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“No.” Bianca stood, squaring her shoulders. “Lord Craven is not meant for the role.”
Mr. Moorish tilted his head to the side as Chris stood up behind Bianca. He brushed the small of her back with his fingers. “Mr. Moorish, m-may I have a brief word?”
“Of course,” Mr. Moorish replied. Relief made his shoulders drop as Mr. Moorish led the way out onto one of the balconies. “Now tell me son, what’s this about?”
Chris drew in a deep breath, unable to believe he was about to confess to another person. “I have a stutter…I don’t do well speaking publicly. Your daughter…” He didn’t want to stutter now. He’d sensed his own shift concerning Bianca and he wanted her father to consider him a good marriage candidate. “She knows and she is trying to protect me.”
Mr. Moorish cocked his head to one side. “There are several curiosities in that simple sentence.”
Chris gripped the rail, uneasiness making his chest tight. “Such as?”
“Have you stuttered your entire life?”
Chris didn’t actually want to answer that question and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “It began when I was five and I’ve mostly cured the plague. Only when I get extremely nervous does it come back.”
“It’s a nervous tic, is it?” Mr. Moorish asked, scratching his jaw. “Someday, son, you’ll have to tell me how it began. If I were to guess, it involved some trauma.”
Chris’s jaw might have dropped open if he hadn’t been clenching it closed. How had the other man known that? “Miss Moorish is attempting to protect me, which I must admit I appreciate a great deal.”
“To hear it told, you also stood up for her the other day. Is that true?” Mr. Moorish crossed his arms, staring at Chris through his spectacles.
Chris gave a tentative nod. “I was happy to do so.”
Mr. Moorish drew in a long breath. “Then I only have a few more questions to ask. The first is how does my daughter know so much about you?”
A muscle in Chris’s jaw spasmed. Now they were getting down to the heart of it. “I’ve developed a great affection for your daughter.”
Mr. Moorish stepped a bit closer. “And your intentions are?”
He might as well accept his fate now. He couldn’t leave her. He still wasn’t certain this was the best course but there was no turning back now. “My intention is to marry her.”
* * *
Bianca stood exactly where her father and Chris had left her, watching them speak on one of the many balconies that faced the water. Only the occasional word drifted back to her and she wrung her hands wondering what they might be speaking about.
Dashlane rose from his chair, crossing his arms. “Why did you volunteer me for Romeo?”
Bianca blinked, realizing he was speaking to her. She furrowed her brow, looking over at him. Didn’t he understand she was attempting to eavesdrop? “Not now. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”
Dashlane tossed up his hands. “You don’t have to hear to know what he’s saying. He’s declaring his undying affection and asking for your hand and being a spineless fop. Every one of my friends is turning into a bleeding idiot if you ask me.”
Surprise made Bianca go rigid. Dashlane couldn’t be correct, could he?
Her sister, Cordelia, reached out to Dashlane, touching his arm. “You don’t know that so don’t say it. You’ll get her hopes up.”
Dashlane scowled at Cordelia. “Which one are you?”
She scoffed, pulling back her hand from his arm. “The one who doesn’t give a fig if you’re handsome or charming. It doesn’t give you the right to be rude. Which you’ve been since the moment you walked through the door.”
His mouth parted in surprise. “I’ve been rude? Your sister is attempting to trap me in some web that I am sure I don’t want to be in.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Juliet huffed. “You can’t be talking about me?”
But Cordelia pulled out her fan and tapped his arm with it. “You can’t handle one marriage-minded miss?”
He straightened, his expression growing black. “I certainly can.”
Cordelia’s chin notched. Bianca could not ever remember her sister speaking this way. Her demeanor was normally quiet and demure. “Then what does it matter what Juliet’s plans are? You’re being rude to my father. A man who has put a roof over your head and opened his doors in hospitality. Be nice.”
