friday evening of the month.”
“I see,” Jo said, more curious than ever about Lord Gerard’s soirees. Perhaps Sheff would enlighten her. “Papa did not immediately offer his endorsement. He is coming here to ensure it is what I want before he grants it.”
Her mother had started fanning herself again, but now stopped and frowned. “Your father is coming here. Today?”
“Shortly, I would imagine.”
Blowing out a breath, Jo’s mother began to fan herself zealously. “This is a great deal of effort for a fake engagement. Why is Shefford even bothering to come?”
“I suppose he thought he should be seen calling the day after we danced at the Phoenix Club.” Jo hadn’t asked. This was his scheme, and she would do what he planned. Though, she’d let him know if there was anything that troubled her. She’d retained the right to set rules, after all.
Laughing again, her mother slowed the movement of the fan. “Seen calling here? We don’t live in Grosvenor Square. I won’t quibble over the details of this farce, not when he’s paying you that much. I’ll set an appointment for you with the solicitor so you can discuss investment options.”
“Er, thank you.” Jo appreciated the help, but she also wouldn’t mind doing things for herself. The word liberated had been her true feeling, and it meant something for her to be independent.
Her mother frowned. “I do want to make sure this ruse doesn’t interfere with your responsibilities at the club. You will be doing more, not less, over the next few months, and you can’t be gadding about town most nights of the week.”
“Nor do I want to.” Jo would prefer to keep her temporary involvement in the upper echelon of Society to a minimum.
Her mother scrutinized her for a moment. “Is that true? I understand you enjoy your Monday literary salons, but of late, you’ve been gone other nights of the week with your new set of friends, which includes Sheff’s sister. You can’t very well run the Siren’s Call and commit to such events.”
No, she could not. In the long term, anyway. Jo would have to choose. Though, she noticed her mother did not say so. She, of course, would assume that Jo would run the Siren’s Call. That was the expectation.
Voices carried from the sitting room, and Jo recognized her father’s as one of them. The other was their housekeeper, Mrs. Rand.
Jo stood, feeling slightly nervous as she couldn’t exactly recall the last time her parents had been together.
