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T he next day turned to rain. Feeling as low as the clouds overhead, Mary decided to remain in her room and pretend she had the headache.

Mathers ferried messages from Cook and her housekeeper, brought meals on trays, and made cryptic remarks about those who should know better.

Mary did not ask, indeed she didn’t want to know.

Instead of hiding away and moping, she would be better occupied doing something, anything.

Making plans, writing lists. But the more she considered the problem, the harder it was to see her way out of this mess without creating just the sort of talk that would ruin her.

On the afternoon of the following day she sat on the sofa pretending to read as she gazed out her window over her newly planted garden.

Perhaps a ride would help. She could sneak down the back stairs and out the side door.

What she couldn’t continue to do was stay in her chambers, yet neither could she face Mr. Featherton.

What had possessed her to behave so rudely?

Oh yes, her sensitivity. There was only one thing to do, and the sooner the better.

The door opened. Eunice entered, followed by Simons with a tea tray.

Mary waited until he’d left, before announcing, “We shall depart early to-morrow.”

“No, we will not.” Eunice sat on a chair next to the sofa where Mary was ensconced. “Where would you go?”

“London. I’ll join Grandmamma at Bridgewater House.”

“What if Gawain is watching it? He must be in a panic by now, and what if you run into Diana, and she tells someone you are Lady Mary Featherton?” Mary shuddered as her aunt continued without mercy.

“Mr. Featherton’s departure during the Season is probably a topic of discussion. He is quite well-known. ”

Everything her aunt said was true. Still . . . “Then I’ll go elsewhere.” She fought the tears threatening to fall. “I just cannot stay here. It is impossible!”

“You must.” Eunice’s tone was as cold as ice. Lines bracketed her mouth. “The servants are already beginning to talk. You are a Tolliver. Behave like one and not some missish—”

“That is enough.” Mr. Featherton’s firm tone caused Mary to jump and Eunice to stop talking. He strode across the room to them. “Lady Mary, allow me to call your maid. We shall say you are still in bed with a sick headache.”

That wasn’t far from the truth. Her nose started to run, and he handed her his handkerchief. At least she wasn’t weeping.

Her aunt’s lips formed a thin line. “She must realize . . .”

Mr. Featherton glanced over his shoulder. “She will, but this is not the way to do it.” He pulled a chair to the other side of the sofa from Eunice, then rubbed his large palms up and down Mary’s arms, warming them. “Lady Mary, will you drink some tea? It might help.”

Trapped, she was completely trapped, but at least he wasn’t yelling at her. “Thank you.”

He poured, adding milk and two lumps of sugar. She couldn’t believe he’d remembered how she liked it.

The rector had entered as well, and took her aunt to the far corner of Mary’s parlor, where they spoke in hushed tones.

Mr. Featherton turned back to her. “I can call your maid, or we may address your concerns now. Tell me what you wish.”

She drained the cup, and he filled it again. “I don’t know what I want. It’s all so confusing. I—I feel as if I should leave here as soon as possible.” She heaved a shuddering sigh, then voiced the doubt that had crept into her reasoning. “But that won’t help, will it?”

Kit took his time pouring a cup of tea for himself, wishing it were brandy.

No wonder men drank so much of the stuff.

What he said next would lay the foundation for their lives together.

With wide, frightened eyes, she gazed up at him.

She was so pale, and appeared appallingly fragile.

Yet to have lived the life she’d led for the past two or more years, as she hid from her cousin, refusing to give up what she desired—she had to have steel in her.

He respected her for that, but it wasn’t helping them now.

Fortunately, Mathers had been more than forthcoming with Piggott.

All Lady Mary had ever longed for was to be courted and desired for herself, not her money or her beauty, and she wanted to attend the Season.

He might not be able to give her a Season until after they were married.

That he had no need of her money was probably one of several reasons her grandmother had selected him.

Yes, she was the loveliest woman he knew, but judging by her accomplishments, she was so much more.

It was time she faced the truth about their situation with no round-aboutation.

“It would probably make matters worse.” He wanted to put his arm around her; instead he took one of her hands, intertwining her fingers with his.

“The other day you told me how you came to be here, but you didn’t ask me how I knew to come. ”

She was still for a moment as her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I wish to know.”

He reached out to touch her, to smooth her forehead, but stopped. “The time for ignoring realities is over.”

She took a breath and nodded. “Someone told you.”

“Someone told my father. He told me.”

She tensed again. “Who?”

“My grandmother heard it from Lady Bellamny. Did you know she was here?”

Lady Mary took another drink. “Not until after she’d left. Lady Brownly came for tea, and told me that out of the blue, her godmother offered to sponsor Diana for the Season.” She bit down on her lip so hard he thought it would bleed. “Do you know if our grandmothers are close?”

“They have been for years.”

Then, in a preternaturally calm voice, she said, “They planned this. Our grandmothers and Lady Bellamny were in it together.”

“Lady B was most likely a willing accomplice rather than an instigator,” Kit agreed. Lady Eunice was probably involved as well, but he’d keep his own counsel regarding her.

The crease between Lady Mary’s brows deepened. “But why?”

“Considering what you’ve told me about your cur of a cousin, they had probably hoped to protect you.”

She stared at him as if grasping for the missing piece of a puzzle. “No. I meant, why you and not another gentleman?”

“I have no idea.” He tried to remember if he had ever mentioned Lady Mary to his grandmother.

The woman had an uncanny way of ferreting out information, not to mention a long memory.

“I have been notoriously difficult to please when it comes to choosing a wife. I believe my grandmother tired of waiting for me and determined to make a match.” Her eyes widened, and he hurried on.

“She is correct, I must marry, but I have never been a loose fish, and attempting anything like this would never have occurred to me.”

A gurgle of laughter escaped Mary, and a small smile appeared on her lips. “Are you calling our grandmothers loose fish?”

He frowned for a moment. It was extraordinary what old women left to their own devices could get up to.

“Yes, I believe I am. When I was told a woman was here portraying my wife, I was furious. Everyone agreed that I should make haste in traveling to Rose Hill. It took several moments, but then somehow I knew you did not come up with this outrageous scheme.”

Her countenance relaxed, even as she sobered.

. “It was—is nothing short of shocking. I argued with Grandmamma before we parted ways and then with Aunt Eunice the whole journey north. Yet every point I made was pooh-poohed, as if I had no idea what I was talking about.” Her chin took on a mulish cast. “But I was right.”

He raised her hands to his lips, kissed her fingers, and tossed away any loyalty he had for his grandmother.

“You were completely in the right. We ought to insist they be locked up somewhere. Still”—thank God he hadn’t said unfortunately —“it has left us with no reasonable choices.” Mary ceased to look at him and instead stared at her lap.

Kit placed one finger under her chin, raising it.

“Despite our innocence in this plan, we have been put in a disgraceful situation. Would being married to me be such a hardship?”

“It’s not that.” Her eyes swam in sudden tears. “I don’t know you. This . . . this type of arranged marriage is what I do not want.”

“We can grow to know each other.” He handed her his handkerchief, and he knew his chances of settling this situation were rapidly slipping away. Still, he had to try to make her see reason. “I’m considered to be an easygoing sort of fellow.”

She closed her eyes and a small tremor ran through her, not, he knew, of passion. “I do not believe we were even introduced.”

“We weren’t.” He grinned, attempting to lighten the mood and the circumstances in which they found themselves.

He couldn’t bring himself to let her know how much failing to arrange a proper introduction had bothered him.

“I was studiously avoiding a leg shackle at the time.” A tear drifted down her cheek.

Oh dear God! She really was weeping. Before she could use the handkerchief, he wiped away the drop with the pad of his thumb. “Please say I’m at least tolerable.”

“You are being very kind to me. The thing is, and you may think it silly, particularly under the circumstances, but I have always wanted to be courted.” Mary blinked quickly and swallowed. “I want to fall in love.”

Kit searched her lovely silver eyes. “I want that as well.” The only difference was he was already on his way to falling in love with her, and they must marry.

Since he’d been fifteen, he’d led an exemplary life.

What trick of fate had decreed that he must suffer before he wed?

Yet Mary was hurting as well, and the least he could do was to attach her affections. “Allow me to court you.”

She seemed startled. “You would do that? Even after all that’s been done to you as well?”