me, but you know what she — indeed, ladies generally — are like. We came to our understanding unexpectedly and rapidly — there wasn't a suitable moment, earlier, to correct her misapprehension. Now… as she wishes to marry so soon, I would prefer not to broach the matter at this time—'
'On the grounds that she's likely to dig in her heels, insist on reexamining every last detail, and generally make your life a misery because she misunderstood, and very likely not agree to marry in June, and subsequently hold the fact against you for the rest of your days?'
He hadn't followed the outcome quite that far; it was no difficulty to look aggrieved. 'In a nutshell, yes. So you see the problem.'
'Oh, indeed.' The twinkle in Arthur's eyes suggested he saw more than Luc would wish, but was prepared to be understanding. 'So how do you see us proceeding?'
'I was hoping you would consent to keep the matter of my wealth in confidence, at least until I've had a chance to break the news to her.'
Arthur pondered, then nodded. 'Given we're concealing wealth rather than the lack of it, and given it's in her own interests in the sense of the timing, I can see no reason to refuse. The only problem I foresee is the settlements. She'll see the figures when she signs.'
'Indeed, but I would suggest that, with your agreement, there's no reason the figures she sees can't be percentages.'
Arthur considered, then slowly nodded. 'No reason at all we can't do it that way.'
Arthur heard the front door shut behind Luc. Relaxing in his chair, he fixed his gaze on the clock on the mantelpiece. Less than a minute had elapsed when the door to the library opened and Louise entered, bright-eyed and eager.
'Well?' She came around the desk to perch on the edge, facing him. 'What did Luc want?'
Arthur grinned. 'Precisely what you told me he'd want. They've apparently set the date for next Wednesday, if we're willing.'
'Wednesday?' Louise blinked. 'Drat the girl — why didn't she mention that this morning?'
'It's possible Luc might not have wished to have his thunder stolen.'
'Most men prefer to have the way paved.'
'Not all men, and I wouldn't include Luc in that category.'
Louise paused, then nodded. 'Indeed. That's to his credit.' She fixed her gaze on Arthur. 'So everything's settled, all is in order, and you're satisfied he's the right man for Amelia?'
His gaze drifting to the door, Arthur smiled. 'I have absolutely no reservations whatsoever.'
Louise studied his smile, then narrowed her eyes. 'What? There's something you're not telling me.'
Arthur's gaze shifted to her face; his grin widened. 'There's nothing you need know.' Reaching out, he caught her by the waist and drew her onto his lap. 'I'm just delighted that there's demonstrably more to what's between them than simple lust — and that's how it should be.'
'More than just lust?' Louise looked into his eyes, her own gently smiling. 'Are you sure?'
Arthur drew her lips to his. 'You taught me well enough to recognize the signs — Luc's chin deep in love, and the intriguing thing is, he knows it.'
On gaining the pavement, Luc checked his watch, then, somewhat grimly, set out for his next appointment. Grosvenor Square lay at the end of Upper Brook Street; he was admitted to the mansion midway along the north side by a majestic figure.
'Good morning, Webster.'
'My lord.' Webster bowed. 'His Grace is expecting you. If you'll come this way.'
Webster led him to Devil's study and opened the door. 'Lord Calverton, Your Grace.'
Luc walked in. Devil rose from a chair by the fireplace. Although they knew each other reasonably well, their acquaintance stemmed from their families' social closeness, from moving in the same circle. Devil, his brother and cousins — the six who'd formed the legendary group known as the Bar Cynster — were all older than Luc by several years.
As Luc joined him, Devil grinned. 'I hope you've no objection to talking before my daughter?'
Shaking Devil's hand, Luc looked down at the moppet, dark curls jouncing as she bounced on the rug before the hearth, huge pale green eyes shifting from his face to her sire's and back again. Taking the wooden cube she was chewing from her mouth, Lady Louisa Cynster favored him with a huge smile.
Luc laughed. 'No, not at all. I can see that she'll be discreet.'
One of Devil's dark brows quirked; he resumed his seat, waving Luc to the chair opposite. 'Will discretion be required?'
'In part, yes.' Luc met Devil's gaze. 'I've just come from Upper Brook Street. Arthur has consented to a match between myself and Amelia.'
Devil inclined his head. 'Congratulations.'
'Thank you.'
Luc hesitated; Devil prompted, 'I take it that isn't why you're here?'
Luc met his gaze. 'Not precisely. I came to request that neither you nor any other of Amelia's cousins mention to her just how wealthy I am.'
Devil blinked. 'You recently landed a windfall — Gabriel checked. He was jealous. In fact, he proposed that, if the breeze did blow that way and you became one of the family, that he should conscript you, and Dexter, too, into the business.'
Luc knew which business Devil was referring to; the Cynsters ran a combined investment fund rumored to be fabulously successful. He inclined his head. 'I'd be happy to consult, if Gabriel wished it.'
Devil eyed him shrewdly. 'So what's the rub?'
Luc explained, much as he had with Arthur; Devil, however, was less easygoing than his uncle.
'Do you mean she thinks you're marrying her for her dowry?'
Luc hesitated. 'I doubt she thinks I'm marrying her only for that.'
Devil's eyes narrowed even more; he sat back in the chair, his gaze unrelenting. Luc met it without flinching.
'When are you going to tell her?'
'After the wedding — when we're at Calverton Chase and things have settled into some semblance of normality.'
Devil thought long and hard. Louisa, as if sensing her father's disaffection, crawled to him, grabbed hold of the tassel trim of one large boot, and hauled herself up, waving and batting her block. Distracted, Devil lifted her onto his lap where she sat propped against his chest, green eyes wide, the block once more in her mouth.
Devil leaned back. 'I'll agree not to say anything, and warn the others not to queer your pitch on one condition. I want your assurance that you will definitely tell her — specifically, in words — before you and she return to town in the autumn.'
Luc raised his brows. 'Specifically, in words…' He turned the phrases — with the particular emphasis Devil had given them — over in his mind. Realized just what Devil meant. His expression hardened. 'You mean…' — he spoke softly, distinctly—'that you expect me to declare myself — to her — before we return to town?'
Devil held his gaze — and nodded.
Luc felt his temper rise — felt trapped, caught, not just by Devil, but by fate.
As if sensing his thoughts, Devil murmured, 'All's fair in love as well as war.'
Luc allowed one brow to rise. 'Indeed? Then perhaps you can advise me — how did you tell Honoria?'
Silence greeted the question — a stab in the dark, but Luc sensed he'd struck true. Devil's gaze didn't waver from his, yet he couldn't tell what was going on in the mind behind the eyes.
Sensing the clash between her father and him, Louisa squirmed around to stare up at Devil's face, then she looked across at him, her block firm between her pudgy hands, lips parted as those huge eyes searched his face. Then she flopped back, with force, and pointed her block at him.
'Dgoo!'
It sounded very like 'Do!' — a dictate handed down by some imperious empress. Startled, Devil glanced down, a grin dawning.
She turned her head, pointed the block at him, frowned direfully and repeated her stern order.
