'What did he say?' she asked during one of those moments. 'Did you tell him the truth?'
'Good Lord, no,' he said, confining his answer to the second question. 'Ought I to have done? I thought you might have been in more trouble over the masquerade than over a broken engagement next week.'
'Wulf is not my keeper,' she said haughtily. 'There is no question of there being trouble either way.'
'Then why are you so very out of sorts, sweetheart?' he asked, grinning at her.
Someone was in the process of informing Wulf that he must be gratified indeed at the betrothal of his sister to the Marquess of Hallmere, and Freyja caught the marquess's eye and chuckled mournfully.
There was going to be a pile of trouble.
Wulfric went back to his hotel after the concert. He appeared in the Pump Room the next morning, immaculately dressed in black and gray with white linen. He acknowledged Freyja and Charlotte and Lady Holt- Barron and proceeded to speak with other people, most notably Lady Potford, with whom he strolled twice all about the room.
Freyja walked arm in arm with Charlotte, who confessed herself mortally terrified of his grace, though she giggled at her own foolishness.
'Does he ever smile, Freyja?' she asked.
'Never,' Freyja said. 'It is beneath the ducal dignity.'
They laughed together and she felt horribly disloyal. She adored all her siblings, Wulf included.
The crowds were beginning to disperse for breakfast when Wulfric sought her out and informed her that she would be taking the meal at the Royal York Hotel with him.
Should she confess the full truth to him and be done with it? she wondered a few minutes later as she took his arm and they set off at a brisk walking pace. But, oh, dear, he already knew-Lady Holt-Barron had told him, enraptured by the romance of it all-that for the past week she and the marquess had been going off walking and riding together, not a maid or chaperone in sight. How would that appear if it were suddenly revealed that they were not really betrothed after all?
And since when, she asked herself, had she been afraid to tell the truth or admit to a little indiscretion? She had never pretended to live by the code that hemmed other ladies in from all quarters until they had less freedom than servants or pets.
She drew breath to tell Wulfric exactly what had happened.
'Lady Potford has gone to great pains to arrange this large betrothal party for you tonight,' he said.
Ah, yes, the party. Tonight. Well, this deception must continue until tomorrow, she thought. Surely tomorrow or the next day the marchioness would return home. She must be weary of smiling sweetly at Freyja whenever their paths crossed-at least two or three times each day-while darting private venom at her with her eyes. She had been looking rather pleased with herself this morning, but perhaps that was because she anticipated trouble for her nephew and Freyja with Wulfric's unexpected arrival in Bath.
In fact, Freyja thought with a sudden rush of insight, it was probably Lady Potford who had informed Wulf.
'She has been most kind,' Freyja replied, winning for herself a rather sharp glance from her brother, who must have wondered at the docility of her answer.
They did not talk any more as they walked.
If the marchioness left tomorrow, Freyja thought, then the marquess would probably leave the day after. She would then confess all to Wulfric and go back to Lindsey Hall with him. It would all be very easy. No one here need know. No announcement of the ended betrothal need ever be made. After a while people would forget and stop wondering when the wedding was to be. She had never much cared what gossip was circulating about her anyway.
They ate breakfast in Wulfric's private suite of rooms. His valet was dismissed as soon as he had carried in the food and poured their coffee.
'We have seen two of our brothers married in the past few months,' Wulfric said conversationally as Freyja buttered a slice of toast. 'Both quite suddenly and ineligibly.'
She would have agreed with him on both counts when she first met each of her sisters-in-law.
'Eve's father might have been a coal miner,' she said, 'but she was brought up as a lady, and she has spirit and a tender heart. Besides which, Aidan dotes on her. Judith is a gentlewoman even if her father is just an obscure country parson. Grandmama adores her and so, of course, does Rannulf. Eligibility is not everything, Wulf.'
'Quite so,' he said, taking his time about chewing a mouthful of sausage. 'You, on the other hand, have made a perfectly eligible choice, Freyja.'
She had been quite prepared to argue and fight. She had nothing to say to these words of approval. She looked at him suspiciously.
'Though an equally sudden one,' he added.
'It was an impetuous thing,' she said. 'He proposed marriage to me during a waltz at the Upper Rooms, I said yes, and we wished to invite our fellow guests to share our joy.'
'Ah,' he said softly in that way Wulf had of making one's flesh crawl with apprehension, 'almost word for word the explanation I had from Hallmere himself.'
'Because that is the way it was,' she said. 'Look here, Wulf, if you have come to Bath to play elder brother and head of the family and scold me for betrothing myself to the marquess without first weeping all over you and begging you to give your consent, you may jolly well go home again. I have been of age these past four years. I would think you would be delighted to see me marry eligibly.'
'I would rather a marquess than a footman, certainly,' he said. 'But I do feel constrained to ask if Aidan's marriage and Rannulf's provoked you into this, Freyja.'
'Eh?' she asked inelegantly, a forkful of egg halfway to her mouth.
