He shrugged. "We have known each other for a very long time. Realizing our family's financial straits, she suggested a marriage between us would serve all our ends. She would become my viscountess, and gain the status of married lady, and the family finances would be repaired."
"And what of you?"
Luc met his mother's dark eyes. After a moment, he said, "I'm agreeable."
She didn't press for more; she studied his expression, then nodded, and sipped. After a long moment, she met his eyes again. "Am I right in assuming you haven't told her you're now fabulously wealthy?"
He shook his head. "It would create a not-inconsiderable degree of awkwardness — you know how she'd feel. As it is…" He stopped himself from shrugging again, picked up his cup, and sipped instead. Prayed his mother would not further pursue his motives.
She didn't, not with words, but she let the silence stretch; her gaze, dark, shrewd, and understanding, remained on him — he felt it like a weight. He had to fight not to shift in the chair.
Eventually, Minerva set her cup on her saucer. "Let's see if I have this straight. While some men pretend to love or at least to a pretty passion to conceal the fact they're marrying for money, you propose to pretend you're marrying for money to conceal—"
"That's merely temporary." He met her eyes, and felt his jaw firm. "I will tell her, but I prefer to choose my own time. Naturally, her confusion will remain entirely between us — as far as society and all others are concerned, we're marrying for the customary reasons."
Minerva held his gaze; a minute passed, then she inclined her head. "Very well." Her voice held a note of compassion. She set aside her cup, her expression gentle. "If that is what you wish, I will engage to say nothing that will preempt your revelation."
That was the undertaking he'd come there to get; they both understood that.
He nodded, finished his tea. Minerva leaned back and chatted on inconsequential matters. Eventually, he rose and took his leave of her.
"Don't forget."
He heard the murmur as he reached the door; hand on the knob, he looked back,
She hesitated; although he couldn't see it, he sensed the frown in her eyes. Then she smiled. "Dinner at six."
He nodded; when she said nothing more, he inclined his head and left.
Later that evening, they walked into the Mountfords' ballroom and joined the queue waiting to greet their host and hostess. Beside Minerva, Luc glanced around. The ballroom was fashionably full, but he couldn't see any head of bouncing golden ringlets.
Behind him, Emily and Anne were sharing breathless confidences with Anne's best friend, Fiona Ffolliot. Fiona was a neighbor's daughter from Rutlandshire; her father's property adjoined Luc's principal estate. Fiona had come to London for part of the Season with her widowed father; they were staying with General Ffolliot's sister in Chelsea. Although well-to-do, the family was not well connected; Minerva had offered to take Fiona about with Emily and Anne, so she could see more, and be seen by more.
Luc had approved. Having Fiona artlessly breezy beside her gave Anne, always timorous and shy, more confidence and in some measure released Emily, older by a year, from Anne's side. It seemed likely that Emily would receive an offer from Lord Kirkpatrick at the end of the Season. They were both young, but the match would be a good one, and was looked upon with favor by both families.
The line of guests shuffled forward. His mother leaned nearer, lowering her voice so that no one else could hear. "I think our dinner was an unqualified success. A nice way to set the seal on our past affairs."
Luc arched a brow. "Prior to burying them?"
Minerva smiled and looked away. "Precisely."
After an instant's pause, he continued, "I'll still be seeing Robert — I don't intend giving up my interest in such endeavors."
His mother opened her eyes at him, then smiled and patted his arm. "Darling, if your interests truly lie in that direction — rather than the other — then I'm certainly not going to complain."
The laughter in her voice, the light that now glowed undimmed in her eyes — the way her spirits in the space of a day had lifted — made all his hard work worthwhile. As he led her on to greet the Mountfords, and heard Emily and Anne's gowns shushing as they followed, Luc mentally acknowledged that, despite the trials of the years — despite his father's efforts and those more recently of Edward — he was yet a lucky man.
And about to get luckier. The thought echoed in his mind when, having settled his mother on a chaise beside Lady Horatia Cynster, Amelia's aunt, he finally caught sight of his bride-to-be. She was whirling down a country dance, oblivious as yet of his presence. Curls jouncing, she was laughing up at Geoffrey Melrose, her partner; Luc wasn't enamored of the sight.
His sisters' and Fiona's hands had also been claimed; they, too, were on the floor. Luc fixed his gaze on Amelia, waited…
She glanced around, saw him — and missed her next step. She quickly looked away, readjusted to the dance; she didn't glance his way again. However, at the end of the measure, she glided over to join his sisters. As throughout this Season both she and Amanda had been assiduous in easing Emily's and Anne's way — a selfless act for which he was more grateful than he had any intention of ever telling either twin — no one saw anything unusual in her making one of their circle.
Not one gossipmonger so much as raised a brow when he strolled across the ballroom to join the group.
They were a colorful and handsome company; the three younger girls, all brown-haired, all somewhat shorter than Amelia, wore gowns of pastel blue and pink, petals surrounded by the gentlemen's darker coats. At the center, Amelia glowed in a silk gown of muted gold. The shade emphasized the ivory perfection of her skin, turned her hair a more definite gold, made her eyes a more intense, more startling blue.
Emily's, Anne's, and Fiona's partners had lingered to chat; three other young gentlemen had come up, hoping to secure the girls' hands for the next dance. To Luc's irritation, Melrose had followed Amelia, and Hardcastle had ambled up, casting covetous eyes over her slender form. Hiding his instinctive snarl behind an easy smile, he bowed to Amelia, nodded to both gentlemen, adroitly maneuvering so he ended by Amelia's side.