first at Freyja's left cheek and then at her right, and smiled warmly and graciously.
'What a delightful surprise, Lady Freyja,' she said rather loudly, for the benefit of those around them. 'I can think of no one I would more gladly welcome into the bosom of my family. I have always thought of dear Joshua as a son, you know.' Her eyes were doing that needlepoint glare into Freyja's again.
'Thank you, ma'am,' Freyja said. 'I knew you would be happy for us.'
'And my dear Joshua.' The marchioness transferred her attention and her hands to her nephew. 'What a naughty surprise, indeed. You would not confide in either your grandmother or your aunt?'
'I plucked up the courage to make Lady Freyja an offer during the waltz, Aunt,' he said, 'and she said yes. We were both so bubbling over with joy that we wanted everyone to share our happiness without any further delay. I thought you and Grandmama would appreciate the happy surprise.'
The marchioness's smile did not falter. 'Of course, dear,' she said.
Mr. Darwin was bowing to Freyja then and requesting the next set of country dances with her. They were, after all, she realized, only two sets into the ball. There was much of the evening remaining. She smiled as she set her hand on his sleeve, remembering her resolve to cheer herself up by flirting with the Marquess of Hallmere tonight.
Well, she had done a great deal better than flirting. She had entered into a mock betrothal with him. Just for the sheer fun of it.
She was, she discovered, looking forward to the next few days with more exhilaration than she had looked forward to any day since she did not know when. At least they would take her mind off Alvesley and Kit's new son and the dreary state of her own life.
Joshua walked up to Lady Holt-Barron's house on the Circus late the following morning. He had avoided the Pump Room, especially as his grandmother had expressed her intention of remaining at home after the late night. But he had not succeeded in avoiding the issue that had kept him awake much of the night, alternately chuckling and breaking into a cold sweat.
His aunt had invited herself and Constance to breakfast, and she had joined enthusiastically in his grandmother's plan to host a large betrothal party at Great Pulteney Street one week hence.
'I cannot tell you how delighted I am, Joshua,' his aunt had said, 'that you have decided to settle down at last. Though I daresay you will wish to take your bride traveling on the Continent for a year or two after the nuptials, now that the wars are over.'
'I sensed Lady Freyja was the right woman for you from the first moment,' his grandmother had agreed before laughing. 'Well, from almost the first moment. You will never find life dull with her, Joshua.'
Constance had found a moment to have a private word with him.
'Thank you, Joshua,' she had said. 'How quickly you thought and acted! But I do hope you did not offer for Lady Freyja Bedwyn only to thwart Mama. It would be unfair, would it not? I do not think she is ugly. I think she is distinguished and handsome. But, even so, she must have feelings to be hurt.'
'Lady Freyja and I understand each other perfectly well,' he had assured her. 'We share the same enjoyment of a good lark.'
'Ah,' she had said. 'It is not a real betrothal, then. I suspected as much. But I am rather sorry. I cannot help thinking, as your grandmother does, that she is perfect for you.'
His aunt was planning to stay for at least another week, then, he thought ruefully as he strode up the steep incline of Gay Street. He had not expected her to stay so long. Neither had he expected his grandmother to insist upon a grand party. This betrothal business might yet prove a deuced embarrassment-and perhaps fun too, he admitted. That was the word she had used, was it not?
He knocked on the door of the house on the Circus, was admitted by a smirking housekeeper who had clearly heard the news-had anyone in Bath not?-and was taken up immediately to a sitting room where the ladies were gathered, mother and daughter looking as if they had just recently returned from an outing.
Lady Holt-Barron beamed at him and her daughter smiled. Lady Freyja looked wary.
'I have come to invite Lady Freyja to walk with me,' he said after the first pleasantries had been exchanged.
She got to her feet after folding a letter she must have been writing at the escritoire.
'I need some fresh air,' she said.
'And today, Lady Freyja,' her hostess said with a broad smile, 'you do not need any chaperone while walking with your betrothed.'
A few minutes later they were striding back down Gay Street, not touching-she had refused to take his arm.
'You were writing to your family?' he asked her. 'Breaking the glad tidings?'
'Doing no such thing,' she said. 'I was writing to my sister, as I do most days. I was describing the assembly to her-part of the assembly, at least.'
'But you were omitting the insignificant detail of your betrothal being announced during it, no doubt,' he said, grinning. She was looking out of sorts this morning.
'Exactly,' she said. 'They need not know. In a day or two's time we will be free to put an end to this foolishness. Your aunt will leave Bath, severely disgruntled, I sincerely hope, and then I can either have an announcement made or else you can leave too and I can go home soon after and no more need ever be said on the matter.'
'Do you really believe it is going to be as simple as that, sweetheart?' he asked, chuckling.
They had reached the bottom of the hill and were winding their way toward the Abbey and the river beyond it. The sun was shining, though the breeze was fresh.
'Of course it will,' she said with brisk confidence.
