"My reputation was already questionable," Anthea said coolly. "One more scandal will hardly make a difference."
"Perhaps not to you. But what of your sisters?"
The words struck with uncomfortable accuracy. Anthea felt her carefully constructed composure crack slightly.
"That is not your concern," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. She knew all too well how her scandal would affect Poppy and Veronica.
"Is it not?" He studied her with those unsettling green eyes. "I may be new to Society, Miss Croft, but even I can see that your stepmother had plans for your sisters. Plans that involved me, if I am not mistaken."
Anthea's breath caught. "How did you?—"
"I have some experience identifying an ambush, Miss Croft. Military training serves one well in that regard." His expression softened slightly. "And I spoke with Lord Ashworth after the ball. He confirmed certain... suspicions I had about your stepmother's schemes. He knows her reputation for matchmaking machinations."
So that was how he knew. Ashworth must have explained the entire situation.
"Even so," she said, lifting her chin, "I have no intention of trapping you into marriage through scandal. I did not orchestrate last evening's events."
"I know." His voice was steady, certain. "Lord Ashworth helped me understand what truly occurred. Your stepmother arranged for your sister to be caught with me. You interfered to protect her. And in doing so, you compromised yourself."
She blinked. "You... believe me?"
"I do." He moved closer, and Anthea had to resist the urge to retreat. "Which is why I am making this offer. Not because Iwas trapped, but because you sacrificed your own reputation to protect your sister. That kind of loyalty... that is rare. Admirable, even."
Anthea found herself at a loss for words. She had expected accusations, suspicion, perhaps even anger. Not... respect.
"Your Grace," she began carefully, "I appreciate that you feel honor demands this offer. But I must be clear—I have no interest in marriage. To anyone."
"So you said last evening," he acknowledged. "And I heard you. But circumstances have changed, have they not?"
"Have they?"
"You need a way to protect your sisters and secure their futures," he said. "I need someone who understands Society. Someone who can navigate the ton's politics and teach me the unspoken rules I do not comprehend." He paused. "We can help each other achieve our goals."
It was logical. Practical. Everything Anthea claimed to value.
So why did some part of her feel oddly disappointed by his very pragmatic proposal?
"You speak of marriage as though it were a business arrangement," she said slowly.
"Because that is precisely what I am proposing," Gregory said. "I am not asking you to love me, Miss Croft. I am not even asking you to particularly like me. I am asking you to enter into a practical arrangement that benefits us both."
"And what would this arrangement entail?"
"We will negotiate terms," he said. "Ground rules for our marriage. You help me with Society. I provide resources and connections for your sisters. And beyond that..." He paused, his gaze steady on hers. "Beyond that, we live our own lives. Respectably. Cordially. But separately."
A marriage of convenience. Exactly what she had overheard him contemplating.
"You want a teacher," Anthea said flatly.
"I want a partner," Gregory corrected. "Someone who can help me achieve my goals whilst I help them achieve theirs. You need influence and resources to protect your sisters from your stepmother's schemes. I can provide both. In return, you help me navigate a world I do not understand."
"And you expect nothing else?" Anthea asked carefully. "No... marital expectations beyond this partnership?"
His expression remained carefully neutral. "I expect honesty. Loyalty to the terms we agree upon. And discretion. Beyond that, you are free to live as you choose."
It was perfect. Logical. Exactly what she should want—a marriage that required nothing of her heart, only her knowledge and connections.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly. She swallowed past it, forcing her expression to remain composed.
