Page 63 of A Mismatch Made in London

We jolted apart to find the door wide open—and a group of older ladies standing there looking at us.

“What is the meaning of this?” the first one said, loud enough for all the ladies behind her to hear. They were all leaning forward, as if trying to get a better look. One of them was Lady Snowden.

My face began to burn. What had I done? This could not be happening. I didn’t do things like this. This was bad.

Jeremy was looking only at me. Suddenly, he took my hand.

“Miss Amelia Moore,” he said in a voice so loud it startled me, “will you do me the very great honor of consenting to be my wife, thereby making me the happiest man in the world?”

His face was intense, burdened even. And the ladies were gasping and whispering and pushing to get into the room.

How could he even ask me? For I knew if he cared for me at all it was only as the friend of his sister.

Jeremy whispered out of the side of his mouth, “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

Had I really said that?

But what choice did I have? I couldn’t bear for these women to think me a trollop.

As soon as I did, the ladies erupted in gasps and murmurs, but they seemed mostly happy gasps and murmurs. I wasn’t sure, for I was gazing into Jeremy’s eyes just before he embraced me, pulling me close. Then he turned to the ladies, one arm still around me.

“Please allow me to wish you very happy,” the first lady said, but she was giving us a rather dubious eyebrow raise.

“Forgive us for bursting in on your proposal,” another lady said, grinning broadly. “We were looking for an empty room to discuss where our group would be meeting next for whist. What a happy surprise! We wish you much joy and happiness in your coming marriage.”

The others wished us the same joy and happiness, with varying degrees of sincerity and enthusiasm.

But it wasn’t true. I wasn’t marrying Jeremy Beaumont. No doubt, he was asking to marry me only to avoid ruining my reputation. He did not love me, and I did not love him.

He very soberly said, “Thank you, ladies. You are very kind,” nodding to every one of them. So I followed his lead and pretended to be sincerely happy, though I said not a word. It wasn’t required, but I’m not sure I could have said anything if I’d wanted to.

All of this began because Juliet was so worried about her brother fighting Fairweather and getting killed. And there she was, making her way toward us with wide eyes, her mouth open.

“Are you engaged?” she asked, sounding as shocked as she looked.

The ladies had turned around and were all leaving, so I whispered, “No.”

“Yes.” Jeremy’s jaw looked as if it were made of stone.

Juliet looked back and forth between us.

I didn’t know what to say.

“I asked Miss Moore to marry me, and she said yes. Therefore, we are engaged.”

Perhaps he meant for us to break the engagement later, after everyone had forgotten that we’d been caught kissing at Lady Everson’s ball. That could work, could it not? It must, for I had no wish to marry someone who didn’t want to marry me.

But why had he kissed me?

And why had I let him?

18

I spent the rest of the evening by Jeremy Beaumont’s side, mostly in a state of confusion, though I smiled and pretended to be happy. He danced with me three times, until I said, “I’m tired. I think I’d like to sit.”

“Forgive me. Of course. I’ll bring you some lemonade.” He seated me beside Mrs. Kendall, who couldn’t stop smiling.