“Kelfield?” Aylesford frowned and looked at once as though he was reconsidering the blessing he’d just given Greg.
Blast Olivia’s scandalous husband. Greg shook his head. “If you’d rather a different venue, sir, I am happy to change my plans. My sister will have my head, but…”
“Your sister?”
Greg shrugged. “The duchess is her dearest friend, they have been inseparable since they were in leading strings. Cordelia, my sister, is forever championing one cause or another, and she is quite determined to restore Kelfield’s name to good standing in order to help her friend be accepted once more into society.”
At hearing that, the marquess’s frown disappeared. “The countess sounds like a remarkable woman.”
“She is that, sir,” Greg agreed. “There are men less courageous and determined than my sister, I can assure you.”
“In that case, I’d be a fool to stand against her.” Aylesford chuckled. “If you would like to make your announcement at the Kelfields’, you won’t hear an objection from me.”
“Thank you, sir, that is much appreciated.”
“Any man who cares so much for his sister’s wishes will, I’m certain, take excellent care of my Bella.”
Guilt for their deception speared Greg once more, but he smiled in response and nodded in return as it was expected. “I believe she is keeping Bella company at this moment, if you would like to meet her.”
The marquess nodded slightly. “I think I would like that quite a bit, Avery.”
As the two of them returned to the blue parlor, laughter drifted down the corridor. The sound brought a smile to Greg’s lips. It was a relief to hear his sister laugh these days, and it alleviated a bit of the guilt he had about misleading Lord Aylesford. After all, Greg was being noble, in a backward sort of way. He was helping restore his sister to her usual self and he was helping Bella avoid a marriage she didn’t want. He was being noble, even if Aylesford wouldn’t agree with that estimation in the end.
Upon their entrance into the blue parlor, they found Bella and Cordie, sitting together on the settee laughing, as though they were the closest of confidantes. The two ladies stopped laughing when they realized Greg and Lord Aylesford had invaded their space.
Bella met Greg’s eyes in an instant, and his heart squeezed a bit. There were worse girls one could have as a pretend fiancée. In fact, he doubted there was anyone he’d rather engage in such a ploy with. She seemed so genuine, so kind, and…her beauty truly did take his breath away.
She shifted her gaze to her father’s. “Papa?” she asked tentatively.
Aylesford nodded. “I have given your Lord Avery my blessing, Bella.”
“Oh, Papa! Thank you!” She beamed as she pushed to her feet, raced across the floor and threw her arms around her father’s middle. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
The marquess hugged his daughter to him and then pulled back slightly. “I just hope you’ll be happy, my dear.”
“So very happy,” she assured him, stepping away from her father with the most radiant smile. Then Bella’s silvery eyes met Greg’s and the joyful sparkle he found there filled him with warmth. She was so amazingly lovely, especially when she smiled and…
“You must be Lady Clayworth,” Aylesford said, breaking Greg from his thoughts.
Greg glanced toward the settee, where Cordie was now standing and said, “Apologies, sir. This is my sister Cordelia, the Countess of Clayworth.”
“Lord Aylesford, it is so nice to meet you,” his sister gushed, coming toward them.
“And you, my lady. Your brother has just been extolling your many virtues to me.”
“He is too kind, I’m sure.” Cordie stopped before the group. “I think Lady Arabella is the luckiest girl in all of London to have captured him, and I am so happy to welcome her into the Avery bosom on behalf of all of our family.”
Welcome her into the Avery bosom? She was certainly laying it on thick, wasn’t she? Greg shot her a glance.
And then someone harrumphed behind them, a rather irritated sound, most definitely.
Greg glanced over his shoulder to find an aged gentleman with a shock of white hair, unfriendly dark eyes and an annoyed scowl upon his face.
“Who are these people?” the man asked, looking past Greg and Cordie, his gaze steady upon the marquess.
Lord Aylesford nodded at the old man in greeting. “Your Grace,” he said to his father, apparently. “This is Lady Clayworth and her brother Lord Avery, who has just now asked for Bella’s hand.”
“Surely, you jest,” the duke scoffed.