One Whisper Away by Emma Wildes

engaged. I can’t tell you why, but what I was thinking of was perhaps a temporary arrangement between us. Obviously I don’t expect you to actually marry me.”
    Earl Savage blinked, settled back even more in his seat, and took his time answering. His handsome face took on a slightly sardonic expression. “If this is an oblique attempt to murder me, please be reminded I am not that easy to kill.”
    She had no idea what he was talking about. Perplexed, she frowned. “What?”
    “Let us just say I am under the impression you are already engaged to a certain gentleman who made it quite clear just moments ago he thinks I should stay away from you.”
    “Already engaged?”
    “Picture the antithesis of myself. Blond and very, very English.”
    Lord Drury had actually said something to him? She couldn’t decide whether to be mortified or furious. Stiffly, she said, “I am not currently engaged to anyone, let me assure you.”
    “Well, everyone who was present in the card room thinks you are or certainly are about to be.”
    “I’m trying neither to murder nor to marry you, sir.” She was proud of the crisp, pragmatic tone of her voice. “I merely wish to become your fiancée.”
    “Merely? Excuse me, but that does not seem to be a small decision. Why me, pray tell?”
    He certainly had every right to ask. She clasped her hands and formulated a response—hopefully one that made sense. At the end, she said softly, “There is already gossip about the two of us, so it would be believable. I need the help of a true gentleman and I wasn’t sure where else to turn.”
     
    Well, he wasn’t sure he qualified as a true gentleman, especially considering the lascivious thoughts going through his head at the moment, but Jonathan was surprisingly willing to listen to the beautiful young woman sitting across from him. “Go on.”
    Her hesitation charmed him, but then again, unfortunately everything about her charmed him. From the tendrils of golden hair at her temples, the demure neckline of her gown over those oh-so-tempting breasts, the top of her glove on the supple muscles of her upper arm . . . to the way she tentatively bit her lower lip and regarded him from under the fringe of her lush lashes. “I don’t want to get married quite yet,” she said emphatically enough that he believed her conviction. “And I especially don’t wish to marry just because my father has decided Lord Drury is his preferred son-in-law. I have other reasons, but I wondered if perhaps . . . Are the rumors that you wish to return to America in the fall true?”
    What other reasons could a nineteen-year-old ingénue have for a false engagement?
    It was his first thought, and a subversive one, for he found himself at once in the quandary of wanting to agree to—and to refuse—her request, all at the same time. To agree just because she had asked him and she looked so luscious in her soft orange gown that he wasn’t sure a man on this green earth could refuse her, and to decline the honor because he had a sixth sense there was an inherent danger in accepting.
    A man should always listen to his gods . . .
    His aunt was been right, of course. Her gentle spirit embraced the idea of a higher power that served all men, not just those who believed in the strictures of organized religion. Intellectually, he agreed. If men took goodness as a sign of spirituality, then the world would be a better, more tolerant place.
    But it wasn’t that simple, an inner voice reminded him; Cecily’s family might take issue with him as a potential son-in-law. The subject was carefully avoided in his presence, but he knew Adela’s arrival in England with him had caused a great deal of speculation and disapproval. Not that it mattered to him what others thought of it—nothing would make him change his bond with his daughter—but he was pragmatic enough to have a realistic viewpoint.
    “My intention is to return as soon as all is settled here,” he admitted