Edward bowed with a bemused smile.“Lady Clara, always an honor.”
Clara curtsied.“Likewise, my lord.”
Crispin met her gaze over the rim of his cup, a mischievous glint in his eyes that needed no words to convey his delight in the absurdity of it all.
“You look pale, darling,” he murmured.“Surely our impending nuptials have not rendered you ill?”
Clara smiled sweetly.“Not at all.I was merely wondering how your lips manage to move when your head is so swollen.”
His grin only widened.“Come.Let us escape this planning session before they start discussing the names of our future offspring.”
She could not stop the corners of her mouth from tilting up.“Calamity and Lucifer.”
The devil chuckled before he took her by the hand, blast the warmth of it, and led her through the French doors and out into the garden.
The early spring air was crisp, scented faintly with hyacinth and new grass.Crispin led her down a winding path flanked by trimmed hedges and rose bushes just beginning to bloom.
“You are enjoying this far too much,” she muttered.
“Immensely,” he agreed.
He smiled, and she hated the way her breath hitched in response.“You cannot truly intend to continue this betrothal,” she said, her voice tight.“You know as well as I, in the eyes of society, a broken engagement is more ruinous for a lady than a thousand whispered improprieties.Every dance, every appearance, every address exchanged…those expectations are not so easily undone.”
He stopped, turning to face her.“Why not?It is diverting, and does no one any real harm.”
“It does me harm.And it will do you harm once your mother realizes you are not actually tamed.”
His mouth twitched.“You underestimate my mother.She has always known I am un-tameable.”
Clara exhaled, breath misting in the chill as they stepped outside.“Then let us agree to a quiet dissolution.We tell our mothers we quarreled, or that you have made some new conquest.Anything.But we cannot carry on like this.”
Crispin studied her.“Your reputation hangs by a thread as it is, Lady Clara.If we break off the engagement now, you will be the one left ruined, not I.”
She drew back, her voice tight.“So you are leaving me no choice.”
“Hardly,” he said, voice gone quiet.“I am advising you to be patient.We let the matter run its course.In a few months perhaps you will have the restored reputation you wanted.Then you can break it off, if you still wish, and perhaps your reputation will survive.”
“And if I do not?”The words surprised her even as she said them.
He shrugged.“Then you will have learned to bear me, at least as well as you bear my mother’s tea.And you will have the opportunity to woo me.”
She laughed then, in spite of herself.“You truly are insufferable.”
“So I am told,” he said, and offered his arm.
Reluctantly, she took it.
The moment they were beyond the line of windows and the sight of the parlor, she released his arm and added distance between them.The illusion of the dutiful future Lady Oakford vanished.
She spun on him, skirts crackling with suppressed energy.“We cannot continue with this farce for months.You did not hear our mothers.They will have us before the vicar in three weeks’ time if we do not stop them.”Clara’s brow furrowed.“There must be a faster way to dissolve it.”She tapped her fingers against her skirt, deep in thought.
Crispin leaned one hip against the marble balustrade.His arms folded, his mouth quirked in a smile equal parts amusement and challenge.“By all means, let us hear your grand strategy.”
“I am not strategizing, I am pleading.”Clara kept her voice pitched low.She doubted the roses cared for her reputation, but the gardens were full of staff, and Hallworth gossip traveled faster than any carriage.“There is nothing to be gained by prolonging this farce.You dislike the idea of marriage.I abhor you.Why not simply confess the truth?Say that it was a misunderstanding, a flight of fancy?—”
“And then what?”he interrupted.“You are left with your reputation in ribbons.The ton will have something even juicier to gnaw on.The only thing more delicious than an impromptu engagement, Lady Clara, is a public scandal.You would never recover.”
She flinched as if struck.“Better that than… this.”She waved at the estate, the gleaming windows, the choking sense of inevitability.
