“My uncle, of course, and my mother.” Arthur frowned. “But Lady Beckham had no social commitments today and I doubt she would share the story until it was confirmed by me. She understood that I was not entirely honest.”
“Then you habitually fabricate stories. That is no good endorsement, sir.”
“I am a terrible liar, Miss Carruthers. She saw through me immediately and I do not doubt that you would do the same.”
“And your uncle?”
“There is no telling who he might have told by now,” Arthur had to cede. “It has been some hours.”
“Perhaps even Mr. Grosvenor?”
“Perhaps.”
“Who would have undoubtedly told his wife and daughter?”
Arthur felt suddenly uneasy. “Perhaps.”
“And what of the servants in your household? Our butler makes a point of knowing all that transpires beneath the roof of Carruthers House.”
“But Stevens would not tell anyone…”
“Save the housekeeper and the cook.” She smiled. “The upstairs maid and the head footman.” She glanced up then considered him. “Do you think your driver knew before you handed me into the carriage? What of the footman riding at the back?”
Arthur was astounded. He had never considered how such tidings might travel, let alone how quickly. He had never considered that if Miss Carruthers did not agree, her reputation might be stained. “I do apologize, Miss Carruthers. I had no intention of placing a taint upon your name.”
“You thought only of your own escape. I understand.” She remarkably did not look inclined to judge him harshly. “If anything, Mr. Beckham, such a tale might improve my eligibility.”
Arthur could not countenance the possibility of her wedding anyone else, not if he could convince her to accept him. “That will not be relevant if you wed me.” He leaned closer. “I will do anything, Miss Carruthers, to win your agreement.”
Her gaze locked with his, so bright and clear that he was certain she read his very thoughts.
“Anything?” she echoed as the carriage turned into Golden Square.
“Anything,” Arthur repeated with vehemence. He knew she would not demand a feat that scandalous or outrageous of him. She was temperate in her desires and dignified in her comportment.
She would likely want books.
She could have entire libraries if she accepted him.
“You may name your prize, Miss Carruthers.”
The carriage halted, though neither of them moved. “You must greatly dislike her,” his companion said finally.
“I do,” Arthur agreed, before he realized the obvious import of his words. He hurried on, lest she be insulted. “But I think, in this case, that impulse has steered me true. I am a great believer in the right possibilities presenting themselves at the right moment. Now that the notion has occurred to me, I intend to court you, Miss Carruthers, even if you decline me this time.”
“You must have other expectations from marriage than simply avoiding Miss Grosvenor.”
“A son, I suppose,” he ceded. “Any man might expect a son from his marriage.”
“And you offeranythingin return,” she repeated softly, so softly that Arthur felt a moment’s uncertainty.
How bad could it be?
“Tell me,” he urged as the footman opened the door. Miss Carruthers smiled, lowering her gaze so her thoughts were hidden from him. In this moment, she was a mystery and an enigma, a woman whose secrets could not be guessed. Arthur was intrigued. He alighted, then handed her down, escorting her toward the door of her father’s home.
She seemed to be lost in thought, but looked up suddenly to meet his gaze. “Do you have any knowledge of business, sir?”
What a curious question. “Some. Why?”
