“Indeed?” Surprise registered on the old man’s face and a bit of hope flashed in his eyes.
For a moment, remorse washed over Greg. Aylesford would only be too happy to believe the story he was about to hear, of that Greg had no doubt. No, he would never qualify for sainthood. Liars were excluded from such accolades. He looked from the marquess to his daughter and nodded. “If you don’t mind, my dear, I’d like a private word with your father.”
“Of course.” She nodded quickly and then bustled from the library, and Greg couldn’t help but stare after her departing form and the mesmerizing swish of her skirts.
“What’s this about, Avery?” her father asked, drawing Greg’s attention back to the marquess in the middle of the library.
Greg steadied his shoulders and hoped he could convince the man. “I would very much like to marry your daughter.”
Aylesford touched a hand to his heart. “You want to marry Bella?”
Greg could certainly think of worse ways to spend one’s future, but this was all just pretend, he had to remind himself. He nodded quickly in response, though. “Yes, sir. I’ve thought of little else since meeting her.”
The marquess smiled, then gestured to a chair across from his. “Please do have a seat, Avery,” he said as he dropped back into his own chair.
Greg quickly complied though his stomach twisted in a knot as he did so.
“I’m afraid you have quite taken me by surprise,” Bella’s father began. “I hardly expected to be having this conversation today.”
Of that, Greg had no doubt. Still, he shook his head. “I imagine you turn away Bella’s suitors on a regular basis, sir, but I do hope you’ll find it in your heart to accept my suit.”
The marquess narrowed his eyes slightly, and Greg shifted a bit in his seat. Damn it all, was he playing this wrong?
“And why should I accept your suit, Lord Avery? What makes you different from the others?”
Were there others? He got the impression there wasn’t anyone else, which was why he’d been roped into this. But perhaps the marquess was simply trying to keep from showing his hand. Either way, Greg had no idea how to answer Aylesford’s question. If Cordie and Clayworth hadn’t eloped, if the earl had asked Greg for Cordie’s hand instead, what would he have wanted to hear from the man? “I don’t know that I am different,” he began, “but I can promise you that I’ll love and care for her all of my days. She’ll never want for anything. I’ll make her happiness my top concern from the moment I wake ‘til the moment I fall asleep. I am quite in love with her.”
The marquess’ face softened a bit and the knot in Greg’s stomach tightened even more. Cordie had said to focus on the beginning, not the end; but Greg couldn’t help but feel more than a bit guilty about what their ruse would do to Aylesford when this was all over. The man clearly cared about his daughter, he clearly wanted the best for her.
“I don’t know the first thing about you, Avery. I never even heard your name until just now. You can’t just expect to walk in here and that I’ll accept your offer when I know nothing about you.”
Probably not. In Aylesford’s place, he’d want more than that too. “What can I tell you, sir? What would you like to know? I’m the 12th Baron Avery. My family seat, Rufford Hall, is in Nottinghamhshire. It’s where I’ve spent most of my life and I imagine that when the season is over, I’ll return home rather quickly.”
“You’re not fond of Town, then?”
To put it lightly. Greg shook his head. “I’m only here this season at my sister’s request, the Countess of Clayworth. And if I hadn’t met your daughter, I might very well be on my way home right now.” What had Bella said would convince her father…? Oh, yes… “My paints await me at home, you see.”
“You paint?” the marquess asked, his eyes turning a bit dull.
On second thought, mentioning paints might not have been the best idea. But Greg had already started down that path. “Bella and I have had the most interesting conversations about painting techniques. Honestly, sir, I think we will suit rather well. If there’s anything I can do or say to convince you of that…”
The old man nodded, though he said nothing for the longest while. It seemed almost as though he was lost in the past somewhere, and that was a sensation Greg was intimately familiar with.
Finally, Aylesford took a deep breath then sat up a little straighter in his seat. “She doesn’t much care for the country, Avery,” he finally said. “I’m a bit concerned about you preferring that life to this one.”
Of course she preferred London. Everyone, it seemed, preferred London except for him. “We could split our time, sir, if that’s your main objection. I have my duties to the barony, but I truly do want for her to be happy too.”
The marquess heaved a sigh. “She’s a sensitive girl. Shy most of the time. But you seem to have broken through that obstacle. And she did seem enamored of you just now. “ A sad smile settled across his face. “While I’ll miss her dreadfully, I will give you my blessing. Congratulations, Avery.”
“Thank you, sir.” Greg released a sigh of relief, which was odd. He wasn’t truly going to marry the girl. That her father had accepted his suit shouldn’t bring him relief at all. This whole thing was, after all, just a ruse.
“I’ll have a marriage contract drawn up. Would tomorrow afternoon be convenient to look it over?”
A lump of guilt lodged in Greg’s throat. “I will avail myself to your schedule.”
A smile of relief settled on the marquess’s face.
“If it is all right with you,” Greg continued, “I would like to make the announcement tonight at the Kelfield ball. The duchess is an old friend of the family.”