“Not at all, Your Grace. You were just explaining the rules of the game you had prepared for us.”
That seemed to please the duchess, and with a brilliant smile, she continued to explain the game. Something about a scavenger hunt, and the clues would be hidden throughout several rooms on this level of the house.
She had no intention of looking for clues, but at least the nature of the game would allow the guests to disperse. Her mother had decided not to participate and had sat down with a few other matrons to play cards. She was glad, otherwise her mother would cling to her side, hissing orders and reprimands. Maybe she could find a few moments of peace and solitude, away from people, to compose herself.
At a signal from the duchess, all the participating guests scattered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Montfort walking toward her. Maybe he sought to partner up with her in the game and take advantage of this opportunity to get closer or even steal a kiss. She exited the room before he could reach her. It would be in her best interests to stay far away from him until she figured out her feelings and her standing.
Out in the hallway, she looked this way and that. People were scattering in all directions. She couldn’t linger in the hallway or her intended might catch her. She was trotting down the corridor, looking for a place to hide, when a door opened to her right and the man who had occupied her thoughts all night hissed from the darkness beyond the threshold.
“Come in here.”
She didn’t hesitate one second before she plunged into the semi-lit room. She saw Michael look through the crack of the door before he closed it and locked it, trapping them both inside. It was the second time on the same day they were in a highly improper situation, but now they both knew their identities, and their roles.
Michael turned and impaled her with his gaze. “Explain.”
That’s it. Only one word. A command. But she recognized the hurt masked by the uncompromising authority. It found an echo in her.
“I thought you were my betrothed,” she hastened to reply. At his look of incredulity, she went on. “It’s true. I glimpsed him once at a ball. You two look very alike.”
“Not so much that we would be mistaken for each other!”
“Not up close. But I only saw your brother the once, from afar. Besides, I overheard part of your conversation with the footman. You referred to the duke as your father.”
He raised his brows. “Because he is. The duke has two sons.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You didn’t know the man you intended to marry had a brother? I would have thought the first thing you’d do is to pore over Debrett’s to study his family lineage.”
She frowned at that. “Why would I do that?”
“Isn’t that what these arranged marriages are all about? Bloodlines and family connections.”
He said it with such disgust one would have thought he was not a member of the aristocracy and as such, expected to do just that as well.
“Maybe for our parents. But not for me. I was only concerned with learning what kind of person the man I was betrothed to was. And Debrett wasn’t going to give me the answer to that.”
“So you arrived at the conclusion I was your betrothed based on a distant glance and an overheard conversation?”
“Maybe I wanted to believe you were my betrothed. Because I felt an immediate pull toward you.” She was laying her heart bare in front of him. If he mocked or berated her, he would inflict a painful wound. But he didn’t do that. Stepping closer, he placed a gentle finger under her chin, lifting her face so that their eyes met.
“And if you thought I was your betrothed, why didn’t you reveal your identity? I wanted to introduce myself! You wouldn’t allow me.”
“I know, and I’m very sorry for that. I wanted to get to know you, ascertain how you felt about our arranged marriage and whether we suited. Or if not, at least see if there was some chance to convince you to break the engagement. Hiding my identity seemed like the best way to get you to show me your true self.”
“So it was all a mistake?”
She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s inadequate, but my intention was never to lie or make sport of you. When I said you didn’t need to speak to my father and that all would be revealed later, I meant that you were going to find out I was your betrothed and all would be well. You’d be glad, and we would both have a laugh and a fun story to tell about how we met in the garden.”
“But I am not your fiancé. Much as I wish I were. What are you going to do now?”
At that moment, someone laughed outside in the corridor, and the doorknob rattled. They both waited with bated breath until they heard retreating footsteps.
“I must return to the drawing room. The game must be almost over.”
“Meet me tomorrow morning at the maze. At eight. There won’t be anyone around at that time.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
