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“Mr. Fowell does not intend marriage, my lord. I think you know that.”
“And yet, he is far from the only one here.”
She shook her head. “I did not come with an intent to marry. I have been successfully dissuaded from that pursuit. And, as you have been frank with me, I shall be frank with you in return.”
“Please do be.”
“Just as I would be entirely unsuitable as a match for you, you would be unsuitable for me.”
He smiled. “I am certain you are right, but will you tell me why?”
She took a moment before responding. “You are too much like…him.”
It was quiet for a moment. “Should I take offense? I have no great opinion of the man, you know.”
“Not at all. He was handsome and charming and…far too capable of leading me into folly.”
“Like a feigned courtship.”
Her mouth broke into a smile. “Are you trying to dissuade me from it now?”
“Not at all. I merely wish to ensure it serves your purposes as well as it serves mine. If finding a husband is not your goal, what business have you at this ridiculous matchmaking party?”
She fiddled with her glove. “I have stayed out of the public eye for nearly a year now. I cannot do so forever. I came in hopes of reestablishing my reputation—assuming it is possible to do so.”
“Quite possible,” he said. “And at the risk of sounding arrogant again, allow me to reassure you on two points. Firstly, that attention from me will help to reestablish your reputation.”
“It does sound arrogant, as you say, but I believe you.” She clasped her hands. “What is the second point?”
“That I will take pains to safeguard your reputation.”
Her head tilted curiously. “How so?”
“I believe I am skilled enough to strike the balance between thoughtless flirtation and serious intention. Having said that, your own handling of my attentions will matter just as much—if not more. If you receive them with a confident sort of amusement, people will take notice without worrying that you are falling victim or lacking propriety or whatever nonsense people assume. Are you capable of that?”
She contemplated the question. “Yes.”
“I agree. In which case, this party will be over in less than three weeks, and we may go our separate ways at that point without, I trust, much to-do and with—if we play our cards right—renewed interest in you among the gentlemen in attendance.”
Her lips pressed together in a line. “My lord, I was not being coy when I said I am not contemplating marriage.”
“I did not think it.”
The echo of footsteps sounded somewhere in the Antique Passage, and Archie was reminded for the first time in many minutes that they were meant to be dressing for dinner.
How long had they been standing here together?
“I promise not to do anything that will harm your reputation, Miss Prescott. In return, let us agree to enjoy ourselves. Yes?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He stepped toward her, reached for her hand, and, with a teasing smile, brought it to his lips. “Then let the games begin.”
Eight
NELL
Nell was quiet as her maid helped her dress for dinner, her thoughts on what had just occurred. Had she truly agreed to this strange alliance with Lord Dalmeer?
