Page 30 of A Season for Scandal

“And that worked out perfectly,” Max said quietly.

I darted a glance at Oliver, who was looking at the lovestruck couple with such obvious disgust that it was almost funny. Still, Sylla was right. Working with the Aviary wasn’t a game, and I couldn’t quake at the first big challenge they set me.

“All right,” I said. “I suppose if it’s just for a few days it should be fine. Although” – I cast a look at Oliver – “you do realize you’ll have to meet them all?”

“What?” Oliver looked confused.

“My family,” I clarified. “If I’m going to disappear with you to join this house party, it’s going to look a bit strange if you haven’t introduced yourself. You don’t have to actually propose, but you need to…” I cleared my throat, the words coming haltingly. “You know… Appear to be making the effort to … woo me.”

Oliver’s face had turned a sickly shade of green. “No,” he said firmly.

“You asked for our help,” Mrs Finch reminded him. “This is the most efficient way to get answers.”

“Why can’t you just come as guests?” Oliver said desperately. “Why do we have to be” – he eyed me resentfully – “engaged?”

“Give me another good reason why you – a bachelor – have invited a young, unmarried florist and her godmother to stay in your house and dine with you and your family and wander around the house asking a lot of questions,” Mrs Finch said.

“I – I—” Oliver stuttered. “Perhaps I want her to … arrange some flowers for me.”

The look Sylla gave him was withering. “It is of absolutely no surprise to me that you desperately need our help.”

“Developing a sudden interest in flower arranging may be stretching it a bit.” Max pressed his lips together as though trying not to laugh, and Oliver skewered him with a glare.

“And let me ask you this.” Mrs Finch leaned forward, a knowing glint in her eyes, “What possible reason have you given the Lavignes for haring off to London and leaving them kicking their heels in Yorkshire?”

“I told them I needed to speak with the lawyer,” Oliver said stiffly. “To look into the information they gave me.”

“So their guard will be up,” Mrs Finch said. “Whereas we want them to relax. Let them feel like you believe them, so they let something slip.”

“Yes, it’s much better if you rushed down to London to propose to the love of your life,” Maud said. “And what could be more natural than to bring her home to meet your long-lost sister?”

“So romantic,” Winnie murmured.

Oliver made a strangled sound.

“Don’t worry, Mr Lockhart.” I managed a smile, my spirits perversely buoyed by his obvious discomfort. “I’m sure my family will love you.”

The queasy look on Oliver’s face deepened.

“Good.” Mrs Finch stood, shaking out her skirts. “So Oliver will call round to Bloom’s tomorrow afternoon and declare his intentions to court Mari, then we’ll all set off for Yorkshire.”

She said it as though she was talking about stopping in at the grocer’s.

“Time to put you out in the field, Mari.” The smile Sylla gave me was sharp. “And we’ll see just what you’re made of.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next day I found myself in the fraught position of explaining a romance I’d never mentioned with a man they had never heard of to my (understandably) bewildered family.

“But, Mari, what on earth do youmeanyou’re thinking of marrying this Mr Lockhart?” Mother asked, pacing the room as I tried to look calm. “Who is he?”

“I told you: he’s a factory owner from Yorkshire.” I said, fussing with the vase of violets I had placed in the middle of the dining table and trying to avoid eye contact with my entire family.

“But where didyoumeet a factory owner from Yorkshire?” Grandfather’s face was scrunched in a frown.

“At the library,” I replied promptly, delighted to be able to tell the truth for once. “Around six months ago.”

“Six months!” Mother said faintly. “And you’ve been keeping it from us all this time?”