Page 19 of This Earl of Mine

He waved away her apology with an impatient flick of those long fingers. “What’s done is done. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

He said it in the same way a battlefield doctor might say,We’ll have to remove the leg, then. With a sort of fatalistic resignation.

Georgie battled a paradoxical sense of pique. Surely being married to her wasn’tthatbad?

“You’ll barely have to see me,” she said brightly. “I’ll return to Lincolnshire once the season’s over and you can continue your, ah, gentlemanly pursuits here in town. We can lead completely separate lives.”

There, that sounded suitably worldly and sophisticated. Precisely the kind of arrangement that would appeal to someone like Wylde.

There was something profoundly depressing about such an arrangement, though. Where was the companionship, the shared laughter and affection that had characterizedher own parents’ marriage? Where was the happy union she’d once dreamed of for herself? Georgie stifled a sigh. Six unsuccessful seasons had proved how little gentlemen desired a sharp-tongued bluestocking with an unladylike interest in commerce. She had to face reality.

Yet that niggling sense of dissatisfaction wouldn’t go away. This was all so insipid. So logical. So unexciting. She wanted to start having adventures, to start living her life, instead of watching it go by as if it were all happening to someone else. A secret marriage of convenience would fend off Josiah, true, but she’d still be plagued by other bothersome fortune hunters. She’d still have to spend the next twenty years turning them down, being seen as an eternal spinster too picky to choose a husband. Eventually she’d be relegated to the side of the room with the wallflowers and the dowagers, an object of pity and scorn.

No, it was not to be borne. It was time to take control of her life.

“Wait,” she said. “What if wedon’tkeep our marriage quiet?”

Chapter 12.

Wylde’s dark brows lifted. “What do you mean?”

Georgie thought quickly. “Well, we can’t announce that we’re already married, obviously. That would be far too scandalous. But what if we led up to it slowly? What if you courted me, quite properly, and ‘proposed’ at the end of the season? Then we could marry again—in public—and our relationship would be out in the open.”

He didn’t say anything, so she rushed on, amazed at her own audacity. “We can both still go our separate ways once we’re out of the public eye. But this way, I’ll have the status of a wife instead of a spinster. Single young ladies of thetonare guarded more heavily than any treasure in the British Museum. As a married woman, I’d have far more freedom.”

She waved her hand in what she hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “I doubt any serious action would be needed on your part. A conversation or two at a party. A few smoldering looks across the dance floor. Drives in the park. Afternoon tea. The usual thing.”

The thought of someone as gorgeous as Benedict Wylde lavishing attention on her—even if it was only for show—made her stomach flutter. He was a creature entirely outside her scope of experience. But she’d already had more excitement in the moments they’d shared than in the rest of her life put together. Why not seize this chance to enjoy the attentions of such a fascinating man? Even if it was only until the end of the season.

Wylde’s expression was bland, but a faint hint of devilry twinkled in his eyes as he contemplated the idea. His lips curved in that provoking, teasing way. “Am I to pretend to fall catastrophically in love with you?”

She levelled him a look that indicated just how unlikely that was. “Of course not. Not a soul would believe it. You can, however, fall irrevocably in love with my bank balance.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn’t let him speak. “Thetonwill assume you’re a fortune hunter, yes, and I’ll be pitied as a foolish, romantic dupe, blinded by your handsome face. But who cares? We’ll both know the truth.”

He chuckled at her cheerful cynicism. “Handsome, eh?”

She sent him a withering look. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know. You can’t be oblivious to the hordes of women throwing themselves at your feet at every social engagement.”

“It’s hardly flattering for either of us, is it? And I think you’re underrating your own charms.” His eyes roved over her again, spreading heat wherever they touched. “I happen to find competence and self-possession extremely attractive in a woman.”

Georgie did her best to ignore the incendiary effects of that look. “Nobody will be surprised if we separate soon after the wedding. They’ll say it’s the predictableoutcome of a penniless aristocrat marrying a rich heiress. Utter incompatibility.”

Wylde’s chair creaked as he repositioned his long legs. “And what about your cousin? Won’t he think it odd if you’re flirting with me so soon after your ‘wedding’? How can you become betrothed to me if you’re already married to Jolly Jack Tar?”

Drat. She’d forgotten about that.

“My poor husband can die at sea.”

Wylde ran his hand over his jaw, and Georgie held her breath, praying he would agree to her proposal.

“Chasing after youwouldprovide me with a good reason to be back in theton,” he mused.

“There you go!”

He gazed out of the window for a long moment. “And I suppose if we married publicly, you’d also receive the dubious benefit of my name.” He made a wry expression. “It’s never donemeany good—a family crest doesn’t stop a bullet on the battlefield. I have a hole in my shoulder to prove it. But you might like the protection it affords.”

Georgie tried to ignore the warm feeling his words produced. For a self-confessed scoundrel, he had his own—albeit slightly warped—sense of honor. He’d been enough of a gentleman not to demand money from her, but she couldn’t expect a man like him to help her out of the goodness of his heart. He’d already admitted that lack of funds was the reason he undertook such dangerous work for Bow Street. Perhaps it was time to sweeten the deal.

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