But he cut her off.
‘You need not fear,’ he continued coolly. ‘We shall not marry.’
His cool tone snapped her back to reality. She could not allow herself to falter now she thought defiantly. It was best this way. Let him think the worst of her.
Whatever this engagement was, it had not been born from affection, but necessity.
No. She could not marry the man who only moments earlier had intended to offer for another. She could not allow him to sacrifice himself out of duty and later resent her for it.
‘We are in the midst of a dangerous investigation,’ she said firmly. ‘This is no time for theatrics. I shall go straight to Mrs Wilberforce and Lady Bainbridge and tell them it was all a misunderstanding—that you mistook me for Miss Pearson and, being the noble idiot you are, felt obliged to do the honourable thing.’
She turned on her heel to leave, but before she had taken two steps he caught her arm and drew her back firmly.
‘You will do no such thing.’
‘Release me at once,’ she said, unnerved by the command in his voice. ‘This is ridiculous. We should be arresting Hamilton and Boulton—they are clearly murderous maniacs, not playing at false engagements.’
‘We cannot make arrests now. Weeks of work would be undone. We must find them all, not merely one or two members. Otherwise they will continue their operations without pause. It would be pointless.’
‘But we cannot pretend—’
With one hand still wrapped about her arm, he raised the other and brushed his fingers lightly against her lips.
A rush of sensation swept through her, and Charlotte went utterly motionless.
‘We cannot undo it now,’ he said quietly. ‘Wolverton was killed here, and the Odd Fellows will suspect we concealed thebody.’ His brow furrowed. ‘We must appear convincing as a betrothed couple. It may confuse them—and at the very least buy us time.’
Slowly he lowered his hand, but Charlotte still felt the ghost of his touch lingering against her mouth.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, looking faintly disconcerted himself.
‘If not,’ he added, ‘your life will truly be in danger. If we suddenly deny our engagement, they will suspect we were about something else entirely. Something such as concealing the body—or discovering the passage.’
Charlotte’s stomach sank.
‘But—what are we to do? We cannot marry,’ she said, sounding almost appalled by the notion.
Something shuttered briefly across his expression.
‘I understand you perfectly, madam,’ he replied coolly. ‘Believe me—after this moment, matrimony to you will not enter my mind again.’
The words landed with rather more force than they ought.
He stepped further away from her then, retreating behind composure once more.
‘We shall merely maintain appearances for your protection until we uncover the remainder of them,’ he continued in a more controlled tone. ‘They will not dare harm you whilst you are publicly attached to me. Afterwards, we shall quietly find some means of ending it.’
Another deception. Another performance to maintain.
But she knew he was right.
It was far safer to regard the engagement as precisely what it was: a temporary fiction born from scandal, murder, and exceedingly poor luck.
It was strategy. Necessity. A convenient shield to protect them both from suspicion after being discovered alone together beside a corpse.
That was all.
Surely that was all.
