Page 73 of Marry in Scandal

“Why did you decide to break your rule about Almack’s?” she asked him.

“Rule? It wasn’t a rule—I just never wanted to set foot in the place.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I decided we needed the appearance of a courtship.”

“Theappearanceof a courtship?”

“Yes, to stop the nonsense being bruited about that you trapped me into marriage. Once people see me appearing to court you, they’ll think otherwise.”

“Oh. I see.” Lily sipped her ratafia. It tasted more bitter than usual. Not a real courtship, but the appearance of one. He wasn’t doing it for her, but for them—the anonymous gossips who had nothing better to do than try to ruin other people’s lives.

“Was that why you sent me flowers? And the book of poems?” She felt foolish now, having treasured them.

“Yes.” He frowned and looked down at her. “And because I thought you’d like them, of course.”

“Oh, I do. Thank you for your consideration.”

“Are you all right?”

She forced a quick half smile. “Perfectly all right, thank you.”

“Good. You won’t mind if I slip out now?”

“No, no, not at all. Thank you for coming.” She just wanted him gone, so she could be alone with her thoughts. And her disappointment. She’d thought he was changing the habit of a lifetime for her sake. Instead it was all for appearance.

As was their betrothal. And her forthcoming marriage. She had to remember that.

His plan made sense. But she didn’t want a facsimile of a courtship—she wanted a real one.

He stood, then hesitated, frowning down at her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, of course.” She gave him a bright smile.

He took his leave then and Lily joined Emm, who was looking a bit tired. “I think I’ll go home shortly,” Emm toldher. “Aunt Agatha has said she’ll look after you and the others and bring you home afterward.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lily told her. “I’m getting a headache.”

• • •

The days flew past, filled with shopping, social engagements—the season didn’t stop simply because Lily was getting married—and twice a week, the literary society, which they all enjoyed as much for the new friends they were making there as for the stories.

And there were dress fittings—Lily’s dress was going to be the most beautiful dress she’d ever worn. She was even losing weight—Miss Chance had been forced to take some of the seams in. Lily was delighted.

Everywhere she went, people offered their congratulations on her forthcoming marriage, and as Emm had predicted, talk of her wedding began to eclipse the last remnants of rumor. All they needed now, George pointed out, was a nice juicy scandal involving someone else.

Every day something arrived from Mr. Galbraith, mounting evidence of the appearance of courtship, she told herself. And every second day he took her out in public, always with George or Rose, making the point: Forced marriage or not, he was courting Lady Lily Rutherford.

He even took Aunt Dottie out driving with them one day—she’d arrived from Bath a week before the wedding. “Well done, my dear,” she murmured to Lily after he handed them down from his phaeton. “He’ll do very nicely.”

Today’s gift was a small painted box. Lily lifted the lid, and tinkling notes filled the air.

“I suppose he’s trying,” Rose said in a grudging tone. Lily had told Rose and George what Edward had told her at Almack’s.

“I think it’s lovely.” Imitation courtship or not, Lily couldn’t help but be touched by the gifts and the effort he was making. She’d arranged them around her bedchamber. Flowers, a puzzle, boxes of sweets, and a small china owl—that was her favorite. It was the most personal thing, recalling a moment only he and she knew the significance of. The night he’d kissed her.

She still relived those kisses every night, in the dark, in the privacy of her bed. She knew it was probably foolish, but she couldn’t help herself.