When she raised her eyes to smile at him, he looked thoroughly uncomfortable with both her deference and greeting. ‘Please,’ he said wincing. ‘Sit down, Miss Strickland. We are family, are we not? Surely the formality of a title is not necessary.’
‘As you wish, my lord.’ She resumed her seat.
‘And the honorific is not necessary, either,’ he said, wincing again before sitting in the chair opposite her. ‘I am not totally sure it is even appropriate yet. There must be some papers to be signed. They cannot just expect...’ His voice trailed off, confused again. ‘To call me Mr Strickland would be rather confusing. Would it be too inappropriate for you to call me Miles?’
Probably. But if it was what he wished she would accede. She smiled again, though she could still not manage the dazzler she had planned for him. ‘If you wish, I shall call you Miles. And you must call me Hope.’
He nodded, relieved. ‘Very well, Hope. It is good to meet you. If you have come to welcome me, I am surprised that you did not bring your sister with you. I looked forward to meeting both of you.’
‘Actually, I had not planned to impose myself on you, until invited,’ she said.
‘I see,’ he replied, disappointed. ‘And what changed your mind on the subject?’
‘My friend, Mr Gregory Drake, mentioned that he had seen you,’ she said. ‘I went to visit him today and found he has travelled from town without leaving notice of where he was going. I wondered if, perhaps, he might have mentioned his destination to you.’
And now he was surely wondering about the manners of English women and whether it was normal for them to ask impertinent questions of people they had just met. But, if she had shocked him, he hid it well. ‘Yes, Mr Drake. We dined together the day before yesterday and again this afternoon.’ He gave her an appraising look. ‘He speaks most highly of you.’
‘He does?’ She had given him no reason to, but it was nice to know.
‘Yes. Especially after a few glasses of brandy. When he left me today, he was somewhat the worse for drink and under the impression that I was likely to marry you. In fact, he strongly advised it. He says you are a capital choice and that it makes a great deal of sense for us to wed, for the sake of family solidarity.’
‘Oh.’ As usual, Gregory Drake was working very hard behind the scenes, like Cupid’s own stage hand, to see to it that she got the things he thought she wanted.
‘Your grandmother seemed to like the idea as well. When she met me in Bristol she took great pains to remind me that you and Miss Charity are not married and it is my responsibility, as head of the family, to see that you do so. But not just any man will do. Nearly everyone I have spoken to since I arrived seems to assume that it would be for the best if I stepped up and offered.’
‘I see,’ she said, even though she did not want to. Had it been just a few hours ago that she was prepared to accept? Now, she would have to find a polite way to refuse.
‘You wouldn’t happen to be in love with Mr Drake, would you?’ Miles said with a sympathetic smile.
‘Yes?’ she said. Her voice quavered, making it sound almost like a question. ‘Yes,’ she said, more firmly, and smiled as her strength returned.
He sighed. ‘That is good to know. Because, you see, while everyone thinks it is a good plan for us to wed, I can’t say that I’m sold on the idea. You seem very nice, of course. And you are very pretty. But we do not know each other at all and what kind of a marriage would be made of that?’
‘That is true,’ she said, amazed at the flood of relief she felt to be rejected by the man she’d waited for for months.
‘If you should happen to marry someone else before I’ve had a chance to court you, I would find that most convenient.’
‘I am not sure he still wants to,’ she said. ‘He asked me, but I refused him.’
Miles sighed. ‘What is wrong with the pair of you? You seem quite besotted with each other. Make sure he offers again. By week’s end, if that would be possible. That damn Prince is after me to declare myself and I need a reason to say no.’
‘The Regent,’ she said, horrified.
‘Solidarity of the state. Heirs. Something like that,’ Miles Strickland said, shaking his head. ‘He wants to make sure I marry the right sort of girl and not an opera dancer or an American.’ His lip curled in distaste. ‘Back home, we do not have to worry about the government meddling in our personal affairs. James Madison does not know me from Adam’s off ox and that is just the way I like it.’
‘The Regent expects us to marry,’ she said again, pointing between the two of them.
‘But we are not going to,’ he reminded her, smiling. ‘You are going to marry Greg Drake, as soon as possible.’
‘But I do not know where he is,’ she said, helpless.
‘Is that all?’ The Earl let out a relieved puff of air. ‘I sent him down to Berkshire. Or up. I am not sure where it is, exactly. But I have a house there.’
‘To the manor,’ she said, shocked.
‘I had requested an audit of the entail. But though everyone in this country has been telling me what they expect of me since the day I arrived, no one actually listens to what I want. Except for Greg Drake, that is. He seems to be a dead useful fellow, able to write in a clear hand and smart enough to count the sheep, or whatever it is I have.’
‘He is at the manor,’ she repeated.
