Mary Moore - Accidental Fiancee

“What is this all about, Grace?” asked her aunt. “You must not know Brandon Roth very well if you think he will allow his sisters to treat you with anything but respect.”

Lydia said, “Aunt Aggie, that is just it, you see. Grace does not know him very well. They met, and before any of us knew what had happened, they were betrothed. It has been a whirlwind, and you know, dear aunt, Grace has never liked to be the center of attention.”

Grace sent her sister a silent look of thanks for her gentle description of events, but still wrung her hands.

“Dinner!” Agatha proclaimed. “That is what we need. I will hear the story over dinner and we will decide how best to proceed. You both run upstairs to your rooms to freshen up and I will see you in half an hour.”

As Grace walked past Max to go up to her room, she looked up at him and sighed. “Rescue me, my knight in shining armor,” she said in a low voice. But Max stood steadfast and stoic. “I know, dear friend, I’ve gotten myself into hot water and there’s no rescuing me this time!”

* * *

Lord Weston’s temper flared as his sisters overtaxed his patience.

Upon arriving at his home and being welcomed by his butler, he had settled into his library in front of a roaring fire. His thoughts were on the past two days and a pair of marvelous green eyes. He was tired, but Hinson had informed him that his sisters had called several times already, so he knew he did not have long to wait for them. Face them he would, but he would give a great sum of money to be left alone with his thoughts for the rest of the day.

Within the half hour, Hinson again knocked on his library door and announced that Lady Wright and Mrs. Hale had been shown into the front drawing room. He rose and followed his butler out. He teased his starchy retainer by saying, “On the attack, are they, Hinson?”

“I am sure I could not say, my lord,” he responded very properly. “They have been all that is polite each time they have come.”

“They must be sickening for something,” Brandon muttered as he turned the door handle to the drawing room. As he entered, a slightly older, female version of himself came to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Brandon, I am so happy you are home. We heard of your betrothal. It is glad tidings, indeed!”

Brandon broke into an Irish brogue to tease her. “Maggie, me dear, I do believe you’re lookin’ prettier than the last time I saw ye! How is that Irish husband of yours? I hope ye’ll tell me he’s in Toon, too, so we can have a ride together for old time’s sake.”

“Oh, stop making fun,” she said, smiling. “He is not with me this time. I came to refurbish my wardrobe and see my old friends this Season. But it was worth leaving Patrick and the boys to know I will be here for your wedding.” She hugged him again and bade him sit with them.

His sister Maggie had always been his favorite. She was older than him by four years, but she adored her younger brother. He would never forget that whenever his father had belittled or berated him, Maggie always took Brandon’s side, and came to his room afterward with a treat.

As he approached the fire and his oldest sister, he was expecting a very different welcome. “Good evening, Liza,” he stated, bowing his head. “What a surprise to find my two siblings visiting me so soon upon my return.” He smiled at her innocently.

“Brandon, do not call me that horrid nickname, and do not pretend you are at all surprised to see us. We want the truth about this betrothal so we may scotch the rumor mill. We will not be put off.”

“I am fine, Elizabeth. How good of you to ask. I hope you, too, are well.” He got too much enjoyment out of baiting her.

She sniffed. “I am in no mood for your nonsense. I do not appreciate the fact that Amelia Broadstone brought me the information that my brother is engaged.”

“You should, perhaps, discuss that with Amelia Broadstone. I do not know the lady, but I do not doubt that she was only thinking of you as she spread the tale.”

“Spare me your sarcasm and tell us what you have done this time.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door and he was surprised for a moment that the tea tray was being brought in. Realization was not long in coming. “Elizabeth, feel free to order my servants around anytime you wish.”

“Must you two always be at loggerheads? I have not seen either of you in over a year and I feel like I am in the exact same conversation as last time!” Maggie interrupted, very put out.

“A thousand apologies, Maggie, me love, though if we cannot argue, we will be left with nothing to say. You have just condemned us to being dead bores.” He pinched her cheek and shuddered. “Anything but that. My reputation, Maggie, you must remember my reputation!” He went to lean against the mantel, one booted foot crossed over the other. “The rumors are true.” He loved the gasps, even knowing they were for different reasons.

“Oh, Brandon, I am so happy for you. Who is she? The gossipmongers are calling her a nobody, but I assume that is because they do not know who she is.” She stopped as something occurred to her. “Oh, dear, what have you told her about us?”

“Actually, I told her I would give her a few days to settle in and replenish her wardrobe before introducing you to her. You will not have long to wait.”

Elizabeth drawled from the sofa, “Then your betrothed is not Lady Winslow?”

He was startled. “Of course not. Where would you get such an idea?”

“So you have caused another scandal. I cannot decide which is worse, that you might have married that awful widow, or that you have apparently jilted her for someone else.”

“Well, when you decide, be sure to apprise me of it,” he said sternly. His steely voice had put down the pretensions of many ladies over the years, and Elizabeth had just gotten her own dose of it.

Sadly, his sister had been raised with their father’s scorn and was largely immune to even Brandon’s harshest tones. “Come down off your high horse, Brandon. We have been waiting this age for you to do your duty and marry, and then we hear you are engaged to a woman no one has ever heard of.” She sighed. “I think we may be allowed a little pique at your behavior.”

“Of course, you are allowed all of the temper you wish.”

“That is enough, both of you.” Maggie stood and glared at them. “Elizabeth, Brandon told us ten minutes ago he was willing to tell us what we wanted to know about his betrothed, but your barbed remarks have kept us in the dark still.”

“My noble defender!” Brandon bowed his head and kissed the tip of his fingers to her.

“Do not be flirting with me,” she said. “You are just as bad as Liza—I mean Elizabeth.”

He wanted to word his announcement carefully. Liza was determined to be unpleasant and Maggie already pictured him with six children. He decided to honor Grace’s wishes against lying to them.

“Her name is Lady Grace Endicott and she is the Earl of Pennington’s daughter.”

Elizabeth could not hold back her exclamation. “I do not know the Earl of Pennington, but if you have been smart enough to choose an earl’s daughter, then I owe you an apology!”

“I can die happy now, to be sure,” he muttered.

“Go on, Brandon.”

“I did decide during the Little Season that I might look around for a wife—doing my duty, isn’t that what you call it, Elizabeth? You may think what you like about Patrice Winslow, but I have never offered for her or given her cause to believe that I would. You may ease your minds on that score.

“I recently attended a house party in Rivenhall. While in Essex, I was introduced to Lady Grace. Her father and I share an interest in the Elgin Marbles.” Grace would have been proud of him, not a single untruth. He smiled at the thought. “My admiration of Lady Grace grew rather quickly and I offered for her.” Still the truth, although stretched to the breaking point.