Palaces Of Light. James Axler

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Palaces Of Light - James Axler


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one knows us in London. What if we delayed our arrival a week. Would any fervor not have died down?” She paused, possibly answering her own question in her mind. “In any event, who would believe Lady Charlotte’s insinuations about us when we arrived in London? I am long on the shelf and I am certainly too managing by half to tempt you. Only witness our current situation!”

      He was completely thrown off guard by her response. She could not possibly believe that! Long on the shelf? She was the beautiful daughter of an earl and the most engaging woman he had met in a long time. He wished he had by the neck the miscreant who made her feel such an antidote.

      “My dear, this story will be all over Town by morning. And if you think being secluded with a well-known rake without the protection of an engagement would not stop your sister’s presentation before it ever started, then I think whoever sent you to London on your own ought to be horsewhipped. You are no more prepared to face it than a newborn babe.” He stopped, turned toward her and looked directly into those green orbs. “I am afraid, my dear, that I will not be a part of your ruination.”

      “Do all the women you know stand by and let you insult them to their face? Indeed, I understand the damage gossip could do to my sister. That is why I wish to see this situation resolved before that gossip can spread. Just tell me how we might fix this, and then we may go on our way.”

      He looked at her in amazement. “Madam, the only ‘fix’ is to continue with the engagement. We are betrothed and my next step is to go see your father.”

      He supposed it must happen at some point; but in his mind’s eye he had never envisioned this!

      * * *

      How had things to come to this?

      She stood before a gentleman she had known for the space of an hour, who was telling her they had no choice but to wed. “My lord, I believe you may be overreacting. We cannot deny the engagement without risking my reputation—very well. But there is no reason to continue it. If the Marchmonts claim we are betrothed, all we have to do is decide we do not suit,” she said, practically. “I believe engagements are broken all the time.”

      It was not a falsehood—engagements did not always last. But she was too practical not to realize that she couldn’t end the engagement immediately without consequence to her reputation. If nothing else, she would be the talk of the Town for having an engagement announced and ended within the span of an evening. No, it could and should end at some point—but that was unlikely to happen right away.

      No matter how little she liked the idea, she was veritably trapped in this arrangement...at least for now.

      * * *

      “Lady Grace, as relieved as I am that you wish this marriage as little as I,” Lord Weston said casually, “I am afraid I know not the correct etiquette for breaking engagements these days. Do you have a plan as to how that might be done?”

      She was saved from answering by the landlord knocking at the door. He entered with several footmen bearing trays of food and drink, which were laid on the large table in the center of the room. “Will there be anything else, yer lordship, sir?”

      “Would you like more tea?” Lord Weston asked Grace. “I believe yours was interrupted quite a while ago.”

      “No, thank you.”

      “You know,” he said, pouring himself a cup of hot coffee, “you have the most expressive eyes of any woman I have ever met. They are flashing emeralds one minute, and the next they are cool pools of sea green. You should know, in the event none of the clodpoles from Essex have told you, they tell of your thoughts, though you say not a word.”

      “No matter what my eyes say, my lord, I doubt very seriously you know what I am thinking at this moment.” Sarcasm; he noticed she resorted to it often when she was embarrassed. His compliments seemed to discommode her, fitting though they were.

      He laughed again and sat down at the table. “Lady Grace, I assure you I know exactly what you are thinking.”

      She held her hands out in anticipation.

      After taking a bite of pigeon pie, he said, “First, you are wondering how on earth I can eat at a time like this. For some reason, women always seem to find it abnormal that men can eat in times of duress.” He took a few more bites, laid down his fork and carried his coffee back to the chair before the fire. He continued in the same vein. “Secondly, you are wondering why I am being so blasé about this affair.”

      Her mouth opened in surprise and then she shut it and took up pacing again.

      He chuckled.

      “Very well, my lord, you excel at mind reading. Perhaps you also know sleight of hand and can make our circumstances disappear?” she quipped sarcastically.

      “My dear, you are certainly not dull, which is fortunate. I abhor dull women.” He crossed his legs before saying, “Shall we calmly talk this through?”

      “Yes. We need to come to some kind of decision before we reach London tomorrow. This cannot tarnish Lydia in any way. If you think a temporary betrothal is the only way to accomplish that, then I will agree. But a broken engagement must be included in the plan.”

      “Lady Grace, much of my fear was dispelled when you indicated your wish to be rid of me. I am thankful that you do not want this marriage, either, though to be honest, I do fear that when you get to London and find out what a coup it is for you, you might well change your mind.” He said it with a straight face, and watched as she stared at him, stunned. Then she laughed despite herself—just as he’d intended.

      “Humble, too, I see. You may consider marriage to you a coup, but I do not.”

      “No, Grace, I do not consider myself a prize. I was speaking of the fortune hunters and title seekers. Oh, and their mothers, of course.” He did not want her to see the bitterness he felt at that part of his life, so he finished with flair. “Now fathers, they are a different story altogether!”

      This time she did not take the bait.

      “Despite the prize,” she went on, “I have no desire to be married to you or anyone else. I am perfectly content running my father’s estate and household. This Season is for my sister. You need not fear I will back out of any agreement we come to on breaking our ties.”

      “The problem, my dear, is that we cannot go to London tomorrow and immediately cry off. With the Marchmont harpies spreading their tales, it would only add to the gossip surrounding you and your sister. I believe we shall have to play along for some period of time.”

      He smiled at her. “Believe it or not, if you think about it for a moment, our betrothal may even benefit both of us, for as long as it stands.”

      She looked at him with furrowed brows. “My lord, it will be a lie. Whether it benefits us or not, I cannot live a lie before all of London.”

      “Grace, it is not a lie. We are engaged.” He wondered if he wished to convince himself as much as her.

      Before she began an indignant reply, he put up his hand to stop her. “Hear me out. I do have entrées into some of the highest circles of the haute ton, despite my reputation, which could be of help to you and your sister. And, being already betrothed, I need have no fear of the matchmaking mamas. It may surprise you, I know, but there are more than enough people in Town who dislike me. When you do jilt me, you will be considered quite the heroine!” He looked at her with a decided twinkle in his eye. “I know it is hard to believe, but there it is.”

      “How absurd you are. Are you never serious?”

      His whole manner changed. “I am being quite serious now. I will not mislead you, my dear—my reputation as a rake is well earned. Though my position carries with it some advantages, there will be many who will want to put you on your guard with stories about me, and a few who will give you the cut direct for your connection to me.”

      “I see. Hmm, a rake who becomes betrothed


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