The Wedding Game(35)

‘What else do they tell you about getting married?’ he asked cautiously.

‘We will go to the church and then have cake for breakfast.’ She smiled as if this was quite the nicest thing that she could imagine. ‘And then I will go to the new house and have servants and babies and a husband.’ Her tone seemed to imply that all things on the list needed no particular order because they were all of equal importance.

Since the beginning of the Season, he and every other man in London had taken her silence as a ploy to attract. But could it be less an attempt to allure than a disguise for something else? Suppose the bright smile on that pretty face existed like an elegant cloth over a plain table, hiding the rickety intellect beneath.

Suddenly, he understood Summoner’s demand for an oath and Amy’s continual insistence that this marriage would not work. It was not his past that concerned them. It was Miss Arabella. Since she barely understood the engagement, it was unlikely that she would cry off it and give him an easy escape. To break the offer himself would tarnish her reputation and risk revealing to all of London what her family already knew: Arabella Summoner was as simple as a child.

‘Well?’ She tugged on his sleeve. ‘Can I bring Mellie?’

‘Of course,’ he said absently. ‘Bring them both.’ Then he turned the phaeton back towards her town house.

*

When they arrived at the front door, Belle hopped down to the street before he could come round to help her. Mellie, the dog, was still coiling for the jump, looking down at the cobbles with the dread of one who had too often leapt into situations only to be totally out of his depth.

Today, Ben sympathised. He scooped the dog up again and set him down on the ground so he could scramble into the house after his mistress. Ben followed a step or two behind. He wanted to say his farewell to Arabella and perhaps a few choice words to Lord Summoner on the nature of honesty.

But once he left the house, he would never be able to speak on the subject again. Nor did he expect society to recognise her disability. As long as her looks held, gossip amongst women would be seen as jealousy. And men would likely claim that wits in a woman paled in comparison to the attributes that she already had. There might be rumours that Mrs Lovell was not quite right, but no one would hear them from her husband.

And there, standing just inside the door, was Amy, helping her sister untie her bonnet. Why had he not spotted the real difference between them, from the first? Belle’s beauty came from her innocence. Her heart and mind were unaffected by care. It was the simple bloom of an untouched child.

But Amy’s beauty glowed from within. It was a complex, difficult, prickly sort of loveliness, more like a wild flower than a rose. But once seen, it could not be unseen. Even as they stood together, his eyes, his mind, his heart, were all drawn to the elder sister and he could not pull them back.

‘Belle, darling, do not dally too long in changing out of your walking gown.’

Now Amy was shaking the wrinkles from her sister’s coat before handing it to a maid. As she turned, he saw her hair, loose and cascading down her back in a smooth wave. He had thought it an unremarkable brown, when first he’d seen it. But today it shone with the same gold that he saw in her eye. Why did she bother with curls and braids? Did she know that the sight of her undressed hair would render a man speechless with the urge to touch it?

‘It is almost time for tea. We are having your favourite.’

Their conversation was mundane, but to Ben it was like music. He had accused her of jealousy and his father proclaimed her a bad influence. But the love Amy felt for her sister wove through the words.

His fiancée turned to her sister, her smile blindingly brilliant as if she heard it as well. ‘Jam tarts.’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘May we have them for supper as well?’

‘No, dear. At supper, we need something more sub...stantial.’

He could tell the exact moment she noticed they were not alone by the hitch in her words. She glanced in his direction and favoured him with a smile that was polite, but cool. ‘Mr Lovell, will you be joining us?’

Had her father lectured her on her behaviour towards a future brother-in-law? The animosity that had seemed to sizzle between them was gone. And surprisingly, he missed it. What if the passion was gone as well? Suppose there was nothing left but this benign courtesy? ‘I can stay but a few moments,’ he responded, just as polite. ‘But if it would be possible to speak with your father...’

‘Unfortunately, he is away from the house. But I can answer any questions you might have. If you care to wait in the salon, I will be there directly.’

He nodded his thanks and made his way to the room he’d waited in on the previous day, before making his devil’s bargain with Summoner.

She came to him a few moments later, closing and locking the door behind her. Then, without asking, she went to a cabinet in the far wall and removed a brandy decanter and two glasses. She poured both and handed one glass to him, before taking a sip from her own. ‘It is unladylike to admit it, but there are times when a delicate restorative is not enough.’

This was definitely such a time. He drank deeply before speaking. ‘You were right.’

She laughed bitterly and took another sip. ‘It is a day too late to tell me so.’

‘And I swore to your father, on the Bible, no less, that I would not withdraw my offer.’