‘Believe me, it is a compliment. So, let’s enjoy this last dance at our first ball and promise to try and enjoy our fake engagement.’
Margaret nodded. He was right. Despite the turbulence of her confusing emotions, she had enjoyed the evening. She had smiled more than she usually did and had even laughed on occasion. She hadn’t been anywhere close to the wallflowers’ corner and had danced more at this ball than all the ones she had attended in the last three Seasons combined.
There were definite advantages to being betrothed to a duke, even if it was all fake. And that was the catch. Despite the fun she’d had, despite how much she loved dancing with him, that was something she must never forget. It would be a danger to her emotional wellbeing if she started to delight too much in the Duke’s company and forgot he was using her to silence a scandal with another woman.
She moved slightly closer to him. Yes, it would be sheer folly to ever think any of this was real.
Chapter Four
Jacob woke the next morning feeling better about the world than he had since this self-imposed exile in the Kent countryside began.
The ball had been a great success, just as he’d hoped. He wouldn’t be surprised if word had already spread to London that the Duke of Rosedale was to marry, the gossip mill being even more efficient than the telegraph system, and an engagement notice inThe Timeswas hardly necessary as he was certain the mamas would spread the news throughout Society.
But for the sake of appearances, he would have to follow all the expected procedures. He would not want to rouse Baron Winterborne’s suspicions. It was vital the Baron be convinced that Jacob had suddenly and unexpectedly fallen in love, and was about to settle down as a happily married man.
The first action required was a formal approach to Miss Whitmore’s father to get his approval, something he was sure would be a matter of course. Jacob was a duke after all, and not many fathers would turn down an offer for their daughter’s hand from a duke. And even if the father was not entirely in favour, he could not see any man being able to stop Mrs Whitmore from getting what she wanted, not if he desired anything resembling a quiet life.
Once he had the father’s blessing, notice would go in the newspaper and they would begin their courtship, proving to the world, and Baron Winterborne in particular, that he was a reformed man. Winterborne would realise nothing was to be gained by dragging his own name, his wife’s reputation or Jacob through the divorce courts and all would be right with the world.
Then, when the time came, he and Miss Whitmore would find some suitable reason why their marriage could not go ahead, a reason that ensured no harm was done to the young lady’s reputation, and ideally one that enhanced it and increased her desirability as a wife in the eyes of other men. And judging from the attention she’d received at last night’s ball, that would be an easily achievable outcome. Being engaged to a duke had certainly elevated her in the eyes of the fickle men present at this weekend’s party, and there had been no signs of her attempting to escape through any open windows.
And the way she had looked last night had no doubt been a contributing factor. The stern expression had mostly disappeared, as had the moue of disapproval on those lovely red lips, along with the wary tension in her posture. She’d actually looked like a pretty young woman capable of enjoying herself. Yes, he was certain this engagement would get her out of the wallflowers’ corner for ever and be as beneficial for her as it was for him.
All in all, this was a more successful break in the countryside than he could have ever envisioned when he’d first fled from London.
Feeling decidedly pleased with himself, he climbed out of bed and rang for his valet to help him shave and dress, then headed downstairs to find the house in a state of turmoil, with hurrying servants preparing for the guests’ departure.
He entered the breakfast room, where only Henry was still present, everyone else having presumably dined early so they could ready themselves to take their leave.
After such an eventful night Jacob had a hearty appetite, so served himself a generous plate of eggs, sausages and bacon from the silver tureens lined up on the sideboard and joined Henry at the table.
His friend stopped eating and looked at Jacob, saying nothing, his fork poised in mid-air, his silence and expression speaking volumes.
Jacob signalled to the footman to pour some coffee and commenced slicing up his sausages, deciding not to put his friend out of his misery immediately.
‘Come on man, out with it. What’s really going on?’
‘I’m engaged to be married. That’s what’s going on.’
‘Stop beating about the bush. What’s the real story? No one changes that quickly and don’t give me any of that rubbish about Cupid’s arrow. You might have impressed the ladies with that romantic rubbish, but I don’t believe it for a moment.’
‘You don’t believe in love at first sight, Henry? You surprise me.’
‘Come on, I want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’
Jacob laughed. ‘Funny you should use a legal reference. That is what this is all about. Winterborne is threatening to divorce his wife and plans to cite me as the co-respondent.’
‘So what? It’s not as if the whole of London doesn’t already know that his wife is your lover.’
‘Yes, I suspect you are right,’ Jacob conceded. Even Miss Whitmore had suspected he was in trouble with a married woman. If the debutantes knew then it really must be common knowledge, although Miss Whitmore was certainly not your typical debutante.
‘Well? Why this sudden need to get married?’
Jacob lowered his knife and fork to his plate. Henry was obviously not going to let him eat in peace until he had the whole story. ‘Things are over between Helena and myself, but I still have a great deal of affection for her. I’d hate to see her dragged through the courts, her reputation in tatters and shunned from Society. It would all be so unfair, particularly as her husband had all but given his consent to her taking lovers in the past.’
Henry frowned at his friend as if he still couldn’t understand what Jacob was talking about.
‘Winterborne has never objected to any of Helena’s other lovers, so I suspect the threat of divorce is more about me than about his wife’s behaviour. So, if he thinks I’m besotted with another woman he might see no need for going through this ridiculous divorce which benefits no one.’
