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"That is very likely, unless you prevent it."
He protested that this was exactly what he'd tried to do.
"From what you've told me," said his aunt, taking the tone one would with a particularly slow child, "you did make an attempt. But your strategy was not well considered. And I am very surprised. For though Basil is a clever fellow, he is not nearly as clever as that little Corsican soldier you outwitted—"
"With some small assistance from Robert Warriner— not to mention the combined allied armies—"
She ignored him. "You did not study your opponent, master his weaknesses, or make any attempt to understand his plans. I know Miss Latham has a good head on her shoulders, but I doubt she's come up against one of Basil's ilk before. Don't mistake me, Edward. I love Basil dearly, with all his faults, but even I must admit that he is a very adept liar. So adept that he convinces even himself. Well, after all, his survival has depended upon it. What a great pity he has not entered politics. Will you stop pacing, Edward. A body can't think."
Obediently, Lord Hartleigh stopped, and flung his long form into a chair. It was amazing, his aunt thought, that for all his internal distress, only his hair—raked into disordered cuds—gave any evidence.
"You're telling me to try again?" he asked.
"Yes. But for heaven's sake, do use a little more guile. I can't believe that when she drew away from you, you didn't think to draw her back with soft words. Instead you make her a speech. One would think you a schoolboy fresh down from Oxford and still wet behind the ears." Lady Bertram gave an exasperated sigh. "What is this generation coming to?"
In spite of himself, he smiled. For his aunt was right. He'd been so busy protecting his pride—ashamed of the way his senses had betrayed him, ashamed of taking advantage of Isabella's distraught state—and so busy convincing himself he was protecting her, that he'd omitted the most important words; the "soft words" his aunt spoke of. Regard, respect, suitability—how cold and patronizing those terms seemed now, unaccompanied by any whisper of affection or love. To one of Isabella's intelligence, how pompous he must have sounded. What an ass he'd been! He looked up to find his aunt watching him, her own face a document of concern.
"Yes, Aunt," he admitted, "I've been a great blockhead. Your perspicacity will never cease to astound me." He lifted his glass in salute.
"I'm merely old," the lady replied, "and have had time to learn." But she lifted her glass in return.
Light was breaking as Lord Hartleigh left his aunt's house. He'd had little sleep in the past three days, but his step was lighter than it had been. He had some hope. Perhaps the odds were with Basil. Perhaps his cousin had won the skirmish and was now on his way to winning the war. But Edward Trevelyan, seventh Earl of Hartleigh, would not relinquish the battlefield just yet.
Chapter Thirteen
The other members of the Belcomb household were yet abed when the groggy servant showed Basil into the library where Isabella was waiting. Mr. Trevelyan himself had slept quite soundly, thank you, happy anticipation serving in his case as a soporific. And though it was an inhumane hour of the morning, he had no complaints. One must expect to make some sacrifices, after all. He was thus at his most sprightly as he entered the room, exclaiming, "Miss Latham, how perfectly charming you look this morning. I would say green is your colour, but then last night I was convinced blue was your colour, for you put your cousins altogether in the shade and quite took my breath away. But this morning I am breathless again. I declare it is a privilege and an honour for that dress to be draped upon your delightful person. Exactly as I should like to be," he added, sotto voce.
"Gracious God," she cried, "was there ever such a chatterbox?"
"My love, if I don't talk, then I must do something. And at present, what it is in my mind to do would probably not meet with your approval." When he made as if to move toward her, she backed away behind the great desk. He smiled, perched himself on the edge of the desk, and folded his arms. "But I shall endeavour to restrain myself—for the moment."
"Yes," she faltered. "We...we have business to discuss."
"How cruel you are. Not business, darling. A wedding." The amber eyes were wide open and innocent—angelic, even. "We're going to be married. And I hardly slept a wink for thinking of it," he lied. Clearly, she had not slept. The dark shadows under her eyes emphasised her pallour.
"Yes," she repeated. "We're going to be married. But as I told you last night, there are some conditions." She looked at him, expecting some protest, but he sat quietly, waiting.
"I believe," she continued, "that I am entering into this...this—business—with my eyes wide open. However, there are some demonstrations of good faith I require. Not for myself, for I have no illusions about your feelings for me—"
"You know I adore you."
"Cut line, Basil," she snapped. "I wish at least you'd stop insulting my intelligence with this absurd pretence."
"It isn't a pretence..." he began, but, thinking better of it, subsided, contenting himself with looking more angelic than ever.
"The conditions are for my family's sake," she went on, in an odd, dry voice. "First, there is to be an end to the gossip about us—"
"But, my love—"
"You encouraged it. Now you can discourage it. The gossip and the wagers are to stop. Completely. Further, you are to behave toward me with respect. And with discretion. You were able to do so last night, and I'm sure you can continue to do so. At least for two weeks, which is the time limit I've set—though I'm sure you could stop the gossip in as many hours."
His eyes sparkled dangerously, but "Yes, dear" was all he said.
"The fortnight's time limit is as much for your sake as my own. I realise that some of your creditors must be satisfied soon. If at the end of this period you have kept your part of the bargain, I shall immediately set things in train to pay the most pressing of your debts. Most of your creditors, of course, will be more patient when our betrothal is announced."
Her generosity astonished him. He'd expected far more difficult conditions. He'd even come prepared for some blows to his pride. But this wasn't wha
t he expected. It was too simple. Puzzled, he asked if that was all.
"No. That is, yes. As soon as I've settled with your creditors, you may do as you wish: send the announcement to the papers, set the date. Whatever." She shrugged. "I shall marry you when and where you say."
"But for a fortnight," he said, slowly, "no one is to know?"
"I plan to tell my mother immediately, and let her decide when to tell my aunt and uncle. In any case, all will see the advantages of keeping silence meanwhile."
"But, my love, how can I be sure you'll not slip away from me between now and then, while I'm hard at work crushing gossip and behaving myself?"
"Slip away?" she echoed. "Where? How? Where you have not hemmed me in, my obligations have. You know as well as I that what I ask is a mere token. To undo the damage done to my reputation, to allow my cousins a fair chance. I ask you this for my family's sake—a small act of good faith. And besides," she added listlessly, "I give you my word that I shall not break this bargain."
He was torn between delight and suspicion. "You exact no other promises—no other conditions?"
She shook her head.
"Isabella, you've made me very happy, but you astonish me."
"Why?"
He slid from his perch and circled round the desk to where she stood. This time she held her ground, even as he placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. "Because you might have offered me a marriage of convenience," he replied.
"You may have that, if you wish."
"I don't wish it. But do you?"
She stared at him—or, rather, through him—for a long moment before she answered, softly, "There's enough pretence in this business as it is. Let us at least make an honest effort at this marriage of ours. I will try to be a good wife. I ask in return that you make an honest effort to be a good husband."
"But it's so very unfashionable, my dear."
"Yes. I know it's all the rage to be miserably married and happily unfaithful. Well," she said with a shrug, "you'll do what you like in the end. Only give me some peace of mind for the next fortnight. And now, will you please go away?"
