The Beguilement of Lady Eustacia Cavanagh (The Cavanaughs 3)

She eyed him where he sat, sipping brandy and silently regarding her—as if she was a puzzle he wanted to solve. Given the desire that had erupted between them, that, courtesy of that moment on the chaise, had manifested and remained simmering in the air, him wanting to know more might prove dangerous, too.

But the time for mindless panic was over; she had to face what was and sort it out. “It was neither my fault nor yours that I fell and we landed”—she waved at the velvet expanse beside her—“as we did. I understand perfectly why you declared we were engaged—Lady Hernshaw might be old, but even overcome with faintness, she has all her wits about her.”

“I noted that her attack of faintness evaporated on learning our news.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wish to marry, and neither do you.” She studied him. “You’re what? Thirty? You have years yet before you need to marry.”

He tipped his head. “Thirty-two, but otherwise, you’re correct. I was planning on enjoying my bachelor existence for quite a few more years.”

“There you are, then. So!” She blew out a breath and tried to focus her slowly reassembling wits. “At this moment, only you and I know our engagement is a sham, made necessary by unavoidable circumstances.”

“Indeed.” He took another sip of brandy, watching her over the rim of the glass.

“But neither of us wishes to marr

y, so what’s the best way of resolving this…situation?”

He lowered the glass, studied her for a moment, then said, “Us stepping back from the altar won’t be easy to explain. I’m a marquess possessed of significant wealth and estates, in excellent health, and passably handsome. In ton terms, I’m the definition of a highly eligible parti.”

She made a derisive sound. “You’re ridiculously handsome and an excellent catch.”

His lips twitched, and he inclined his head. “As you say. And you’re a marquess’s daughter, sister of another, have a certain level of independent wealth, and are considered a great beauty. All the ton’s ladies will envy you while all the ton’s gentlemen will envy me. By every criterion imaginable, we are the definition of a well-nigh perfect match—no one is going to readily understand us suddenly changing our minds and calling it off.

“Compounding that, you have, until now, avoided all matrimonial entanglements, I presume despite the active encouragement of your female relatives and connections, many of whom rank as grandes dames.” He pointed a finger at her. “That, more than anything else, is going to make backing away from our necessary declaration an exceedingly delicate task. You must have noticed how incredibly thrilled and relieved your ladies were on learning you’d finally taken the plunge.”

She grimaced. He was more observant than she’d given him credit for; the female members of her family had been in alt. But... “They’ll come around.”

Frederick nodded. “In time. Which is my point.” He continued to watch Stacie closely. “There is a relatively simple and straightforward way out of the snare that circumstances have forced us into, but it can’t happen overnight.”

She fixed her eyes on his. “What way?”

He inwardly smiled, careful not to allow his satisfaction to reach his eyes. Neither he nor she had planned any of this; it hadn’t been some trap one had devised and the other fallen into. Neither had wanted to become engaged, yet now they were, her resistance, perversely, had provoked a contrary reaction in him. He didn’t understand it, didn’t entirely trust it, yet the impulse to carefully consider the benefits of their new situation before ending it was too strong, too powerful, for him to deny.

And underneath all else, he was curious—about so very many things.

“It’s easy enough.” He held her gaze. “No one will believe us innocent of wrongdoing if we break our engagement off now, so we’ll behave as if we are, in fact, a newly affianced couple, and we’ll continue to play that part until summer. Then, in July, when the ton has quit the capital and is busy doing other things, we’ll quietly let it be known that we have, after all, decided we don’t suit.”

A frown slowly formed in her eyes as she imagined that.

Smoothly, he continued, “Given our respective ages—that we are both beyond the years of mindless frivolity and are regarded as sensible adults—no one will question such a plainly well-considered decision. However, for the very same reason of our ages, which also place us in the liable-to-be-indulging-in-liaisons class, we can’t call off the engagement too quickly, say within the next few weeks, because then everyone will assume we invented the engagement to conceal a potentially scandalous interaction.”

Her gaze grew distant, her frown manifesting and drawing her fine brows down.

After a moment, he murmured, “We have a simple choice—end our engagement soon and find ourselves the scandalmongers’ favorite target, a fate neither of us deserves, or take our time, pretend our engagement is real, and ultimately, step free without any repercussions.”

She refocused on his face. “You’re willing to do that—to pretend we’re engaged for the next four months?”

He lightly shrugged. “We’ve managed to work together in successfully organizing our first musical evening.” It had been only a week since he’d agreed to the venture, yet… “We’ve rubbed along well enough.” He drained the brandy, watching her all the while. Lowering the glass, he murmured, “Of course, once the ton gets over its excitement and moves onto the next happening, we won’t need to be quite so assiduous in keeping up our façade.”

“That’s true.” After a moment, she straightened, and her chin firmed. “I’ll need to tell my family the truth.”

He thought quickly and countered, “Just your sisters-in-law and Ernestine. If your sisters-in-law tell your brothers, well and good, but I’ll speak with them directly.”

Her frown returned. “The Cynsters—”

“No. And I won’t be revealing the truth to my mother and Emily, either.” He caught her gaze and willed her to accept the condition, one his instincts insisted was necessary. “The more people who know our engagement is, as you termed it, a sham, the harder it will be to maintain a believable façade for the wider ton and the more likely someone will let our secret slip, and we’ll be plunged into scandal for no good reason.”

She grimaced. “You’re right, but this seems so unfair—it wasn’t as if we were actually indulging.”