Page 46 of A Game of Scandal

“An accident, Mother,” Mr Trent said, scrambling up the side of the pond, and sending me a darkling look when his foot slipped in a patch of mud, and I found myself trying to disguise another laugh.

“I noticed that you had lost your hat, Mr Trent,” a voice said from beside me, and I turned to see that Laing had finally appeared.

My heart sank.

It seemed likely, then, that he really was having me watched. The fact I was right about that was cold comfort. Now the theory was proved I had no idea what to do with the results.

Laing’s tone was perfectly steady, as was his hand as he held out Mr Trent’s sodden hat, though I thought amusement was in his eyes. “I have retrieved it for you.”

“Thank you,” Mr Trent said, snatching it away. “If you will excuse me. Good morning.” He sent me another glare and turned on his heel, striding down the path with his mother trailing after him.

“Oh dear,” Mother said faintly. “Poor Mr Trent.”

“I’m sure he’ll recover,” Laing said, seemingly unruffled by the events of the past few minutes. He bowed. “It’s nice to see you again, Your Grace.”

Mother rallied. It seemed that she wasn’t about to be cast down by so minor a setback as me almost drowning a potential suitor in broad daylight.

“Mr Laing,” she all but purred. “How charming.”

“It’s serendipitous that we should run into one another so soon.” Laing’s eyes lingered on my face. “Perhaps,” he continued solicitously, “I might have some private conversation with Lady Felicity?”

“I’m sure my daughter would be delighted,” Mother answered for me. “I’ll hang back here and admire the scenery.” She twinkled conspiratorially at Mr Laing, and he chuckled warmly. He tucked my hand through the crook of his arm and we strolled on.

“I’m glad to get this opportunity to speak with you,” I began, calling to mind the speech I had prepared. It was to be diplomatic and elegant, a quick, painless severing of any expectation he may have. Hopefully, if I made it clear I wasn’t going to marry the man, he would turn his attention away from me and back to whatever nefarious deeds Izzy was investigating. Sylla had called my involvement a complication and I was inclined to agree. Best for all concerned if I removed myself from the equation altogether.

“As am I, Lady Felicity.” Laing nodded. “I’m keen to continue the conversation we had when last we met. The one about your aversion to marriage.”

“Oh!” I faltered, not prepared for him to be so direct. “Well, yes,” I said more firmly, trying to steer us back to my prepared remarks on the subject. “That is precisely what I wished to discuss with you.”

“Wonderful,” Laing said mildly. “As I suspect may often be the case, you and I are of one mind. So while I quite comprehend your lack of interest in the … gentlemen who may approach you in society” – at this, he glanced back towards the pond where Mr Trent had suffered his great indignity – “I hope that you’ll agree that you and I might deal quite differently.” He leaned in towards me, and his voice dropped, low and intimate. “I see you, you know. Though you’re a member of the ton, you’re not truly one of them. You long to break free of these foolish conventions.”

He placed his hand over mine, lightly squeezing my fingers. “I see a dazzling intelligence and a quick wit. And, to continue speaking plainly, I find that extremely attractive. I hadn’t thought I would marry,” he said thoughtfully, “but you are a rare jewel indeed.”

A rare jewel – that was how he thought of me. A valuable object to be collected. And, perhaps, guarded. I shivered at the thought.

“So you do … wish to marry me?” I managed.

“I do.”

Even though it was precisely what I suspected, the words still struck me like a blow. He walked beside me, cool as a February day, while I tried to gather my wits.

“I’ll admit I haven’t received many proposals of marriage,” I said, aiming for a breezy tone, while I calculated how best to deliver a rebuff he would accept, “but this strikes me as a most unusual way to go about it.”

“Naturally I’ll have to court you first. Convention demands it.” He sighed. “But I suppose it’s a small price to pay. I intend to have you for my wife.”

“Well, I don’t intend to have you,” I said, the words out of my mouth before I could think about them.

So much for diplomatic and elegant.

“A mind such as yours is naturally disposed against the idea of marriage,” Laing replied, and I found myself furious that he believed that he knew or understood me.

“While I’m currently determined not to marry anyone,” I said, trying hard to keep control of my temper and the situation, “I don’t wish there to be any misunderstanding. I’m afraid we will not suit, Mr Laing. I’m grateful for your proposal, but I’m sorry, I cannot accept.” There. That was certainly clear and to the point.

His hand twitched, tightening round my arm. “I think if you were to reflect on the advantages of such a match, you would come to change your mind,” Laing said tensely. “I know you to be a pragmatic young woman. You should have a husband worthy of your intellect.”

“Please do not presume to know me.” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady while I felt like a moth trapped beneath a glass. I turned back to signal my mother, who made her way towards us. “Let me be utterly clear, Mr Laing, as that is what you say you prefer: nothing could induce me to marry you.” I went to pull away, but he continued to grip my arm, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave a mark, and I made a small sound of distress before I could stop myself.

“This conversation is not at an end,” he said. His voice was low, but something sparked like a flint in his eyes. “I told you once before: when I set my mind to something, nothing stands in the way of what I want.”