some import to say.
'Sit down, Freyja,' he said, indicating the other chair before joining his fingertips again. 'I understand that there was a great deal more at play during the infamous ball at the Upper Rooms one week ago than presented itself to general observation.'
Freyja, seating herself and feeling the marquess come to stand behind and slightly to one side of her chair and set a hand on the back of it, suddenly felt no doubt at all that Wulfric knew everything.
'It would appear,' he continued, 'that quite unknown to most of the guests present, there was an unseemly rush to win the race over which of two betrothals, both involving the same gentleman, was to be announced first. Am I correct in this assumption, Hallmere?'
There was a predictable thread of laughter in the marquess's voice when he answered.
'Not exactly,' he said, 'though according to my cousin Constance, the marchioness was hoping to advance our apparent courtship to such a degree that an announcement would have seemed superfluous. I preferred to defend myself with offense.'
Wulfric leveled upon him the sort of keen, icy look that had most ordinary mortals withering up in the vain hope of disappearing altogether. Freyja did not look to see if the marquess was one of them. She should, she supposed, be feeling enormous relief. The worst part of ending the masquerade-telling Wulf-was to be avoided. She might have guessed that he would discover the truth for himself.
'This betrothal is to end as soon as the Marchioness of Hallmere and her daughter have left for home, I assume?' Wulfric asked.
'With heartfelt thanks to Lady Freyja for saving me from a life sentence and apologies for any inconvenience to her, yes,' the marquess agreed.
'It has not been inconvenient, Wulf,' Freyja added firmly. 'Indeed I agreed gladly to the scheme. And the tedium of life in Bath has been considerably alleviated during the past week.'
'During which time you have been enjoying excursions into the hills and surrounding countryside at all hours of the day, alone with a gentleman who is not your betrothed,' Wulfric said. 'And embracing him.'
'That was just tonight,' she said. 'And on one other occasion,' she added for honesty's sake now that the lies had been dispensed with. 'You are not going to be gothic about this whole thing, are you, Wulf? I am five and twenty years old. I do not need to be hedged about with chaperones and guardians as poor Morgan does.'
He transferred his inscrutable gaze to the marquess.
'Your aunt's prediction, made to me not one hour ago, will prove perfectly correct when you abandon my sister within the coming week,' he said. 'She will be delighted. Lady Freyja Bedwyn will be humiliated.'
'Nonsense, Wulf,' she said crossly.
But he did not even deign to look at her. His silver gaze was fixed on the marquess, who chuckled softly.
'Neither of which outcomes is to my liking,' he said. 'What are you suggesting, Bewcastle? That I marry Lady Freyja after all? I doubt she will have me.'
'That-publicly, at least-should be her decision,' Wulfric said. 'Would you not agree?'
Freyja shot to her feet. 'Nonsense,' she said again. 'I agreed to this scheme because it amused me to do so. I did not do it in order to trap the Marquess of Hallmere into marrying me. I do not want him-or any other husband for that matter.'
His eyes were laughing, she saw when she strode past him on the way to the desk. She sat down on the chair behind it, as far from the two men as she could get. How very stupid all this was.
'Perhaps,' the marquess said, 'we can stage another scene in the Pump Room in a few days' time. Have you heard of the first one, Bewcastle? I am afraid Lady Freyja showed to less than advantage on that occasion. On the next, I can assure you, everyone's sympathy will be with her as she punches me in the nose and invites me to go to hell. Everyone will congratulate her for so publicly freeing herself from her betrothal to a rogue.'
Wulfric, Freyja could see as she stared broodingly at him, was not amused.
'The day after tomorrow, Hallmere,' he said, 'you will accompany Lady Freyja and me to Lindsey Hall, where you will formally make the acquaintance of our family and neighbors. We will have your betrothal properly announced and celebrated. If by Christmas or the spring she has decided that after all she does not wish to join herself in matrimony to you, then the necessary announcement will be made-by me. She will be frowned upon, of course-that cannot be avoided now-but she will not be pitied.'
'I believe,' the marquess said, turning to glance at her, 'Lady Freyja does not wish me to come to Lindsey Hall.'
She compressed her lips. How many minutes had passed since she had assured the marquess that Wulf never gave orders to his brothers and sisters? This all sounded very like a firm ducal command to her.
'Lady Freyja will be glad of an escort for the next week or two,' Wulfric said. 'Her brothers and their wives will be coming to Lindsey Hall, having been invited to attend the christening celebrations for the new grandson of our neighbor, the Duke of Redfield.'
Freyja sat bolt upright in her chair. Celebrations for the christening of Kit's son? And she was now trapped into going home, with or without the Marquess of Hallmere? She was going to have to attend? To smile and grin at everyone and pretend to be happy for Kit and the viscountess and the earl and countess?
The marquess had turned to face her fully, his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking far more serious than usual-almost grim, in fact.
'If it is Lady Freyja who is to decide if and when our betrothal is to end,' he said, 'then it is she who must decide whether I come to Lindsey Hall or not.'
She should set him free here and now. Indeed, she should march out into the party right at this moment and make a public announcement of the end of their betrothal. It had been a ridiculous farce from the start. At the same time the marquess could make a public announcement that he was not going to marry his cousin Constance. There would be an end of the whole stupid mess.
