Because I have no desire to be chained to a rich rogue with a roving eye the way Maman was. And because I have been around Tory enough to know what is expected of a titled Englishwoman.
As a third son, Tory’s husband had spent nearly half his adult life with Giselle’s scholarly real father, so he was comfortable with both aristocracy and gentry. Even Captain Scovell, a marquess’s son, though not the heir, was still a naval officer and spent plenty of time with lower-class sailors.
Lord Heathbrook, on the other hand, was raised to be an earl. No doubt he had rigid expectations for a wife.
But she said none of that. He did not wish to marryher, after all. “Maman requires so much of my attention that it would be unfair to a husband. And only think what would happen if the press heard of my true status as an Englishman’s by-blow? I would never wish to drag you and your family through such a scandal, not to mention my own family.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Jon and Tory would never reveal it, and Scovell and I take our vow of silence on the subject quite seriously. So, the press will never hear of it.”
“Perhaps not.” She eyed him closely. “But you still have not answeredmyquestion, sir. Why are you not ‘looking for a wife’? I thought all English nobles wish to sire heirs as soon as possible.”
“And spares, yes,” he said dryly. “I mean to do that eventually myself. But right now, as with you and your mother, my brothers need me, and I must focus on regaining their birthright for them.”
She was sure there was more to it than that, but considering she was keeping her own secrets, she should allow him to keep his. “Very well. So, assuming I agree to your absurd arrangement, how would it work exactly?”
He looked relieved by her half capitulation. “First, we would have to make sure Society knows of our engagement.”
“No,” she said firmly. “First, you must speak to Mr. Beasley and the government.”
“Right,” he said, and ran a hand through his gorgeous hair. “I’ll have to show Beasley the sketch. He may even know whom I should consult about getting proper papers. I’m sure he didn’t forge his own passport—that would have been foolish for an accomplished engraver.”
“True.”
“And speaking to the government about acquiring papers for the two of you will go easier when I say you are my fiancée.”
“That sounds very wise.” And she was relieved he was indeed planning to do his part of the bargain.
“Afterthat,we should attend some Society functions to establish you as my betrothed.” He paced the Aubusson rug. “Most people have gone to their estates in the country for hunting season, butI, for one, am not fond of shooting. So, if we can find the best London event to attend, we can unveil our betrothal to the world.”
“‘Unveil’ is a good word for it, my lord. Because this betrothal will definitely be a painted likeness of an engagement.”
He grinned. “A masterpiece, if I have anything to say about it.” Hurrying over to his desk, he began sifting through a stack of envelopes. “Now, let me see what invitations I currently have. A dinner at the Huntleys …” He set the ornately inked card aside. “Too small. It would take forever for the gossip to get around.”
In much the same way, he went through the other varied shapes of cream-colored invitations, sparing only a glance for each, muttering such things as “not enough gossips will be there,” “none of the younger set,” “too many blackguards,” “too few women,” and so on. She had begun to think nothing would meet his peculiar requirements, when he came to an invitation larger than the others.
“Aha!” he cried, waving the card. “A party connected with the Lord Mayor’s Show. Perfect. Not usually something my father or I went to, but ideal for you and me and our purposes.”
“Is the Lord Mayor’s Show a play?” she asked.
“More like a parade. Combined with a feast and a boat ride and pageantry … It has a little of everything. It’s when the new Lord Mayor of London travels by boat from the Guildhall to Westminster to swear his allegiance to the crown. Then he returns in a procession through the city and holds a lavish dinner at Mansion House for various important people.”
“So, it’s a ceremonial event?”
He chuckled. “Not exactly. There are costumes and tradesmen in their regalia, elaborate carriages and drummers and trumpeters … It’s rather a mad procession, full of spectacle.” He shook his head. “I loved it as a boy. Father hated it. Too much noise, too many people … It wasn’t to his preference.”
“Still, it sounds very entertaining.”
“Andyousound surprised,” he drawled.
She shrugged. “I often think of the English as … well … a bit dour andrigide. Rather like your father was.”
“Yes, Father was definitely hidebound,” he said, a trace of resentment in his voice, “as much as or more so than your own father.”
That reminder of her secret illegitimacy made her wince. “I suppose the old earl would have disapproved of me as your fiancée. My stepfather was in trade, after all. And if he’d known of my bastardy—”
“He wouldn’t. Because I wouldn’t have told him.”
“Because you would have been too ashamed.”