Page 6 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

Amie did not own anything fine enough to wear on a ride with a viscount, or better yet, masquerade as his intended. She and Mama had lived off the charity of relatives for so long that her wardrobe was worn and depleted. Aunt was not one to converse greatly, unlike her husband and son, but she did insist Amie take one of her better shawls. She also instructed Mama to make an appointment with her modiste before Amie embarrassed the family.

Amie appreciated the generosity. With so many other concerns, her poor wardrobe was the least of her worries, and her need to understand this new situation she found herself in superseded her fears and hopes for the future. She wrapped her aunt’s floral silk shawl tightly around her shoulders as Lord Reynolds spoke to Mama just beside his sleek, black curricle. Thankfully, her relatives were otherwise engaged and not hovering during an already awkward meeting.

“There is a slight breeze, so do not keep her long,” Mama instructed Lord Reynolds.

Amie withheld her sigh. The breeze was but a trifle. Honestly.

Lord Reynolds took her mother’s hand. “I shall shield her from whatever wind until I can return her to your side.”

Mama’s eyelashes began to flutter, and a faint blush crept into her thin cheeks. “Forgive me, my lord. I have no doubt you will do right by her in every way.”

Lord Reynolds stole a glance at Amie, his face stern, before returning his eyes to meet Mama’s. “I shall endeavor to try.”

Amie swallowed. He was kind enough to Mama, but Amie was not certain yet what to make of this Lord Reynold’s character. Whether he was good or not, he didn’t seem to hold a very high opinion of her. This engagement was growing stranger by the minute.

“Do enjoy yourselves, then,” Mama preened. She hadn’t shown an ounce of guilt when learning Lord Reynolds was alive. And by the looks of Lord Reynolds today, he was more than alive. He was quite robust in his dapper attire tailored to fit his broad shoulders and trim middle to perfection.

Lord Reynolds dipped his head with more patience than a saint.

Mama gave a little wave with her handkerchief, her grin full of silent congratulations—congratulations all directed at herself and the masterful marriage she had arranged for her daughter.

A hand appeared in Amie’s periphery. Lord Reynolds intended to assist her up. She accepted it but wasn’t prepared for a second hand to meet her waist. Before she could even gasp in surprise, strong arms propelled her into her seat. Amie slid to the opposite side of the single bench, leaving as much room as possible for Lord Reynolds to climb up beside her. She grazed her hand on the partial roof folded back behind her, and her eyes drew to the skyline. The weather could not have been better for an open ride, especially after the terrible rain the night before. There’d been thunder too. The very thought of it sent a chill down her spine.

She hated thunder. Despised it, rather. So, at least something was going in her favor this morning. Sunshine was a balm to her soul, whereas the opposite wreaked havoc on her anxiety.

Lord Reynolds settled in beside her with his tall, intimidating form and gave a final parting nod to Mama. Amie stole a glance up at him, all thoughts of the weather fled. Why, she was riding with a man drawn straight from a magazine. Aunt had enough fashion papers around that Amie should have made the connection before.

It was more than his clothes. Lord Reynold’s hair was cropped short in a Titus fashion, and his face was worthy of an artist with his serious brow, angular jaw, and prominent cleft chin. No one would have thought to take down her physical description and memorialize it anywhere. She was his opposite in every aspect, not just in appearances and social position but in personality too. It made the whole act of sitting as a couple seem all the more pretend. Except the game they were playing came with dire consequences if she lost. Or, should she say, when she lost.

Lord Reynolds took the reins in his hands and flicked them just enough to send his handsome pair of geldings into a trot. Despite all Amie’s misgivings, for once, she almost wished the Peterson sisters would see her. A moment as grand as this was not likely to be repeated.

“I hope I did not complicate matters yesterday,” Lord Reynolds said, interrupting her thoughts. He expertly steered the cart toward the edge of town before straightening in his seat. “The circumstance seemed rather desperate, and I was merely trying to help.”

If he did not mince words, neither would she. “I was taken aback when you insisted on taking the blame.” No one besides her parents had ever spoken up for her before, and Lord Reynolds was a complete stranger. “Why did you do it?”

He glanced over at her for a long moment and then swung his eyes back to the road. They were just passing a neighbor’s orchard on the outskirts of Chestervale, and he directed his horses to the side and guided them to a stop. It was the perfect spot for a romantic rendezvous, both lovely and private, but this was anything but romantic.

Lord Reynolds turned his head again to face her, and his mouth pulled into a grim line. “If you could have one thing in this world, what would it be?”

His question threw her. “I couldn’t say.”

“It is important you answer truthfully. I will explain everything afterward.”

She played with the end of her shawl while she thought about her greatest desires. A new gown or two would be nice but not essential. Not like a roof over one’s head. As for marriage and family, they were luxuries for women who could afford to have a Season and possessed dowries to attract a man. She had always been forced to think more practically. “I suppose I should like my independence.” To not depend on her relatives for her and Mama’s every need sounded a little like heaven.

He frowned and rubbed the cleft in his chin. “I see. You mentioned the idea yesterday, but I was not certain if you were being optimistic. If this is honestly your desire, then I have a proposal for you. It is not ideal for your wishes, nor mine really, but I believe we can find a mutual agreement that ought to suit us both. What I propose is a marriage of convenience.”

Had he been drinking again? A viscount could have whomever he wanted. She had learned yesterday from her uncle that Lord Reynolds’s father was an earl . Imagine her connected to a viscount, let alone any esteemed earl. He deserved far better than her as his wife. There was only one answer she could give him. “No, thank you.”

He tilted his head to the side. “No, thank you?”

Oh, she had forgotten his title. “No, thank you, your lordship .”

He gave a short laugh. “I’m not asking if you would like gravy on your roast and potatoes; it’s a proposal of marriage.”

“An obligatory proposal,” she corrected boldly. “You do not have to humor me, Lord Reynolds. I am not afraid of the consequences should we tell the truth.” In all actuality, she was terrified, but he need not know that.

“I am being earnest in my asking.”

She shook her head. “You cannot be.”

“I do not make such an offer lightly. I have reasons why this will benefit me. Namely, I have chosen to devote myself to the betterment of my country. A family will distract me from my purpose, which is why this suggested partnership suits me best. In turn, I can arrange for you to have as much independence in your future as possible.”

“I see.” Clearly, he was a driven man, and his passion was at least admirable.

Lord Reynolds met her gaze head on. “Can you specify what an independent life looks like to you? I will not presume to guess your desires.”

She stared blankly at him, not exactly ready to share her greatest hopes with him. She would keep her answer as simple as his. “I will humor you, your lordship, even though I find this whole idea of yours completely nonsensical. I want security and freedom from my relatives. And I suppose, it would be nice to be the matron of my own house.” She currently had no hope for achieving any of these and felt foolish stating them.

He gave a decisive nod. “I believe I can adequately fulfill these wishes once we are wed.”

She did not take him too seriously, though she had a strong feeling he was entirely so. “What would you possibly gain from such an arrangement with a person like myself?”

“I would not have to marry Miss Foster, a selfish woman my father has selected for me.”

“Surely she is better suited to your position than I am.”

His face was impassive, and she could not tell if he agreed or not. “I have never desired to wed, Miss Tyler. I have specific goals for my future, as I mentioned, and I haven’t the motivation to invest my time or energy into courting and wooing the perfect candidate. My hand is being forced, so I would much rather have a situation of my choosing and on my own terms.”

“So, in a way, you desire independence as well?”

He nodded again. “Very much so. Not to mention, the unusual arrangement feels justified, knowing I am helping you in the process.”

He was outwardly austere, but in this, he appeared generous too. She didn’t like the alternative thought of him never marrying. She had come to terms with it for herself, but it sounded so lonely for anyone else. The man was an anomaly. He did not show much emotion, besides the glimpses of frustration or even briefer moments of gentleness, but she sensed he needed people more than he allowed them in. If he were to finally do so, it shouldn’t be to her.

“Perhaps you should get to know me better before you agree to something foolish,” she hedged. “You’ve hardly spent a moment with my mother just now, but she clearly is dishonest. And look at me, I am hardly a refined lady suitable for your circles.”

He rubbed one hand down the leather arm of the bench. “When I was searching for you, I hired a private investigator. I do know a little of you, besides the fact that our two encounters so far have been rather enlightening . If this were the usual type of courtship, then yes, I would think more time was necessary. However, a marriage like ours will be more of a formality that will secure your future and require very little of you otherwise.”

She clasped her hands together. “But I hardly know you . Besides, of course, that you are prone to drinking and sleeping in strange places.”

His brow jumped. “Not that again. Let me clear this up once and for all. Do you recall smelling any alcohol on my waistcoat when you brazenly pressed your head to it?”

Brazen? That was a bit thick. “I wasn’t sniffing, I was listening for your heart.”

“Must I produce witnesses of my whereabouts from that morning or previous evening for you to trust me?”

She had met one of his relatives in the graveyard, and that woman had been kind. Amie couldn’t recall her name or her familial connection, but she had been a lady. An aunt perhaps? Too much had happened between then and now, and Amie had all but forgotten. Besides, she had never been tutored in the peerage and dared not admit to more failings. Maybe she could discover the relative another way and seek her opinion about Lord Reynolds. “I suppose I can trust your story, but can I trust you to keep your word on every other matter for the rest of my life?” Any other woman would’ve jumped at the opportunity to marry a viscount, but such a leap would be foolish if this new situation proved worse than her current one.

He eyed her like he could not believe she was questioning his character. “You can be assured, I follow the honor code of a gentleman.”

“That is something, I suppose.” He at least claimed to be honorable. If she dared believe him.

“Except,” he continued, “when a rule in Society bothers me.”

“Oh.” She drew back. “What sort of rules bother you?”

“Most of them.”

She scoffed. “I cannot put my trust in that, Lord Reynolds. It is too vague.”

“I suppose it will come down to your desires. Do you want security?”

Amie nodded.

“Then, I shall provide it. You will have little reason to interact with me otherwise. Rule breaking or not. We must be together long enough to meet my parents and have a wedding, but beyond that is negotiable. I have a hunting lodge in my name that I rarely visit, and you can make your own. Though you might enjoy living with my mother, I will not subject you to my father.”

“And where will you live?”

“As it is clear by now that I do not get along with my father, not with him. He will have no reason to force me to London for the Season after I am wed. So, I suppose I will live in York until Parliament is out of session and then return to my hunting box or my London townhome. Once father dies, which won’t be for some time, I shall inherit an additional two estates, and you can move to either, should you wish to.”

She stared at the trees, not really seeing them. What choice did she have? Face ruination, or live an astonishingly comfortable life? The answer was simple. “Very well.”

“Good. Except ...”

“Except?”

Lord Reynolds straightened his jacket. “My father. He has to believe we are married in every sense of the word. A little playacting will be required when he is around. I believe we ought to make an effort to be together and take a trip or two a year to see my family. If you cannot agree to that end, the arrangement is off.”

“It is a small request, I suppose. If the same can be applied to my mother. I am her sole child, and she would take to her bed if she heard I’d married for independence.”

“A fair agreement.” He tapped his hand on the arm of the bench. “Now that we have both consented to this much, I thought to add a few rules for us to conduct ourselves by. Nothing overmuch, just three simple points to ensure this contractual marriage does not lead to anything more.”

“More?”

“Like falling in love.”

It was hardly perceptible, but she swore she saw the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks.

Well, she needed no rules. Who would dare fall in love with him? He did not seem the kind to even allow the thought of it.

“Number one,” he began, “no touching beyond being escorted into dinner or the like. I borrowed that idea from a good friend. It worked well for him for a time. Until it didn’t.” Lord Reynolds coughed into his hand.

“Why did it stop working?”

Lord Reynolds met her gaze head on. “He decided he liked to touch his wife.”

Her eyes widened, despite her attempt to temper her reaction. She gave a slow nod. “I see.” Yes, falling in love with Lord Reynolds would be completely out of the question. Even now, she felt herself inching away from him in fear of accidentally touching him.

“Number two,” he said, oblivious to her concern, “no growing attached to the other’s family. I took that from another good friend. We cannot be too careful when it comes to emotional attachment.”

She nodded again. “I don’t see that being a problem for you, but I like most people. I will do my best to respect your rules and not grow attached.”

“Good. Number three, no reading, researching, or acquiring lessons on romance. I took that—

“From another good friend?”

He nodded.

She did wonder if he actually did have any friends at all, with his intimidating glower, or if he’d picked up these oddities on the street. It would be rude to question him on that matter, so she attempted another route. “These rules are a bit strange.”

He leaned his forearm on his leg and rotated more toward her. “I am preparing you for whatever may come. If you agree to this match, you must know you will be taking on a few enemies. They look rather innocent next to my father and your uncle, but they are people who cannot be ignored.”

She didn’t like the sound of this. “Who are they?”

“A renegade of mothers. The deceptive, conniving kind who do not take no for an answer. They have the uncanny ability to predict your next move before you even think it. The next thing you know, you’ll be in love with me and I you.”

She wondered if she dared lean forward to see if he smelled of the drink like he’d suggested earlier. What a curious man he was. “Surely you exaggerate.”

“I wish I were. They will not go easy on us. We will be a challenge to them, and they cannot resist such a thing.”

He was a viscount and she an invisible wallflower, so perhaps he knew more about matchmaking mamas than she did. “What do we do?”

“We beat them at their own game.”

She gave a slow nod. “By following the rules you listed?”

“And by avoiding my friends since they are all a little addlebrained at the moment.”

“Then, you do have friends?” She’d blurted the question before she realized it.

He smiled. Actually smiled. He hadn’t done that since she’d admitted that her mother had engaged her to a dead man. “I should be affronted you sound so shocked. Impossible as it sounds, I do possess a few true friends, although many will profess to be close to me when they are not.”

She forced a smile of her own. “Then, it shouldn’t be too hard to avoid them.”

“That’s the spirit.”

She gave the smallest shake of her head. “This is a lot to take in.”

He nodded. “I have no desire to pressure you to make such a life-changing decision with me hovering over you. I will return on the morrow to receive your answer and speak with your uncle. The specifics of our contract will remain between us alone as a mutual understanding, while your marriage settlement will be arranged with Mr. Nelson.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but a barking noise caught her attention. She looked just beyond Lord Reynolds to see a large, white cat chasing a little Yorkshire Terrier. “That’s terrible.”

“It is?”

She waved her hands. “Not you. That.” She pointed to the cat-and-dog chase. “Doesn’t the dog have any shame, running from a cat?”

“That cat is bigger and probably protecting its home.”

But what if the terrier didn’t have a home? She felt a sudden kinship with the helpless creature. It felt like watching her problems chasing her down, why she tried unsuccessfully to flee from them. It was suffocating. “I have nothing against the cat or the dog, not really, but we have to do something.”

“We do?”

“One of them is liable to get hurt.” Just as she was liable to get hurt no matter what path she chose. Everything in her life was out of her control—she was considering marrying a stranger, for heaven’s sake—but couldn’t she do this small thing? She set aside her shawl. “Help me down.”

“Miss Tyler, I don’t think—”

She was already standing, waiting for Lord Reynolds to move. He reluctantly climbed out of the carriage and assisted her.

“Let me take care of this,” he begged.

She shook her head, charging forward. She couldn’t save herself, but she would help this dog. “The ground is damp. I would not want you to dirty your boots.”

The terrier came racing back around toward her, and she lunged to snag it from harm’s way. Her boot caught on the hem of her dress, and her knees slapped the ground. She managed to get her arms around the squirming, shaking dog, but when she righted herself, she was covered in mud.

Fiddlesticks. She had managed to save the unfortunate creature, but she’d ruined her best dress. She returned to Lord Reynolds with uneasy steps, her nerves rattling like the terrier in her arms. Was this God’s way of telling her that she was better off relying on others than barging forward on her own? But for heaven’s sake, if something was meant to go wrong, why did it have to be with this man watching? His wide, uncertain stare matched all the other times he’d looked at her.

“I will consider your offer carefully, your lordship,” she said once she reached his side. She clutched the terrier tighter to her chest. “But perhaps you had better consider it yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment before pulling his handkerchief out to hand to her. The small square would not suffice, and they both knew it.

With reluctance, she accepted it. “And while we are conversing about difficult decisions, how hard would it be to convince you to help me find the owner of this dog?”