Miss Hill whispered—quite audibly—‘Bravo, Miss Lucas—you nabbed a baron whilst we were trying to set you up with the Captain.’
Charlotte’s gaze darted instantly towards Lord Stanley.
He frowned.
Only briefly—but it was enough.
A dreadful thought struck her.
Would he now believe she was some harpy who had been scheming with the spinsters all along? Manipulating someone—anyone into proposing?
The idea was intolerable.
‘No, no, it is not like that, I—’
But her denial failed entirely as his expression grew weary.
The ladies withdrew at last, leaving the room in a hush broken only by fading footsteps and Mrs Wilberforce’s distant sobs, accompanied by Lady Bainbridge’s soothing tones.
The moment the door clicked shut, Charlotte yanked herself free.
‘How could you do this?’
‘Shall I take it you are displeased with our impending union, my lady?’ he asked. ‘I apologise if I thwarted your plans with the Captain. I had not realised matters had progressed so far, otherwise...’
He did not need to finish.
Charlotte bristled at the insinuation. ‘You misunderstand, my lord. The spinsters have been insistent upon my marrying, despite my objections. I ceased resisting only because it was futile.’
‘I see,’ he replied, looking unconvinced.
She lifted her chin. ‘I assure you I have no designs upon the Captain.’
He hesitated.
‘Well, in that case,’ he said slowly, his mouth curving as his cool stare gave way to mocking amusement, ‘you’re welcome, my dear. I have just saved you from ruin.’
Surely he could not be serious. Marry the Ice Baron?
It was utterly ridiculous for Lord Stanley to marry her merely because they had nearly been discovered moving a corpse. She could not allow such madness to become permanent.
She scowled at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
‘No need to glower, my dear.’
‘I do not glower. I am merely exasperated,’ she said. ‘You have left me no choice but to play along with this foolhardy charade. Now I shall be the subject of endless gossip.’
‘Inconvenient, certainly,’ he agreed, stroking his jaw as though they were discussing the weather.
‘Not only that, but I am quite sure the Odd Fellows will suspect me of helping you.’
‘I think they will be more confused than anything else.’ He gave a sardonic smile.
She shot him a withering look. ‘You could have chosen any number of explanations,’ she went on, pacing now in earnest. ‘Any number. And yet you chose this.’
He leaned back against the desk, arms folded, watching her with infuriating composure for a man who had just altered both their lives.
‘You cannot possibly mean to go through with it. What of Miss Pearson? Is it true that you intended to propose to her?’
