“There is nothing for it,” the earl said, striving to sound hearty. In truth, he was perspiring mightily. “The wager has been made and lost, and you must keep the bargain, Arthur. Perhaps she will become more attractive to you in time.”
“Impossible,” Arthur said and finished his sandwich with an emphatic bite.
“Reynaud, you cannot expect Arthur to bind his life to that of a woman based upon your feckless wager.”
“Barnaby Grosvenor will ruin me, Yvonne, and enjoy the doing of it.”
“You have been ruined before, Reynaud.” She shook her head at the tedium of it all and lifted the tea pot. Arthur shook his head, the earl ignored her, so she refilled her own cup.
“But he is devious, Yvonne.” The earl leaned closer to make his appeal to his sister—who appeared unmoved. “He has bought enough of my debts that he can take Fairhaven from me, unless Arthur weds his daughter.” He sighed. “By the terms of the agreement, I am to declare Arthur my heir after the wedding.”
Lady Beckham set the tea pot down hard at that.
“The last thing I wish to inherit are your debts, Uncle,” Arthur said, even as his thoughts flew.
“But youmust. You must wed her. I entreat you!”
But Arthur straightened, his resolve set. There was no honorable way out of this unacceptable obligation, so he would do what he had to do.
He would lie.
He did not like it, but the solution had worked in the past—and of all people, Lady Beckham could not find fault with the choice.
“I cannot wed the lady in question,” he said crisply, his decision made. He examined the sweets with apparent leisure, as if indifferent to his uncle’s fuming, and chose a savory sausage roll instead, one that was no more than a bite. It was probably delicious, though it might have been dust on his tongue. He indicated them to Lady Beckham with favor, but she shook her head slightly, watching him with interest all the while.
“But there is no cause for defiance…”
“It is not defiance, sir, but a pre-existing situation, one of which you evidently are unaware.”
“I do not understand.” The earl looked between his sister and his nephew, his rising alarm undisguised.
“If you had consulted with me before embarking on such a foolish wager, you would have known that I am already betrothed.”
“What?!” the earl roared.
Lady Beckham straightened. She could destroy this scheme before it began but Arthur saw her smile ever so slightly and was relieved.
She was entertained, and that alone might save him.
“A man, as you know, cannot wed two women, at least not in this country.” Arthur swept an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. “And I cannot possibly sever a bond promised with such a respectable family, made in good faith and entered with the approval of all parties. It would be unseemly, Uncle, dishonorable and a disgrace.” He placed a hand upon his own chest. “My own honor is at stake, after all.” He smiled at the outraged earl. “I know you would not ask such a foul deed of me, even for your own convenience.”
“But I had no notion you were affianced,” the earl said, sinking back down to the settee. “Why was I not informed?”
“The alliance is but recently formed,” Lady Beckham said, as if she knew all about it. Her gaze flew to Arthur.
“And who is the lady in question?” the earl demanded. “What is her name?”
The only one lady Arthur found to be of interest.
He would have to throw himself at her mercy, and could only hope she possessed some increment of compassion. He had no doubt she would offer him a challenge in gaining her agreement, and in a way, he looked forward to the encounter.
“Miss Patience Carruthers, of course.” He offered his cup for more tea and his mother poured it with a triumphant flourish. “I am surprised you have not heard. All thetonis talking about it. There is no doubt about it. You will have to wed Miss Grosvenor yourself.” The earl began to shout, his mother scolded her brother for his poor manners, and Arthur sipped his tea, wondering how in damnation he was going to manage to convince Miss Carruthers to accept his lie.
The fact was that he would do anything to avoid a lifetime with Felicia Grosvenor.
If he told Miss Carruthers as much, would she take pity on him? Arthur doubted that, but there might be something she desired, something he could give her, something he could provide to make this most convenient agreement. Bloody hell, he had every asset at his fingertips. She must desiresomething.
He might have need of divine intervention to see success in this matter.
