Page 48 of A Family Bargain with the Duke

Something softened almost imperceptibly in her expression. “A sensible answer.”

There followed a brief discussion of the estate before Fiona, with studied casualness, set down her cup.

“Tell me, Your Grace, have you heard that Lady Marchmont has dismissed an otherwise impeccable suitor because he sneezed three times during dinner? Society insists it was a sign of weak character.”

Julian blinked once. “I cannot say I have.”

“And your opinion?”

“That if a gentleman is to be judged by his sneezes, I am grateful I move in quieter circles.”

Fiona’s lips twitched. “An admirable answer.”

Louisa was almost certain there had never been any Lady Marchmont, nor any unfortunate gentleman whose constitution had ended an engagement. Fiona had invented the entire affair simply to see whether Julian possessed vanity enough to join in ridiculing a stranger or wit enough to escape the trap without offending anyone.

He had managed the latter with remarkable ease.

By the time the tea things were cleared, Fiona had apparently reached her verdict, offering Julian a warm, genuine smile entirely different from her earlier scrutiny.

“I like him,” she announced to Louisa the moment they had retired to Louisa’s rooms, dropping onto the chaise with a sigh. “I did not expect to, given how thoroughly you described the whole arrangement as practical rather than personal, but I like him regardless. He has a dry humor that creeps up on you if you are not paying attention, and he looked at you no fewer than six times during tea in a manner that had nothing whatsoever to do with practicality.”

“He is simply observant, Fiona. He notices things other people overlook.”

“Is that truly all you took from what I just said?”

Louisa reached for her teacup, affecting a composure she did not entirely feel. “You are impossible.”

“I am observant.”

She shook her head. “You are determined to turn every kindness into a declaration. He has been unfailingly considerate from the beginning, but that does not change what this marriage is. It is a practical arrangement, nothing more.”

“If you say the words practical arrangement to me one more time, so help me God, I shall scream loudly enough to bring the whole household running, and then you shall have to explain to Mrs. Whitfield why her mistress’s friend has taken to shrieking in the middle of the afternoon.”

Louisa laughed despite herself.

Fiona smiled too, though it faded almost as quickly as it had come. She watched Louisa for another moment, her expression softening as her amusement gave way to something quieter.

“You know,” she said gently, “for a woman who insists she wants nothing more than exactly what she bargained for, you look remarkably troubled whenever his name comes up.”

Louisa’s smile faltered.

Fiona leaned forward, resting her elbows lightly on her knees. “So, let me ask you something else instead.” Her voice had lost its teasing edge entirely. “What are you really afraid of?”

Louisa opened her mouth to deflect the question, some easy, practiced answer already forming, and found that she did not have the heart to offer it.

She was quiet for a long moment instead, turning the true answer over before she trusted herself to say it aloud.

“I was the one who asked for this,” she said finally. “I proposed the arrangement across his desk and told him plainly that I expected nothing beyond respect and a name for Eleanor. He agreed because I set those terms.” She twisted her hands in her lap, unable for once to hold Fiona’s eyes properly. “I am afraid of wanting something I never asked for, Fiona. More than that, I am afraid of finding the courage to ask for it and looking into his eyes only to find kindness there instead of anything more.”

“Has he ever given you reason to believe that he does not care for you? Truly. Think carefully before you answer, and do not simply reach for the easy reassurance you have been offering yourself these past weeks.”

Louisa considered it properly, turning over every evening at the too-large dining table, every quiet moment in his study, the warmth that crept into his voice whenever Kit’s name was mentioned, the stillness in his eyes this very morning when her hand had rested over his, correcting the shape of a sign.

“No,” she admitted quietly. “He has not.”

“Then perhaps the only person standing in your way is you,” Fiona said gently.

Louisa had no answer for that.