“And you do not desire this match?”
“No. If I had desired it, I would have offered for the lady’s hand myself.”
Miss Carruthers nodded agreement. “What a lamentable circumstance for you, with your uncle’s honor at stake. Other than offering my sympathy, I do not understand how I might be able to assist.”
“I lied, Miss Carruthers,” Arthur admitted. “Faced with the prospect of wedding the lady in question against my will, I told my uncle that such an event was impossible, since I was already betrothed.” He lifted his gaze to hers and saw a wary understanding appear there.
“Not to me?”
“To you.”
Her cheeks were stained a fetching pink at that. “But why?” She shook her head, as if struggling to make sense of his choice. “No one would believe that you would choose me.”
“Whyever not? You are pretty, you are sensible, you are educated…”
“I should have preferred to have heard those attributes in a different order, sir,” she said with a small and mischievous smile.
Arthur continued, undeterred, though he could not avert his gaze from that smile. “You are from a respectable family. I wager we should never be bored with each other’s company, for you read. Undoubtedly, you can discuss politics or whatever other topic I might wish to explore in conversation.”
“These are thin reasons to make a lifetime bond, sir, and thinner ones to choose my name above all others.”
“I had just spoken with you. You were in my thoughts, as was my admiration of you.”
“Mr. Beckham,” she chided softly, making her skepticism clear. “I will not countenance a falsehood in this matter.”
But it was true. It was all true and, as he sat opposite her, Arthur was even more convinced that Miss Carruthers would make him a suitable wife. “You are right. You are honest,” he added. “That is no small detail. There would be trust between us.” He could not explain the wave of relief that coursed through him with the words. How long had it been since he had been able to completely trust anyone?
Over twenty years, since he had embarked upon a massive deception, though not of his own initiative. In that moment, Arthur realized the full weight of the burden he carried, and only because there was a prospect of putting it down.
Miss Carruthers, however, gave him a quelling look. “Even though the match would be based upon a falsehood you told to avoid a marriage you did not find appealing?”
“It was not truly a deception…” Arthur began, though he knew it was.
Miss Carruthers challenged him outright. “I cannot imagine how it might be more of one. You asserted that we were affianced when in fact, we are not.” She raised a hand to invite his agreement. “That, sir, is a lie, a falsehood and a deception.”
“But it was not malicious.”
“It might be viewed to be so, if you did not expect anyone to believe it.”
“Why would anyone doubt it?”
“Because I am old. Because my father is in trade. Because I have only a very small dowry, particularly in comparison to someone like Miss Grosvenor, and because, despite your flattery, I am not pretty. In addition, you fabricate attributes for my character, which you cannot possibly know to be true or false. There is no possible reason for you to court me, Mr. Beckham. It would not berational.”
Hearing her reasons listed so logically and clearly only made Arthur want to argue with her. “But I like you,” he said simply. “And surely that is a better basis for matrimony and a better prospect for success in such an endeavor than money or advantage.”
She considered this. “It is highly unusual, Mr. Beckham.”
“I do not see that as a detriment. Hordes of people pursue bad choices all the time, simply on the recommendations of others.”
She studied him again, her expression intent.
At least she had not refused.
“Who else knows of this fabrication?” she asked finally.
“If you think I have stained your name with a rumor…”
“Who?”
