Chapter 3

Letty had known Vander was going to be in attendance at the dinner her mother was hosting.

Her mother had mentioned it over breakfast three days ago, which meant she had spent the past three days feeling nervous and fluttery.

These days, when she saw him at all, it was invariably in passing. When he and David had been at school together, he would often come and stay with them during school holidays.

But for the past few years, he and David had preferred to go out, usually late at night, and to places Letty was not permitted to know about.

David had changed his habits since he began courting Emily. Now Letty saw her brother all the time.

But Vander remained elusive.

And so, she had spent the past three days trying to temper her expectations. Just because Vander was coming here did not mean she would speak with him, and if she did, it would probably be nothing more than a short greeting. He was here to see David, not her.

Besides, there was no possibility of her being seated next to him at dinner. Once, when she was sixteen, she had asked her mother if she could sit next to Vander.

Her mother had laughed. "Oh, Letty—let me save you some heartache, dear. Put thoughts of Evander Beauclerk out of your mind. You are not for the likes of him, darling."

So, there was the fact that her own mother thought she stood no chance with a man so rakish and dashing. But even if he wasn't such an obvious catch, Vander was as droll as he was handsome, the life of every party. Everyone wanted to sit next to Vander.

Letty, on the other hand? She was nice. Which sounded good in theory, but in practice, nice girls were assigned to sit next to the most disagreeable person at the party, because they were too polite to complain about it. If Letty had a shilling for every time a hostess had beamed as she informed her that she would be sitting next to the Dowager Countess of Accrington, who would spend all evening railing against "young people these days," or Herbert Twisleton-Ford-Trefusis, who would complain incessantly about his gout, she could buy herself a Kashmiri shawl.

"It's such a relief to have you here, Letty," the hostess would say, pressing her hand. And someone else—the diamond of the Season, or an alluring young widow, would wind up seated next to the handsome young earl or the poet known for being a great wit because they would complain bitterly and spread vile gossip about the hostess if she dared to seat them next to a dreadful bore.

Letty didn't want to be nice anymore. Although… that wasn't quite right. Of course she wanted to be nice!

She just didn't want to be taken advantage of. She wanted to have fun at parties, not be assigned to dance attendance upon the most boring person in the room. She wanted to drink champagne, to laugh, to try her hand at being a great wit. Because she thought she could, given half a chance. She wasn't a debutante, fresh out of the schoolroom, anymore. She was three and twenty, she was well-read, and she didn't have a missish bone in her body.

Not that anyone noticed, especially Vander, who seemed to think she was still ten years old.

Letty sighed. Even though she knew she was unlikely to spend any significant time in Vander's company, she had dressed carefully. She wore a white gown with a sash in her favorite color, purple, in a shade that perfectly matched the wisteria flowers embroidered about the neckline and hem.

Now, she was standing in the crimson parlor, chatting with her friend Emily and trying to feign ignorance of the fact that the man she had spent the last thirteen years pining after was somewhere in the room when someone seized her elbow.

She knew it was him without turning her head. If someone had blindfolded her and taken her to the Scarborough Fair, she could've picked Vander out of the crowd by his cinnamon-and-ginger shaving tonic. In an instant, her heart was flying.

He leaned down and she felt his breath on her ear as he murmured, "I need to speak with you." Now her whole body was atremble.

At last, she turned to look at him. "Vander." She pressed a hand to her heart and laughed, trying to brush off the breathless quality of her voice. "You startled me."

His eyes were dark brown with flecks of bronze in them. Letty had always found that once she looked into them, it was curiously difficult to tear her eyes away.

Vander did not seem to suffer from the same difficulty, because he had turned to Emily. "You don't mind if I steal Letty away, do you, Miss Arbuthnot?"

Emily's blue eyes were wide as guineas because of course, she knew about Letty's hopeless infatuation with Vander. Emily waved her fan a trifle over-enthusiastically. "Not at all! You two go right ahead. Your timing could not be more fortunate, because I was just going to visit the, um… you know, the... the…" She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing pink. "Excuse me!"

Vander tilted his head to the side as he stared after Emily's retreating form, but then he shrugged and offered his arm to Letty. "Shall we?"

Letty placed her hand gingerly on his arm, trying to suppress the shudder that ran down her spine. "Of course."

Much to her surprise, he led her out of the crimson parlor and down the hall. The library and the portrait gallery were occupied, and so he led her farther back into the house, ushering her into her father's private study.

He shut the door behind them, and now fairies were dancing in Letty's stomach.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the fire crackling in the grate. Vander settled Letty in one of the leather wing chairs that flanked the fireplace, then lit a few candles before taking the seat opposite hers.

"Letty," he began, raking a hand through his silky black hair. This would have ruined most coiffures, but Vander's hair immediately fell back into its customary tousled perfection.

Frankly, Letty was surprised that the Brazen Belle had not mentioned Vander's hair in the portion of her column in which she extolled his best features. Letty loved Vander's hair and longed to run her fingers through it. Of course, not being permitted to attend something as scandalous as a boxing match, she had never seen Vander take off his shirt or even had the chance to properly appreciate the view from behind, as the Belle had put it, because of the prevailing fashion for tailcoats. Perhaps if she were given the chance to experience those delights, she, too, would forget all about his hair.

His eyes were imploring as he said, "There is something I wanted to ask you."

She parted her lips to ask what it was when the door to the study opened.

Vander cast a hard look toward the door. "Leave us," he said, voice as dark as midnight. Letty could just make out a servant's muffled apology and the click of the door over the thundering of her heart.

She reminded herself not to get her hopes up because this was not a proposal. She had a rare talent for taking completely ordinary gestures from Vander and spinning them into something romantic, such as the time when she was fourteen and he had asked her to pass the salt. By the time dinner was over, she had managed to invent a whole story interpreting the brush of his thumb against hers as a sign of unrequited longing, even though he had not so much as looked at her for the rest of the meal.

She cleared her throat. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"I need to ask you for a terrible favor. I'm sure you saw that I was featured in the Rake Review."

Letty felt her cheeks flush. It was, of course, all anyone could talk about. And thanks to the Brazen Belle, Letty now knew all kinds of scandalous details about Vander, many of which she would have preferred not to know.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, I saw the column."

He paused, a muscle working in his jaw. "My father is demanding that I marry."

Now Letty's heart was stampeding like a cavalry charge. "Oh?" she whispered.

He made an elegant gesture with his wrist. "And I was trying to think who I could possibly marry." His brown eyes, throwing off sparks from the firelight, bore into hers. "And then, I thought of you."

Oh God oh God oh God, this was actually happening! Perhaps it shouldn't come entirely as a surprise. Three weeks ago, Letty, who had previously been regarded as something of a wallflower, had received not one, but two proposals—in the middle of the Sunderland ball, no less. Her mother had declared that Letty would announce which of her suitors she would marry one month hence. She now had only one week to make her decision.

The knowledge that everyone's favorite contingency plan would soon be removed from the Marriage Mart had caused the men of London to come crawling out of the woodwork. She had received six additional proposals since the Sunderland ball, all of which Letty had declined. None of those men stirred tender feelings in her, and pragmatically, their offers were not as good as those of her first two suitors—Lord Throckmorton, who was a baron with a reasonably large estate, and Bertie Strickleton, who was due to inherit the fortune of a childless aunt and uncle.

But the point was, those public proposals had caused men to consider her afresh.

As Vander was doing now.

Letty swallowed thickly. "You thought of me? Truly?"

"I did." He chuckled. "You were actually my mother's suggestion. But as soon as she said your name..." He paused, waving a hand as he searched for the words. "It felt… right."

Oh, this was better than she could have hoped! To be sure, Vander was proposing a pragmatic arrangement. His father was forcing him to wed, he had said. He did not harbor for her the sorts of tender feelings she had long felt for him.

But that was all right. Letty knew that they were meant to be together. All she needed was a chance. He would come to see how compatible they were. She was certain of it.

And now, she would get that chance.

"Yes." She laughed at her own trembling voice, swiping a thumb beneath her eyes. "Of course, the answer is yes, Vander."

"Good." He nodded. "Good. It's such a relief, knowing that you'll help me out of this predicament."

Letty smiled, not quite trusting herself to speak. Of course, that was all he thought she was doing. Little did he know that this was not a favor she was granting him, but her own heart's desire.

There was no need to tell him that today. She would confess her feelings once he had come to realize his own.

"So." Vander leaned forward, placing his elbows upon his knees. "Is there anybody you have in mind? With whom you think I might suit?"

It took a moment for the words to penetrate Letty's fog of happiness. Even then, she was certain she must have misheard. "I'm sorry… What do you mean, someone with whom you might suit?"

"You know, some friend to whom you can introduce me, or…" Suddenly his spine went ramrod straight. Horror dawned in his eyes. "Wait… you didn't think I was proposing to you, did you?"

Letty gave a shrill laugh that sounded more like a pair of weasels locked in combat than a human enjoying a spot of humor. "Of course not!" she shrieked, which was, of course, a lie. But surely the Almighty would forgive her for trying to cling to one single, solitary sliver of dignity.

Vander was frowning. "Because, now that I think about it, the way I phrased that, it definitely sounded like I was—"

It was unladylike to interrupt, but Letty was not about to let him finish that sentence. "How fortunate it is that we understand each other so well, and I comprehended your meaning immediately!"

He sagged back in his chair. "That's such a relief. I mean, you're David's little sister. I would never—"

"Of course, you wouldn't! What an absurd notion!" Letty said loudly because she didn't particularly want to hear the rest of that sentence, either. "But you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Good." Vander smiled at her, then raked a hand through his perfectly tousled raven waves, and Letty's heart squeezed, he looked so absurdly handsome. "So, to whom will you introduce me?"

Letty had absolutely no idea. She had never given any thought to whom the man she adored should marry other than her. And right now, the crushing disappointment of having had her most impossible dream granted and then dashed in an instant left her incapable of coherent thought. "Give me some time to consider it."

Vander nodded. "Very well."

She cleared her throat. "Lady Cumberland is hosting a garden party tomorrow. Will you be in attendance?"

"She's friends with my mother, so I imagine we will have received an invitation."

"Perfect. I will give the matter some thought and endeavor to introduce you to someone at the garden party." Letty paused, peering at him. "Are there any particular qualities you require in your future bride?"

Vander looked befuddled. "Qualities? I haven't given it the slightest thought." He paused, staring into the fire. "I'll want someone who is extremely beautiful, obviously."

"Obviously." Someone extremely beautiful. Unlike you, Letty. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand, hoping the shock of pain would stop the tears that were suddenly welling in her eyes. "All right, then," she said with forced brightness. "Let me see what I can do."

Vander rose and offered his arm. "We should be getting back. I'm sure dinner will begin shortly."

"I'm sure you're right." Letty looped her arm through his, forced a smile to her lips, and prepared to endure the longest dinner in the history of the world.