Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

" C ressida, you have been pacing back and forth in front of that window for the past hour," her father said. "Do come and sit down. I don't know what ails you."

"I'm watching for Lord Feverton," Cressida explained.

"Well, for heaven's sake, he'll be here soon enough, and you won't make him come any sooner by staring out the window like that. You look downright unhealthy, marching around like that. You look like something is the matter with you. Sit."

Cressida knew that she ought to cooperate. She didn't want her father to be angry when Lord Feverton arrived. If he was, he might put up a fuss. He might refuse to allow Lord Feverton to marry Cressida.

But she didn't sit down. She couldn't resist continuing to stare out the window. She would have felt far too restless if she had tried to take a seat in a chair and stay there.

Victoria sat beside the fire, her hands knotted up anxiously in her handkerchief. Cressida hadn't told her about the new plan yet. It had seemed like it might be bad luck to do that, like if she reassured Victoria that she wasn't going to have to marry Lord Feverton, something might go wrong. Then her sister's heart would be broken all over again, and Cressida couldn't allow that to happen.

"He's coming," she realized suddenly as a carriage appeared on the path that led to their front door.

"Oh, no," Victoria whispered.

Cressida ached to tell her that everything was going to be all right—but she couldn't. Not yet. Not until she knew for sure.

Did she know for sure?

She felt, and felt strongly, that Lord Feverton was going to keep to his word. If she had been asked to place a bet, she would have bet on it. But at the same time, she recognized that she didn't know him all that well, and she couldn't be perfectly confident of him. He could still surprise her.

"Sit down, Cressida," her father said again, and this time Cressida obeyed. She didn't want to risk making him angry, given that she had disrupted his plans and he was about to find out about it.

A few moments later, Lord Feverton was shown into the sitting room.

So this is the look of a gentleman about to propose marriage. She didn't know what she had expected—perhaps that he would seem a bit more somber or solemn, something befitting the moment. But he didn't. Instead, he looked as if today was a day just like any other, as if he was here for a casual visit instead of to make a request that would affect all of their lives.

Cressida's father stood and cast a look at his daughters, his dark eyes narrowed. After a moment, Cressida understood what he wanted. She rose to her feet and glanced at her sister, who followed suit.

"Lord Feverton," their father said. "How good of you to come today."

He spoke as if Lord Feverton's visit was in any way unexpected, which made a laugh bubble up within Cressida's chest. They had known that Lord Feverton was coming today. He had sent word indicating that he would come to make his formal proposal. The only thing that wasn't clear—though of course Cressida's father believed it to be—was who Lord Feverton would be proposing to.

"Would you like some tea before we—before we begin?" Cressida's father asked awkwardly.

"I see no need for that," Lord Feverton said.

"Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?" Cressida's father encouraged.

"No thank you. I won't be staying long. I only came here to pose a question."

"Of course," Cressida's father said quickly. "I don't wish to keep you. Please, ask—ask what you wish."

He hadn't mentioned Victoria's name, so Lord Feverton clearly saw no need to correct any misunderstandings. Or perhaps he simply wanted the whole matter over and done with. Whatever his reasoning might have been, he turned to Cressida.

"Lady Cressida," he said, "I have already spoken to your father about the request I wish to make, and he has given his consent for his daughter to be given to me in marriage."

Even now—even as it was clear that the question was being posed to Cressida, and not to Victoria at all—no one batted an eye. Victoria, who had retaken her seat, continued to twist her hands in her handkerchief as though certain that the question would be redirected to her at any moment. Their father made no move to intervene.

It was because they were all so used to Cressida taking such a firm hand in things, she realized. Her father and her sister believed that Lord Feverton was seeking her consent to propose to Victoria, because she had taken responsibility for her sister's coming out. Of course that was what they would expect to happen.

They still didn't realize that the plan had changed.

But it had. It was obvious in the way that Lord Feverton was addressing her, obvious in the way that he hadn't so much as looked at Victoria since he had come into the room. She knew what he was about to say.

"I understand," she told him.

"Then I have yet to make my request only to you," he said. "Will you marry me?"

For a moment, the words didn't seem to register with her father or sister at all. They looked from Cressida to Lord Feverton and back as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said at all.

It had been clever of him, Cressida thought, to ask the question in such a straightforward way, to make it sound so basic and fundamental. There had been no frilly language about it, and no romance. It didn't sound like a proposal at all.

She had been the only one in the room to notice that it was.

But a half second later, that changed.

Her father suddenly sat up very straight and looked at Lord Feverton much more attentively. "Wait a moment," he said. "I was under the impression that—you had certainly indicated—aren't you here to propose to Victoria ?"

Cressida spared a glance for her sister. Cressida had clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes were wide, and it occurred to Cressida that perhaps she had been wrong not to let Victoria know what she was doing. Maybe Victoria shouldn't have been taken by surprise.

Well, it was too late to change anything now. What was done was done.

"You and I didn't come to any firm agreements about which of your daughters I could propose to," Lord Feverton said, and his tone was rather dismissive. Cressida thought he must have finally come to an understanding of the fact that she, not her father, was the decision maker in this household. That was good. It would save them all some time.

"Yes, but I naturally thought…I told you that Victoria was the one in the midst of her debut season," her father protested. "I thought we had come to an understanding that she would be the one."

"Having spent my fair share of time with both of them, I've made a different choice," Lord Feverton said.

"You haven't spent time with Victoria at all! I don't know what you mean. And as for Cressida—when have the two of you spent any time together?" Her father looked utterly puzzled.

Lord Feverton still didn't make eye contact with him. "I've learned what I needed to," he said. "Lady Cressida is the proper wife for me. And since the stipulation between the two of us was only that I be married to one of your daughters, I see no way in which you can object to this, Lord Sedgwick."

"Father," Cressida said quickly, sensing that it was time for her to step in, "it's best if you allow this to happen. It's best for everyone. Trust me."

"But, Cressida," her father said, frowning, "you've told me time and again that you don't wish to marry! That your only concern is for your sister. Now you're content to steal an opportunity from her?"

"No," Victoria said quickly. "No—Cressida is the eldest, Father. If she wants Lord Feverton, she ought to have him. It's what's right."

She went to Cressida's side and took her hand. Cressida gave her sister a reassuring squeeze, hoping that she would understand that everything was all right and that this really was what Cressida wanted. She didn't want Victoria to worry that there was something wrong in this arrangement.

"I don't see how this was decided," their father said. "Surely more conversation is called for."

More conversation was the last thing Cressida wanted. "I accept your proposal, Lord Feverton," she said. "We can begin making the arrangements at once—I'm sure you have no desire to wait. You strike me as a gentleman who likes to see things handled expediently."

"Yes, you have the measure of me," he agreed. "I would certainly prefer to see this handled quickly, so that we can all move on with our lives. I'll return tomorrow and we can begin to make our arrangements—that is, if it's all right with you, Lord Sedgwick."

"I…well…I suppose, if this is what the ladies are happy with," Cressida's father stammered. "I confess, I never thought to see Cressida married, and certainly not before her sister. But perhaps it is what's best, if that's what you would like, Lord Feverton…"

He trailed off. It was apparent to Cressida that he didn't know what to say, and, in fact, that he had no idea how to handle the situation in which he found himself.

Fortunately, he didn't have to be the one to handle it. "I'll walk you to the door, Lord Feverton," she said.

"Thank you, Lady Cressida," he returned formally.

It was odd to think that the two of them were on the verge of becoming husband and wife. After everything she had done to achieve this outcome, it was nice to find herself successful, but it also felt surreal. Her success meant that she would marry him. She would go to his home, live with him, and integrate her life with his. What was that going to look like?

There could be no changing things now, no taking back what had been done. She had made the arrangements, for better or worse, and now she was simply going to have to follow through with what she had done.

She walked him to the door, ready to be on her own with him, if only for a brief stolen moment. She wanted them to be able to be honest with one another about everything that had happened to lead up to this moment.

"Did you get what you wanted from Lord Brockhurst?" she asked him.

"The important thing is that I got what I wanted from you ," he told her. "You proved to me what you are capable of, Lady Cressida. Now I know that our marriage will be the right thing—the right decision for both of us."

She swallowed and nodded.

"I hope that you are certain about this," he said. "There's no going back now."

"I'm certain," she murmured.

"Good. This will be a marriage of convenience—a business arrangement, far more than anything else. There will be no romance in it. So I'm glad you know what you can expect, and that you're satisfied with it."

He turned toward the door.

"I'll return to make the necessary arrangements," he said over his shoulder. "Perhaps you should explain to your father and your sister what happened—or, if you wish to give them some alternate explanation, you may write me a letter so that my story will align with yours."

"I'm not going to lie to my family," Cressida told him.

Lord Feverton shrugged as if it couldn't possibly have mattered any less to him. "Whatever you wish," he said, smiling insouciantly. "After all…you are now to be my wife ."

He left the house, leaving Cressida standing there staring after him and wondering, for the first time, whether she had any idea what she had gotten herself into.