His laugh was infectious, and she couldn’t help but smile back, even though she was cringing on the inside.
‘I liked it when you invented the word contusioned.’ He didn’t even attempt to hide his delighted smile.
‘I hate to ask, but what does that mean?’
‘I think you were trying to find the word concussed. You were talking about Newtonian physics at the time, I believe.’
If a hole opened up now, she would gladly jump in and disappear. ‘Why?’ was all she managed in response.
‘Because…’ His wide smile slowly faded. ‘Do you know, it does not matter. Shall we discuss our strategy?’
His shift in mood was strange, but as that’s what she wanted to talk about, she wasn’t about to argue.
‘You will have to be the one to end things,’ he said.
She’d have snorted, if the gesture wasn’t too unladylike. ‘While I know that men cannot end an engagement, I hardly think that is going to be believable.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Not a single person is going to believe thatIended things withyou.’
‘I do not understand.’ He was frowning as if he truly didn’t comprehend what she was saying.
‘You are from a ducal family, you are wealthy, handsome and fun to be around.’ She ticked the points off on her fingers. ‘A woman would have to be dicked in the nob to walk away from that.’
‘Dicked in the nob,’ he repeated softly. The corners of his eyes crinkled, almost like he was laughing at her, but his lips were straight. Figuring out his mood was difficult; at least his eyebrow wasn’t on the move again.
When he didn’t say anything else, she said. ‘Ergo, we will need to find a reason why the betrothal has to be called off. I do not suppose we can discover we are closely related?’
‘That is certainly something we could research. Although, I think it is highly unlikely we will discover it is true.’
It would be rude to ask him if he could fake his own death. Perhaps she could fake hers. But no, both of those options were ridiculous.
‘Do I want to know what you are thinking?’ he asked softly.
‘It is best not.’
‘We will come up with something, do not worry. I understand that you wish to be married to another man.’
She groaned softly. She was never having another drink. She hadn’t told anyone other than Tabitha that she was hoping for a proposal from Robert. But she must have told him about it, otherwise, how would he know? ‘How do you…?’
‘You mentioned it last night. In the library.’
Staring at the rug, willing it to open up and swallow her whole, proved ineffective.
‘There is no need to look distraught,’ he continued when she didn’t say anything. ‘During our forced betrothal, you told me that your heart lay elsewhere.’ Oh, the wretched man, he was reminding her of all her bad behaviour, the horrifying memories of which had kept her awake all night and which she was desperately trying to forget.
‘I behaved badly. I am sorry. It was the shock of the moment.’
He used two fingers to rub the space between his dark eyebrows. ‘This conversation is not going how I planned. And before you say anything, yes, I did prepare some things to say. I may have a reputation as a gadabout, but I do have a brain, and I can think ahead.’
‘I never said you could not think.’
‘You implied as much.’ She didn’t believe she had, but then the brandy had wiped some of her memories away. ‘I think we have to pretend to be engaged for at least two months…’
‘Two months!’ That was utterly absurd. ‘Two days is too long.’
‘You do realise your horrified face is insulting.’ It was hard to tell if he was amused or angry; there was some emotion bubbling in his eyes, but she was too incensed to puzzle out which.
