Page 36 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)
Mrs. Ahearn’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Why, Lady Ashley! How wonderful to see you again! I was just telling your brother, Lord Wolfarth, before, how much I enjoyed our time together in Ireland.”
The silence that fell over the immediate vicinity was deafening. Farah could practically hear the gears turning in her brother’s head as he processed this information. His eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Ireland? Lady Ashley?” he drawled, his gaze burning into Farah. “This is my sister, Lady Farah.”
“But that can’t be right. Oh…” Mrs. Ahearn’s words trailing off as she finally understood.
“How fascinating. I wasn’t aware you’d been to Ireland recently, sister dear.”
Farah opened her mouth, though what she planned to say, she did not know. Before she could utter a sound, however, Lord Lucien stepped forward, a beaming smile on his face.
“I believe there’s been some confusion,” he said smoothly. “You see, Mrs. Ahearn, this isn’t Lady Ashley at all, but rather her dear friend, Lady Farah. A simple mistake to make, I’m sure, as they look quite similar.”
Mrs. Ahearn’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But…but I could have sworn…”
“And I’m afraid Lady Farah couldn’t possibly have been in Ireland recently,” Lucien continued, “as she’s been on her sickbed for over two weeks.
But she’s recovered beautifully to host this event for me—for us.
In fact—” He paused for dramatic effect, taking Farah’s hand in his.
“She’s only just accepted my proposal of marriage and we’d hoped to announce it tonight after I’d spoken to His Grace. ”
The ballroom erupted in a flurry of gasps and excited whispers. Farah stood frozen, her mind reeling as she tried to process what had just happened. She was vaguely aware of her brother’s thunderous expression, and of Mrs. Ahearn’s bewildered congratulations, and the curious stares from all around.
But mostly, she was aware of Lucien’s hand holding hers, warm and steady, as he smiled down at her with a warning to keep quiet.
Well, at least no one lost their trousers, Farah thought.
As if on cue, there was a commotion near the entrance, and Lord Franklin came stumbling in, his face red with drink and his breeches noticeably askew. “I thought it was Lord Ware you’re marrying. The chit can’t seem to decide who she wants. It certainly wasn’t me.”
Farah closed her eyes and silently prayed for the floor to open and swallow her whole.
It was going to be a very long night.
The Duke of Blackstone, his face a thundercloud of barely contained fury, grabbed Farah’s elbow and began steering her towards a secluded corner of the ballroom. “A word, sister dear,” he growled through clenched teeth.
Lucien, still holding Farah’s other hand, cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately, Your Grace. After all, we wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”
Blackstone’s glare could have melted steel, but he nodded curtly. “My study. Now.”
As they made their way through the crowded ballroom, Farah caught sight of Rockwell’s worried face. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, though she felt anything but reassured. This was going to be an absolute disaster.
Once inside the study, the duke rounded on them, his face purple with rage. “Would someone care to explain what in the blazes is going on?” he thundered.
Farah opened her mouth to speak, but Lucien beat her to it. “It’s quite simple, Your Grace. I’ve asked for Lady Farah’s hand in marriage, and she has accepted.”
The duke’s eye twitched. “Is that so? And when, pray tell, did this miraculous courtship occur? Don’t take me for a fool. How is it you were in Ireland with Lord Ware?”
“Ah, yes, about that,” Farah began, finding her voice at last. “It was all an innocent mistake. A funny story actually… I got locked in Rockwell’s trunk and thrown on his ship without his knowledge.”
If possible, her brother’s face grew even redder. “You did what?”
Farah felt her heart racing. This was it. The moment of truth. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “I was with Rockwell and we found Lucien together.”
The silence that followed was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. The duke stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“You…what?” he finally sputtered.
“I went to Ireland with Rockwell,” Farah repeated, her voice growing stronger.
“It was an accident, truly. By the time he realized I was on his ship… But the point is, the adventure helped me. I’m not the weak-willed lady you think I am, brother.
I can make my own decisions, including who I will or will not marry. ”
The duke collapsed into a nearby chair, looking shell-shocked. “But…but what about the scandal? If word gets out…”
“That’s where I come in,” Lucien interjected smoothly.
“By announcing our engagement, we’ve neatly sidestepped any potential scandal.
The ton will be far too focused on our upcoming nuptials to worry about any rumors of impropriety.
If I say I fell in love with her as soon as she found me in Ireland, the scandal will be embraced. ”
Farah turned to Lucien, her eyes wide. “But…we’re not really engaged,” she whispered.
Lucien merely looked at her. “We could be,” he murmured back. “If you’ll have me, that is.”
“You’ll have to marry now. I will not let you be ruined,” her brother all but roared.
Farah’s head was spinning. This was all happening so fast. Courtney—Oh my God, what must her friend be thinking? And then she did the only thing a woman caught up in a situation like this could do… she gained time by pretending to faint dead away.