“Not for my fiancée,” he said in that smoky tone she found so delicious. “And I should call you Giselle, don’t you think?”
She was about to give him a proper set-down for toying with her so, when a tentative knock came at the door behind her.
Instantly, he lost his joking demeanor. “Yes?” he said in that commanding voice lords used with servants.
It was a good reminder to Giselle that he might tease her, but when it came to his responsibilities as earl, he was formal and entirely aware of his proper place as a man of rank. Which she could never be if he everdidmake her his bride.
“Miss Bernard’s mother is asking for her, my lord,” Renham said through the door.
Giselle turned around to open it. “Please inform Maman that I will join her in a moment.”
“Very good, miss,” Renham said, appearing relieved to find her looking exactly as she had when she had entered the study.
Once the butler left, she dropped her voice. “What shall we tell Maman?”
“About what?”
“The betrothal!”
“Oh. Right.” He shrugged. “Tell her the truth.”
She rolled her eyes. “We cannot tell Maman the truth, or she will make a fuss about it, and one of your servants might hear.”
“She barely speaks English.”
“She speaks enough to say, ‘My daughter is not really engaged to the earl,’” she hissed. “She is the one who is not good at keeping secrets, trust me. Besides, plenty of your sort speak French.”
“Mysort?”
“Nobility,” she said with a dismissive wave. “You know what I mean.”
“Fine. Then tell her we’re really betrothed.” Irritation crept into his tone. “I don’t see why it matters. You’ll be jilting me in a matter of weeks, in any case.”
“Yes, but she and I came here to gain your help, and without any warning I end up engaged to you. She will find that suspicious.”
“Remind her that you and I met before. That we knew each other for years. That I’m a good friend to your half sister’s husband. For all she knows, you could have been seeing me every time you went to Falcon House to visit Jon and Tory.”
Giselle bit her lower lip. That was a good point. She hated lying to her mother, but Maman would never approve of her quid pro quo with the earl. “Fine. I shall do as you say.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Should I ask her if I may call her Maman?”
Although she was almost certain he was joking, she sighed. “Why not? You will do as you please, anyway.”
He walked out into the hall, turning serious as he stared down at her. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it? Pretending to be my fiancée.” He looked a bit wounded by that.
Yes. Because standing near you like this sends pleasure careening through me. Because I would give much to be your real fiancée … if your compliments were anything more than flattery. And if I did not have to give up my soul and turn into a woman I do not recognize in order to keep you.
“It merely bothers me that I have no choice in the matter,” she blurted out.
He halted, a stricken look crossing his face. “I see.” After a long pause, he added, “I suppose itisungentlemanly of me to insist you do something for me in exchange for my help.” He drew in a weary breath. “So, let us start over. I will help you to the best of my ability without expecting anything in return. Is that better?”
She searched his face. “You would do that for me and Maman?”
“I would. It’s hardly fair to expect you to turn your family’s lives upside down for the benefit of mine.”
The very fact that he would offer such a thing eased her objections. “True. But you were right when you said this faux betrothal would help me as much as you. An English fiancé is bound to improveour situation. So, please ignore my complaints. It was ungenerous of me.”
There was no denying his relieved expression. “Thank you. But you’ve never been ‘ungenerous’ a day in your life, and I’m grateful you’ve chosen to bestow your generosity on me.” He offered her his arm. “Now, shall we go tell your mother?”