Chapter 7

7

F or all intents and purposes, the back room of the gentlemen's club was now a battle station.

Kal leaned back in his armchair near the fire with the same furrowed brow he'd worn for the last twenty minutes. Their friend Lord Albright was leaning forward, his fingers steepled as he considered Carver's plan. "And this is how you mean to set things right with the Viscount's daughter."

Carver nodded. Then he resumed pacing by the oak paneled wall hung with portraits of club members past. "What do you think?"

"It's…" Albright seemed to be searching for the right words. "Unusual."

Kal sighed. "What he means is, it's idiotic."

Carver glared at his friends. "It's a sound plan."

Kal tipped his head to the side. "You wish to make the ton believe you're madly in love with Miss Taylor."

Most of society had Kal all wrong. They thought him cold, cynical, and exceedingly clever, and…

Carver crossed his arms with a huff as he faced his cousin. Well, yes, he was all of those things, but he wasn't quite as cold as he let on. And he certainly wasn't heartless nor cruel. "Why are you saying it like that?"

"Like it's idiotic?" Kal shot back. "Because it is."

"No, why are you saying it like it's unbelievable?" His gaze flickered from Kal's cynical smirk to Albright's regretful grimace. "It's not unbelievable that a man might fall head over heels for Miss Taylor."

The moment he said it, his heart gave a sharp kick as if to say ‘here, here!'

His heart had made a habit of causing a commotion in his chest when Miss Taylor was concerned.

Every time he thought of her, in fact, his heart made sure to have some input.

And it seemed his mind couldn't stop thinking of her. Or dreaming of her. Or replaying every emotion in her brilliant blue eyes.

His pulse began to ratchet up with each new thought. So really…

His heart was a nuisance. And he likely ought to see a physician about it.

"I think what Kal is trying to say…" Albright's tone was low and even as usual. The man was as steady and easygoing as they came, and right now his laid back demeanor was a balm to the rapidly rising tension in the room. "Is that when it comes to Miss Taylor, you have a tendency to…well…" He winced again as if that might soften his words. "You tend to make a mess."

Carver growled. He wasn't usually one for growling—growling was more Kal's domain—but as he couldn't exactly argue, he was left making inelegant noises.

"He's right, and you know it," Kal said.

He wished their friend Rodrick was here. Surely, he'd see the reason in Carver's plan. But Rodrick was off somewhere doting over his bride-to-be, and Carver was left trying to explain himself to Kal—surely God's least romantic creation—and Albright, who'd married the first young lady he'd met. And while she might have been nice enough, she'd died so quickly after their wedding, no one really got the chance to know her well.

Not even Albright.

"It's exactly these messes that I'm attempting to clean up," Carver said.

"Mmm." Kal did not sound swayed. "And you think convincing the ton that you are madly in love with the girl will help."

"Yes."

A silence fell as both men regarded him in silence.

"It will work," Carver said.

"You do know who her father is, do you not?" Kal was eyeing him like he might have gone mad in the last few minutes.

Maybe he had. Even he could hear the desperation in his voice as he'd pitched this plan. And no, it was hardly foolproof. But it was the best he could think of. Every time he'd shut his eyes after leaving her the other night, all he could see was the look in her eyes as she'd said, I was hopeless before you came along. All I had to look forward to was a marriage of convenience. And now…now you've ruined even that for me.

Everything about that statement was wrong.

He hated that he'd hurt her chances for a good match.

He hated just as much that she'd believed her only chance for a good match was solely due to her father's title and her dowry.

He hated most of all that…perhaps that was true.

But it shouldn't be the case. It never should have been the case. He was surrounded by blind, deaf nitwits if no one could see what a diamond of the first water she was.

"Don't you see," he said, resuming his pacing. "If you help me to spread the word that I have my heart set on courting Miss Taylor, then…then…"

"Then your popularity will prove infectious?" Kal finished drily.

Carver felt heat creeping up his neck. He'd never considered himself overly arrogant, but when Kal put it like that…

"I'm just being practical," he muttered. "You two are always telling me how I can have my pick of ladies?—"

"And you can," Albright said. "You're a Duke, for heaven's sake. Of course you can."

"But that is why you must take care not to get entangled with a woman you have no intention of truly marrying," Kal finished.

Kal's tone was overly slow, as though he were explaining one-plus-one to a small child.

It ought to have been more irritating than it was, but Carver understood his point. He just wasn't quite sure how to explain why that thought didn't worry him.

Not nearly as much as it should.

Albright cut short another silence "It's not that it's a bad plan, Carver," Albright started. "It's just that it's?—"

"A bad plan," Kal finished.

Albright and Carver ignored the grumpy Marquess.

"We just want you to be careful, that's all," Albright finished.

Albright was taking on the role that Carver typically played within their circle of friends. The easygoing, kindhearted lord beside the stern, domineering Marquess.

Carver frowned. The charming Duke. He'd worked long and hard to ensure he didn't deserve the same harsh reputation as his father and brother, and for what?

All of London might be fooled, but Miss Taylor thought him the worst sort of beast.

And for reasons he was loath to name, that was entirely unacceptable. He'd rather all of London despise him if it meant this one sweet girl deemed him worthy of her time.

There it was again, that incessant kicking behind his ribs.

"What if it works?" Kal asked suddenly.

Carver blinked. "Pardon?"

"You'll all but corral this girl into an engagement she does not want." Kal's exasperation was clear.

Albright nodded, his expression kinder than Kal's, but clearly he was in agreement. "She doesn't seem to want anything to do with you?—"

"And I shall give her ample opportunity to cry off. After we've ensured that every good and eligible gentleman in London wishes to court her."

They both stared at him in disbelief.

"And that is what you want," Albright said. Blast. Now he too was talking as if to a simple child. "Do you really wish for another man to court Miss Taylor? Because it seems as though you've already formed an attachment…"

Carver tensed, waiting for some sort of cutting remark from Kal, which never came.

And then he waited for his own senses to kick in and laugh off those words. Of course I haven't formed an attachment with the one lady in all of London who wants nothing to do with me.

But…

Had he?

His heart slammed and flipped until he had to clutch his poor, battered chest.

Was that…Was this…

He frowned at Albright. "Is that what this is?"

His two friends shared a knowing smirk that made Carver exhale in exasperation. "Fine. Perhaps I've developed some…"

"Feelings?" Albright offered kindly.

Carver cleared his throat. "Yes. That."

Again he waited for Kal to openly laugh at him, but his cousin was staring into the fire, his expression thoughtful.

"If you like her so much, why don't you just…court her?" Albright asked.

Carver sighed. "Because it's as you said. She does not care for me. And if I go to her house and declare my intentions…"

"Her father will force her to marry you," Kal finished. He looked surlier than ever as his fingers tapped the arms of his chair.

"Precisely," Carver said. Now that they were starting to take this plan seriously, he added, "I'll admit, I don't relish the idea of her choosing another when all is said and done…"

And that was the understatement of the century.

His chest grew tight and his blood grew hot at the mere thought of another man holding her in his arms the way he'd done at the Turners' ball.

It had been improper. They'd caused a minor scandal.

She'd been humiliated, which he abhorred.

But the actual act of holding her…

Having her pressed to his heart, so close he could see the flecks of green in her pale blue eyes. Hearing the way her voice shook with emotion and watching those sweet, full lips quiver when she worked so hard to be so brave.

The girl had spoken to him like no other ever had…

Except for Kal and Aunt Evie, perhaps.

She'd spoken to him like he was a man, not a Duke. She'd met his gaze and hadn't tried to hide her anger or her insecurities, and that honesty, that sincerity…

It was likely the most intimate experience he'd ever had with another.

Certainly the closest he'd ever felt to a young lady.

And he hadn't wanted it to end. He still didn't. And while a little part of him worried that perhaps his plan was too self-indulgent, he hadn't thought of any other option that could so definitively take her from laughingstock to envied.

Arrogant or not to say aloud, being adored by a Duke could do just that.

To his friends, he said, "It's already done, you know. I've sent flowers and letters to her home. It won't be long until her mother tells her friends, and those friends whisper." He met each man's gaze in turn. "You can either help me to frame this story to put my Miss Taylor in the best possible light or…or you can stay out of my way."

He'd ended with strength but he waited with a clenched jaw. His oldest friends had always stood by him, and he hoped they would now. Even if they did have some well-deserved reservations about the merits of this admittedly ridiculous plan.

Kal spoke first. "You are aware that you just referred to her as your Miss Taylor, are you not?"

Carver swallowed hard and nodded. He was only just getting used to these new sensations, but it wouldn't do to question them now when he needed his friends to know how sincere he was.

"Carver, you know we'd always do anything for you," Albright said. "But if Miss Taylor is pressured?—"

"I will make sure she is not."

His friends exchanged a long look.

"Very well," Kal said with a sigh. "We will do our part."

Albright gave him a crooked smile. "Come tomorrow evening, everyone will know that Miss Taylor has caught the eye of the Duke of Carver?—"

"And that he's made a blasted fool of himself trying to win her," Kal finished. His gaze was mocking as he added under his breath, "That much will be simple enough to sell. After all, it's the truth."

Carver pretended not to hear. But it wasn't as though he could deny it.

He wasn't entirely sure at what point Miss Taylor had captured his heart—maybe it was that very first moment when their eyes had met and she'd gazed up at him in shock when he'd asked her to dance.

Or no…the moment when she'd looked so very brave when she'd salvaged her pride…

Whatever it was, as he walked out the door to pay a call at her home, he knew that Kal had spoken the truth.

The oh-so-charming Duke of Carver had lost his heart to a sweet, underestimated slip of a girl.