“I think he’s perfect. There’s no need to look at any further candidates.”
Lord Whitcomb’s shoulders sagged, and his head hung low. He wasn’t taking this well. It was only to be expected under the circumstances, but her stomach twisted at forcing this on him. Under better circumstances, she would have given him all the time he needed to come around, but she wouldn’t have been in The Lyon’s Den if she wasn’t desperate.
“Excellent. I’ll let your parents know. We’ll arrange for the reading of the banns on Sunday, and you can wed in a month. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other appointments I must see to.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon ushered them both out of the room and down back passages to the side door where she had come in. “Good day, Lady Clarissa, and felicitations on your betrothal! And good day to you too, Lord Whitcomb. I trust you’ll come around by morning. The duke will be expecting you to call tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock sharp. Do not be late.”
With that, Mrs. Dove-Lyon disappeared back into her establishment, leaving the two of them on the street beside their waiting carriages.
Clarissa turned to her betrothed. “I shall see you tomorrow, Lord Whitcomb. I know I’ve ruined your day, but I do believe this will all turn out for the best in the end. I promise to do everything in my power to be an excellent wife to you.”
He released a long, slow breath. “Lady Clarissa, I bid you good day.” That wasn’t the most heartening of ways to part, but perhaps it was all she could hope for under the circumstances.
As he was handing her up into her carriage with brisk and disappointing efficiency, he surprised her by lifting her fingers to his lips for the briefest of kisses. It was over in a moment, but it still managed to make her cheeks heat. Then he shook his head, dropped her hand like a hot coal, and strode toward his carriage as if he couldn’t escape fast enough.
She watched him go with a sigh. It would all work out for the best, wouldn’t it?
As she climbed into her carriage, a sliver of doubt marred her confidence. But she quickly tamped it down. He was her knight in shining armor. Her good fortune wouldn’t abandon her now. Impossible as it might seem, theywouldfall for each other and live happily ever after. Clarissa simply couldn’t allow anything else.
Chapter 3
After a miserable night spent alternating between unbearably heated dreams about his copper-haired bride-to-be and horrid nightmares about the demise of his first wife, David wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over his head and hide from the world. But that was a luxury he couldn’t allow himself.
Trying to summon a bit of Lady Clarissa’s indomitable spirit, he rang for his valet and braced himself for the dreadful day ahead. He needed to screw on a smile and talk to Timothy. Then he needed to lay down the law with his scapegrace brother, andthenhe had to meet with his superior officer and soon-to-be father-in-law.
What a simply marvelous calamity of a day! Is it too late to contract the plague and never speak to anyone again for the rest of my life?
All too soon, David found himself crouched beside the blue sofa in the drawing room, searching for words, as Timothy sat clutching his much-loved stuffed bunny. As David glanced around, desperate for inspiration, he found the outdated room utterly unhelpful. The heavy, baroque furniture and gilded frippery his father had wasted money on held no answers worth hearing.
But he was only dithering to avoid a delicate conversation. So he made himself look at his son’s face, acherubic version of his own but with Laura’s blue eyes, and so much love welled up in his chest that he nearly choked on it.
The problem was that there was nothing Timothy wanted more than a real mama. David didn’t know how many times he’d tried to put that particular fantasy to rest. How could you explain to a four-year-old that our fondest hopes turn to ash when we get what we think we want? How could he crush his dreams by explaining that his actual mama wasn’t the paragon of all things good and loving that David had led him to believe? And now, somehow, David was going to have to explain a bride who wouldn’t be staying, a bride he didn’t want, one whom he was marrying under duress.
Lady Clarissa was a beautiful, warm, charming, yet deeply deluded woman, and Timothy would fall for her like a pebble off a cliff. Even David wasn’t immune. During their brief meeting, there had been moments when she’d managed to kindle a response in his long-dead heart. It troubled him. After all that had transpired, there shouldn’t have been any romantic sentiment left in him, but her daft optimism about their arranged marriage growing into a love match made him almost wish it was possible. Even as it devastated him to hear her call him herperfect match, it melted something in his scarred heart.
Dangerous. Very dangerous. Which was why he’d spent an hour puzzling over the exact words to use with Timothy. “A lady is coming to visit us next month. She’ll be staying for a while.”
Timothy’s sweet face fell. “Is she a new governess? Because I don’t want a new governess. I want Mrs. Drake.”
The last thing David wanted was for Timothy to fear he was losing his beloved governess. Mrs. Drake was practically a second mother to him. “She’s not a new governess. Mrs. Drake is staying, I promise. She’s a friend I recently met named Lady Clarissa.”
“Then why is she staying with us?”
He didn’t want to lie, but he also wanted to steer clear of talking about marriage if he could. Lady Clarissa wasn’t here to stay, and he didn’t want Timothy getting attached. It would break his tiny heart. “She needs a place to stay for a few months, and we have lots of extra rooms.”
Timothy’s big blue eyes widened. “Is something wrong with her house?”
“Not exactly.” Was this too much deception? After all, a lie of omission was still a lie. But Timothy was too young to understand. Wasn’t he?
His son’s eyes went wider still. “Is she your sweetheart? Is she going to be my new mama?”
Damn.He was caught. So much for avoiding talk of marriage. “She’s not my sweetheart, and she definitely isn’t going to be your new mama. But…” Why was it more terrifying to confess to a four-year-old than to face down a soldier at the end of a bayonet? “I am marrying her. She’ll be Lady Whitcomb. But she won’t be staying for very long, and she won’t bother you at all. You’ll hardly notice she’s here.” He hoped.
Timothy’s achingly adorable little face fell. God, this was agony. “You don’t think she’ll like us?”
“Anyone who meets you will adore you, precious. But she and I aren’t marrying because we’re sweethearts. It’s because she needs some help. Once I’m finished helping her, she won’t need to stay. She’ll be free to go live her life as she pleases.”
Timothy nodded gravely. Then he straightened, eyes alight. “What if we ask her very nicely? Then would she stay?”
How had David gotten himself into such a tangle? This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweet pea. It’s better if we let her go, and then you and I can go back to living just as we do now.”
