Page 68 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville

With a sniff, she snatched her fan back. “You need to do some screaming. It would be good for your soul.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “You and Maria make quite a pair.Shethinks to save my soul, too. Someone needs to tell her that it’s a lost cause.”

“Is it?” Gran said quietly.

There’s still hope for him,he could hear Maria saying about his alter ego, Rockton.There is always hope.

It sounded so much like something Gran would say that he cast her a sharp glance. Was it possible that she had softened toward Maria?

Gran scowled. “I cannot believe you gave Prudence’s pearls to that chit.”

He relaxed. Gran would never find Maria suitable to be his wife. “They were mine to give.”

In truth, he’d intended merely to offer them as an accessory for the evening. But then he’d seen her in that dress, and felt her embarrassment at Gran’s disapproval, and something in him had snapped.

It was just as well, he told himself defensively. How better to convince Gran that he meant to go through with marrying Maria? That was theonlyreason he’d given Maria the pearls.

“Let’s go find Foxmoor,” he said. “I need to speak to him about something. And you need to talk to his wife about announcing my betrothal.”

Gran’s eyes narrowed on him. “You know, you do nothave to go through with this farce. You could end it now.”

“Or you could drop your ultimatum,” he shot back.

“Never,” she said.

“Your choice.” He cast her a hard glance. “But if you don’t make the announcement, I will.”

Making her see that he wouldn’t back down was the only way to make her give in, and he felt certain she would do so. Because if the betrothal was announced before everyone, Gran would feel compelled to let it stand to save the family honor, and she was never going to accept some Catholic American.

They found Foxmoor standing at the entrance to the ballroom receiving guests with the duchess, though he was more than ready to let Oliver pull him aside. Meanwhile, Gran went off to speak to his wife. Of course, Oliver knew better than to believe she was actually asking about making a betrothal announcement. It was all a show for his benefit.

“Why are you here?” Foxmoor asked. “As I recall, last year you swore that the only way you’d attend a ball on St. Valentine’s Day was in a casket.” He glanced behind Oliver. “So where is it?”

“Plague me if you must, as long as you do me one favor. I need you to help me rig the drawing.”

Foxmoor’s eyes narrowed. “If you think I’ll let you use my wife’s favorite social occasion to play a trick on one of your hapless brothers—”

“Not a trick. I want to rig it so a certain female will end up dancing the supper waltz with me.”

Clutching his hand dramatically to his chest, Foxmoor staggered backward. “You?Wanting to dance with an eligible female?” He eyed Oliver closely. “You do know that the only women who participate in the drawing are young, unattached, and respectable.”

Oliver gritted his teeth. “I’m perfectly aware of that.”

“And you want to dance with one of them.” Laughter erupted from Foxmoor.

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you do it?”

“Certainly,” his friend said merrily. “Whatever you wish. And while I’m at it, I’ll snatch the moon from the sky to be your dinner plate and the stars to light your way to supper.”

“I mean it, damn you. I need to dance with her, all right? It’s important.”

“Then why don’t you just ask her?”

“I did, but my brothers played a trick on me.” He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. “By the time I got to her, they’d convinced every one of their friends to claim a dance with her.”

“Good God, you’re talking about that pretty little chit that Gabe introduced to me and Louisa, aren’t you? Miss . . . Butter something? The one who’s visiting at Halstead Hall?”

“That’s her, yes.”