“Oh, guid heavens,” she muttered.
Mr. Smith froze a moment. Then his laugh came. It flowed as freely as his grin.
The sound of his mirth, familiar from over the years, a mellow, pleasant chuckle, never failed to make her smile. And yet neither did it leave the beat of her heart wild and unsteady. Not the way Arran’s rough-edged rumbling of reluctantamusement did; each laugh from him came like a special treasure tendered to a chosen few.
Mr. Smith’s expression grew serious. “Well, that’s as somber a look as I’ve ever seen from you, Lucy.”
“The situation I’ve gotten myself into merits it, Mr. Smith.” It was all coming to a head.
“Mr. Smith,” he said reflectively.
Lucy stared quizzically at the handsome mon.
“Well, it is just as I see it, given we’re betrothed, it’s only fitting you refer to me by my given name, Lucy.”
Lucy opened her mouth and closed it several times before managing to speak. “Are you making a joke about this, Mr. Smith?”
“I am.” He flashed a lopsided smirk. “Or I wasattemptingto, anyway.”
Lucy made to stand.
Mr. Smith rested a comforting hand atop Lucy’s. “Lucy, something tells me that you need to talk to someone more than I need to rest.”
His was an invitation. Not an order.
And so, Lucy did just that. She sat to tell him absolutely everything. She started with the lass-like fancy she’d developed for him and brought her telling all the way to the night he’d got hit by her sign, and the special bond she’d formed so very quickly with the captain.
When she finished, Lucy couldn’t look Arran’s cousin in the eye. The thick hum of silence hung in the air, unnerving Lucy.
What must he think about the deception she’d let go on with his family? “Mr. Smith, I u-understand you must be… livid.” What elsecouldhe be? His lack of response became unbearable and she brought herself to face him. “I…” Lucy came up short.
A strange, mottled flush suffused the gentleman’s cheeks.
Worry brought Lucy’s legs sliding back to the floor. “Mr.—”
He burst out laughing. “M-My God,” he gasped out between heaving bursts of hilarity.
“Th-this is t-too much.” He laughed so hard tears leaked from his eyes and rolled along his cheeks.
He’d gone stark raving mad. That blow to his head had done him in after all.
Desperate, Lucy glanced about. Surely one of the dozens of doctors housed in this palace heard what was going on with their patient. “You’re going to do yourself further injury.”
“From laughing?” He scrubbed the tears of hilarity from his face. “It w-will be worth it.”
Lucy watched on until Mr. Smith’s amusement faded to a husky chuckle. He gave his tousled blond hair a shake. “Oh, Lucy. Only my family would invent a secret betrothed for me. The fact you are unable to refer to me by my given name was all the proof they needed.”
She’d known the gentleman for years, and there’d never been anything but polite formality between them.
Two days knowing a stranger, and it had become not only natural to use Arran’s given name, but right, as right as being in his arms and laughing with him.
Just like her parents.
Sadness filled her.
While at the same time, nothing like them. Their story circled to a happily-ever-after. Or, at least, for a window in time, before her mum’s quick illness and swift decline.
“In fact,” the optimistic gentleman pressed on, “I’d even place a wager, and I am not the wagering sort, that there were at least one to a handful of McQuoids aware we aren’t a couple, but said nothing on account of being…” He lifted a single broad shoulder. “Well,McQuoids.”
