Page 24 of As the Earl Likes
“Marcel’s sister will be more than adequate,” Jo’s mother said, referring to the woman who currently made their clothing. “She is French.”
Shaking his head vehemently, Jo’s father said, “Absolutely not. Jo must look like a future duchess, for she is one. I mean no offense to Marcel’s sister, but Jo must be outfitted by someone the ton patronizes. She cannot afford to invite any more scorn than her position already will.”
Jo flinched inwardly, though he wasn’t wrong. Looking at her mother, Jo could see that she knew it too.
Exhaling, her mother said, “Then you find someone appropriate.”
He moved his hands about in front of him as he slowly spoke. “Well…that is…I’m afraid I can’t contribute much to a wardrobe.” He sent a faint grimace toward Jo. She was not surprised to hear that he didn’t have money. He never seemed to have much, but then he also never seemed to be struggling. How would Jo even know? She’d always lived with her mother.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” her mother said. “We will manage.” She sent Jo a pointed look, and Jo presumed her mother expected that Sheff’s payment would cover the expense. Later, Jo would inform her that he was, in fact, paying for her new wardrobe outside of the five hundred pounds. Her mother would be even more impressed with how Jo would benefit from this arrangement.
The bell from the front door sounded, announcing the arrival of, presumably, Sheff. Mrs. Rand passed by the doorway and went down the stairs to the front door.
“That must be your groom,” Jo’s father said with a gleeful smile. “I must say, I am delighted to see you’ve done so well, my girl. I worried your mother had convinced you not to wed.” He arched a brow at his wife, and Jo sensed a pulse of tension between them. She did not want them to do or say anything untoward while Sheff was here.
Voices drifted up the stairwell along with footfalls. Mrs. Rand appeared in the doorway and stepped aside for Sheff to move past her. “The Earl of Shefford,” she announced before retreating.
“Good afternoon,” Sheff said brightly, a dazzling smile lighting his features. He moved into the sitting room and bowed to Jo’s mother. “Always a pleasure to see you, Mrs. Harker.”
“I confess I’m surprised to see you in this capacity, my lord,” she said with a hint of bemusement.
“Yes, well, no one is more surprised than I to have been swept completely off my feet by your daughter.” His gaze met Jo’s with a heat that almost convinced her he was truly enamored of her.
“Absolutely splendid,” Jo’s father said, standing. “I must shake my future son-in-law’s hand. I forgot to do that last night when you ran me to ground at Gerard’s.”
Jo caught her mother’s slight grimace at the mention of Gerard. She watched as her father eagerly pumped Sheff’s hand. Sheff had barely managed to remove his glove.
“We have your approval, then?” Sheff asked.
“Certainly. But you’ve yet to actually propose.” Her father moved to the side and watched expectantly.
“You can’t want Shefford to kneel down in front of us?” Jo’s mother asked, incredulous.
“Why not?” Jo’s father asked, sounding mildly affronted. “You know I am a romantic in my heart.”
“Yes, I do.” Jo’s mother’s tone held more than a bit of irony.
Sheff met Jo’s gaze with a silent question. In response, Jo lifted a shoulder. They might as well become accustomed to performing.
She stood and moved away from the seating area. Sheff seemed to understand and joined her.
“We can pretend they aren’t there,” she said. Then, much more quietly so her parents couldn’t hear: “We need to master the art of performance.”
“Indeed,” he murmured before taking her hand. His fingers were warm against hers.
He knelt before her and pulled something from his pocket. Something that sparkled. Did he have a ring?
“My dearest Jo,” he said, his lips curved into a seductive smile that, together with the touch of his hand in hers, sent heat curling through her. “You make me happier than I ever knew I could be. I cannot imagine the days of my life without you in them. Please be my wife, my countess, and someday my duchess.”
“And the mother of your children!” Jo’s father added, rather ruining what was a very lovely fake proposal.
“Yes, that too,” Sheff said with a glint in his eye and a quirk of his lips that said he was trying not to laugh.
Jo had to press her lips together to contain her own humor. “Yes, I will marry you.”
Sheff slid the ring onto her finger. A large, stunning sapphire shone up at Jo from her left hand. The weight of the ring was odd. Its beauty was breathtaking.
Rising, Sheff lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back.
