Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

sooner or later. So he opened the front door a crack. “I’ll let you through,” he told the baronet, “but if you interfere with my plans to woo her, there will be hell to pay. Am I making myself clear?”

Finally, Sir Ned paused. But he wasn’t terribly cowed. He still had a fervent light in his eyes. “Very well,” he acceded. “But if I find she can’t hold a candle to my Miranda, I’m going to sit up with you tonight, lad, and we’ll discuss your future over a bottle of port. You could have quite a cushy life as my son-in-law.”

Stephen couldn’t bear to hear any more. “I’m going to let you out now,” he said. “But first, I’d like a few moments with her myself. Then you may join us.”

He opened the door all the way and headed to Hodgepodge, Sir Ned gasping behind him.

Stephen whirled around. “Remember,” he warned the baronet, “wait here.”

Sir Ned actually stopped. Now all Stephen had to do was tell Miss Jones to go along with his ruse that he had plans to pursue her. Pursue her for what, he couldn’t say. She wouldn’t approve of a scorching flirtation, and marriage was out of the question.

He’d remain as vague as possible.

It shouldn’t be too difficult.

Good God, of course it would be difficult!

The street, as usual, was deserted. Miss Jones had left her flowers and gone back inside.

Stephen strode into Hodgepodge so fast, the door flew back on its hinges. “Where is she?” he asked Otis.

Otis looked up with a grin. “Hello, Captain. We’re closed, of course. But you’re always welcome. Things have been quiet at your house this afternoon.”

Miss Jones, who was sweeping the floor, looked over her shoulder at him. “A refreshing change,” she added.

Now was not the time to spar with her, so Stephen let the comment pass.

He was pleased to see she looked almost disappointed.

“How may I help you, Captain?” she asked coolly, and put aside her broom.

He raked a hand through his hair, reluctant to reveal to her that he was in an untenable situation. “My unexpected—and unwelcome—guests have ruined all my party plans,” he confessed. “It’s because of them that I’m calling upon you now.”

“Do tell,” Otis urged him, a concerned wrinkle on his brow.

“It’s not good.” Stephen braced himself and looked Miss Jones square in the eye. “They want to marry me off to their daughter, so I told them I was interested in pursuing your acquaintance.” He inhaled a breath, then went on. “Of course, they think I mean marriage.”

Her eyes flew wide and she put a hand over her heart. “That’s impossible!”

“I understand I didn’t ask your permission to tell such an untruth,” Stephen said with an attempt at a grin, “but surely the idea’s not that outrageous.”

“Oh, yes it is.” Miss Jones’s face was bright red.

Otis looked almost as unsteady as his mistress. “I do believe I’ll brush my spare coat,” he said, and left through the rear door of the shop.

“I heard today from Otis, who heard it from a shopkeeper on Brook Street, that you’re an Impossible Bachelor,” Miss Jones said, her fists on her hips. “That title only confirms my suspicions about you.”

Stephen felt a momentary pique. “It’s not my fault Prinny chose me for the title, but what has that to do with anything anyway?”

“First of all, you’d never be pursuing any woman with any remotely honorable intentions,” she replied instantly, “and second, I wouldn’t in a million years allow myself to be pursued by you.”

“Oh, is that all? We can work around that.”

“Oh, really?” Miss Jones picked up the broom again and held it close to her chest. “What you’re asking of me is too much, Captain.” Her voice was fervent with disapproval. “I can’t possibly allow it.”

He’d been prepared for her to object. “They’re here for only a little while,” he soothed her. “Life with them is going to be difficult enough as it is, but if they think I’m eligible to court their daughter, it will be so much worse. I told them you have no idea I want to pursue you. You may act ignorant of the whole matter.”

“If that’s true, why did you bother even telling me?”

She wouldn’t give him an inch, his shrewd neighbor. “Because I wanted you to understand why I’ll be acting rather warm toward you in their presence. And there’s always the chance the obnoxious Sir Ned might say something denigrating about my supposed quest to have you. He’d no doubt like to dissuade your interest. I didn’t want you caught off guard if that happens.”

Miss Jones’s brows almost crossed over her nose. “Why don’t you simply move out while they’re here?”

“I can’t. I’ve got repairs on the house to make before I sell it. I’ve got to stay.”

She said nothing, merely pinched her mouth shut.

“I know you have no reason to help me,” he said, “but I appeal to your sense of charity. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you in return, I promise, on my word of honor, I will.”

“No,” she said into his eyes.

He would wager it was a favorite phrase of hers.

Sir Ned strode into the store then, the tips of his ears pink. “So, Miss Jones, you’re the favored one,” he announced.

She gave him a warm but wary smile. “May I help you?”

The newcomer looked her up and down. “I understand Captain Arrow has his eye—”

“On those atlases. Do go and look them over for me, Sir Ned.” Stephen spun the man around and gave him a light shove in the direction of the oversized tomes.

Thankfully, the man, once pushed, kept going, like a boat shoved away from a dock.

When the baronet was out of hearing, Stephen returned to his appeal to Miss Jones. “Please,” he begged her in a low whisper. “Please go along with it. Otherwise, my life will be a living hell.”

“Not forever, it won’t.” Her cheeks were rosier than usual. “Besides, there are other women you could have chosen for your imaginary pursuit. How about one of your fancy ladies?”

He stared at her, at a loss to answer the question. “I saw you outside with your daffodils, and at that crucial moment, it never occurred to me to think of anyone else. Of course, several seconds later I did, but by then it was too late. They’d latched onto you.”

He wouldn’t tell her he’d been thinking about her before he even saw her—all day, as a matter of fact.

She stared at him a long moment and then sighed. “Very well, Captain. I suppose saying yes won’t do any harm. I can feign ignorance of your intentions, after all. But I’ll have you know—I do this with a great deal of misgiving.”

He released a pleased sigh. “Thank you.”

Now that the pressure was off, he wasn’t able to help noticing she looked extremely fetching in her pale pink gown.

“But someday soon I might need a favor, and you’ll do whatever I ask,” she said, “or I shall tell your houseguests the truth, that you’re making this charade up.”

“You’re blackmailing me.” He could hardly credit it.

“Don’t worry.” She gave him an impish smile. “What could I ask from you? Not much, I assure you. But I shall enjoy thinking on it.”

“Captain,” called Sir Ned excitedly, “what’s the farthest place you sailed on your last voyage?”

Stephen never took his eyes off Jilly’s. “The Horn, Sir Ned, the Horn,” he called back to the man.

Looking rather smug, Miss Jones stood waiting for his answer.

“Under duress,” he murmured, “I accept your offer. But I have a requirement of my own.”

“And that is?” She was toying with him. And toying with him was damned near close to flirting, even if she didn’t recognize that fact.

“If you want my assistance,” he said, “—and you must, for judging from your expression, the prospect of subjugating me to your whims absolutely delights you—you can’t tell the neighbors my pursuit of you is contrived.”

She looked up at the ceiling then back at him. “Very well. I agree. Except for Otis. I tell him everything.”