He steeled himself to deal with fluster, rejection, and retreat.
Instead…
Her eyes widened even more.
She stared at him—and he stared at her as the realization dawned that they were both struck dumb and rendered immobile by the most searing desire he’d ever experienced.
The doorlatch clicked. “You can rest in here.”
He and Stacie turned their heads to see Ernestine looking down as she and another middle-aged matron guided two elderly ladies, both leaning heavily on canes, into the room.
“You can lie on the chaise, Lady Hernshaw, and recoup before attempting your carriage—oh!” Glancing at the chaise, Ernestine came to a jarring halt. Her free hand rose to her throat. “Oh—oh, dear!”
Frederick managed not to roll his eyes. Oh, dear? The situation was far worse than that.
A multitude of gasps and shocked exclamations confirmed his fears; not only had the two elderly biddies and the other lady seen him and Stacie lying together on the chaise, but apparently, a small cavalcade of ladies had trailed them to the parlor door and got an eyeful as well.
Stifling a sigh, he smiled reassuringly at Stacie and whispered, “Follow my lead,” then helped her to scramble off him. The instant she was on her feet, he swung his legs around and rose to stand beside her.
With blithely arrogant unconcern, he directed a smug smile at the assembled ladies. “It seems you ladies will be the first to know. Lady Eustacia has just done me the honor of agreeing to be my marchioness.”
He’d kept her hand locked in his; he felt the jolt of her shock and pressed her fingers in warning, then smoothly, smiling with the full force of his ready charm, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles.
The impulse to follow that innocent kiss with one far less innocent almost floored him. What the hell?
He wrestled his desire back into its cage as Stacie, her features rather blank for a lady who had supposedly just landed one of the biggest and certainly the most elusive catch on the marriage mart, shifted to face him.
Wearing the smile of a nobleman who’d seized a prize he’d wanted, he met her eyes as she endeavored to assemble the correct expression; her lips curved, and her features softened into a believable mask of happiness.
Thankfully, only he was close enough to see the horror that swam in the depths of her eyes.
Chapter 6
It was almost two hours later before the house finally fell silent, the guests all gone and Stacie’s sisters-in-law packed off to their own homes with a promise to reveal all tomorrow—meaning today, for it was now long past midnight.
Frederick could only give thanks that her brothers—including her half brother, Raventhorne—had left earlier, before Frederick had been discovered not quite in flagrante delicto with their only sister.
Later today would be soon enough to deal with the Cavanaughs.
The other Cavanaughs. First, he had to calm Stacie.
He sat in the armchair he’d earlier occupied in her parlor and sipped the large brandy Ernestine had happily handed him before taking herself off. Being affianced meant that he and Stacie no longer required a chaperon, which, given the subject they had to discuss, was just as well.
Stacie, meanwhile, was wearing a track in the carpet before the fireplace. “You don’t understand!” Dramatically, she flung out a hand. “I can’t marry you!”
He’d intended to swiftly and simply explain how and when their supposed engagement would come to an unproductive end, but her vehemence struck a nerve. Didn’t she know what a catch he was? Just thinking that might be atrociously arrogant, yet it was undeniably true. Shouldn’t she at least have paused to consider the prospect before insisting it could never be?
Stacie halted, hauled in a huge breath, then walked to the chaise and collapsed on its end. From the moment they’d fallen on the wretched piece of furniture and she’d realized that not only was Frederick attracted to her but she was equally attracted to him, her mind had felt fractured, her wits in utter disarray.
That he desired her was one thing; over the years, many gentlemen had. What had rocked her—blindsided her—was her response; apparently, she desired him—or desired him to desire her or…
Never having dealt with such a situation before, she wasn’t certain she was interpreting any of it correctly, not least her own reactions.
Subsequent to that moment and his utterly stunning but necessary declaration, she’d been forced to keep her entire focus on not panicking and, instead, presenting the right façade—that of a lady thrilled at having secured an offer from one of the ton’s most eligible noblemen. Indeed, given the success of his musical performance, at that moment, he was arguably the ton’s most eligible gentleman—wealthy, well-born, titled, handsome, and talented. From the ton’s perspective, he was an enormous catch.
But she wasn’t going to marry. For her, marrying was far too dangerous and not just for her.
Not that she could explain that, certainly not to him.