“Tell me, my lord, do you take your responsibilities, obligations, honor, the giving of your word seriously?”
“Of course,” he said staunchly.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And would you take whatever steps necessary, do whatever was required, to meet those obligations and responsibilities and so forth?”
“Absolutely.” What was she getting at?
“No matter how difficult it proved? How much, oh, I don’t know,
deception was involved? How much sacrifice was needed?” Her voice hardened. “How much it cost?”
“Yes, I suppose.” None of this made any sense whatsoever. Judging from the look in her eye, it had something to do with whatever had upset her. And it was not going to be good. He searched his conscience. It was relatively blameless.
“Did you ever intend to sell copies ofA Fair Surrender, or was it all simply a ploy?”
His stomach plummeted. “A ploy?”
“To allow you to surreptitiously provide me funding so that I was not forced into marriage? And were you planning to continue the deception until such time as I married and received my inheritance?” Her voice rose. “And was all this because you agreed to marry me, then felt responsible for my fate when you reneged?”
He braced himself. “Fiona—”
“Answer the question, if you please,” she snapped.
He paused. “Which question?”
“Pick one!”
“Very well.” It really wasn’t that bad, at least not from his perspective. And he had fully intended to confess all to her at some point. Not now, of course, and possibly not for years. Still, it might be better to get it over with. Deception was not the best way to start their lives together. Besides, what difference did it make now?
He blew a resigned breath. “I never planned to sell copies ofA Fair Surrender, although I must admit, I am quite pleased with the end result.”
She glared.
“Scarcely matters now, I suppose,” he said under his breath. “Aside from the scandal if the identity of Anonymous was discovered, you were right all along about the amount of money such an enterprise would generate. It would take years to make even a fraction of what you needed. I did indeed intend to provide you with funds to keep you from an unwanted marriage and to continue to do so for as long as was necessary. And yes, I concocted this scheme because I felt a certain responsibility toward you.”
“And now?”
“Now…what?” he said cautiously.
“What is your plan now?”
“Now?” Relief washed through him. If she was asking about now, it surely wasn’t too late. “Now I wish to marry you.”
“Because of what happened between us this morning?”
“No. Yes.” There was no good way to answer this. “In part, I suppose.”
“Because you feel obligated?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Because Iwant to marry you.”
“And I am to believe you because you have always been so honest with me about your motives?”
“No.” He clenched his jaw. “You’re supposed to believe me because it’s the truth.”
“Ha! I’m not sure you would recognize the truth if it slapped you across the face!”
“I would,” he said indignantly, then realized how stupid that sounded. Nonetheless, he was a bit angry now himself. “I did what I thought best at the time, Fiona. I couldn’t simply abandon you to your fate. Yes, I felt a certain responsibility and an obligation to you. It was not your fault that I was not sincere when I agreed to marry you. But once the error was recognized, what would you have had me do?”
“You could have agreed to marry me and meant it!”
“But I want to marry you now! Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“No! Not now. It’s too late. You’re too late.” She ticked the points off on her finger. “You lied to me. You deceived me—”
“I did it for you!”
“Hardly! You tried to shape my life, my future, exactly as my father did. However, he truly believed his actions were in my best interests. Your actions were to alleviate your own sense of guilt for not being my salvation!” She drew a deep breath and met his gaze. Her voice was abruptly calm. It did not bode well.
“I told you I would never force a man to marry me. I see little difference between forcing a man into marriage because of an indiscretion and marrying a man because I am a responsibility or an obligation.”
His breath caught. “What are you saying?”
“What I am saying is that as much as I do appreciate your assistance, our association is at an end.” Her voice was polite, formal, and struck fear into his heart. “I too have responsibilities and obligations, and I cannot meet them with lies and deception.”
“Fiona—”
She clasped her hands in front of her in a prim, no-nonsense manner. As if the topic was no longer a subject of debate. “I shall adhere to my father’s wishes and marry the man he chose for me.”
He stared in disbelief. “You can’t.”
“Oh, but I can. And I shall.”
“I will not allow it,” he said staunchly, although he had no idea how to stop it. She snorted in disdain. “You have nothing to say about it. Furthermore, you may consider any obligation you have to me discharged. However, I should offer my congratulations.”
He was afraid to ask. “Why?”
“As I will not force you into marriage, you have won our wager.”
His brows drew together. “What wager?”
“My virtue against your freedom.”
“My freedom…” At once he remembered the wager discussed in a frivolous moment and shook his head. “I certainly never meant…why, it was not at all serious, nothing more than a joke—”
“I am weary of jokes!” Her voice rang with frustration. “Pranks, hoaxes, all of it! I am no longer amused!”
“I—”
“Whether it was a joke or not, you have won your freedom and I have lost what I wagered. If this were…”—she searched for the right word—“amyth there would be some great lesson here as to the origins of the universe or the beginning of the world. There would be a parallel between you and I and nature, but there isn’t. I thought, when Oliver first suggested your name, that it was fate. It had to be. Surely it was more than coincidence that Oliver would name the one man in the world who once claimed my affection—”
“What?” His brows drew together.
She waved away his question. “I saw you years ago at an Effington Christmas Ball. I was scarcely more than a child and I thought you were the most wonderful man I’d ever seen. I even noted your rendezvous in the library with a lady.”
He blew a long breath. “I see.”
“I have long wondered what it would be like to be the lady in the library on Christmas Eve with you. I’ve wondered as well what it would be like to be the lady in question the day after the evening in the library.”
She smiled a humorless smile. “Now I know.”
“It sounds like fate to me,” he said quietly.
“Unless one is writing a myth or some other work of fiction, there is no such thing as fate or destiny. There is only life and what we make of it.” She heaved a weary sigh, as if she were suddenly too tired to go on. “I think it would be best if you go now.”
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life. A sense of panic rose within him and he pushed it away. “May I ask you a question first?”
She hesitated then nodded. “One.”
“You said I once claimed your affection—”
“It was a long time ago and I was—”
“It’s my question, Miss Fairchild, allow me to ask it,” he said firmly. His gaze trapped hers. “Once, you felt some affection for me. Do you love me now?”
She stared at him for a long moment. “That is entirely too personal, my lord.”
“Perhaps it is.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Good day, Miss Fairchild.” He turned and strode out of the room.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Oliver waiting in the foyer.
“Jonathon,” Oliver called after him.
Jonathon ignored him and stalked to the front door. It opened for him at once thanks to a well-trained footman, otherwise he would have been compelled to kick the door down. He felt like kicking something at the moment. Once more he found himself walking the streets. Fiona had every right to be angry with him. He deserved her anger and probably more. And perhaps claiming he did it for her was not the wisest thing to say. And yes, there had been some deception and, technically, a lie or two. But damn it all, he loved her. He wanted to marry her. He had felt a certain sense of responsibility and obligation in the beginning, but everything had changed since then. He just had to convince her of that and he had to do it before she married Whatshisname and he lost her forever. It would not be easy. But now that he had found Fiona and love and passion and God knows what else that lay in the pit of his stomach and muddled his mind and made him behave like a total idiot, he was not about to give her up. He’d never especially believed in fate, but he did now, and if there was ever one woman meant for him it was Fiona Fairchild.
He had retreated, but only for the moment. Of course, he had no idea what to do now. Still, he had no intention of giving up, not as long as there was hope. And there was indeed hope. Fiona hadn’t said the words aloud when he’d asked if she loved him. But surely the answer was in her eyes.
Fifteen
Two days later, an eternity if one is in the throes of having lost the one true love of one’s life, yet not any significant time at all if one is attempting to come up with a brilliant plan to reclaim the heart of the aforementioned true love…
Belle shut the door of the girls’ parlor, flattened her back against it and announced in an overly dramatic tone, “He’s here.”
Fiona’s breath caught.
At last . She pushed the traitorous thought aside. It had been two endless days since she’d told Jonathon she was going to comply with her father’s wishes. Two days in which to think long and hard about his actions and her life.
As much as she longed to do so, there was no getting around the fact that Jonathon had deceived her. He had done so in a grand manner and at no little cost, but he had deceived her nonetheless. And he had not done so out of affection or true concern for her future, but because he thought he had owed it to her. She was an obligation to him, no more important than a bill due to a merchant. He had made no effort up to this point to change her mind. There had been no outrageous display of roses, no notes of apologies, no anything. Yet he had said he wished to marry her. And surely, upon reflection, that could not entirely be due to any sense of obligation. Still, he had never mentioned love. And there had been no word from him.
Deception was no way to begin a life together. But he was here now and that had to be significant. Perhaps he too had spent these last days deep in thought. Perhaps he had come to the conclusion that he should not give her up without a fight. And perhaps…
She set her pencil down on the drawing she’d been working on absently, simply to get her mind off the more dreadful aspects of her life, and noted the face on the body of an ancient Greek god bore a strong resemblance to Jonathon’s. She rose to her feet and drew a deep breath. “Very well, then, I shall see his lordship.”
Belle looked confused. “Who?”
“Lord Helmsley.”
Belle scoffed. “Lord Helmsley isn’t here, it’s Mr. Sinclair.”
Whatshisname?
“And he doesn’t look the least bit like his father.”
Fiona’s heart sank. This was it, then. “That’s something, at any rate.”
“In fact, he’s quite, quite handsome, with a funny little scar just above his right eyebrow that makes him look dashing and adventurous. Like a pirate, I think, but a very good pirate. He’s nice as well and most amusing.” Belle studied her sister. “I would be happy to take him if you don’t want him.”
Fiona sighed. “I don’t want him, but you can’t have him.”
Belle sniffed. “I didn’t think you’d give him up.”
“I would gladly give him up, but I can’t if we are to comply with the terms of Father’s will. And at this point I see no other choice.”
“Pity you have to be the one to marry,” Belle said. “Sophie and Gen and Aunt Edwina are with Mr. Sinclair right now, and I daresay any one of them would be happy to marry him. Aunt Edwina seems especially taken with him.” Belle grinned. “Did I mention he was dashing?”
“Yes.” Fiona smiled weakly. It scarcely mattered if he were the most dashing and handsomest man in the world. He was not the one she wanted. Nevertheless, regardless of how she had tried to avoid it, it now seemed inevitable. Whatshisname—Mr. Sinclair—was apparently her fate. And Jonathon Effington was not.
A few minutes later, Fiona squared her shoulders, adopted a pleasant smile and entered the parlor a step before Belle.
Gen, Sophie and Aunt Edwina sat on the sofa with looks approximating adoration on their collective faces. Even Gen, who was entirely too practical to be taken in by a handsome face, looked wide-eyed and just a bit stunned. And why not?
Whatshisname—Daniel Sinclair—stood leaning on the fireplace with a disarming grin on a face that was undeniably handsome. He was tall, with dark hair and darker eyes and yes, he was definitely dashing. He straightened when she entered the room and his eyes lit with appreciation. Aunt Edwina rose. “Fiona, I should like to introduce Mr. Daniel Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair, this is my eldest niece, Miss Fiona Fairchild.”