A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer Page A

was obliged to master an impulse to retreat, and to tell himself that her acceptance of the proposed match was no more coldblooded than his own. He was quite as pale as she, and he replied, in a strained voice: ‘Miss Chawleigh, if you feel that you could bear it I shall count myself fortunate. I won’t offer you false coin. To make the sort of protestations natural to this occasion would be to insult you, but you may believe me sincere when I say that if you do me the honour to marry me I shall try to make you happy.’
    She got up. ‘I shall be. Don’t think of that! I don’t wish you to try to – Only to be comfortable! I hope I can make you so: I’ll do my best. And you’ll tell me what you wish me to do – or if I do something you don’t like – won’t you?’
    He was surprised, and a little touched, but he said, as he took her hand: ‘Yes, indeed! Whenever I’m out of temper, or grow tired of being comfortable!’
    She stared for a second, saw the quizzical look in his eyes, and laughed suddenly. ‘Oh – ! No, I promise you I won’t get into a miff!’
    He kissed her hand, and then, lightly, her cheek. She did not shrink, but she did not look as though she liked it. And since he had no desire to kiss her, he let go her hand, not offended, but relieved.

Five
    The engagement was almost immediately announced, and the wedding-day fixed for a month later, on the 20th April. Whether from impatience to see his daughter ennobled, or from fear that Adam might cry off, Mr Chawleigh was anxious to clinch the bargain, and was with difficulty restrained from sending off notices then and there to the Gazette and the Morning Post . He said in a burst of unendearing frankness that the sooner the news was made public the better it would be for Adam; but he was forced to acknowledge that it would be improper to advertise the marriage before Adam had broken the news of it to his family.
    Another set-back was in store for him. In the midst of his plans for a wedding exceeding in magnificence any that had ever preceded it he was pulled up by a gentle reminder that the recent bereavement suffered by his prospective son-in-law put out of count any such schemes: the ceremony, Adam said, must be private, with only the immediate relations and particular friends of both parties invited to attend it. This was a severe blow, and might have led to a battle of wills had not Jenny intervened, saying in her downright way: ‘Now, that’s enough, Papa! It wouldn’t be the thing!’
    In other quarters the intelligence was received in widely divergent ways. Lord Oversley said he was damned glad to hear it; and Lady Oversley burst into tears. Wimmering, momentarily stunned, recovered to congratulate his patron, and to beg him to leave all financial arrangements in his hands. Like Mrs Quarley-Bix he was killed with delight, the only leaven to his joy being Adam’s resolve to continue in his plan to sell the town house. To representations that now more than ever would he need a town house he replied that he had the intention of hiring one of more modest dimensions than the mansion in Grosvenor Street; to the warning that a hired place could not be thought creditable, he merely said: ‘What nonsense!’
    Adam communicated the news of his betrothal to Lady Lynton by letter, making business his excuse for not returning to Fontley. He could not bring himself to face the inevitable astonishment, the questions, and, perhaps, the disapproval that must greet his announcement; and he knew himself to be unequal to the task of describing Mr Chawleigh by word of mouth. He could write that he was a wealthy merchant, with whom Lord Oversley was on terms of friendship; and Lady Lynton would not know, reading of Jenny’s quiet manners, superior understanding, and well-formed figure, that these fluent phrases had not tripped readily from his pen. He ended his letter by begging his mother to come to London, to make the acquaintance of her future