Page 25

“O h, well done, sir.” Belinda didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm when the door of the parsonage closed behind them. “What on earth possessed you to make such a ridiculous assertion?”

“Please don’t start berating me yet, or I’ll be tempted to drop you. Let’s at least wait until you’re settled in the trap and we’re on our way back to Buckleigh. We certainly don’t want Maman or Papa to overhear us disputing.”

Oh, but this man was impossible! How had she ever managed to get herself into such a coil?

Correction—how had he managed to do it? Whatever was he thinking?

As it had turned out, the doctor hadn’t minded one way or the other what her name was, or who she was engaged to or wasn’t, and he’d kindly neglected to mention that he’d once delivered her of a stillborn child.

There was the kiss, of course, which Piers’s father had witnessed.

Since the man was a clergyman, he must expect a high standard of behavior from his adopted son.

But surely, the parson must know the reputation Piers Darvill had in London, as a rake and a rogue?

His mother evidently knew since she’d mentioned “other women.” So, could not a certain amount of latitude be given under the circumstances?

Piers had kissed many ladies, but there was only one he’d been interested in marrying, and that was Charlotte Lavoisier.

And he’d done a sight more than merely kiss her!

Piers carried Belinda into the small cart lodge and lowered her carefully into the trap, then bustled about hitching the pony, who looked most put out to be woken from his rest. Without being asked, Ordulf bounded up to the cart and clambered aboard.

Piers tried to shoo him off, but he refused to move, thrilled to be reunited with Belinda.

He was eventually persuaded to sit at her feet, and a blanket was tucked over them both.

Then they were off. The low cloud had dispersed, and Dartmoor was once again revealed in all its splendor.

Her appreciation of its majestic beauty was spoiled somewhat by the presence of the man who’d made her already complicated situation even worse.

Or had he? Was the idea of marriage to Piers Darvill so terrible?

Would it not solve some of her problems?

He wasn’t serious, though—she must remember that.

He’d made the announcement in the heat of the moment to save face.

In so doing, he’d acted selfishly and given no thought to her situation.

If only there were apples or rotting cabbages, or anything in the back of the cart, she’d be throwing them at him.

That would teach him to sit there all stiff-backed and proper, guiding the pony trap with such aplomb that anyone might think he was steering his high perch phaeton through the busy London streets.

Belinda tucked the rug more firmly round her and reached down to stroke Ordulf’s silky head. A pair of ravens passed overhead, calling to each other, then dipping and somersaulting in an impressive aerial courtship dance.

Courtship dance. Huh! Never had any woman had so brief a courtship before being claimed by a man!

She hadn’t even danced with Piers and had no idea what he was like as a companion—when he wasn’t being intolerable.

He wasn’t heroic and admirable like William Coyle, risking his life to protect England from her enemies.

He’d inherited his money, not worked for it—although she had to admit he’d invested it wisely, and he cared about his enterprises.

His parents had said that he’d learned all about mining through personal experience, so he must be brave to do that.

How did one know where to sink a mine, what it cost, and how many miners would be needed? She’d never thought to ask. But there again, she’d never anticipated having to pretend to be Piers Darvill’s fiancée and have an intimate knowledge of his affairs.

The wretch hadn’t said another word to her, and his silence was infuriating—was he even aware of how much damage he was causing?

“I suppose it entertains you, does it, to suddenly present me as your fiancée? I hope you know that we’re not in a play, that this is real life, and we must behave sensibly.”

She saw his shoulders shake. He wasn’t laughing at her, was he?

“You sound like my old schoolmaster. Have you heard the term ‘the pot calling the kettle black,’ my dear?”

Of course, she had. But what did he mean by it?

“What is one more lie appended to a whole series of falsehoods? You must have deceived others when you were having your affair with Lieutenant Coyle. You must have lied to others after you bore a baby out of wedlock. You deceived the staff, owner, and clientele of the Lyon’s Den when you came to a gentlemen’s gambling game instead of a ladies’ one.

No doubt you hid your identity when you worked for Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and you and Mr. Chetwynd most certainly pulled the wool over the eyes of your sister and her husband over that little escapade. I think you’re being unfair.”

She wasn’t going to put up with that! “Well, I should have known better than to expect any sympathy from you. You cannot understand what it’s like to be a woman, what it’s like to be me —you’ve never had to suffer the things that I have.”

She blinked back tears. Bother the man for upsetting her—she’d been so much better of late, feeling more positive about herself and her future. How dare this wretched fellow say cruel things intended to knock her down again!

“If you’re about to tell me that I’ve never been in love, that I’ve never lost the object of that love, think again.

Also, you’re not the only one who’s lost a child—although mine is, I hope, only temporarily mislaid.

You have many admirable qualities, Belinda, but empathy with others is not one of them. ”

“You’re only insulting me because you’ve done something ridiculous, and you don’t know how to get out of it.”

He inclined his head but made no effort to turn round to speak to her. It was very frustrating, trying to argue with the back of somebody’s head.

“It was foolish of me, was it not?” he replied.

“Nobody listening to us now would think that we’d ever been of one mind.

But I’m going to present you with what you may consider an unpleasant truth.

You enjoyed being kissed by me, and you kissed me back.

So, we’re not entirely incompatible. But aside from that, please don’t accuse me of using you to save face.

A man reputed to be a rake doesn’t need to do that.

It was your face I was attempting to save, and I might have expected a bit of gratitude. ”

Gratitude? That was the very last thing he was ever going to get from her. Yes—she had to admit that her schemes hadn’t been very successful, but she’d never got herself embroiled in anything quite as immutable as an engagement. Could he not have come up with some other excuse?

“Very well. Shall we say that I understand why you did what you did in the heat of the moment. You will have to be the one to undo it, however, because I can’t risk drawing attention to myself—I’d be letting Araminta down most terribly.

She’s been through hell, but all through those dark times, she looked after me, and I owe it to her not to risk bringing scandal upon the family again.

And scandal is exactly what a fake or broken engagement will create.

I wonder, when you decided to involve us in this charade, did you have a thought as to how we might become un involved? ”

Piers didn’t answer immediately, having to concentrate on steering the trap around a large hole.

They were plentiful on this part of the highway, and she wondered why she hadn’t felt the jolts as they went through them.

He must have been trying hard to make the journey as smooth as possible.

She melted a little toward him. Just a very, very tiny bit.

“I confess that I did not. I apologize for not thinking of what the consequences might be. I think, however, that between us we have the skills to ride out the storm and quietly dissolve our partnership when a sufficient amount of time has elapsed. There’s always going to be some fascinating new scandal to attract the interest of the tabbies, and while they’re looking the other way, we’ll break our engagement and hopefully by then, nobody will be in the least bit interested as to why we’ve done so. ”

She pondered on his words for a while, then tried to picture an immediate future in which she was engaged to Mr. Piers Darvill.

Oh, but she would be deceiving Minty again, and Roland simply wouldn’t believe it since he knew how much she disliked Darvill.

Perhaps he would have to be admitted to their confidence.

Yes—that would ease their way considerably.

But how long was a “sufficient amount of time,” and could she bear it?

There was another issue as well, which she was surprised Piers hadn’t thought of. In order, as he said, to save her blushes, he’d presented himself as no longer being free. What would Charlotte think of that if she found out? What would happen to Piers’s hopes of seeing his son again?

“Let’s say that I do understand why you did it and can see that we might be able to give the illusion of being an affianced couple for a suitable period.

Let’s also assume that the Earl of Aylsham doesn’t threaten to hang you from the nearest gallows because I know he won’t believe you’ve been a gentleman.

Anyway—if the fake engagement is successful, and everyone believes it, Oliver’s mama will believe it too. How do you think she’ll react?”

“I have cut Charlotte off. I hope thereby to force her to come forward and demand the payments be reinstated. I have friends already engaged in apprehending her should she try to contact the lawyer. I’m hoping, however, that she’ll come to me directly, and I’ll reason with her.”

“You mean, you were hoping. She won’t be feeling very reasonable if you have a fiancée.”

Piers said nothing for a long moment. Had he honestly not thought of what might happen if he cast Charlotte aside?

“Well, then. Now you understand the extent of my sacrifice in offering you the protection of my name. Losing Charlotte is a risk I must be prepared to take, all the while hoping for the best. Considering that you and she are already acquainted and that she thinks you have her best interests at heart, maybe you could talk to her. If I can’t get her to see sense, perhaps you can. Can we agree on that?”

At that moment, Piers had to negotiate a bend in the road.

The light was cut off by a stand of oak trees and high up in one of them, a storm cock was singing—a charming sound that one never heard in London.

The trees cast pale grey shadows across the highway, and when they came out the other side, Belinda realized that the sun was sinking closer to the horizon.

The temperature was dropping rapidly, and she held the dog more closely to her.

“Very well. I’ll do what I can for you, if necessary.”

“Excellent. We’ll be in Buckleigh soon, and I’d hate to face your cousins with everything unresolved. Do you wish to tell them our good news, or shall I?”

“I rather think it ought to be me.”

He laughed. “I knew you’d think that. You’ve never been courted in the accepted fashion, have you? The gentleman usually comes cap-in-hand to the lady’s relations and begs for permission to spend time with her. Ideally, it should be me who makes the announcement.”

Belinda rolled her eyes. He seemed to have worked everything out—detestable man!

Piers pulled the little cart to a stop, and Ordulf leaped out, barking joyfully. Almost immediately, Cousin Anthony poked his head out of the porch to see what was happening. As soon as he recognized Belinda, he bustled out, beaming.

Piers jumped down swiftly, and before Anthony could reach them, he leaned close to Belinda and murmured, “I suggest you don’t delay in telling your cousins about the improvement in our relationship.

The sun is close to setting, and I’m not going to be able to make my way back in the dark.

Prepare yourself for the fact that I’ll be spending the night here. ”

As Belinda was helped out of the trap, she hid her burning face. Did Piers’s words constitute a threat or a promise?

Either way, she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep that night.