Page 72 of The Wallflower Ruse

After a much-abbreviated sleep, Restive dressed in his best and walked, well before the usual time for morning calls, to the Belair residence. Several acquaintances nodded to him as he passed, and he noticed a few smirks and some avid interest, but set it all aside as irrelevant. He would start by talking to Lucy, and then...well, he’d just have to see.

An uneasy-looking butler opened the door to him, took his card in silence, and said he would see if Lady Belair was receiving.

“I don’t wish to see Lady Belair. Only Miss Belair.”

“I shall verify if—” He broke off as Lucinda herself came swiftly down the stairs and stopped dead. “Oh,” she said, clearly appalled. “It’s you.” She was dressed in pelisse and bonnet. “Sorry, but I’m going out.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” he said. “If you think I came here to speak to your execrable mother, think again.” The butler, he noticed, was biting his lip hard not to laugh.

Lucinda glared. “Then go away. I have business to transact, and it must be done immediately.”

“As do I. Shall we transact it together?”

Lady Belair appeared at the baluster above. “Lord Restive! How delightful. Do please come up; we have much to discuss.”

“Madam, I have nothing to say to you and never shall,” Restive said. “Come, Lucy, let’s go.” He opened the door and ushered her out. “Where we headed, love? Left or right?”

“To the hackney stand, and you mustn’t come with me.” She glanced about her with a hunted expression. “In fact, the last thing you should do is be seen with me in public.”

“I should like to be seen in public with you for the rest of my life,” he said.

She whirled and snarled, “Oh no. Don’t you dare. Just because you kissed me in a moment of relief, you are not obliged to marry me, and I refuse to—to permit you to make such a stupid sacrifice!”

“But what if I am willing, nay, eager to make the sacrifice? Or, rather, to be the sacrifice. Think of the control you’ll have over me, as I lie naked and quiescent on the altar of our marital bed.”

“Don’t be an idiot,’ she said. “It’s not a prank, it’s not a jest, it’s utterly horrid and unfair, and—”

“Is the prospect so dismal? I may not be the stallion I’m held to be, but I am perfectly capable of bed sport. Not only that, think of the other delightful aspects of marriage. Breakfast together every morning, for example. I don’t natter, whatever Lady Alice may say, and I’m entirely capable of rational conversation at any hour of the day.” They arrived at the hackney stand, and he said, “Where to?”

She huffed. “Fleet Street,” she told the jarvey, and to Restive, she said, “You needn’t come with me. I’m perfectly capable of refuting that announcement on my own.”

“Announcement?” He climbed in beside her, pulled the door shut, and they moved forward.

Dear God, he doesn’t even know, thought Lucinda, thoroughly humiliated now. She couldn’t get a single word out.

He took her hand in his. She tugged feebly but gave up. His hand was warm and strong and even kind, which made her want to weep. Once I get control of myself, she decided, I’ll pull my hand away.

“Your mother?” he asked. “She put an announcement—of our betrothal, I assume—in The Gazette?”

Numbly, she nodded. “Wedding at St. George’s, Hanover Square, a month from now.”

He laughed. “That explains the strange looks I received on my way over here. I thought perhaps it was because I kissed you last night, but I didn’t see how the news could have traveled quite so quickly. But if they read The Gazette this morning...”

Mortification washed over her again. From the depths of utter misery, she dredged up an apology. “I’m so very, very sorry, Lord Restive.”

“Call me Algy,” he said. “Anything but Stallion—although I daresay I shan’t mind that if you enjoy me in bed.”

“Don’t make this situation any worse than it is!” she cried. “Reject me wholeheartedly, Lord Restive, and let me go.” She yanked her hand free and felt utterly bereft.

“I prefer Algy on the lips of those who care for me,” he said, possessing her hand again and kissing it. “And I believe you do care for me, Lucy.”

“Of course I care for you,” she moaned. “The instant my mother told me, I rushed out to refute the notice. I was on my way to The Gazette offices when Mr. Pearce abducted me.”

“Ah, I see. I was rather annoyed with Pearce at the time, but now I see I have cause to be grateful. I can marry you without dealing with your mother at all.”

“Don’t be foolish, Restive. It’s unfair and unkind. You don’t really wish to marry me, and I refuse to entrap you.”

“But I do I wish to marry you.”