Page 59 of The Marriage Wager

“Well, come in, girl,” her uncle said jovially. “You need not look at us like that. We are not angry with you. You took something of a risk, I must say, but it has turned out well.”

“I have come to ask you to let me return home,” Constance told him.

“What?” Her uncle stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Whatever are you talking about, you silly girl?” Aunt Blanche added. “Why would you want to return home? Oh, there may be a little whiff of scandal, but Lord Leighton has done the proper thing, and it will all pass in no time. Unless, of course, you draw attention to it by running away like a scared rabbit.”

“I know that Lord Leighton said that we were engaged,” Constance went on. “But it isn’t true.”

“Mayhap it was not when he said it, but it is now,” Uncle Roger retorted smugly. “He came to me tonight as soon as he got in and asked for your hand, just as he should. Of course I gave him my approval. I would never have thought you were such a sly minx, Constance.” He smiled at her as though they shared a secret. “But you have done very well for yourself.”

“I did not do anything sly!” Constance protested. “Do you think I arranged it so that Dominic would have to marry me?”

She might have known, she thought, that even if Francesca knew her to be the sort of person who would not do such a thing, her own family would not.

“If not, you were very lucky indeed,” Aunt Blanche put in.

“I cannot marry him,” Constance shot back. “Dominic does not wish to marry me. He said that only because Muriel Rutherford was doing her best to create a scandal.”

“Stupid girl,” her aunt commented, giving a shrug. “Ah, well, her loss is our gain. Just think…we will have a countess in the family!”

She beamed, looking positively starry-eyed. “One cannot help but wonder at such a man, of course—why, he paid not the least attention to Margaret and Georgiana, and they are, of course, of a far more eligible age. But still…Margaret is quite hopeful of that charming Mr. Carruthers. His attentions have been most marked the last few days. And once the girls are related to an earl, the possibilities will be endless. You will be able to introduce them to the very cream of society when you are Lady Leighton.”

“I shan’t be introducing them to anyone,” Constance told her sharply, “as I will not be Lady Leighton.”

Her aunt stared at Constance, her eyes bulging. “What? What are you talking about? Have you run mad?”

“I am not mad. I am instead, I am beginning to think, the only one here who is quite reasonable. Dominic does not wish to marry me, and I will not make him.”

“Make him?” Sir Roger trumpeted. “What are you talking about? He has already offered for you.”

“Only because he felt he had to,” Constance retorted. “Can you not see the difference? He feels constrained to marry me.”

“Of course he does. Quite right, too. A gentleman cannot play fast and loose with a young lady’s affections,” her uncle declared.

Constance sighed. It was clear that her aunt and uncle would never understand her objections to the nature of the proposal. They were far too intent on seeing the advantages of a marriage to Viscount Leighton. She could not look to them for help. She must turn to Dominic. He had to be made to see reason.

“I apologize for bothering you,” she said, turning away and starting toward the door. “Pray excuse me.”

Her uncle mumbled some reply, but her aunt called out sharply, “Constance!”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“Just remember this, my girl,” Aunt Blanche said sternly. “If you should turn down his offer, your name will be ruined. You will never get another offer. You will not, in fact, even be received.”

Constance just nodded and continued out the door. She went down the stairs. It was almost time for supper, but perhaps she could manage to catch Dominic alone for a few minutes.

When she entered the anteroom where everyone routinely gathered before dinner, she was aware of a pause in the conversation as everyone’s eyes flickered over to her. Dominic started toward her, and immediately the others began to talk again, though Constance was certain that all the guests were still watching her and Dominic, whatever they were talking about.

Dominic gave her an elegant bow; he was, she was certain, emphasizing his regard for her. “Constance, it is good to see that you are looking well. I hope you feel well, also.”

“Yes, I am quite all right.” She smiled tightly at him. With everyone eyeing them from all over the room, she did not feel comfortable talking to him, at least about anything but the merest polite nothings. “And you? I hope you did not catch a chill.”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all.” He extended his arm to her. “Come say good evening to Francesca and my parents.”

His parents were perhaps the last people she wanted to see—well, other than Muriel or Lady Rutherford—but she knew that this meeting was probably the most important one for tamping down gossip. Presumably his parents would be polite to her, not wanting a scandal, but she could not help but be afraid that they would cut her, shaming her in front of everyone. They could not be happy, she was certain, to have learned that their son was engaged to a near-penniless woman instead of the heiress whom they had chosen for him.

Fortunately, however, they greeted her politely, if with a degree of coolness that convinced Constance that they had as little liking for the match as she had supposed they would. Neither of them, she noticed, offered her any felicitations on the match. Francesca, at least, greeted her with her usual warmth and proceeded to keep the conversational ball rolling with little enough help from anyone else. Neither Lord nor Lady Selbrooke seemed inclined to talk, and though Constance would have liked to help Francesca, she was too aware of the fact that everyone in the room was watching her.