Well, at least now he knew why he looked at her like a man leery of gazing into the sun. Looking at her made him burn. He turned his back and made for his desk.
“So is that the extent of your solution, to ask the servants not to gossip?”
“I... I should go away.”
“Go? Go where?”
She stared at him.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m not trying to be obtuse; but the thought of you leaving had not crossed my mind.”
Of course she couldn’tgo, he thought. He’d only just gotten her. Who would manage the twins? Who would—?
“Well, I have a cousin in France,” she said. “There is also America. Canada.”
“Banishment? What you’re describing is banishment. Fleeing the bloody country.”
“I cannot stay, Your Grace. It would ruin the girls for me to stay.”
“But you’ve a business to launch. You have plans. The finishing school. You’ve enlisted a royal princess to drum up clients. You cannot move to Canada.”
“No family in England will hire a stylist who disgraced herself with her employer, I assure you. I’m writing a reference book, for God’s sake. A little manual calledDrewsmina Trelayne’s Rules and Comportment.I cannot profferrulesif I’m also known to break them.”
“Disgraced herself with her employer?” he repeated, testing the phrase. It hadn’t felt like disgrace. It had felt like... walking out into the sunlight after tromping about in a dank cave.
“This is madness,” he said, his voice a growl.
He shoved up from the desk.
He stared at her.
He looked at the ceiling.
The words he wanted to say echoed in his head once, twice, and then... out they came.
“Timothea is correct, for once,” he said. “We shall marry. Marriage will calm the immediate crisis. As to the long-term complications? I cannot say.”
“Your Grace—”
“Bollocks proposal, I know.”
“Lachlan,” she said. “Your Grace.You cannot mean this.”
“On the contrary, I mean it far more than I’ve meant theprevious calamities into which I’ve hurled myself. No one will perish, hopefully, because of this marriage. Rioters will not come at soldiers with pitchforks and torches. My sister will get her way for once rather than simply . . . drifting along. My nieces may continue their refinement under your incredibly generous tutelage. Certainly I’ll find no one better suited to deal with the two of them, not if I searched a hundred years. I can hardly relegate you to Canada if for no other reason than Imogene and Ivy.”
“But are you suggesting real marriage?” she asked, her voice a rasp. “As in, I should be a duchess—yourduchess?”
“Yes, God help us,” he said. “There will be far-reaching ramifications, so pause a moment and consider.”
“Your Grace.”
He continued, suddenly terrified she would actuallypauseor earnestlyconsider. “I have every intention of returning to Avenelle after I’ve made some effort to abolish this export tax and the girls have had their Season. Your home is in London, obviously. It’s exactly the sort of scenario I’d hoped to avoid, so naturally it’s precisely what we face. We’ll sort out some... some... ‘arrangement.’ I’ve no wish to make you miserable in Dorset.”
“Well,” she began, “perhaps the ‘arrangement’ should mean weappearto be, er, betrothed, and when the gossip is forgotten and the girls have had their Season, I... I—Then we could dissolve the betrothal.”
He studied her face, trying to discern her intent. His chest felt suddenly hollow; a brisk wind would whistle through him.
“Is that what you prefer?” he asked.
