Page 36 of Lady Emily’s Matchmaking Mishap (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #5)

Chapter Eighteen

On her way up to the library to pick up a book, she promptly ran into the Duke.

Her heart leapt and pounded as if a hundred blacksmiths were hammering at it.

“Thinking of the devil,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Lady Poppy, well met.” He paused mid stride. “A word, if I may?”

He led her into the library, with Emily trudging behind him in his wake.

“Please, sit down.” He said formally, gesturing to the green sofa by the windows. Emily sat down and smoothed her skirt under her fingers.

The afternoon sun was pouring through the windows into the room, teasing her eyes. She blinked.

The Duke sat across from her.

Emily cleared her throat. “Thank you for the boots.” She lifted her toes to reveal her new leather boots. “It’s probably shamelessly improper of me to accept such a lavish gift from a gentleman, but as you saw, my old boots were, well, rather old.” Not to mention that she had no financial means to buy new ones.

He gave a brief nod to acknowledge her gratitude. “I’m glad they fit.”

“How did you know my shoe size?”

“I’ve got a good eye for these things.” His gaze moved up her body and back to her face. There was heat in his eyes as he regarded her, and she shifted in her seat, her entire body began to tingle. “As for this being ‘shamelessly improper,’ that is a matter of interpretation.” He crossed his legs.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it truly shamelessly improper for a gentleman to present shoes to a lady with whom he only has a fleeting acquaintance? Possibly.”

Her fingers froze on the fabric of her skirt. “I would say it depends on the motivation behind his intention.”

He smiled vaguely. “Correct.”

Emily felt that their conversation was entering dangerous territory. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath. “So, what were your intentions?” She raised her chin. “Were they shamelessly improper?”

“My, you do tend to assume the worst of my personality,” he murmured.

“How else am I to understand it?”

“A simple gift, given without expectation, condition, or demand?” His eyes were wide with innocence.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Truly?”

“Of course not.” He smirked.

“I knew it!” Scallywag! Devil! Rogue! He had intended all along to make a scandalous proposal in return for giving her the boots. Well, she would have none of it. She was going to take them off and throw them in his smug face. Emily bent down and untied the boots.

“How brave of you, Miss White,” he said, a teasing note in his voice as he watched her remove the first boot. “But we’ve only just begun this conversation. No need to start removing... anything quite so soon.”

Emily’s fingers froze on the laces. His meaning sank in and a hot flush crept up her neck. “You misunderstand! I was m-merely taking the boots off to return them to you.”

“Shame,” he murmured. He leaned back and crossed his arms.

Emily stood up. “You’re insufferable. I don’t know why we’re having this conversation.” She stomped across the library to make a grand exit, in one stockinged foot, holding her boot in one hand.

“Emily.” His voice was warm but commanding. It stopped her in her tracks. “Turn around.” As if she lacked a mind of her own, she turned slowly. “Come back. Sit down,” he suggested gently. She did.

She skewered him with a glare.

He regarded her sombrely. “I was merely teasing you. Keep the blasted boots and do whatever you want with them. Yes, even throw them at me if you must, which would be a shame since you seem to have a need for them. My giving you the boots is completely meaningless, except that I enjoyed doing it, and there really is no, er, scandalous proposition attached to them.”

She tilted her head sideways as she considered his words.

That seemed to draw a smile from him. The dimple flashed and disappeared into his cheek as quickly as it had appeared. “I have a different proposition for you, which has nothing to do with these boots, I hasten to add, and which is why I asked for this meeting to begin with.”

She tilted her head in the other direction. “What proposition?”

He began to fiddle with his quizzing glass.“I think we’ve already established that you’re quite good at pretending. At the inn, you played the role of the maid Meggie Blythe, and here as Lady Poppy Featherstone. How many times have you done this?”

She looked at him wide-eyed. “Often. I’ve been Eliza Talbot, the Honourable Miss Marcellina Swinton, Evangeline Angus, Miss Suzanne Dornton and Lady Honey Hepplewhite.”

“Good heavens.”

Emily shrugged. “One gets used to it.”

“I cannot fathom what it must be like to constantly change one’s identity. I’d like to take advantage of your talent and make a suggestion.” He stood up, clasped his hands behind back and rocked slightly on his heels.

She tilted her head inquisitively. “A proposition?”

“Yes. One that could benefit us both.”

“I can hardly imagine what that might be.”

“Become engaged to me.”

Emily blinked. She must have misheard. “I beg your pardon?”

“An engagement,” he repeated, utterly composed.

“To Cissy.”

He shook his head. “No. To you.”

Her jaw dropped.

“It’s the most logical step,” he explained patiently.

Logical? Logical?! Nothing about this man or this moment was even remotely logical.

He paced as she continued to watch him, momentarily speechless. “It would be entirely hypothetical, of course,” he went on. “Another charade, but one that we would coordinate and play together. The advantages would be many: I would be freed from tedious evenings being pursued by ambitious ladies—” his face took on a hunted expression “—and I would no longer have to subject myself to their onslaught. By voluntarily removing myself from the marriage market, even if only by pretence, I hope to regain some semblance of peace in my life, at least temporarily. I intend to make some extended travels on the Continent, and until then I would be left in peace, and could appear in society without being hounded by females.”

A steep furrow appeared on Emily’s forehead. “Indeed, I can see how that would be an advantage—for you. What about me? How could I possibly benefit from such a masquerade? For if the engagement is to be a pretence, when it is finally dissolved you will come out unscathed, but it is always the lady’s reputation that suffers, and what is worse, my sister’s as well.”

“You could take advantage of this engagement by trying to find a match for your sister.

My aunts will be happy to sponsor a Season for her. Afterwards, we can dissolve our engagement quietly. Your name will not be affected, as Lady Poppy Featherstone doesn’t exist. As for your reputation, it will not matter nearly as much if word gets out that it was the lady—you—who broke off the engagement first. Unless you, too, are looking for a match, it is hardly an issue?” He looked at her inquisitively.

He was right. She had long since resigned herself to her status as a spinster,with no prospects at all.

She shook her head. “It might work for Cissy because what she can’t offer in terms of class, she makes up in terms of beauty and grace. People are willing to overlook an ineligible background when it comes to her. But not for me. It’s entirely impossible. Not after what happened to Papa.” She lifted her chin belligerently.

“Ah. You’re referring to the matter of me, er, killing your father.” His face hardened. “I believe those were the words you used.” He stopped pacing and stood in front of her. Emily had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, which was most exasperating. He looked forbidding, almost stern, and terribly intimidating. His proud, angular features could have belonged to a marble statue, his swept-back hair framing a face so severe it seemed carved from stone.

The word echoed unpleasantly through the library. When he said it, so directly, so matter-of-factly, it sounded almost absurd.

She lifted her head proudly. “Do you deny it? Do you deny that your steward had us evicted?”

His face looked cold and stony. “I do not deny it. Such orders were indeed given.”

Emily exhaled loudly. He admitted it. She didn't know what she'd expected. Maybe an explanation that it had all been a mistake. The flush of disappointment that rushed through her was so strong it brought tears to her eyes.

“I take full responsibility for the matter. Instructions were indeed given to evict all tenants who were in arrears with their rent. I understand how this must appear, for how could you possibly consider becoming engaged to the man who is responsible for your father’s death, even if the relationship I am proposing is entirely hypothetical?” He played with his quizzing glass.

“Indeed,” Emily said tonelessly. “It is entirely impossible. Even hypothetically.”

His eyes were hooded. “What if I were to offer you a financial incentive to make this more palatable to you?”

“Financial incentive.” She looked up, blinking. “You mean money? How much of a financial incentive would that be?”

He mentioned a figure that almost made Emily’s eyes pop out of her head.

That would change everything, of course. It was a figure big enough to support them for a long time. If his aunts could sponsor a Season for Cissy on top of it, and Cissy could get respectably married as a result, it might be worth the endeavour. Might it not?

“You really are a devil, aren’t you?” said Emily bitterly. For how could she ever say no?

She watched as his mouth twisted into a humourless smile.

“Well?”

“That’s all very well,” Emily said, fiddling with the fringes of her shawl. “But I would like you to give me one more thing,irrespective of the financial deal regarding the fake engagement.”

“I’m all ears.”

She took a big breath. “Meadowview Cottage.”

He arched an eyebrow upwards. “That old ramshackle cottage? It is entirely dilapidated. Are you certain this is what you want? A half-ruined house?”

“Yes. It is my home,” she added softly. “I want a home that is all mine, where no one can come in the middle of the night and throw me out suddenly—” She interrupted herself and drew herself up. “If you meant what you said earlier, when we talked in the drawing room, that you wanted to make amends—if you meant that sincerely, then I want you to prove it. Give us the cottage in recompense. It won’t undo anything that happened in the past. But it would be a symbolic gesture that we, Cissy and I, would appreciate, to have our home returned to us. If you give us the cottage, in addition to financial support, I will stop calling you a murderer. I'll accept it as the amends you spoke of.” She cleared her throat. “And I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked in a low voice that made her skin crawl.

She held his gaze. “Anything.”

She squirmed under his long, thoughtful look.

“Very well.” He drew his lips into a vague smile. “It shall be yours. I’ll have my secretary draw up the papers.”

Emily could hardly believe it. Had she really just haggled like a fisherwoman—and won? And now was she to receive not only her beloved cottage but also a substantial sum of money that would give them security for the rest of their lives?

All she had to do was pretend to be engaged to him. Surely that couldn’t be so difficult?

“What would it involve, such a fake engagement?” she enquired cautiously. More kissing? Her heart began to beat heavily.

His fingers kept playing with the quizzing glass. “It would mean, first and foremost, convincing those around us that this is an authentic relationship. That includes my aunts and your sister. They must not know about this arrangement.”

“Then how do I explain to Cissy why we are to receive the cottage?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “As you said: reparations. She doesn’t need to know about the rest.”

Emily chewed her lower lip.

“Secondly,” he continued, “we would have to make it public and make an appearance in the social scene in London.” He pulled a face. “Believe me, as unpleasant as it may be for you, it is a necessity. After all, every one of our appearances would have to be staged in such a way as to convince all onlookers that this engagement is indeed authentic.”

Kissing. He definitely meant kissing.

“But why? Surely no one in your class would expect a love match. There shouldn’t be any need to pretend that we... that we... ” She gestured vaguely, her cheeks warming. “You know. That we’re in love, I mean.”

“Indeed.” His expression remained unreadable.

She swallowed hard and looked away. That would be the real challenge. She’d have to feign reluctance to like him when, in truth, she already did—far, far more than she was comfortable admitting, especially when she wasn’t supposed to.

“Judging by the expression on your face, you don’t seem too excited about the prospect.” He peered at her. “The point is to convince my aunts. They don’t want just any lady for me, you see. They have set their hearts on my engagement being a love match.” He shrugged. “They are hopeless romantics. Even Aunt Jane, even though she professes to be the contrary. I want them to be happy.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her nose. “I don’t know if we can convince them.”

“Why not?” he said lightly. “You’ve already proven yourself to be an exceptional actress, and you seem to have enough experience pretending that feigning emotions should be child’s play.”

Although true, it stung. “Yes, but we never set out to deceive anyone for the sake of deception. We may have taken advantage of people, but our aim was never to maliciously deceive or hurt anyone. It was always for our own survival and protection.”

“You must have had a difficult life if this was the only way to ensure your survival.” There, again, that odd, soft look on his face, as though he genuinely cared.

She was taken aback by his sudden compassion. It was on the tip of her tongue to retort sharply, “And whose fault was it that we ended up in such a precarious situation in the first place?” but something stopped her. If she continued to point out his role in them losing their home, he might withdraw his offer. She had to admit, his offer was very, very tempting.

She’d never be a victim again, she’d vowed. Never again homeless and hungry.

Never again.

True, it wasn’t the revenge she had planned when she started this venture. But it was a small triumph. Small, but delicious.

She pulled herself up. “Very well. I will pretend to be your betrothed, madly in love with you. God help my soul,” she added in a mutter.