exaggerate when I say you are a stunningly beautiful woman. You shall have no difficulty taking your pick of eager suitors, despite their believing you are already promised to me. All the men in London will be queuing up, clamoring for your attention.”
All the men in London except you.
“And what of your family?” she asked. “Will they not feel ill-used by our deception?”
“They will not realize it is a deception. This shall be our secret and ours alone.”
She lifted her head, her chin set at a faintly defiant tilt. “And when I cast you aside? What then? Will they not despise me for breaking your heart?”
“I shall make sure they understand that I am bruised, but far from broken, and that I support your decision. No resentment will follow from that quarter, I promise.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “So, are we agreed?”
“You are certain about this, my lord?” she questioned. “Are you not afraid I will turn the tables and find a way to force you to the altar?”
His eyes widened, then he grinned. “No, not a bit. If there is one thing I have learned about you, it is that you are an innately honorable person.”
An honorable person indeed, she thought wryly. So honorable I am about to commit the most dreadful fraud of my life.
Swallowing, she slid her hand out of his grasp and curled it in her lap. “Very well, Lord Cade, I will be your faux fiancée.”
Three days later Meg sat opposite Cade inside his eminently comfortable coach-and-four as it traveled south on the turnpike to London. She relaxed against the plush brown velvet squabs, taking in the vehicle’s understated luxury, which put her former conveyance to shame. As for her original coach—and coachman—both had journeyed north without her, the coachman entrusted with a letter of explanation for her aunt.
For nearly an hour the day before, Meg had labored over the missive; ruining several pieces of Cade’s cream-colored vellum stationary as she struggled to find exactly the right way to inform her aunt that she would not be coming to live with her after all.
In order to protect her reputation, she and Cade had agreed to maintain their fiction about having met in Gibraltar—at least to those of their general acquaintance. Among their immediate family, however, something closer to the truth seemed best.
And so that was what she had written, telling her aunt how she arrived on Cade’s doorstep seeking shelter in the midst of a dreadful snowstorm. Confined togetherover the next two weeks, the pair of them had quite unexpectedly tumbled head-over-heels in love. Then, unable to bear the thought of parting once the snow began to recede, Cade had asked her to be his wife, and she had joyfully said yes. No wedding date was set as yet, so that she might enjoy the thrill of a London Season, but they hoped to be married within the year.
Reviewing the fabrication in her mind, then again on paper, Meg had read and reread the letter to her aunt to make certain she’d made no errors in the telling. She finished by promising to write again once they arrived in Town. With guilt pinching at her for her deceit, she had sealed the missive with wax and given it to her aunt’s coachman for safe delivery.
Now, as she gazed through the coach window at the winter-bare fields, she thought of London and trembled. She had visited the great city only twice before, and then for very brief periods of time while her father conducted navy business. She’d been a child then, wide-eyed with wonder at all the people and activities that seemed never to grow completely quiet, no matter the hour of day or night. Those visits had been exciting, memorable, with everything and everyone around her a marvel to behold.
But this trip would be different, since she was different, with no one save Cade upon whom to rely—his, the only familiar face among all the new people she would be meeting. And then there was his family. What would they think of her? Cade
All the men in London except you.
“And what of your family?” she asked. “Will they not feel ill-used by our deception?”
“They will not realize it is a deception. This shall be our secret and ours alone.”
She lifted her head, her chin set at a faintly defiant tilt. “And when I cast you aside? What then? Will they not despise me for breaking your heart?”
“I shall make sure they understand that I am bruised, but far from broken, and that I support your decision. No resentment will follow from that quarter, I promise.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “So, are we agreed?”
“You are certain about this, my lord?” she questioned. “Are you not afraid I will turn the tables and find a way to force you to the altar?”
His eyes widened, then he grinned. “No, not a bit. If there is one thing I have learned about you, it is that you are an innately honorable person.”
An honorable person indeed, she thought wryly. So honorable I am about to commit the most dreadful fraud of my life.
Swallowing, she slid her hand out of his grasp and curled it in her lap. “Very well, Lord Cade, I will be your faux fiancée.”
Three days later Meg sat opposite Cade inside his eminently comfortable coach-and-four as it traveled south on the turnpike to London. She relaxed against the plush brown velvet squabs, taking in the vehicle’s understated luxury, which put her former conveyance to shame. As for her original coach—and coachman—both had journeyed north without her, the coachman entrusted with a letter of explanation for her aunt.
For nearly an hour the day before, Meg had labored over the missive; ruining several pieces of Cade’s cream-colored vellum stationary as she struggled to find exactly the right way to inform her aunt that she would not be coming to live with her after all.
In order to protect her reputation, she and Cade had agreed to maintain their fiction about having met in Gibraltar—at least to those of their general acquaintance. Among their immediate family, however, something closer to the truth seemed best.
And so that was what she had written, telling her aunt how she arrived on Cade’s doorstep seeking shelter in the midst of a dreadful snowstorm. Confined togetherover the next two weeks, the pair of them had quite unexpectedly tumbled head-over-heels in love. Then, unable to bear the thought of parting once the snow began to recede, Cade had asked her to be his wife, and she had joyfully said yes. No wedding date was set as yet, so that she might enjoy the thrill of a London Season, but they hoped to be married within the year.
Reviewing the fabrication in her mind, then again on paper, Meg had read and reread the letter to her aunt to make certain she’d made no errors in the telling. She finished by promising to write again once they arrived in Town. With guilt pinching at her for her deceit, she had sealed the missive with wax and given it to her aunt’s coachman for safe delivery.
Now, as she gazed through the coach window at the winter-bare fields, she thought of London and trembled. She had visited the great city only twice before, and then for very brief periods of time while her father conducted navy business. She’d been a child then, wide-eyed with wonder at all the people and activities that seemed never to grow completely quiet, no matter the hour of day or night. Those visits had been exciting, memorable, with everything and everyone around her a marvel to behold.
But this trip would be different, since she was different, with no one save Cade upon whom to rely—his, the only familiar face among all the new people she would be meeting. And then there was his family. What would they think of her? Cade
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