The Wedding Game. Christine Merrill
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He glanced around him. ‘Then I will be sorely disappointed. She is not here at the moment.’
‘Because she has gone to Gunter’s for an ice.’
He could not help himself. His head turned in the direction of the confectioner’s shop, revealing his true motive. To hide his embarrassment, he bent down to pet the dog, carefully removing the sodden fabric of his pants leg from the animal’s mouth. Then he looked down at Miss Amelia, all innocence. ‘There is no reason I cannot speak to both of you.’
‘Now who is being glib, Mr Lovell? Your desire to be all things to all people puts me in mind of a politician. Perhaps it is my father you should be talking to instead of Belle and me.’
Was the woman really so astute as to guess his plans, or were his motives transparent? Either way, if he denied it now, she would have reason to call him a liar when the truth became clear. He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. ‘I will take that as a compliment, Miss Summoner. I would consider it an honour to serve my country by standing for office.’
She responded to this with a shudder of revulsion that surprised him.
‘I would think you, of all people, would have respect for public servants,’ he said.
‘Because of my father?’ She let out a brief sharp laugh. ‘I stand corrected, Mr Lovell. You are far too naïve for politics.’
If he was being naïve, it would not be the first time. ‘Perhaps I am. But that will not keep me from seeking a seat in the House of Commons. It will do more good than harm to have members willing to effect changes to benefit the common men our government supposedly represents.’
‘A reformer?’ Her brows rose, making her eyes seem even larger. ‘I can hardly wait for you to meet my father, Mr Lovell. He will eat you and your ambitions for breakfast.’
Some small part of him quailed at the thought that a man who might be so instrumental to his future could end it before he’d even begun. But he had come too far to quit without so much as an attempt, based on the word of a woman who seemed almost desperate to thwart him. ‘Then I shall work to be so palatable that he digests my ideas and makes them his own,’ he replied.
For the first time, she looked at him with what almost appeared to be admiration.
Emboldened, he went on. ‘And for your information, Miss Summoner, I do not consider myself a reformer. The modern machines found in the factories of the north have workers in an uproar. Soldiers who loyally served their King and country return from our wars missing limbs and with no means of supporting themselves beyond begging. Society changes with or without our help. We must be ready to guide it when it does or the country will fall to ruin.’
She clapped her gloved hands in mock admiration, causing the dog at his feet to release his leg and retreat behind her skirts. ‘Bravo, Mr Lovell. What a stirring speech. But it was hardly necessary to give it to me. The elections for the position you seek are, for the most part, forgone conclusions.’
‘The votes are controlled by men like your father,’ he agreed. ‘But that does not mean I do not belong in government, nor will it stop me from trying to win your favour. Were you able to vote, perhaps you might agree with some of my positions.’
‘Perhaps I would. I at least agree with your position that our country should be concerned with the welfare of the weak as well as the strong.’ She shrugged dismissively. ‘If I have grown cynical over the likelihood of that happening, it is the world and my father that have made me so.’
There was something in the unwavering and intelligent gaze she returned that made him wonder if he might be better off if Amelia Summoner could vote. Perhaps, if her quick wits were acknowledged and put to use, she would not be using them to bedevil the men in her life.
‘Let us call a truce, then,’ he said. ‘I acknowledge that my behaviour has been abominable, demanding that you speak to me when you clearly did not want to. I should not have done so.’
At this, she turned to look at him and he saw the faintest shift in the fleck of her eye, as if deep waters had been stirred to give a glimpse of what rested beneath. ‘And I had no right to mock your ambitions. They are noble ones, though I suspect they are doomed to failure.’ Then the vulnerability was gone and she was just as hard and brittle as she always was. ‘But that does not mean I will allow you access to my sister. You can want only two things in gaining an introduction to her.’
‘Really?’ he said, his apology forgotten and sarcasm coming to the fore again. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘You either seek a dishonourable liaison...’
‘Dishonourable?’ He blew his breath out in a great puff that would have been a curse if he had not been in the company of a lady. The terrier reappeared and gave a low growl to remind him of his manners. ‘I can assure you I would never intend such a thing.’
‘Then you are thinking of marriage,’ Miss Amelia said, tipping her head to the side as she looked at him, as if observing some exotic creature. ‘Since that is not to be, it hardly seems necessary for you to seek her out for a deeper acquaintance.’
‘I have barely spoken to her yet. How, exactly, would you know that there is no hope?’ he asked. Then he studied her just as closely as she did him. ‘Are the lady’s affections fixed upon another?’
‘To the best of my knowledge, they are not,’ she said. ‘But the lack of a rival does not automatically make you a good candidate for husband.’
‘Nor should it exclude me,’ he replied, doing his best to be perfectly reasonable. ‘I ask again, have I done something to make you set against a possible match?’
Again, he saw the movement in the depths. And again, it resulted in nothing. ‘I know her. And I know you.’
‘You hardly know me at all,’ he reminded her. ‘We have just met.’
‘I know you well enough to see that you will not suit,’ she countered.
He swallowed his denial. Could she really see past the façade so easily and know that he was unworthy?
‘I know that you are exactly like all the other gentlemen of the ton,’ she finished.
So it was nothing about him that she specifically disliked. ‘Then you have a problem with males in general,’ he said.
‘Not at all.’ She gave a slow, cat-like blink of her mismatched eyes. ‘I merely think that you are ordinary. My sister will require the extraordinary.’
The last word touched him like a finger drawn down his spine. His mind argued that she was right. There was nothing the least bit exceptional about him. If she learned the truth, she would think him common as muck and far beneath her notice. But then, he remembered just how far a man could rise with diligence and the help of a beautiful woman. He leaned in to her, offering his most seductive smile. ‘Then I shall simply have to be extraordinary for you.’
For Arabella.
That was what he had meant to say. He was supposed to be winning the princess, not flirting with the gatekeeper. But he had looked into those eyes again and had lost his way.
She showed no sign of noticing his mistake. Or had her cheeks gone pink? It was not much of a blush, just the barest hint of colour to imply that she might wish him to be as wonderful as he claimed.
In turn, he felt a growing need to impress her, to see the glow kindle into warm approval. Would her eyes soften when she smiled, or would they sparkle? And what would they do if he kissed her?
He blinked. It did not matter. His words had been a simple mistake and such thoughts were an even bigger one. They had not been discussing her at all. And now her dog was tugging on his pants again, as if to remind him that he should not, even for an instant, forget the prize he had fixed his sights on from the first.
She shook her head, as if she, too, needed to remember the object of the conversation. ‘If you must try to be extraordinary,