Tisdale sniffed. “I am simply making a statement of fact. Wives are considered chattel under common law.”
“But Miss Nash is not your wife.”
“She is my betrothed.” Tisdale nearly spit the words out.
Stephan raised a brow. “Is she?”
Tisdale’s face flushed an uncomely red. “Of course she is. Sir Reginald and I have come to an agreement.”
Stephan turned to Caroline’s father. “With all due respect, sir, your daughter has reached her majority and has the right to choose whether to marry and to whom.” Before the man could answer, Stephan turned to Caroline. “Have you agreed to marry Lord Tisdale?”
Caroline looked up, hoping she had schooled her features into a semblance of neutrality. But gazing into Stephan’s eyes was almost her undoing. His look was intense and penetrating and without pretense. As plainly as though he’d spoken the words, he was asking whether she wanted him to go through with this farce. She had the feeling that once he committed to something, he would see it through, and that he would have little tolerance or respect for someone who didn’t do so as well.
Caroline tried to ignore the silent, pleading expression on her father’s face but couldn’t entirely. She was all too aware how affronted the prince would be if a match he’d given his royal approval to was rejected out of hand. Her father would lose his position at court, if not be stripped of his knighthood. The fact that he had put himself into this predicament in the first place was not of consequence now. Somehow, she must strike a delicate balance between assuaging the prince regent’s ego and avoiding marriage completely.
She lifted her chin. “I told my father and the earl that I needed time to consider. I am not ready to make a decision.”
Stephan regarded her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. Caroline found herself holding her breath. He hardly knew her. He certainly was under no obligation to help. Maybe her answer wasn’t what he wanted or needed to hear. Would he refuse?
She forced herself not to look away from that intense gaze. After what seemed an eternity, he slowly turned back to the earl.
“I believe Miss Nash has made her sentiments clear. She is not your betrothed.”
“Now…now see here!” Tisdale was practically sputtering. “None of this is your business. It is not your concern.”
“I am making it my business,” Stephan answered, “and it is my concern.”
“How?”
“Because I have decided I would like to pay court to Miss Nash myself.”
The earl’s face mottled again. “What? You cannot—”
“I can.” Stephan smiled, pulled off a glove, and tossed it on the floor. “My gauntlet, Lord Tisdale.”
Caroline kept her eyes downcast as her father escorted her into the dining room, afraid that if she raised her head, victory would blaze from her eyes like a beacon. She was having trouble keeping a smile from spreading across her face, too.
They must have made an odd-looking procession entering the banquet room…her father alternating between looking mystified and suspicious, with the earl directly behind her, muttering what were probably curses, and Stephan commenting to Brice on the forty-five-foot-high dome in the room as if nothing of importance had just taken place in the banquet gallery outside.
Even though his conversation sounded casual and not directed toward her, somehow Stephan had managed to get around both her father and the earl to pull her chair and seat himself to her right. Brice had slipped into the chair on her left, leaving the earl to find a seat next to her father. Brice winked at her before turning his attention to the young lady whose mother had noticed, too late, where her daughter had decided to sit.
Caroline turned to Stephan. “I should thank—”
“Not now.” He lowered his voice. “Your father is already looking askance.”
Of course. How stupid of her to almost admit to this ruse—in front of her father and the earl—by thanking Stephan openly for complying. If she was going to convince everyone that this scheme was for real, she needed to act her part as well. She raised her own voice. “I meant to say, my lord, that it was quite courtly of you to challenge another suitor with a gauntlet.”
Next to her father, Tisdale made a rumbling sound. Caroline suppressed a smile.
“A challenge left somewhat unanswered,” Stephan replied,sotto voceand then more loudly, “it will be my pleasure to pay you as much courtly attention as you wish.”
Tisdale made another sound, more like a bull snorting.
“I shall enjoy that, my lord,” Caroline replied and then dropped her voice to a whisper as another snort sounded. “Perhaps your challenge is being answered now.” Her father had retrieved the glove from the floor before the earl could react, but now Caroline thought the man might actually push back his chair and charge.
A corner of Stephan’s mouth quirked up. “If Tisdale continues to sound like a mad bull, I shall have to retrieve a cape from somewhere.”
The mention of a cape made Caroline think of the Midnight Marauder. Strangely enough, she could picture Stephan flinging such a cape over his shoulders as well…or perhaps waving it in front of the earl. That thought made her grin.