∞∞∞
“Whatareyou two doing in here?”
Roman jerked back. His heart gave a thud so hard it felt like it had broken through ribs. He met Lady Clementine’s wide, horrified gaze.
Damn it all to hell.
This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was going to marry Miss Fisher. This very Season. He was to wed someone sweet, dignified, versed in all things a lady should be. He most certainly wasn’t to wed a Musgrave and most especially not Clementine Musgrave. Knowledge of fabrics and an ability to pick locks did not add up to the perfect marchioness.
Roman looked to his aunt, who swung her gaze between them both. He swallowed hard and held his breath. All it would take was one word from her and he’d be forced to do the honorable thing. They might not have kissed but any fool could see they’d been close.
For what reason, he could not fathom. Maybe it had been too long since he’d held a woman, since he’d felt such soft, supple curves. Perhaps it was because she was so damned infuriating it seemed to be the only way to silence her.
The reason did not really matter. He shouldn’t have even considered it. To ruin his family’s name once again after his ancestors had strived so hard to revive it was beyond the pale. Maybe his father had been right about him.
“Mary,” Clementine started, “I received your letter and—”
A blur of fur, legs, and noise burst in around Aunt Mary’s legs and headed straight for Roman and Lady Clementine. The smallest one—a white terrier—scrabbled up his legs and Roman froze as a tickle formed in the back of his nose.
“Dogs!” his aunt yelled. “Down. Naughty.”
Several barked in response and the great golden Labrador leaped into the bed and perched there. The dachshund headed toward the curtains, nudged the fabric and proceeded to do several circles until it found a spot it liked.
This was it. This was to be his future. Married to an inappropriate lady and surrounded by his aunt’s dogs. He met Lady Clementine’s gaze again, still as wide and as wary as before. A silent message passed between them.
Oh no. Not a chance.
Before he could voice such a sentiment in some way other than panic —
“Dogs! Come now.” His aunt tapped her cane on the floor and the dachshund perked up, the Labrador leaped from the bed, and the terrier ceased clawing at his legs. They all hastened to her, and she hustled them out of the door. “Bramley,” she called down the corridor. “See that they get a little treat!” She turned again, clasped her cane in both hands and grinned. “Now then, what shall we do with you two?”
“We were just—” he started.
“It isn’t—” Lady Clementine began.
“I’m assuming you have started your investigations, Lady Clementine.” Aunt Mary entered the room and looped her arm through Lady Clementine’s. “Have you discovered anything...interesting?” Her smile grew mischievous.
Lady Clementine’s cheeks pinked and he wished he didn’t like the shade. Something about it made him wonder what else could be done to make her cheeks redden. If a man flirted with her, did it occur? If he had kissed her, would he draw back to find it had darkened to a red? What would happen if he touched her?
Good Lord. He was practically a married man. He gave himself a little shake, straightened his posture, and clasped his hands behind his back. There were most certainly a few ancestors rolling in their graves right now. None of them would be pleased at him marrying a Musgrave—earl’s daughter or not. Their reputation had always been precarious but after the events of several Seasons ago, it was well and truly sealed. Stealing one of the Prince Regent’s dogs had been the last straw.
He still wasn’t certain quite why they would even do such a thing. He swore there was more to the story than thetonsaid.
It didn’t matter, though. Dog-stealers or not, their reputation —such as it was —mattered, and so did his. A match between their families was impossible.
“If I had realized you would be right over, I would have hastened home,” his aunt said. “My nephew does not seem to know how to play host, it seems.” She swung a pointed glance his way. “We should convene to the drawing room for tea.”
Roman met her gaze with his own detached expression. Nothing had happened but it had been close enough. His fate sat in his aunt’s hands.
“Still,” she said brightly, “at least the two of you started investigating straight away. I’m assuming that is why you are in my bedroom.”
“Yes.” Lady Clementine nodded furiously. “I did not wish to delay.”
“Absolutely,” Roman agreed. “We wanted to get to the heart of this matter.”
“We?” A pale eyebrow lifted, and the corner of Aunt Mary’s lips lifted. “How wonderful. I take it you two are to continue working together? My clever nephew and the intelligent Lady Clementine. What a fearsome combination.”
Roman managed to hold back a snort. Clever? Hardly. Yes, he did not come across as a dimwit and he could string more than several sentences, however, his father and every school master he’d met would argue differently. He might be able to appear clever and even have an intellectual debate or two, but put a piece of paper in front of him and he was lost. What sort of a clever man couldn’t write something so simple as a letter without getting every damned word muddled?