He was impressed, but he hid it. “Why should it be you? Why should I not wait for tomorrow, when the influx of mothers will come?”
She bit her plump lip, reddening the skin to a color so tempting that he almost let his resolve crumble, if only to stop her from doing that. Her blue eyes clouded over in thought, while her fingertips decided to make him jealous, toying with a lock of her hair, twisting it around as she contemplated his question.
“Because it is the fair thing to do,” she answered presently. “You are a gentleman of business, are you not?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Then, you understand the sanctity of first come, first served,” she said, with that same quiet, compelling fire in her eyes. “It should be me because I am here and no one else is. If that does not show my sincerity and determination, I can say nothing more to convince you.”
He could not help it; he liked her gumption, and he was rather captivated by her chosen response. Not many would have been so direct, nor had he expectedherto be after what he had witnessed at the ball.
“Very well,” he said coolly. “I am willing to accept your proposal, but only because I cannot bear the notion of drinking pots and pots of tea with the mothers of high society.”
Her eyes lit up, sparkling with something that might have been tears or just relief. “Oh, thank you. My Lord, thank?—”
“I am not done,” he interrupted sharply. “I will accept your proposal, unorthodox as it is, as long as you remember that this will only be a marriage of convenience. And as long as youractualbrother and father are in agreement. If there is a hint of difficulty due to whatever brought you here in the first place, I will rescind the offer.”
She nodded, her hands clasped as if in prayer. “I will give you no reason to, My Lord. I assure you.” She paused. “May I thank you now?”
“I think not.” He gestured to the door. “Indeed, I think you should put your hat back on and leave before someone else sees through your flimsy disguise.”
In a flustered display that tested every shred of his willpower, holding himself back from helping, Amelia stuffed her long, beautiful hair back into the top hat and set it on her head. Still flustered, her cheeks bright red, she backed out of the drawing room as if he were royalty.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as she departed in her awkward fashion.
“Do not thank me yet,” he replied under his breath, wondering what on earth he had just agreed to. And, more bizarrely, why.
In his two years rebuilding his family’s fortune, he had learned one very valuable lesson—a lesson that he had just soundly disregarded for a complete stranger who had appeared on his doorstep in the middle of the night:nevertake the first offer.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Did I imagine a knocking at the front door last night?” Lionel’s grandmother, Caroline, asked from across the breakfast table, feigning interest in the morning papers though Lionel had not seen her turn any pages.
Evidently, she had been waiting for the right moment to voice her curiosity.
“At what hour?” Lionel replied casually, taking a bite of his toast.
His younger sister, Rebecca, who sat opposite him, perked up in her chair. She had insisted on coming to London for the Season, though she was not going to debut until next year. And though he had protested that Westyork was a far more engaging place for her to be, there was nothing she could ask for that he would say “no” to. Moreover, Caroline had added her argument to the persuasion, claiming that her old bones could not bear another winter at the country estate.
Lionel was entirely aware that the two women had conspired, but he could not chide them for it. He adored them too much, and adored how close they were—more like mother and daughter than grandmother and granddaughter.
“Late,” Caroline said, peeking over the top of the papers.
Lionel shrugged. “A gentleman came by. He was scolded for the intrusion and then he departed.”
“So, not a friend of yours?” Caroline arched an eyebrow. “I knew this would happen. How much did he ask for? Did he say it was just a loan, and he would pay you back with interest? Goodness, I thought we would at least have a week or two before the vultures began circling. The stench of wealth must be stronger than I suspected.”
Lionel washed his toast down with a mouthful of weak coffee. “He did not ask for any loan, Grandmother. You are much too cynical.” He smiled at her. “Indeed, you will be pleased to know that not a soul recognized me last night. I imagine it would have been different if Edmund had been there, but he is likely to be indisposed for a while.”
“No onerecognized you?” Rebecca looked dismayed. “Goodness, how terrible. How is your pride this morning? Shall I fetch a salve for the bruises?”
Lionel chuckled. “My pride is uninjured, dear sister, though I thank you for your concern. Iwantedto be anonymous for a while, to settle back into the ways of society. But I fear I amrustier than I thought, so if you happen to have any oil instead of salve, I shall be very grateful.”
Rebecca giggled, her smile as bright as sunshine. Observing her, Lionel prayed that nothing and no one would ever come along that would take that merry smile off her face.
At the end of the table, Caroline put the newspaper down with a flourish and steepled her fingers, staring directly at her grandson. “If the gentleman did not come to ask for money, and he was not known to you, then what was his purpose in visiting in the middle of the night?”
Taking a longer sip of coffee to delay answering, Lionel wished briefly that he had been firmer with his suggestion that the two ladies stayed at Westyork for the winter. His grandmother was a terrifically light sleeper, yet it had not crossed his mind that she might have heard the night’s interruption until she had mentioned it.
