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But it did not signify. This marriage must proceed, for both their reputations. It was a matter of honor.

Miss Abbott had taken an extraordinary risk to spare him the ordeal of arrest and trial. Even had he been declared innocent, the stain of suspicion would have clung to him for years, rumors of murder whispered behind fans and snorted into brandy glasses. But thanks to her bold intervention, the conversation had pivoted. Now, society’s tongues wagged not over death, but seduction. And once their betrothal was made official, even that would soften into speculation about a love match.

Despite her unmistakable youth, Miss Abbott’s zeal and her integrity were steadily growing on him. He began to believe that forging a true partnership might not be impossible.

If only I found her physically appealing.

There lay the rub. Brendan understood that once he married, dalliances would be dishonorable. He had observed too many marriages within the beau monde decay into bitterness and estrangement—husbands and wives who could scarce endure one another’s company, each conducting affairs with a studied lack of discretion. It was not a future he intended to emulate.

And so, he must somehow reconcile himself to sharing a bed with this spirited but undeniably immature girl within the sanctity of marriage.

The thought unsettled him more than he liked to admit.

When they had finished their ices and Nancy still slumbered soundly in the corner of the opposing bench, the Gunter’s server returned to collect their goblets. The carriage doors were closed once more, but the vehicle did not lurch into motion. This was it. It was time to do the honorable thing.

“Miss Abbott?”

She turned those large brown eyes upon him, and for a fleeting moment, Brendan wondered how she might look in the deeper hues favored by Lady Moreland, colors that flattered her rich complexion and dark eyes so handsomely. Miss Abbott had the same luxurious brown hair, softly framing an elfin face of remarkable delicacy. Her eyes were extraordinary—lively, alert, and full of spirit. Yet the pale, lacy confections she habitually wore were quite abysmal. He could only hope she would adopt a more becoming wardrobe once they were wed.

“I am deeply ashamed of my conduct yesterday,” he began. “And after speaking with Lady Slight, I now understand how grievously I misjudged your character. It must have taken considerable courage to confront her … to demand she speak in my defense.”

Miss Abbott’s eyes widened in astonishment. “She confessed to our conversation?”

Brendan inclined his head. “She did. And I wish you to know that it would be a great honor for me to wed a courageous young woman such as yourself. If you would do me the honor of becoming my wife, I vow to spend every day of our union striving to show you the depth of my esteem. Your actions were not only bold—they were noble. I was an innocent man, and you risked your own reputation to shield me.”

She tilted her head, studying him with gentle thoughtfulness. “What if I still wish to visit the Continent?”

“Then we shall plan a journey,” he replied. “I could take you to Florence, if that is your desire.”

Her eyes widened again, this time with wonder. “You would truly do that?”

“If we are to wed, I would consider our marriage a partnership. Your wishes shall be as weighty as my own.”

She sighed then, a sound full of wistfulness. “That does sound lovely. And I suppose I have little choice. I always hoped for a love match, but now … it appears a marriage of convenience is our only course.”

Brendan hesitated, then offered gently, “Perhaps it would be more fitting to think of it as a marriage of friendship? What you did for me … my late mother would have called it a selfless act. An act born of compassion. I cannot repay such kindness, but I can strive to honor it. Offering you the protection of my name is but the beginning. Beyond that, I hope we shall build something strong and enduring.”

Her gaze lingered on his, her expression unreadable for a long moment.

“Is it to be … a faithful marriage?”

Brendan puffed a quiet breath of surprise at Miss Abbott’s forthrightness. She truly was an unusual girl.

“I assure you,” he said, “that Lord Saunton would tear me limb from limb were I to entertain even a passing thought of infidelity. There shall be no risk of dalliance if we wed.”

Miss Abbott nodded solemnly. “A marriage of friendship, then.” She extended her gloved hand between them and held it there, waiting. Brendan looked at the offered appendage, momentarily baffled. “Friends shake hands, do they not?”

His lips curved into a reluctant smile. Reaching forward, he took her small hand and gave it a brief, proper shake, only to find himself surprised by the strength of her grip. She might be so slight that a gust of wind could carry her aloft, but it was abundantly clear that her backbone was forged of iron. “It is a bargain.”

At his knock on the ceiling, the carriage began to move. Brendan leaned back against the squabs of his bench while Miss Abbott returned her attention to the window, watching the passing streets with avid curiosity.

It was done. The match was made. He was to marry this peculiar, principled young woman in order to protect her reputation, and to his surprise, he did not regret it.

But the thought pricked at his conscience and curled somewhere dark in his mind.

Confound it. What if I get her killed?

A fresh wave of unease rolled through him at the reminder. The baron’s death remained unresolved. There might yet be a murderer concealed within his household. Perhaps the wedding ought to be delayed until the investigation is complete?