Page 63 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And I do not take this situation lightly. If you refuse me, if you wish to break the engagement after the gossip has passed, your family will stand behind you.”

Something in her rebelled at that. “Is it truly so simple to you?” she asked. “To offer to save my reputation at the expense of your own?”

“Your reputation ought not be destroyed when mine is better suited to bear the weight,” he said. “I would rather endure Society’s disapproval than watch you suffer again what you endured in London.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, startled that he knew of it.

“I was told only enough that I understood what was at stake,” he said. “Nothing more.”

Emily’s throat tightened uncomfortably. “If I were to accept this…engagement…what then? What is expected of me today?”

He straightened, gathering himself. “We must be seen together. At ease and united. At the races this evening, in an hour’s time. And afterward at the theater.” A tiny wince changed his expression to something almost amusing. “We must leave no room for doubt as to the sincerity of our understanding.”

A reluctant, trembling laugh escaped her. “I cannot believe this.”

“I can,” he said softly. He stepped closer slowly, giving her every chance to withdraw, and offered his hand. “Lady Emily…may I escort you today?”

She stared at his open palm. His fingers were steady, though she suspected his nerves must be a tempest beneath his composed exterior. Hers certainly were.

That made her pulse flutter, to think of being attached to him throughout the day. And yet… “I do not know what I ought to do,” she whispered. “I am not prepared for any of this.” She looked up into his eyes, uncertain and afraid to make the wrong choice. In her heart, she wanted to put her hand in his. Every moment spent with him had brought her comfort and joy. Every time she thought of him, she could not help but smile and wish to see him again.

He had not denied that their attachment was one of friendship.

His gaze held steady, his smile was slight. “Then let today be simple. Walk beside me. Speak with me. Allow York to see that you are not concerned by what they do or say. Or what they think.” He hesitated. “If you are overwhelmed at any moment, I will take you home at once.”

She drew a slow breath. “You sound very certain of yourself.”

“Not in the least,” he said, the words painful in their honesty. “The only thing I am certain of is that I wish to stand with you. No matter what comes.”

A long silence stretched between them, threaded with her surprise and tenderness toward him. And the faint dread of the unknown. Then a soft, uncertain note escaped the canary near the window, and Emily glanced at the brave little bird still trying to find its full song.

Perhaps it was time for her to try bravery, too. At last, Emily placed her hand in his. The warmth of his palm beneath her fingers was reassuring, and when he folded in hand around hers she found it dangerously comforting.

“What comes next, we face together,” she said as steadily as she could, as though making a pact or a vow.

“First the races,” Lyness said. “Then the theater for a play. I already have tickets for this evening’s performance.”

“You already possess tickets?” Emily blinked. “You seem much more prepared than I am, Mr. Eastwood. What is showing?”

“A new drama from London,” he said lightly, lips curling upward. “At the races, we can remain with your family. At the edges of the crowd, if you prefer. Then you need do nothing but enjoy a play. No conversation or performance except what is on stage. For the moment, you only need to look presentable and remain upright.”

How she did not laugh at that, she could not say. “Even so little a requirement seems ambitious.”

Lyness chuckled and squeezed her fingers, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Then lean on me. That is what engaged couples do.”

That made her cheeks warm rather unexpectedly. She gazed at Lyness, her hand still in his. “What if I make a fool of myself today?”

“Impossible,” he said gently. “I have never once thought you foolish.”

Her heart stuttered. “But, Mr. Eastwood⁠—”

With a quick shake of his head, he said, “Lyness. Please. Call me Lyness.” A gentle squeeze of her hand gave her leave to relax somewhat.

“Lyness,” she repeated quietly, his name leaving her lips with ease. She had thought of him by that name for some time now, so it was almost a relief to finally speak it out loud without needing to correct herself. For the moment, she put her concerns aside. “I suppose I had better dress properly for the races.”

At that, his smile slowly widened. “I will return within the hour to escort you, my lady.” He bowed over her hand. “And count myself fortunate to do so.”

She curtsied, and then she watched him leave, his steps light and his shoulders squared. As though he had all the confidence in the world that this was the right way forward. She crossed to the canary’s cage and looked inside at her little bird. “I truly hope he does not come to regret his choice. But oh, Feathers. How will I tell my parents?”