Fact: Her parents would choose a husband for her if she did not choose one herself.
Fact: Every eligible man who had shown interest had since withdrawn that interest.
Fact: Lord Hartley's back was very broad and very final.
Fact: She was running out of time.
She stared at the list and waited for it to suggest a solution.
The list, however, remained irritatingly quiet.
There was a knock at her door. John leaned in, already dressed for the day. "Have you eaten?"
"I had toast." She tried for a smile.
She'd always known John was an excellent caretaker. But these past two days she was beginning to understand just how doting a father John must be.
He gave her a dubious look. "A whole piece?"
"Most of one," she lied. She'd nibbled on something this morning, mostly because Mrs. Lennox had glared at her until she'd taken a bite.
He came in and sat on the edge of her bed. He did this sometimes, just sat nearby without requiring conversation. It was one of the things she loved most about her brother. He could be present without being intrusive.
She set her list to the side. "I've been thinking."
"I can see that." He laughed as he touched the spot between her brows. "You get a particular expression when you're organizing your thoughts. Lucy does the same thing. It's the Whitfield brow furrow."
She almost smiled. "I've been thinking about my options."
"And?"
"I don't have any." She said it plainly. "Every man who showed interest did so because Kit made me seem worth the attention. Now that the ton knows the courtship was a ruse, every one of those men has reconsidered."
John was quiet. She was beyond grateful he didn't try to argue.
"Mother and Father will choose someone for me and he will be dreadful," she continued. "Not intentionally, of course. I'm certain they'll do their best to choose well. But…"
But they don't know me. Or no, perhaps it was just that they did not understand her. Either way…
"Their choice will match their needs and serve the family's purpose," she said. "But I have no doubt that if I marry the man they choose, I will spend the rest of my life being quietly tolerated."
John frowned. "I won't let that happen. I'll?—"
"You can't stop it, John. You're not my guardian." She softened her words with a look. "And besides, you have Lucy to think about."
His jaw worked, but he kept quiet. It was clear that he knew she was right.
"There is," she said carefully, "one option I might consider."
John waited.
She couldn't quite say it aloud. The idea had come to her in the small hours of the morning, somewhere between staring at the ceiling and staring at the wall. It had started as a desperate what if, but the more she turned it over, the more sensical it seemed.
Still. Saying it aloud was another matter entirely. She bit her lip and drew in a deep breath. "Kit needs to marry," she blurted out in one quick breath. "Or he will, at least. Eventually. One day. He's heir to a dukedom, after all. He'll need a wife and an heir of his own?—"
"Clarissa." John had gone very still.
"He doesn't want a wife," she hurried on. "But he needs one. And as we've just discussed, I am out of options?—"
