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West's face was grave. “Keynsham.” It was impossible not to see the awkwardness between her brother and his former friend.

“Thank you for coming, your grace,” said Lady Theodosia. “I thought it best if we met to discuss matters privately as soon as possible.”

Pomona stared at her great aunt. Lady Theodosia had invited him?

There were several painful minutes of small talk about the current state of the roads (generally frozen), whether he’d sailed from Calais (yes), the crossing (cold, but not particularly stormy) and how he was enjoying being in London (he'd only been back for a few days, and found himself very busy.)

He looked a great deal better than he had last night. Not that it mattered, of course. But the dark half circles beneath his eyes had faded, his face had regained some color, and even the dark waves of his hair seemed to have extra gloss. He was perfectly shaven, his formal neckcloth was almost luminously white, and his fashionably severe dark blue jacket hugged his broad shoulders…

She wrenched her gaze away. She herself was pale and haggard with lack of sleep. She was also wearing a much-washed calico gown that she often wore for writing because the dark, figured cloth hid ink stains on the cuffs. She stared at the tablecloth, wishing that the books she wrote were real, and that a band of mercenaries would break into the house, abduct her, and put an end to this visit.

Then, to her horror, she heard West ask if they might have a few moments to speak privately. Charles and Lady Theodosia rose and withdrew from the room, and she found herself alone with… well, she supposed that he was her fiancé.

Or at least, he would be her fiancé for a few minutes, until she could convince him to join with her and call off this fiasco.

“I apologize for the earliness of this call, Miss Keynsham.”

“Your grace.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Since there was no opportunity to discuss it last night, I came to see when it would be convenient for you to hold the wedding.”

“Convenient?”

“As you cannot fail to be aware, society considers that I have compromised you. We must be wed as soon as possible. Fortunately, my position will make it simple for me to obtain a special license. The date itself is up to you.”

She blundered almost blindly to the hearth and put a hand on the mantel to steady herself. Her heart was hammering and she felt sick. “How can you? How can you assume that I… You did not even ask me! You simply announced it!”

“Pomona. That is, Miss Keynsham. We both heard Townley threatening to tell everyone about our… our prior elopement. You must realize that I did the only thing that I could do. I acted to preserve your reputation.”

“Reputation!”

“If there are any reassurances that I can offer that will make your mind more easy…” He stopped. “Well. In other words, if this is about the marriage settlements, be assured that every term will be most liberal.”

Did he actually believe that she was thinking of legal agreements at a time like this? They didn’t love each other! He'd left her. Step by slow step, she’d been building a life on her own terms. And now all her work was for nothing. Everything was ruined, and she would never be able to finish her book.

Unless…

“Miss Keynsham? You look as though you wish to say something."

“Yes. We... we must come to our own agreement.”

“Our own agreement?” He frowned. “I do not follow.”

“This is not a love match. So we must have some rules. Surely it would be wise to agree now on how we are to manage this.”

“Oh. I see.” He was silent. She risked a glance at him. He looked downcast. She had no idea why. All that she’d done was state the obvious. He cleared his throat. “Well. I suppose that all that I can ask is that you do nothing to publicly shame or discompose me. And I shall not publicly shame or discompose you.”

It took her a moment to work out what he meant. Then her face heated. “I was not speaking of love affairs! Good God, West! I have better things to think about than that!”

He folded his arms. “Well, what was I supposed to think that you meant? And by the way, an unmarried lady ought not to mention love affairs—or even know about them.”

“Gabriel West, you knew enough about my father to know that I did not have the luxury of being ignorant of love affairs.”

“Yes." His voice was unexpectedly bitter. "Yes, I did know your father." He gave his head a quick shake. "Well. In that case, what would you like this agreement to be about?"

She took a breath. “I should like you to promise not to interrupt me while I am writing... letters.”

“What?” He stared at her. “I do not understand. That is what you are talking about? Writing letters? When did you become so concerned with… Oh, God.” He rubbed his forehead. “No. Surely this is not actually about letters.”