Beauty and the Baron

Lucius Daventry’s emotions had been a seething stew bubbling in a tightly lidded pot. Angela Lacewood had jarred that lid more than once during their interview—each time venting a scalding blast of steam. For all Lucius hated anyone unsettling his composure, he had to admit those momentary discharges of pressure had probably kept him from exploding.

Now if only the searing imprint of Miss Lacewood in his arms did not make his body burst into flames!

She lowered her gaze, perhaps to protect herself from his searching scrutiny. “I am able to put on a cheerful face when I wish, sir, and your grandfather’s sight is not what it once was. I would never do anything to cause him distress.”

“I believe that, my dear.”

The last word slipped past Lord Daventry’s censor. He hastened on, hoping she would not pay it any heed. If he succeeded in convincing her to help him, which seemed unlikely at present, he would have to accustom himself to uttering such endearments.

A spasm of alarm gripped his heart at that thought.

“What I need to know is how far you would be willing to dissemble in order to make my grandfather happy in his last months?”

The words stung his throat as he expelled them. It had taken him several long nights staring into the cold, dark beauty of the starry sky to cultivate his present stoic acceptance of the situation. Perhaps his ruse with Miss Lacewood would provide a welcome distraction for him in the weeks to come.

If only he could convince her to help him.

Her eyes widened and her gaze flew back to meet his. A flicker of triumph in their golden brown depths told Lucius she had finally reconciled all the contradictions of his strange proposal.

“You want to pretend we’re getting married, to please the earl?”

“Just so. Grandfather has been remarkably unsubtle in his quest to bring us together.”

The glimmer of a smile bewitched her lips for an instant. Evidently the earl had been making a nuisance of himself matchmaking with Miss Lacewood, too.

“There is nothing else he wants so much in this life,” Lucius continued. “Until now I have turned a deaf ear to his constant litany of your virtues, for I have no intention of marrying. Not even for my grandfather’s sake.”

The young lady could not disguise her relief. “But you would become engaged to me?”

Lucius nodded. “With the understanding that you will break the engagement once…it has served its purpose. In exchange for your cooperation, I will assist your brother in gaining the commission he desires.”

She stared at him in silence for a moment. Despite his earlier protestations, Lucius could not divine what she was thinking or how she might respond.

“I require no such inducement from you, my lord,” she said at last. “If I choose to do what you ask, it will be because I also wish to make the earl happy.”

“Nevertheless, Miss Lacewood, I would insist.” Lucius declined to insult the young lady by telling her it would be a kind of insurance, to guarantee that she’d break the engagement once it had outlived its usefulness.

After all, it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind in matters of this nature. A mild local scandal might result, but little more. When a gentleman jilted a lady, on the other hand, it became the tattle of the ton—likely to end up in the law courts or, worse yet, the newspapers.

If what his grandfather had told him about Angela Lacewood were true, Lucius doubted she would betray him by insisting they go ahead with a marriage he did not want. A nobleman with a comfortable fortune could never be too careful, though. He would feel less uneasy about the whole enterprise if he had some influence he could exercise over her when the time came.

“Now that you understand my intentions, Miss Lacewood, is it possible you might oblige me?”

As he awaited her answer, it seemed to Lucius that all of his internal organs had contracted into one tight, heavy ball such as might blast from the mouth of a cannon. Finding that his palms had begun to sweat, he thrust his arms behind his back.

“It is…possible, my lord,” she said at last.

Lucius expelled the breath he had not realized he’d been holding.

“But I will need more information upon which to base my decision,” she hastened to add. “What would this engagement of ours entail, exactly?”

“How in blazes should I know!” Lucius flared.

This whole business had wound him far too tight. His struggle to project an unruffled facade had not helped.

“Whatever it takes to make grandfather believe we mean to get married, I suppose.” He was vexed with himself for failing to plan beyond this interview, which had not gone at all as he’d expected.

“Would we have to go out in society together?” Miss Lacewood looked as though she were wringing her hands. At second glance, Lucius realized she was twisting a slender ring on her little finger. “I mean, such society as one finds in this quiet corner of the country?”

Since he wasn’t certain what answer she wanted, Lucius gave her the one he preferred. “I don’t see why we should have to. I seldom get invited anywhere these days and almost always decline when I do. I don’t expect that to change simply because I’ve acquired a fiancée.”

A certain stiffness in her posture seemed to ease. Had she approved of his unsociable answer? Perhaps they might get along well enough after all.

“Would I be allowed to visit Helmhurst even more frequently than I do now?” This time there could be no question what she wanted to hear.

Though the notion of sharing the last few precious months of his grandfather’s company with another person did not appeal to him, Lucius made himself nod. “As much as you wish.”

Miss Lacewood made no effort to hide her bittersweet satisfaction with his answer.

It was beginning to look as though he might just succeed in winning her cooperation. The prospect made Lucius light-headed and off balance.

“Anything else?” he asked. The corners of his mouth arched upward and he could do nothing to stop them.

She greeted his question with a blush so intense Lucius could see it in spite of the dim light in the room.

“Kiss?”

The tremulous murmur of her query hit him like a hard, unexpected blow to the belly. Lucius ordered himself not to stare at Miss Lacewood’s wide, full lips. Under no circumstances should he imagine what it might be like to kiss her. Or speculate whether she’d been kissed by another man.

All at once, Lucius fancied he could hear bugles in the distance sounding retreat.

“I should never have come here.” He wheeled about and strode for the sitting room door, snatching up his cloak and wide-brimmed felt hat from the back of a chair where he had left them.

“This was a ludicrous idea—quite unworkable. I’m sorry to have troubled you, Miss Lacewood. I will see myself out.”

As he marched toward the entry hall, Lucius flung his cloak around his shoulders and jammed his hat on, pulling the broad brim low to shade his face.

Behind him he heard footsteps hurrying to catch up.

“Please, Lord Daventry, will you wait a moment?”

Lucius did not slacken his pace, though he fancied he could hear the Iron Duke bellowing, “The little baggage has you on the run, eh, Daventry? Stand and take it like a man, why don’t you.”

When he reached the front door, Lucius wheeled to face his pursuer.

Clearly Miss Lacewood had not anticipated this, for she failed to curb her headlong chase. As he pivoted toward her, she barreled into him. If the door had not been at his back, they might have crashed onto the floor of the entry hall in a tangled heap. Instead, Lucius felt his arms rise to enfold her for the third time that afternoon.

Her wild tumble of curls tickled his nose. They smelled as fresh and sweet as the garden from whence she’d been summoned by his call. If sunbeams could have substance and texture, surely they would feel like Miss Lacewood’s golden tresses.