The Wedding Game

‘Mr Lovell was nice to me. But I like Mr Templeton better,’ Belle said with a definitive nod.

And where was he, now that he was needed? ‘Perhaps Mr Templeton was not as nice as he seemed.’ If he had lured Belle into the dark walks as she suspected, he had taken advantage of her trusting nature. If he’d meant to do anything more, he should have spoken up when he’d had the chance. Silently, Amy damned the man for his leisurely wooing.

‘He was very nice when we were in the Gardens.’ Perhaps Father had been right, after all. The secretive smile on her sister’s face hinted that it was none too soon to accept an offer, if only to keep her safe from the predatory nature of supposed gentlemen.

‘In the end, it does not matter who you like best. Mr Templeton did not offer for you,’ Amy snapped. ‘Mr Lovell did.’ Almost immediately, she regretted her harsh tone. Even if the marriage had been arranged without consulting her, Belle deserved to know that her feelings were important. She asked the next question more gently. ‘But I assume he proposed on your ride this morning. What answer did you give him?’

Belle stared down at Mellie, nervously petting his head. ‘He said Papa wanted me to marry him. And Papa said I must always obey, because he knows what is best for me.’

And not all syllogisms were true. It was unlikely that she would ever get Belle to understand the finer points of reasoning. It was best not to confuse her with them now. ‘So you said yes,’ Amy finished for her.

Belle nodded and gave her the same hopeful look she used after crooked stitching. ‘Did I do all right?’

Amy nodded. ‘I think, this time, you did as well as any of us could have.’

‘Good,’ Belle said and relaxed a little. Then she held her dog up, its short legs dangling, and offered him her cheek for a kiss. ‘It is all very confusing. But you will help me to understand when I get married and we go to live with Mr Lovell.’

This was even worse than before. ‘I know that it was our plan, that I should come to live with you when you married. But now I do not know if that will be possible.’

Belle dropped Mellie on the cushion beside her and stared at her sister in shock. ‘But you promised.’

And she had. In all her life, she had never broken a promise to Belle. Why did she have to begin with the one that would most affect her future? ‘That was before I realised you would be marrying Mr Lovell.’

‘But you said I did the right thing.’ Belle’s lip trembled with confusion as she tried to reconcile the two ideas.

‘You did,’ Amy assured her. ‘He is a nice man. He will make a good husband.’ At least, he would be no worse than the man who had lured her sister towards ruin without honourable intent. ‘I just think Mr Lovell will want some time alone with you, after you have married.’

‘Why?’

She was nowhere near ready to give the explanation that question deserved. Especially not while she was still blushing from the demonstration of what Ben Lovell did when he got a woman alone. ‘I will explain it all to you at another time.’ She reached out to pat her sister’s hand. ‘For now, do not worry your head about the future. You will talk to Mr Lovell many more times before you are married. In no time at all, you will come to like him so well that you will not even need me.’

And perhaps, some day, Amy would not need him, either.

*

It had been less than twenty-four hours and Ben was back in the same room that had been the location of his emotional undoing. To stand there, even alone, and pretend that he was not thinking of what he had nearly done with Amy was the greatest challenge to composure that he had faced all Season.

In the hours between dusk and dawn, he had replayed their meeting, over and over, under the pretence of discovering the moment when things had gone wrong. Once he understood it, he could be sure it would not be repeated. Eventually, he’d been forced to admit to himself that the obsession was nothing to do with remorse. It was only an excuse to imagine more and more lurid scenarios where she was willing and he was free to do as he liked with her.

When he tried transferring the fantasy to its correct object, the woman he was going to marry, he could manage nothing more than brotherly affection. She was beautiful, of course. And so quiet and simple that he never need worry about a domineering woman sucking the marrow from his bones, even as he took pleasure in her body. That was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?

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