Page 61 of The Marriage Wager

Calandra shrugged. “Muriel threw her cap at Sinclair, you know.”

Francesca’s eyebrows vaulted up. “Indeed. When?”

Calandra shrugged. “I am not entirely certain. When I was much younger. Well, you can imagine how she would enjoy snaring a duke. But of course she hadn’t the slightest chance. I remember her discoursing to Sinclair on how a child should most effectively be reared. Of course, in her opinion, I was growing up in the worst way.”

A grin flashed across Francesca’s face. “I am sure Rochford took that well.”

“You can imagine. He gave her such a set down that even Muriel turned scarlet with embarrassment.”

Miss Lydia began to play at that moment, and they fell silent. Her skill at the piano did not approach Muriel Rutherford’s, but the tune was livelier, and when the two sisters began to sing, it was altogether more enjoyable.

The men rejoined the women more quickly than was usual. Constance, seeing the way Dominic and his father studiously ignored one another, suspected that the atmosphere in the Earl’s smoking room had been rather chillier than the guests liked.

Constance felt another pinprick of guilt. Because of Dominic’s decision to marry her, the tension between father and son was worse than ever.

After another song or two, the party began to break up, with several of the older guests retiring. Lady Selbrooke, looking not so much tired as unhappy, was among the first to leave. The people who were left in the music room began to drift into groups, several of them gathering around a table for a card game, and Mr. Carruthers and some others hanging about the piano with the Norton sisters. With their singing and the chatter from the card players, there was ample noise to cover a private conversation. So when Dominic made his way over to where Constance sat, she seized the chance to talk to him.

They took a stroll about the long rectangular room, and she pulled him to a halt at the farthest end. “Dominic, we must talk.”

“Yes, we have to decide when and where I asked you to marry me,” he said, smiling faintly.

“No. No, that is not what I meant. Dominic, you must not do this.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Mustn’t I?”

“Yes. Don’t be difficult. You know as well as I do that marrying me is the last thing you should do.”

“It is precisely what I should do,” he countered. “You must see that.”

“I will not let you sacrifice yourself just because Muriel Rutherford caused a scene this afternoon.”

“Constance, I’m not sure you understand what the consequences of that scene are. Your name will be besmirched if we do not marry. I realize that this is perhaps not what you would wish for.”

Not wish for it? Constance thought. If only Dominic knew, marriage to him would be exactly what she would most wish for. But not under these circumstances. Not with him forced to marry her.

Dominic went on. “Certainly the style of my proposal lacked romance, but I thought it vital that I act quickly to forestall any further comments from Muriel.”

“I do not care about the style of it,” Constance retorted. It was exasperating the way Dominic was turning this conversation around, implying that it was Constance who did not want to marry, who must be convinced of the necessity. “I know that my reputation will suffer from it, but that is not important, either.”

“It is important to me,” Dominic told her quietly. “Do you honestly think that I would act so dishonorably? After what happened in the cottage?”

Constance’s cheeks flooded with color. “I did not…do that to get you to marry me!”

His face softened. “I know you did not. But that fact does not alter my responsibility. I have spoken to your uncle, and he has given me permission to ask for your hand.”

“You did not actually ask for it,” Constance pointed out.

He smiled faintly. “I know. I must apologize for that omission. Shall I go down on my knee to you now?”

He started to move, and Constance quickly grasped his arm, whispering, “Dominic, no!” He chuckled, and she snapped, “Well, I am glad that you at least find amusement in this predicament!”

“It has to be done,” he said, his face sobering. “If you mislike the idea, I am sorry. But if you do not care how you will be seen by the world, I do. I will not play the cad.”

“You would not have to,” Constance replied. “Surely if we just stop talking about the engagement, people will after a time forget about it. There has been no announcement, after all. If someone questions you, you could say it was a…a misunderstanding.”

“There would always be a cloud over you,” Dominic told her firmly.

“Then you are adamant?”