Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

L ord Feverton stared at Cressida. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Let me in," she insisted.

"It's the middle of the night."

"It's nothing like that. It's only nine o'clock."

"Far too late for a lady to be out on her own. And what are you doing dressed up like that anyway? You look like a man!"

That had been deliberate. Cressida had tucked her long, auburn curls up under one of her father's caps. The trousers and shirt she wore were her own, purchased on a discreet mission into town with her own pin money. She had worn them before when moving through the streets of London. It was easier and safer to travel under the guise of a man.

"You shouldn't be here unchaperoned," he told her.

As if she didn't know that. "Have you any servants in the house?"

"Of course I have."

"Then we won't be unchaperoned, will we? Arrange for someone to remain in the room. I need to speak to you."

"And if I don't wish to speak to you?"

Facing him, not backing down, was one of the most difficult things Cressida had ever done. It wasn't like standing up to her father. He genuinely intimidated her. But for her sister's sake, she would do this. "You won't be rid of me that easily," she told him. "I'm not going to go away. So you can either let me in and we can have this conversation, or you'll have to know that a young lady is spending the night out in the cold on your doorstep—and I wish you good luck in explaining that to my father."

"I imagine your father is more than used to these sorts of antics, and wouldn't blame me at all," Lord Feverton muttered. Still, he must have realized that it would do him no good to leave Cressida out in the cold, for he stood back and allowed her to come inside. "The sitting room is over there," he said, pointing. "Go in and sit down, and I'll have one of the maids come in with some tea so that we won't be on our own—though what she'll think of you all dressed up as a man, I can't begin to fathom."

He turned away from her. Cressida watched him walk away, then shrugged her shoulders and went into the sitting room.

It wasn't encouraging in the least to see him being so difficult—but then, she had known all along that he would be. Nothing about this was a surprise to her.

She took a seat near to a window and gazed out at the grounds. He did seem to be well-off, as her father had suggested. Perhaps there was some benefit to what he hoped to do here—even if she was unwilling to do it in the way he had suggested.

She felt a prickle of nerves, knowing what she was about to suggest. Perhaps Lord Feverton was correct. Maybe she had taken leave of her senses, coming over here to do this.

And yet…what choice had she had, really? She owed it to her sister to take care of her, to ensure that Victoria had the best possible future. And Victoria had been so clearly miserable at the prospect of a marriage to Lord Feverton.

Victoria wanted a love match—if not to the son of the baron, then to someone she had true feelings for. Asking her to marry to help the family out of debt was asking too much. She would have to give up the thing she wanted most in the world.

For Cressida, though, it was a much smaller price to pay. She had had no hopes when it came to marriage. She would be giving up nothing at all.

Lord Feverton now returned to the sitting room, accompanied by a maid, and Cressida's heart began to pound. She was truly going to do this—she was going to give voice to her idea. It was terrifying, and yet she was sure. It was the right thing to do.

"What brings you here so late at night?" Lord Feverton asked.

"I wouldn't have come at night but for the fact that both you and my father seem to be in a great hurry about all this," Cressida said. "I can see that you wish to have it resolved as quickly as possible, and for that, you and I needed to speak."

"I still don't know why I need to speak to you at all," Lord Feverton said. "My arrangement is with your father."

"But when it comes to my sister's affairs, I am the one in charge, for all practical purposes," Cressida said. "There's no point in your continuing to argue with me about this, Lord Feverton. I realize that you believe it shouldn't be that way. I see that you don't understand why it is that way. But the sooner you accept the state of things, the sooner you and I can have a productive conversation."

Lord Feverton folded his arms across his chest. "Very well," he said. "Let us say that I indulge this. What do you wish to discuss?"

"Victoria is not going to marry you."

"I see that you think yourself in charge of your family's affairs, Lady Cressida, but your father did make a commitment. Would you disgrace him in this way?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"And he told me of his debts. His business ventures have failed, and he needs money."

"Tell me something," Cressida said. "You seem very eager to marry my sister, and yet you never met her until this morning. I've been told that you are the most eligible bachelor of the season—you ought to have no trouble finding someone willing to marry you. Why have you selected my family and my sister? Why not choose one of the other young ladies who are no doubt throwing themselves at your feet?"

Lord Feverton said nothing. He looked away from her.

Cressida smiled triumphantly, very pleased with herself. "It's all right," she said. "You needn't answer. I know the reason."

"You think so?"

"My father and I spoke of it. You worry for your reputation, though he wasn't sure why. You want a wife who can help you maintain your image. Well, if that's what you want, Lord Feverton, it's me you're looking for. Not Victoria."

He stared at her as if she had suggested he marry the queen. "You!"

"You've already said yourself that I'm uncommonly savvy when it comes to the ways of the world."

"I never said that."

"Not in those words, perhaps, but you did notice that I care for the affairs of my family in a way that many ladies would be incapable of doing. Admit it—you are a bit impressed with the fact that I've been able to do everything you've seen me do so far."

He shook his head, clearly unwilling to admit to anything.

But he wasn't arguing with her. He was looking at her instead with his head cocked to one side, as if he found what she was saying to be at least mildly intriguing.

Cressida felt a flutter of hope. Was this going to work?

"I'm the one you want," she said. "I'm the one who knows how to navigate the social politics of the ton . I'm the one who knows about business—I've been helping my father."

"Helping him into debt?"

Cressida stood her ground. "His bad investments are not my fault," she said. "I've done my best to help him cope with those decisions, but he made those investments when I was too young to have any hand in things at all. I trust you've seen his ledgers, given that you know so much about my family's financial affairs And if you have, you must surely know how long we've been in debt. It's the reason Father is now so desperate for help that he's willing to turn to you. It had nothing to do with me."

Lord Feverton laughed, which was maddening. "I'm only having a bit of fun," he said. "If you're truly going to marry me, you're going to have to learn about my sense of humor."

"Does that mean you're considering my proposal?" She wasn't about to be distracted by his recriminations.

"I'm considering it," he agreed. "You do make a compelling argument, Lady Cressida. And I have no particular attachment to your sister. I'm looking for a marriage that can be carried out quickly and with little difficulty. You can provide me with that?"

"We can marry as soon as it's convenient." She could hardly believe what she was saying. But she knew, now more than ever, that she was making the correct choice. She was right to insist that she be the one to marry Lord Feverton. And there was pride for making her decision and for compelling him to go along with it. She had managed to save her sister.

"Why would you do this?" Lord Feverton asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"Your argument for why I ought to choose you is sound. But why would you wish to marry me? You don't even seem to like me very much. Is it because you wish to gain access to my money?"

"Of course not. Don't be absurd."

"I didn't truly believe it was that," he admitted. "But I do have a hard time understanding what your motive could be."

"You saw the way my sister reacted to my father's announcement. She doesn't wish to marry you."

"And you do?"

Cressida was quiet for a moment. "If you had a sister yourself, you would understand."

"I do have a sister," he countered. "I have two of them."

"Then you must know how I feel," she said. "Wouldn't you do anything to spare your sisters any pain or heartache? Wouldn't you take on their trials and burdens yourself if it meant saving them from trouble?"

He was quiet for several moments. He didn't answer the question.

But Cressida thought he understood anyway. She thought she could see understanding dawning on his face, that he must surely see what she was trying to say. Anyone who had a sister they cared about would do what she was doing right now. He would have done the same thing in her shoes. She was sure of it.

"Very well," he said at last. "The marriage will be between the two of us, and I'll leave Lady Victoria out of it—if you can prove yourself to me."

"How am I going to prove myself to you?"

"Will you be at Lady Beaumont's garden party the day after tomorrow?"

"Of course. Everyone will be there."

"I'll explain more about what I need from you there," he said. "Right now I think you ought to go. It's not appropriate for you to be here late at night like this, and I have no interest in being embroiled in some sort of scandal."

Cressida breathed a deep sigh of relief. She hadn't been sure, until this moment, that her plan would work. But now she saw that it was going to be a success. Whatever it was that he wanted from her, she was sure she would be able to do it. She would be able to go home and to tell Victoria that all was well, that she wouldn't have to marry Lord Feverton and that her dream of marrying the man she truly cared for was still alive. And that was what mattered most of all.

"One thing, before you go," Lord Feverton said as Cressida rose to her feet.

She had been on the verge of thanking him for hearing her proposition, but now she paused. "Yes?"

"If you are going to go out dressed as a man again," he said, and leaned very close to her—so close that for a moment Cressida nearly felt as if something indecent was happening, and had to remind herself that this man was going to be her husband, and that there was a maid in the room besides— "you ought to cover your face," he said, giving her a wicked smile. "Your lips give you away, Lady Cressida. No gentleman ever had lips like that."

His eyes went to her mouth, and Cressida felt heat rush to her face.

"Good evening," she said quickly, unable to bear a moment more of this—and she turned and raced from the house, knowing that she needed to get home before her absence was noticed and questioned.