He held up his hands. “Listen to me—”
“I don’t care what you say, I will not help you destroy your future. Marriage to her would be a disaster!”
He was beginning to become irritated by her absolute certainty that Mellie would be a disaster. Mésalliance, yes, but a disaster? “Eleanor, she’s a very nice person.”
“I don’t care if she’s Mother Mary!” Then she pressed her hand to her mouth, obviously realizing the sacrilege she’d just uttered. Neither had sat down, and so she plopped on the nearest settee, only to jump up a second later. “You don’t know how hard this is, Trevor. I am daily confronted with the…the disaster that is my family name. We used to be an honored and respectable title, but all we are now is a joke. He’s the sailor turned duke, and we are a laughingstock.”
“Hardly a laughingstock.” Certainly the duke had been the wonder of last season. Still was a conversation item, and his wife was no help as she was a seamstress by trade. But things had quieted down. “They seem to have adjusted well enough.” Especially given what he’d heard about the duchess’s extra family affiliations.
“And whom do you think is responsible for that? Certainly not those two. They think it entirely appropriate to run squealing through the house.”
Trevor frowned, his thoughts on the sight that had greeted them when they’d first stepped through the door. The duke and duchess had seemed a tad casual, of course, with a marked lack of consequence in their manner, but nothing so crass as what Eleanor implied. “I’m sure any respectability is due to your influence. Which is why I came to you, my oldest friend, and the one most capable of helping in my hour of need.”
“Don’t try to butter me, Trevor. You don’t know how hard it is.”
“She can pay for her own come out, you know.”
“As if that matters—”
“And I will add in extra for your troubles. I understand you’re without great resources. Not to put too fine a point on it, but extra income probably wouldn’t come amiss.”
She whirled around, her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “I am very well situated, Mr. Anaedsley. I only remain here in this house as an example of proper breeding. If it weren’t for me here, they’d likely have livestock to dine!”
She was exaggerating and they both knew it. But she was speaking the truth from her perspective. Anyone could see that the duke and duchess were a little rough about the edges. Their ability to adjust to their new status obviously came from her guidance. But that was exactly why he’d come to her in the first place.
“Tell me what I can say to convince you.”
She folded her arms. “Not one thing. Forget about the Season, and forget about her mysterious science ways. Imagine instead a lifetime with her across the table from you every day. Does she clutch her fork in her fist? Reach for the wrong glass?”
“It’s not that bad—”
“Does she insist on making friends with the wrong people? Embarrassing you if you ever have someone appropriate to visit? You cannot live on science. Her conversation is all well and good for now, but what will happen year after year when she simply does not live up to the name?” She stopped and gestured angrily at his jaw. “And what has happened to your face?”
He touched his swollen jaw and shrugged. “A ridiculous brawl.” He wouldn’t call it a duel because with Eleanor, she would think pistols or swords. And this morning’s affair had not been nearly so elegant.
“A brawl. Trevor, look what she has brought you to! Think of the daily strain of it all. Believe me, it wears on a person.”
He winced because he knew she was right. Though he’d likely never tire of Mellie’s scientific conversation—she’d learned plenty from her father over the years—a lifetime of the constant reminder of their mésalliance would certainly become tedious.
He sighed. He would have to tell Eleanor the truth. He’d hoped to avoid it, but could see now that she had his best interests at heart. She would never agree to help him if she thought that he truly was set on this marriage. So ignoring propriety, he dropped into the chair nearest the fire.
“Pray come sit down, Eleanor. If we’re going to talk plainly, I’d rather not do it on my feet.”
“There is nothing you can say to sway my—”
“It’s not a real engagement.”
She stopped with her mouth ajar. He watched her frown, then snap her mouth closed before she quickly dropped into the seat across from him. “Tell me everything.”
So he did. He told her about his grandfather’s scheme to see him wed. He explained that he needed time for his investment to prosper, and that Mellie needed an alternative to Ronnie. He explained it all step by step in logical detail. And when he finished, he looked at her and asked the most important question. “So will you help me?”
She shook her head slowly, not in denial, but in apparent shock. “I never thought you capable of such deviousness.”
He grimaced. “It is not my natural path.”
“Don’t cut up stiff. I mean it as a compliment. I just…” She leaned forward, catching his hands. “Are you sure you’re not bamming me? This isn’t a grand passion?”
He laughed at the idea. Loudly, and for a very long time, just to prove the point. Though he was remembering the kisses. The very wonderful, very exciting kisses he’d shared with Mellie. If he were of a silly frame of mind, he could easily form a grand passion for her. And that was what made this scheme so perfect. He could pull it off. He could pretend to the world that he’d fallen desperately in love with Mellie. Or, at least desperately in lust, and that was enough.