great-aunt, if I can arrange it. You’ll like her, I know. Very much of the Ancien Regime , but a complete hand for all that, if you don’t let her intimidate you. You cannot stay in my bachelor’s quarters, of course, but your father spoke of an aunt of yours…?”
“Papa knows Aunt Amabel won’t have me.”
“He thought he could bring her ’round if she only had to give you house-room and an occasional introduction, if my great-aunt and I could act as chaperone and escort. Think of all the wonderful times we could have, just for a few months. You’d be home before Christmas. The theaters and bookstores, the parties and balls, all the sights and all the shops. Belle-tante ’s been longing to visit her old friends in London, fellow emigrés, you know, so she’ll be thrilled to look after you. And it would get you away from Treverly, which might be uncomfortable right now, and out of Squire’s sight, before he throttles you.”
Jacelyn had to laugh at that, before reminding the earl that Lady Ponsonby and Priscilla would be in London, and Lady Ponsonby and Aunt Amabel were bosom bows. “If I am ruined here in Cambridgeshire, where everyone knows I’m always in some scrape or other, it will be a hundred times worse in London, where no one knows me. I won’t be invited anywhere, and poor Aunt Amabel will have to go to Bath again.”
Claibourne smiled at the girl’s candour, and at all the shifting thoughts he could read on her so expressive face. You’d make a terrible cardplayer, Miss Trevaine, he thought. Right now he was pleased to see disappointment mixed with the restored good humour. “That’s the other half of my proposal,” he told her. “I’m suggesting we put it about that we have an understanding, a prebetrothal agreement, if you will. That way we can travel together, and no one can comment that I am too much in your company. Most important, your good name will be preserved.”
Jacelyn shook her head. “I don’t understand, Lord Claibourne. Squire said I was compromised and had to marry. How can a mere ‘understanding’ uncompromise me?”
“Ah, that’s the glory of idle gossip. As I see it, the reason for protecting a maiden’s name so well is that no man wants a wife who will, ah, kiss other men. And the wives don’t want a woman in their midst who might kiss their husbands. So they have decided that a girl who kisses two men is no better than she should be and not acceptable. But if she kisses one man and appears to be close to marrying him, then that is love, and safe.”
“What a bag of moonshine, my lord.”
“Leigh.”
“Leigh?”
“Or Claibourne, or Merrill, if you’d rather. Anything but Arthur. Then I can call you…Jacelyn?”
“Or Jacey. Anything but chicken!”
And they both laughed, the earl feeling they’d gotten over the heaviest ground, Jacelyn in delight that she seemed to have made a friend of this paragon.
“But, my lo—Leigh, if it is just a private, unannounced engagement, who is to know? I mean, how will that stop all the rumours?”
“Oh, I might drop a hint or two to Lady Ponsonby, entre nous of course. That should take care of Cambridgeshire, London, and all of the counties in between, if not the Outer Hebrides.”
Jacelyn’s dimples appeared. “What happens then? We can’t just keep on having an understanding, can we?”
“Not forever, no. But we can say it’s for your first Little Season. That way if young Lochinvar rides up and sweeps you off your feet, I can bow out gracefully, a wounded but wiser man. If there is no one you’d rather have who will put up with you, brat, and you still don’t want me, well then, I’ll parade a few opera dancers in front of your aunt’s house, so you can throw me over because of my rakehell ways. No one will blame you, I’m sure.”
“And if… if…” she began shyly.
“If we should decide we’d suit after we get to know each other better? Then I will get down on one knee and ask if you
“Papa knows Aunt Amabel won’t have me.”
“He thought he could bring her ’round if she only had to give you house-room and an occasional introduction, if my great-aunt and I could act as chaperone and escort. Think of all the wonderful times we could have, just for a few months. You’d be home before Christmas. The theaters and bookstores, the parties and balls, all the sights and all the shops. Belle-tante ’s been longing to visit her old friends in London, fellow emigrés, you know, so she’ll be thrilled to look after you. And it would get you away from Treverly, which might be uncomfortable right now, and out of Squire’s sight, before he throttles you.”
Jacelyn had to laugh at that, before reminding the earl that Lady Ponsonby and Priscilla would be in London, and Lady Ponsonby and Aunt Amabel were bosom bows. “If I am ruined here in Cambridgeshire, where everyone knows I’m always in some scrape or other, it will be a hundred times worse in London, where no one knows me. I won’t be invited anywhere, and poor Aunt Amabel will have to go to Bath again.”
Claibourne smiled at the girl’s candour, and at all the shifting thoughts he could read on her so expressive face. You’d make a terrible cardplayer, Miss Trevaine, he thought. Right now he was pleased to see disappointment mixed with the restored good humour. “That’s the other half of my proposal,” he told her. “I’m suggesting we put it about that we have an understanding, a prebetrothal agreement, if you will. That way we can travel together, and no one can comment that I am too much in your company. Most important, your good name will be preserved.”
Jacelyn shook her head. “I don’t understand, Lord Claibourne. Squire said I was compromised and had to marry. How can a mere ‘understanding’ uncompromise me?”
“Ah, that’s the glory of idle gossip. As I see it, the reason for protecting a maiden’s name so well is that no man wants a wife who will, ah, kiss other men. And the wives don’t want a woman in their midst who might kiss their husbands. So they have decided that a girl who kisses two men is no better than she should be and not acceptable. But if she kisses one man and appears to be close to marrying him, then that is love, and safe.”
“What a bag of moonshine, my lord.”
“Leigh.”
“Leigh?”
“Or Claibourne, or Merrill, if you’d rather. Anything but Arthur. Then I can call you…Jacelyn?”
“Or Jacey. Anything but chicken!”
And they both laughed, the earl feeling they’d gotten over the heaviest ground, Jacelyn in delight that she seemed to have made a friend of this paragon.
“But, my lo—Leigh, if it is just a private, unannounced engagement, who is to know? I mean, how will that stop all the rumours?”
“Oh, I might drop a hint or two to Lady Ponsonby, entre nous of course. That should take care of Cambridgeshire, London, and all of the counties in between, if not the Outer Hebrides.”
Jacelyn’s dimples appeared. “What happens then? We can’t just keep on having an understanding, can we?”
“Not forever, no. But we can say it’s for your first Little Season. That way if young Lochinvar rides up and sweeps you off your feet, I can bow out gracefully, a wounded but wiser man. If there is no one you’d rather have who will put up with you, brat, and you still don’t want me, well then, I’ll parade a few opera dancers in front of your aunt’s house, so you can throw me over because of my rakehell ways. No one will blame you, I’m sure.”
“And if… if…” she began shyly.
“If we should decide we’d suit after we get to know each other better? Then I will get down on one knee and ask if you
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