Chapter 2

T he following afternoon, Jo paced the sitting room of the lodgings she shared with her mother, which occupied the entire first floor over the Siren's Call. It consisted of this room, a dining room, their bedchambers, a bathing chamber, and a study lined with bookcases where her mother worked. That had been Jo's favorite room growing up. As her mother had sat at her desk balancing accounts or drafting bills, Jo had sprawled upon the settee and devoured every book in the room. Then her mother had added more. And more. That was why the walls were lined with cases.

Pausing, Jo put her hand to her temple. Had the Earl of Shefford actually proposed marriage to her last night?

He had to have been joking. And yet he'd said he would call today. It was after noon, and he hadn't yet. She supposed it wouldn't have been appropriate to do so before now. How she loathed Society's rules.

Walking to the windows that overlooked the street below, she looked for his coach. Of course it wasn't there. He wasn't coming.

"Josephine," her mother called from the study, which adjoined the sitting room.

Jo walked into the study where her mother sat at her desk, her head bent. "What happened with the duke last night? I trust he was expelled with no undue difficulty?" She looked up at Jo expectantly.

"Yes." Jo wasn't going to tell her about Sheff's ridiculous question. It had been a jest. Or a flirtation. They did that with one another. She couldn't deny he was attractive, with his thick brown hair that waved just perfectly from his forehead and his blue eyes that shone with amusement. Last night, however, they'd been dark and intense. She'd never seen him quite like he'd been last night. But then, she'd never witnessed him cleaning up his father's mess, which it seemed he did often.

Jo wanted to ask her mother about her past with the duke but wasn't sure how to phrase it. She didn't normally struggle to find words or nose her way into someone's business, but her mother was different. She was the only person who intimidated Jo.

"What is it?" her mother asked with a sigh. "I can tell you want to ask me something. I'll wager it's about what I said last night."

"About the Duke of Henlow, yes."

Tossing her pen on the desk and sitting back in her chair, Jo's mother chuckled. "It's not a captivating tale. I was young and stupid, and he was incredibly handsome and seductive. And he was a duke. Or heir to a dukedom. I forget if he'd inherited yet."

"You were intimate with him?"

"Once. I don't think either of us was that impressed, but we were young." She narrowed her eyes briefly at Jo. "His son is even more attractive. Are you and he intimate?"

"No," Jo said quickly. "We are friendly, nothing more. It was sheer luck that he was downstairs when I found Agnes with His Grace."

"His Disgrace, you mean." Jo's mother shook her head. "I do feel sorry for his wife. How awful to be leg shackled to one such as him."

Jo perched on the settee. "I'm surprised to hear you say that. You've never let the bonds of marriage impede you. Why should she?"

Her mother laughed again. "That is true. However, I am not held to the same standards as the Duchess of Henlow." She sobered and sat forward in her chair, pinning Jo with a serious stare. "I would advise you not to wed. Unless you absolutely feel you must have a child. In that case, it's probably best if you do, though you can certainly do as I have done and live a separate life."

"Is that why you married my father?" Jo asked. "So you could have a child?"

"Not entirely. I certainly didn't make the decision in that order. I was with child and realized I needed to marry him if I wanted it to be legitimate."

"It…you mean me."

"No, I lost that child," her mother said softly.

Jo had never known that. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Her mother shrugged, but there was a hint of regret in the motion. "It was a sad time. I didn't realize how badly I wanted to be a mother until I wasn't going to be one. Then I set out to change that, and I was lucky to have you."

"Papa has always told me that you loved each other once." Though, he had also never mentioned the child they'd lost. "You don't speak of that."

"We did love one another, but only for a short time. Then I was content to be a mother, and he was delighted to take a mistress." Her mother straightened. "Enough of that claptrap. I called you in here to speak to you about the future of the Siren's Call."

Had something happened? Jo oversaw the employees and spent more time at the club than her mother did these days, but her mother was still the owner and proprietress and would be for a good many years to come. "That almost sounds ominous."

Jo couldn't help feeling a touch of anxiety, for while she was committed to the club, she did not possess her mother's passionate attachment. Why would she? Her mother had built the club from nothing with hard work and a vision for the future. Jo, however, wasn't sure she shared that vision for her own future.

"I think I may wish to retire sooner than planned," her mother said, causing Jo's pulse to jump. "Marcel has leased a lovely cottage in Weston, of all places." She laughed—almost gaily, which never failed to jolt Jo. Her mother exhibited a giddy sweetness whenever she was with or spoke of Marcel.

"But you don't live together now, and you prefer it that way," Jo said slowly. Her mother and Marcel had been together five years, but they maintained separate residences—on purpose.

Her mother shrugged faintly. "I may still prefer that, but I did tell him I would try to share the cottage. He says it's plenty large enough for us to not see each other at all for days on end if we choose."

That sounded larger than a cottage, but what did Jo know? "What if you don't like it?"

"I will have to find my own cottage, I suppose."

Jo stared at her. This was not the ambitious woman she'd known, who'd worked tirelessly to build a hugely successful enterprise. "You're leaving London?"

"Just for a few months each year—for now. I'd say in five years, I'll move to Weston permanently, assuming I like it. I honestly don't know if I will. The idea of living near the sea is intriguing, but I've never lived outside London. I fear I won't know what to do with quiet and fresh air." She laughed again. Sobering, she cocked her head. "Or perhaps just three years. Five seems a long time."

Jo was glad she'd been sitting down to receive this news. She'd long known her mother had planned for her to take over the Siren's Call—she'd known forever, in fact. But Jo wasn't sure she was destined to run a gaming club. She enjoyed attending literary salons and orations about science and nature and art. Her mother didn't share the same cerebral pursuits, which wasn't to say her mother wasn't intelligent. Jewel Harker was the cleverest woman Jo knew. And she had an appreciation for art. How could she not when her lover was an accomplished portraitist?

"I'm surprised to hear this," Jo admitted. She'd thought she had more time to decide whether she really wanted to follow her mother's path. Or perhaps she was hoping for more time to want to do that. Her mother worked so hard, so tirelessly, and Jo didn't feel the same passion for owning a club.

"I'm surprised to be saying it, in truth." She gave Jo a warm smile. "You're ready for this, my dear. In fact, I'd like you to start managing the ledgers next week."

The bell indicating someone had come to the door to their lodgings sounded. Their housekeeper, Mrs. Rand, would no doubt answer it, but Jo wished she could use it as an excuse to end this conversation.

"This is a great deal to take in," Jo said.

"I know. Which is why we'll wait to start your transition until next week. And it's not as if I'm going anywhere yet. We won't leave for Weston until the middle of July."

That was less than three months from now. Jo would be alone here. Who would watch over things on the evenings she wished to be elsewhere? She spent most Monday nights at one literary salon or another.

Before she could ask whom her mother had in mind to assist Jo—for she couldn't mean to abandon her without any support—Mrs. Rand stepped over the threshold of the study. "Miss Harker, the Earl of Shefford is here to see you."

Jo rose, so glad for the interruption that it took her a moment to recollect why he might be calling. To discuss marriage. She swallowed an urge to laugh.

"Shefford?" Jo's mother asked, her brow arched high. "Was there a problem with his father last night?"

"No, not really." Jo surmised the duke was just a problem in general. Last night had seemed typical. She couldn't help but feel sorry for Sheff. "Excuse me, Mama."

"Close the door so I'm not disturbed," her mother said as Jo made her way out.

Jo made sure the door latched, particularly since she'd no desire for her mother to overhear whatever the earl had to say.

Shefford stood just inside the sitting room, his hat in his hands, his gaze moving about the room until settling on her. "Good afternoon, Jo."

She walked to where he was, preferring they sat on this side of the room, as far away from her mother's study as possible. "Afternoon, Sheff. I'm surprised to see you."

"Are you?" He also appeared surprised. "I told you I would call."

A bead of panic wriggled up her spine. "I didn't think you were serious. Let us take a walk." Jo really didn't want her mother overhearing anything. She gestured for him to precede her into the entrance hall, where she grabbed her hat and gloves from a small table.

The earl waited while she donned her accessories. "After you," he said politely, inclining his head toward the stairs that led down to the ground floor entrance.

Jo hastened down the stairs and opened the door, stepping out onto Coventry Street. Shefford closed the door and then offered her his arm.

She stared at it, not sure what to do. To be seen walking arm in arm down the street with the Earl of Shefford would be to invite all manner of speculation, curiosity, and…judgment.

Pursing her lips, she started toward Piccadilly without taking his arm.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, hastening to keep up with her long strides.

Jo realized she didn't need to walk that fast. She wasn't running from anyone or anything. "I don't know why you've called today. We see one another at the Siren's Call. That is the extent of our acquaintance. This is very strange."

"Haven't you just recently become friendly with my sister and her group of friends?"

"What does that have to do with you?" She sent him a sideways glance, realizing she was unaccountably irritated. Because she was nervous. He couldn't actually have meant what he'd said last night.

"I only mean to suggest that our social circles now intersect, so perhaps our acquaintance is deepening." He flashed her a smile that made her toes curl.

Why? They'd never done that before in his presence.

He'd never proposed to her before.

"You're going to need to come to the reason for your call today," Jo said, flexing her hands as she walked.

"I told you I would last night," he repeated. "Right after I asked you to marry me. I've come to set forth the arrangements. If you're amenable."

Jo tripped.

Sheff caught her, not that she'd been in danger of falling. She pushed at him and stepped back. "You didn't have to do that."

He blinked at her, seeming surprised at her reaction. "I couldn't let you fall."

"I am not going to marry you." There, she'd managed to get the words out. Why was she behaving in this manner? She was normally coolheaded, calm, and extremely rational. Apparently, a marriage proposal was just the thing to send her reeling.

She hadn't expected that, but then, no one had asked her to marry them before.

"I don't want you to actually marry me," he said with a chuckle. "I misspoke somewhat last night. My apologies. I am in search of a pretend bride, and you are, without question, the perfect candidate."

Relief coursed through her. She laughed, lifting her hand to her chest. "Thank God. I thought you were asking me to be your wife, and I couldn't conceive of why you would do such a thing." She lowered her hand and started walking again but at a more sedate pace.

"I would never," he said, falling into step beside her. "I think you know I am a confirmed bachelor."

"Well, perhaps you are unaware that I am also determined to remain unwed."

"I'd suspected that, but hearing you say so makes you even more qualified to serve as my make-believe betrothed." He sounded almost giddy.

Jo smiled. "What ridiculous plan have you concocted and why?"

"Given your attentive ear, I'm sure you know that my parents have long badgered me about marrying."

"You've moaned about it on several occasions." Jo heard a great many things at the Siren's Call, and Sheff had made no secret of his parents' desire for him to wed.

He laughed. "Just so. Misery does love company. This season, their fervor has risen to a near-deafening crescendo. I simply cannot tolerate another day of their harassment."

"You poor thing. So, your plan is to pretend to be betrothed? How does that solve anything?"

"It means they will leave me alone, at least for the remainder of the Season. It also means my father, in particular, will mind his own business, which he largely prefers anyway, and stop bothering me and my mother about this issue." He caught her eye for a quick moment. "Is it too much to want some peace for a couple of months?"

"Only a couple of months? Won't they be right back to pestering you?"

"Perhaps. Or they may feel sorry for me for some time after you cry off."

Jo stopped then and faced him. "I am not going to pretend to be betrothed to you, nor am I going to cry off." She'd be squarely in Society's sights then, and she'd be ruined forever. Not that she wasn't somewhat tarnished already as the daughter of the owner of a gaming hell who openly consorted with a man who wasn't her husband. Not to mention Jo's father, the charming gadfly whom everyone liked but who was not truly accepted into Polite Society.

It wasn't that she cared what Society thought. It was that she didn't want certain doors closed to her because of what Society thought. Reputations mattered, and so far, she had a decent one, even if she wasn't accepted in the upper levels of the ton. She didn't want that anyway.

His face had fallen when she'd denied his request. Now he was actually pouting. "But, Jo, I need you. You are too perfect."

"Why?"

"Because you can survive crying off. You will decide I am unfit to be your husband—and rightly so. You'll be lauded for possessing such sense."

"Except that I will first be denigrated for lacking sense when I agree to be your countess," she said wryly.

He lifted a shoulder. "Perhaps, but I will sweep you off your feet, and everyone will find that romantic."

Jo chuckled as she shook her head. "You're not making any sense. I will be praised for agreeing to be your wife and for deciding we don't suit after all. I think you've perhaps gone daft, Sheff."

"The ton doesn't make sense," he said. "You can't disagree with that."

No, she could not. She'd seen the upper ten thousand support someone and then not, only to support them again. And the reasons for doing so were ridiculous. Not to mention, there were plenty of people who actually behaved badly, but because of their rank, their behavior was overlooked. Sheff's father was a prime example of that.

"You've overlooked one important factor," she said plainly. "I don't want to be engaged to anyone, not even if it isn't real. And I especially don't want to be betrothed to someone like you. I'd have to acquire an entirely new wardrobe so that I could attend balls and fêtes and alfresco suppers, and I'd have to promenade about Hyde Park like a preening bird. No, thank you. "

He exhaled. "How much do you want?"

She blinked at him. "For a new wardrobe? Nothing. I don't want a new wardrobe." In truth, a small part of her would love the ability to choose clothing without thinking of cost or usefulness. But she would never admit that, especially to a man such as Sheff.

"Not just the wardrobe, though you are right that one would be required. I will pay you to masquerade as my betrothed. Would five hundred pounds be sufficient?"

If they'd been walking, Jo would have tripped again. And this time, she would have fallen for certain.

Five hundred pounds.

Five hundred pounds.

Five hundred pounds .

The number was so massive in Jo's mind that she could barely fathom it. The things she could do with that sum of money… It was more than she could imagine.

No, it wasn't. She knew precisely what she would do with that money. She would decide her own future. She could more seriously entertain the idea of not taking over the Siren's Call.

Excitement pulsed through her. She had to move. There was too much energy and emotion inside her. She continued along Piccadilly.

"You're considering it," Sheff noted as he walked alongside her.

"How can I not? That's a staggering sum." She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "You'd pay that much?"

"And a new wardrobe, don't forget." His gaze was pleading, and Jo had to admit he looked rather adorable.

"What else?" Jo asked. "I mean, what do you require? How long will this scheme continue? What do you expect of me?"

"Once you are properly attired—not that there is anything wrong with your clothing, but you know what I mean."

Yes, Jo did know. "My wardrobe is not that of a young lady who would marry the heir to a dukedom." Because Jo wasn't ever going to marry, let alone the bloody heir to a dukedom.

"Just so. Rest assured, you will have full control over the wardrobe. I trust that you will know what to procure."

The fact was that Jo didn't know. She had an idea, but thinking of it was overwhelming. There were different costumes for every kind of activity. Plus accessories. And how would she wear her hair? She and her mother had a maid who sometimes helped them with their hair and clothing, but primarily, she took care of their bedchambers and their wardrobe. Frannie was not a ladies' maid.

But Jo knew whom she could ask. "Will you mind if your sister and her friends help me?"

"Not at all," he said jovially. "In fact, I recommend you seek their assistance. However, you cannot tell them our betrothal isn't real. I can't risk one of them slipping up and exposing the truth. I also don't want to ask them to lie."

"But you're asking me to," Jo said wryly. Lying to her new friends would be difficult. She didn't really want to do it. She didn't really want to do any of it. But five hundred pounds . It was a life-changing sum.

"I'm paying you to," he said meaningfully, his gaze filled with hope.

She could not ignore the substantial sum he'd offered. "How long are we to keep up this farce?"

"Until the end of the Season." He cocked his head briefly. "We'll set a wedding date for the autumn or winter."

"Won't your parents insist on a June wedding?"

He gave a slight nod. "They may try, but we'll tell them you've always had your heart set on a fur-trimmed gown and cloak."

She put a hand on her hip and stared at him. "Have you thought of every detail?"

"I'm trying to," he said with a grin.

"What sorts of events will I need to attend?" This was not only important with regard to the wardrobe she needed. She needed to prepare herself.

He sobered. "First, there will be a betrothal ball."

A ball. Where she would be the focus of everyone's attention.

"You do know how to dance, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes." Though she rarely had occasion to do so, and when she did, it was a raucous reel or a line. She'd almost no experience with sedate dancing, and she'd never waltzed. "Though I don't waltz."

"That's fine. We should be able to avoid doing that. Unless you want to learn? It's not difficult compared with other dances, provided you can move in time to the music."

Jo thought of one of her new friends, the brand-new Viscountess Somerton. She could waltz—apparently—and Jo knew her to be absolutely incapable of discerning the time of music.

"If it's the same to you, I'd just as soon not bother dancing at all, if possible." It was too…exposing. Everyone would be watching them. And wondering why he was betrothed to someone like her.

Her resolve faltered. What was she thinking?

She nearly balked. But five hundred pounds!

"We won't be able to keep from dancing entirely, especially at our betrothal ball, but I'll do my best to keep it to a minimum. Do you have any other requirements?"

"You didn't finish telling me what events I need to go to. I presume I have to attend at least a few events before you even announce the betrothal, else we will have to tell everyone that we met at the Siren's Call."

"We did meet at the Siren's Call," he said with a frustrating chortle.

"Are you going to be serious about this? You are planning to fool your family, friends, and the entire ton."

He coughed, straightening his features. "I am serious. My apologies. I am just so happy—a relieved kind of happy—that you are going to help me. I can't tell you what a load this will be off my mind for the next couple of months."

"You are willing to undertake a great deal and pay a large sum for what amounts to a temporary alleviation of your frustration." She studied him closely, trying to see past his fa?ade, for she'd always known there was more to Sheff than met the eye. "What do you really hope to gain?"

"Peace." He answered quickly and firmly, with a soft but urgent tone that made her want that for him. "You don't need to attend any events. What about the Phoenix Club? Isn't your mother a member?"

"Yes, and as it happens, I will be at the assembly there tonight. Your sister talked me into going."

"That is even better," Sheff said, his blue eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. "We will dance and promenade, and I will call on you tomorrow to propose marriage."

"The Season's fastest courtship," Jo muttered. She took her hand from her hip and let it fall to her side. "That is how it begins. How does this end?"

"As I said, you'll cry off because you just can't marry a rogue. No one will blame you. In fact, I could do something scandalous so that you really don't have any choice. You will be cheered and supported."

"And you will be vilified." Just like his father. Sheff couldn't want that. She'd seen how his father's behavior affected him. And now she wondered if that was part of the secrets about himself that he kept buried.

Sheff shrugged. "I'll be a duke someday. My reputation will recover."

Sadly, he was right. There would always be someone willing to suffer horrid behavior for the sake of a title and wealth. And here Jo was considering a scheme she did not want to participate in for the reward of money. Alas, she was not going to be a duke someday. She had to make choices for her own security and happiness.

"When will you give me no choice but to end our betrothal?" she asked drily.

"I should say the end of summer. There will also be much less likelihood of lasting gossip. The Season is over, and we don't even need to be in London. I usually spend part of August near Weston at my father's seaside estate."

Weston? Jo could probably visit her mother, provided they had someone to watch the Siren's Call. "Oddly enough, my mother will be there this summer. I could visit at the same time."

"I hadn't considered that you would need to be there. You could hear about my misbehavior from your friends—they are in Weston for the entire month of August—via letter." He smiled and nodded. "Though, if you have occasion to be in Weston, that could work quite well."

"I'll have to see if that fits into my plans." If there was no one to manage the Siren's Call, she couldn't leave London. Did she really want to travel all the way to Weston to pretend to have her heart broken? That sounded rather dismal. The letter idea was far superior.

"You must do whatever is most convenient for you," Sheff said. "If you do decide to come to Weston, I shall pay your expenses. It's only fair."

She supposed that was true.

He gave her a hopeful look. "Are we agreed, then? I can provide you with a banknote tonight at the ball, if you like. Two hundred and fifty pounds now and two hundred and fifty pounds when we are finished. If that is agreeable to you."

It was the smart thing for him to do. He was offering her a huge sum and should protect his investment. "Yes, though if I agree to this scheme, I will see it through to the bitter end."

"I don't doubt it." His mouth lifted in a thoroughly roguish smile.

"I have one more requirement."

"Name it."

"No kissing or any other romantic overtures, even for the sake of looking as though we are in love."

"You must let me kiss your hand, at least."

"Fine. Make that two more requirements. I may add other requirements as I see fit." She was worried she wasn't thinking of everything just now. This was a monumental decision—not just because it would dictate her life for the next two months, but because her life was about to change. There would be difficult conversations with her mother, both about this betrothal and whether Jo actually wanted to assume management and ownership of the Siren's Call.

"Done," he said eagerly, holding out his hand. "Are we agreed?"

Jo hesitated the barest moment before clasping his gloved hand in hers. "We are."

Everything had shifted. Her mother wanted her to take over the club sooner than Jo had expected. Jo had to face the fact that she really didn't want to take over the club. Sheff's offer gave her the freedom to do what she wished—she had only to tell her mother. And that would be difficult.

It might also be premature. She needed to think this through. But for the first time, she could do so knowing there was another path for her if she wanted to take it.

None of that considered how Jo's actual life was about to change for the rest of the Season. She would be surveyed, discussed, judged. Her insides roiled at what she was about to subject herself to.

She dearly hoped she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her life.