“Whether I do or not is immaterial,” Miss Carruthers said crisply. “The issue is that I had no notion that Mr. Beckham’s heart was so engaged until my father informed me of that situation this morning. ‘You have made a conquest’ he said to me, as if that explained everything.” She granted Arthur a stern look.
“Then you are in agreement,” Amelia said happily. “For Arthur does not believe in love, and has sworn that he will never wed for such tender emotion and fleeting impulse.”
“How strange then that I should be told otherwise, and not a fine basis for a beginning, to be sure.” Miss Carruthers’ tone was icy. She waited, her steady gaze fixed upon him, and Arthur felt she would coax a confession from his lips.
He had done what was necessary to achieve the end they both desired, but he sensed she would not favor that explanation. What a remarkable lady he had chosen.
Perhaps she was the sole woman who would find fault with his choices. Arthur wished for her good opinion more than anything he had desired in a long time, which meant he had to pace his confessions. He guided the carriage through the throng of riders and conveyances while he thought, well aware that Miss Carruthers watched and waited, like a sphinx at a crossroads demanding the answer to a riddle before he could pass.
Despite his conundrum, he could only admire that she was both persistent and clever.
“That was well done,” she acknowledged softly, and perhaps with an increment of surprise, when they were free of the throng.
“At least I have not failed on all fronts already,” he said lightly, hoping for her smile. She lifted a brow, giving him a look of consideration, and he smiled at her. A welcome flush touched her cheeks and he dared to hope for the best.
“Arthur is an excellent driver,” Amelia said with approval.
“I suppose these tidings came from the Duke of Haynesdale,” he guessed, returning to the subject at hand, and Miss Carruthers nodded.
“I understood the confession was yours.”
Arthur nodded. “I was advised to do as much to earn his approval of the match.”
“You lied.”
He winced despite himself at the harshness of that word. “Are you certain of that?” he asked and felt her turn to study him. He dared not meet that steady gaze, but kept his attention fixed upon the horses. “Perhaps I confided the truth in him before surrendering it you.”
“You cannot be smitten with me!” The very possibility seemed to fluster her. “Not so soon as this.”
“And you cannot know the truth in my heart.”
“Oh, Arthur,” Amelia said, shaking her head. “You cannot tease Miss Carruthers over a detail of such import.” She gave him a poke in the arm.
“I fear you mock me, Mr. Beckham.”
Given her cool manner, Arthur pursued his point. “And I fear you fail to grant credit where it is due, Miss Carruthers. How many men have been smitten at a mere glance of the lady who will hold their hearts captive forever? Novels, poems and songs are filled with similar tales, implying that the situation is a common one.”
“But not outside of stories, surely.”
He risked a glance her way. “Can you be certain? Truly, Miss Carruthers, you are a young lady unlike any I have known. Surprise might surely gain a man’s attention, and intrigue might lead to admiration, even love.”
“So quickly as that?” she asked, ever skeptical.
“Who are we to fault Cupid’s efficiency?”
She smiled, just a little. “I think you tease me, Mr. Beckham, and strive to cover your falsehood with flattery.”
“I think, Miss Carruthers, that you have a woefully low opinion of your betrothed.”
She smiled outright at that. “Not so low as that, sir.”
He met her gaze, glad to find her eyes sparkling a little. “I am glad to hear it. Can I be faulted for wishing to win your smile?”
“Of course not, Mr. Beckham.” She sobered and concern lit those eyes. “But I do have a great affection for the truth, sir. I would have honesty between us, even if it means you must tell me truths I might prefer to evade.”
There was the rub.
Where to begin? His entire existence was a careful fabrication of falsehoods. Even though he yearned to dissemble it, to surrender his secrets and grant Miss Carruthers the honesty she desired, Arthur knew he had to proceed with caution.
