“Second. No emotional entanglements. This is a transaction, nothing more.”
His mouth twitched. “I shall endeavor to contain myself.”
She ignored the twitching. If she acknowledged it, she would have to acknowledge the warmth that climbed her neck every time he looked at her with a blend of amusement and attention, and she was not prepared to acknowledge anything of the sort. Not tonight. Not with this man.
“Third. No dalliances. No mistresses, no widows, and no women with whipped cream. For the duration of this engagement, you will conduct yourself as a man who is spoken for.”
The amusement dimmed. Something more considerate replaced it.
“You are asking me to be faithful.”
“I am asking you to be convincing.”
“If I agree to this, I will honor it. Not because I lack options, but because I gave you my word.” He held her gaze. “I do not break it.”
His sincerity caught her off guard. She had expected a joke, a deflection. Instead, he stood before her with his jaw set and his eyes steady, and she felt the ground shift beneath her feet.
She recovered. “Good. Because I intend to use this arrangement to secure a proper match. Lord Wilfrey may have retreated, but once my reputation is restored, I expect him to reconsider.”
Hugo’s brows drew together. “Wilfrey.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to help you make a match with Lord Wilfrey?”
“I want you to restore my reputation so that Lord Wilfrey, or any suitable gentleman, will consider a courtship.”
“What is it about Wilfrey that appeals to you? His conversation? His fortune? The way he folds his handkerchief into a perfect square before placing it in his breast pocket?”
“He enjoys travel. He has planned an expedition to the Mediterranean. He speaks to me as though I have a mind worth engaging, and he would allow me to be more than a simpering wife whose sole purpose is to produce heirs and plan supper menus.”
“He is spectacularly dull.”
“That is your opinion.”
“It is the opinion of everyone who has spent more than ten minutes in his company.” Hugo took a step towards her. “The man collects botanical specimens. He pressed a fern at Lady Fairall’s garden party and called it the highlight of his Season.”
“He has intellectual curiosity. You might try it sometime.”
“I have plenty of curiosity.” Another step. His voice dropped so that it was nearly inaudible. “I simply direct it toward more interesting subjects.”
“Such as whipped cream and women of questionable judgment?”
“Such as women who storm into a rake’s house at midnight and demand answers with fire in their eyes and not a shred of fear in their voice.” His gaze held hers. “That is far more interesting than any fern.”
The air between them thinned. Lily became aware of the distance closing, of the way his presence filled the space between them, warm, encompassing, and impossible to ignore.
He was taller than Wilfrey. Broader. And he smelled of sandalwood again, that same rich scent that had followed her into her sleepless night.
“Lord Wilfrey is a good man.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “He is decent and honorable, and he would never have a woman put whipped cream on his face.”
“No. He would arrive with a pressed fern and a lecture on soil composition.” Hugo’s gaze moved over her face with an unhurried thoroughness that made her skin prickle. “And you would spend the rest of your life pretending that was enough.”
Her pulse kicked. She took a step back.
“Are we agreed on the terms, Your Grace?”
He watched her for a long moment. Then he inclined his head.
