Page 9 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)
M aybe Blakewood was right. She was foolish and impulsive, and why did her mouth have to spit out words before her brain could properly examine them? Her aunt had thawed herself and accepted congratulations, as if she’d had anything to do with it, though her eyes were bright with some volatile emotion. But she too eventually wandered away, leaving Mr. Blakewood and Amelia in a shrinking crowd of well-wishers.
“Would you like to take a walk around the labyrinth?” Mr. Blakewood asked with a tight smile.
“That would be lovely.”
He angled them toward the end of a flagstone area, where the walled garden spread out into wide lawns. To the right, through another ivy-covered arch, was the labyrinth. They passed a young married couple with flushed cheeks as they entered the labyrinth, but then they were completely alone. They strolled without speaking, walking deeper into the maze until they could not hear a single voice. Amelia finally let go of his arm and folded hers, chewing her lip as she waited for him to unleash his anger.
“Go on. Berate me. I know. I know I just made everything worse, and I am sorry. I don’t know where that ridiculous idea came from.” She covered her face with her gloved hands.
He drew in a breath. “What can I say now when you’ve already said it?” he asked, his voice deep with quiet anger.
Amelia spread her fingers to peek at him. “What do we do now?”
“Containing the damage is all we can do. What do you think your Aunt Ruth will do now?”
Amelia dropped her hands and shrugged. “Try to convince me to invite her to stay with me at the house or get me to leave and reside with her. But I won’t leave, and I can’t let her in. I’ll have to barricade the doors.”
“Maybe you should go to her house to avoid that. I can stay with Alston.”
Amelia snapped straighter. “No. I will not leave him.”
“Then how will you keep her away?”
“By being exactly as I am: a difficult, petulant, stubborn person.”
He snorted. “Is that really your plan?”
“I now also have a fiancé who is wildly possessive and prone to fits of jealousy,” she said, poking his chest. “I can’t reside in a house with Nelson. You won’t allow it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Amelia could see it unfolding now. Of course, Aunt Ruth wouldn’t care what Amelia thought about where she should be allowed to stay, but Mr. Blakewood? As her future husband, no one would question him—which still galled her and only reaffirmed she never wanted to marry, however useful it was in this moment.
“Is there a reason I should be jealous of Nelson?” Blakewood asked, rolling his eyes.
“Certainly. He’s repulsive and predatory. Did you not see him sniff the handkerchief I used to wipe up the spilled punch on my chest? He once told me that there will come a day when I’ll be too desperate and lonely to refuse his advances.”
Blakewood grew stony again. “He what?”
Amelia nodded. “He’d probably steal my undergarments if I had to share a roof with him.”
He pivoted and strode away.
“Where are you going?”
“To murder him.”
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm and tugged him to a stop. “I’m not serious. Well, maybe a little.”
His breathing had quickened. “I will rip his—” He stopped, a flush creeping up his neck.
Amelia raised a brow. She’d never seen him like this—protective of her, with a common enemy—and damn it all, she found herself liking it rather too much. “His what?” she encouraged.
“This is serious, Lady Amelia.”
He stepped closer to her, and Amelia’s laugh caught in her throat. She backed up into the shrubbery, but he didn’t stop until the buttons of his coat brushed her bodice. He put a knuckle under her chin and lifted it until she held his severe, heated stare. Her stomach swarmed with butterflies, but her eyes narrowed.
“Do I have cause to think Nelson would make unwanted advances if given the chance?”
“He’s made advances toward me since I was fifteen, and they have all been unwanted. Don’t all men behave that way?”
His jaw flexed. “No.”
She raised a brow and shifted her eyes to look down at the negligible space between them. “Are you certain?”
“I’m your fiancé; I don’t count.”
She huffed a shaky laugh, trying to hide how his nearness made her heart race, as if there might be a chance he’d hear it.
“It’s not real. We’re going to pretend to be engaged.”
“You just announced our engagement to half the ton at a garden party. That’s as real as it gets. We should have discussed this earlier.”
“I didn’t think of it earlier. I didn’t—well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t take it back now.”
His eyes searched hers. “You must know that I would marry you to keep you safe from all the men like Nelson.”
Amelia’s heart dropped. She jerked her chin out of his grip and shoved at his chest. “Just what every woman wants to hear. A proposal of protection. Be still my beating heart.”
He sighed. “I know how you feel regarding marriage, which leads me to my next question. Wh—”
“What was I thinking? I don’t know. I got scared. But you don’t have to marry me. We’re going to pretend to be engaged until Sam is better.”
“And then what? You’ll leave me at the alter?”
“It won’t get that far.” Her chest tightened, and annoying emotions clogged her throat.
“Won’t it? And what if he doesn’t get better?”
Her lip trembled, and she shook her head. “Don’t say that. He will.”
“We have to plan for all outcomes.”
Her breath hitched. She tried to draw in a full breath, but all she got was a small sip of air not nearly enough to fill her lungs. “Engagements end all the time,” she said, her voice small.
“Not easily. And what happens if the ton turns on you—about this or something else? Every time I turn around, you are digging yourself into a deeper hole, and the burden of pulling you out falls on me, at least for the moment. You may not like it, but I made a vow to your brother, and I will uphold it.”
Amelia dropped her chin and bit her bottom lip. Sam had asked him to do this, and he couldn’t turn Sam down. Not as he lay there dying. Graham Blakewood had made a vow. How wretchedly noble of him.
“Fine, I’ll throw you over,” Amelia said, choking back her emotions. “Then women will flock to you to comfort your wounded heart, since you are such an honorable and gallant gentleman. But either way, I won’t be marrying you.”
“You’ve made that quite clear.”
“Good. You only need to pretend to be my fiancé. Once Sam is recovered, we will end it amicably.”
“How the devil do we explain this to your brother? There is no way we can hide this from him once he recovers. Someone will mention it to him.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Clearly,” he muttered.
“He’ll have to be told the truth. I think... he’ll understand. I will take all the blame and the truth will remain between the three of us.”
He drew in a breath and exhaled loudly. “We’ll have to weather whatever your aunt means to do together. But no more sudden outbursts of ideas. And as for Nelson, you let me handle him,” he said darkly.
“I’ve been handling Nelson for years. He’s not worth your effort.”
“If I’m your possessive and jealous fiancé, that means I will deal with him.”
Amelia swallowed. He seemed to grow larger, more menacing, more... something that made her warmer from the inside. This was a side of Blakewood she’d not seen before, and she still didn’t know how to feel about it. The safest emotion was irritation.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“We must return and try to make a good showing now. We want to keep your reputation intact when we dissolve the engagement.”
“You mean your reputation. Mine has never mattered much to me since I don’t intend to marry.”
“It matters to me.” He stopped walking.
Amelia twisted toward him. “I’m sorry.”
He folded his arms and glared at her.
She sighed. “Well, I am. What more do you want me to say?”
“Not more. Less. Say less of everything that pops into your head, and maybe both of us can escape this charade undamaged. Can you manage that? If not for you, or me, but your brother?”
Amelia nodded. “I talk more when I’m nervous.”
“It’s just me and you. Why are you nervous?”
She hated the way tears were constantly lodged behind her eyes now. She just wanted to hang on until Sam was better, but every day that he lay there, she lost a little more of her strength. She blinked them away. He saw it. Her weakness. He stepped toward her, and she raised a hand.
“Save it for when we’re in the public eye. I don’t need you to coddle me right now.”
He shook his head and strolled past her. “Come along, little fiancée.”
Little fiancée. The words sent a jolt of shock through her. Amelia ground her teeth as she followed, though he did have a point. Every time she opened her mouth, she made matters worse. From now on, she’d try to outdo him in stoic silence.