‘I am to play your fiancée now?’
‘Obviously, I demanded to know what the hell she thought she was about when I finally got her alone and she quoted you as the inspiration for her spur-of-the-moment solution, stating that men like Denby would not question a lady’s diligent support of her betrothed and would be seen as natural because... Er...’ He was delightfully awkward now and most definitely blushing. Which was a first. She had never seen him so flustered or uncertain. And she had never heard him stammer. ‘Because in his eyes, as my fiancée, your place should be by my side regardless... What with women being chattels and all, with no thoughts beyond those fed to them by their biologically superior menfolk and no desire above...um...administering to his—or in this case my—whims.’
Her words. Almost exactly.
‘And that worked?’ She found herself smiling at Lord Denby’s utter stupidity as well as Max’s charming awkwardness. ‘He can cope with me assisting you as long as we are engaged—but not because you engaged my services as an assistant?’
‘That is the long and short of it, yes.’ He slanted her a wary glance. ‘Eleanor has appointed herself our chaperon... For appearance’s sake, of course, rather than... Are you angry?’
‘Not in the slightest. Thank goodness Eleanor thought of it.’ She watched the tension dissolve in his broad shoulders and suppressed the sudden urge to run her hands over them. ‘Are Sir Percival and Lord Whittlesey similarly placated?’
‘As Lord Whittlesey’s sole purpose, as far as I can make out, appears to be to agree unquestioningly with everything Disapproving Denby says and as Sir Percival seemed crestfallen to learn that you were spoken for, I’d say so. He seems to have taken a bit of a shine to you, by the way.’ Max seemed to be watching her reaction to that intently.
‘It will tarnish. It always does.’ She hoped her words sound blasé rather than bitter because Max was being nice. ‘What is our plan for tonight?’
‘We’ll eat, then show them the artefacts. I shall propose a very early night so that we can head to the ruins early.’ His gaze suddenly swept the length of her and he winced again at her now thoroughly crumpled day dress. ‘Eleanor is insisting it is to be horrifically formal, so you’ll probably have to change. Once the carriage is unloaded, it can take you back home to do so.’
‘No need. I brought every decent gown I own and...’ His words finally permeated her brain. ‘Did Eleanor not tell you she invited me to stay?’
His mouth settled in irritated flat line. ‘She neglected to apprise me of that fact. I wonder why?’
Effie did not need to wonder, but now felt hideously embarrassed to be put in the awkward position of defending herself and Eleanor—who was only being practical.
‘She insisted. She believed you would need me here...to be your constant shadow in case you were put on the spot.’ She watched his jaw clench and his dark eyes harden. ‘If it is a problem, I can just as easily take it all back home...’ She instinctively turned towards the carriage in time to see the last of her baggage disappearing towards the house with the butler marching behind it.
‘Smithson!’
The butler halted at Max’s bellow, then swiftly changed direction. ‘Yes, my lord?’
‘What were my sister’spreciseinstructions regarding Effie’s luggage?’ His arms were folded, one booted foot tapping impatiently.
‘To take the artefacts and documents directly to the study and her trunks to the Rose bedchamber, my lord.’
‘And when were you given this instruction?’
‘Several hours ago, my lord. Just after we dispatched the carriage to fetch Miss Effie.’
‘I thought as much.’ He huffed out a sigh of complete disgust. ‘Kindly show Miss Effie to her room, would you, Smithson?’ Then he stalked towards the house without so much as a backwards glance.
Max was going to murder his blasted sister! And he’d enjoy doing it! Despite having strict ordersnotto interfere, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Now Effie was ensconced in a bedchamber just across the landing from him in the family wing and would be playing the part of his fiancée for the duration!
Utter torture and not a damn thing he could do about it.
With a growl he tossed his second ruined cravat aside and snapped open a third, because to compound his misery she had also insisted dinner was a formal affair, ostensibly to impress the stuffy antiquarians, but he was now of the firm belief it was also to parade Effie in front of him in a beautiful gown in the hope temptation would spur him into acting.
Well, the joke was on Eleanor because Max would be tempted if she was wearing a blasted sack, but he’d already acted and wasn’t about to risk acting again under any circumstance, so she could have saved them all the trouble! Once bitten, twice shy.
And devastated at the result.
How the hell was he supposed to sleep knowingshewas just across the hall? And in the Rose bedchamber, no less. The one which he presumed his uncle’s wife had used when she was alive because it was the feminine mirror image of his. The one his sister had been using since her arrival, but had suddenly vacated out of the goodness of her manipulative heart. No wonder his sibling had gone to ground. She knew damn well he’d be fuming!
Keelhauling was too good for Eleanor! Walking the plank was too good for Eleanor! She had gone too far this time! As soon as these three dreadful days were over with, he was sending the manipulative meddler back to London with the biggest flea in her ear and banning her from returning for at least a month! It was predominantly her fault he felt so awkward in his own skin. Hers and the gawping antiquarians. And the smitten Sir Percival, whom he did not trust to not flirt with Effie despite her being fictitiously betrothed to him. Max wasn’t entirely sure he could cope with anyone flirting with her in his presence, let alone an eccentrically charming, similarly scholarly and as passionate an antiquarian as Sir Percival Egerton. Even if he was exceedingly short and round.
Although, apparently, being short and round did not prevent Sir Percival from wooing and he’d said as much.
‘Too bad she’s all yours, old chap, else I’d be after her like a shot.’
And no doubt he would be, too, once the truth came out or if Effie was similarly tempted. They were, intellectually speaking, basically two peas in a pod.
