It was easy for Amanda to confide, breathless with relief, that the cloud over Martin's name would soon be lifted. When the girls, who'd heard whispers of the old scandal, eagerly looked for an explanation, she divulged all they needed to know, skating over the details of the old crimes but ensuring they had a firm grasp of what was to occur later that afternoon and, even more importantly, the expected outcome and all that would ensue.
Delighted, Emily and Anne declared it seemed just like a fairy tale. Exchanging glances, Amanda and Amelia encouraged them further, confident that both girls would sit in their carriage and happily chatter to their mother all the way home, with Edward sitting by listening in.
There was no safe way to confirm that Edward had heard all the necessary details. Martin, on horseback, screened by low-hanging branches, watched the unfolding scene, watched Emily and Anne part from Amanda and Amelia and return to their mother's open landau. Edward climbed in and sat beside his mother. The landau rumbled off along the Avenue.
It passed Martin, concealed beneath the tree; he heard Anne relate: "It-the diary-is to arrive at five today!" Shaking the reins, he ambled out, following the carriage, not close enough to be sighted amid the other traffic but close enough to keep the Ashfords in view.
The girls talked non-stop. His aunt smiled, nodded and questioned. Edward sat next to her, po-faced, utterly still. When the carriage reached Ashford House, Edward descended, handed his mother down, then his sisters. Lady Calverton swept up the steps; Emily followed. Anne stepped out in her sister's wake-Edward stopped her.
From the corner of the street, Martin watched as Edward interrogated Anne. In sisterly fashion, Anne heaved a sigh and recited answers. Eventually satisfied, Edward let her go; she climbed the steps and went in. Edward remained on the pavement, his expression unreadable, then he whirled and strode quickly inside.
Martin watched him go, then returned to Park Lane to make his report.
After that… throughout the day, he and Amanda had to play the part of ecstatic lovers, projecting the image of a couple for whom the last hurdle to wedded bliss was teetering, about to fall. As indeed it was, but they were so keyed up, so focused on what would occur later, that billing and cooing was an unexpected strain. In large part, he left it up to her. Plastering a smile on his face, he aimed it at anyone who came up, stayed planted by her side, and thought of other things.
Until she jabbed him in the ribs. Turned a sweet smile on him. Her eyes sparked. "Your face keeps changing. It starts pleasantly besotted, then gradually gets harder until you look positively grim! Lady Moffat just asked if you're feeling quite the thing."
"Well…" He stopped himself from frowning at her. "I'm distracted."
"So think of something else-distract yourself with something else. Something pleasant."
There was only one thing he could think of that might work.
It did. The discovery that, despite all, she was still so deliciously flusterable, focused his predatory senses, and after that, an interlude in Lady Carlisle's music room while all her ladyship's other guests were indulging in post-prandial discourse on the lawns, seemed the perfect opportunity to distract them both.
Her shivering sigh as he slid into her was the sweetest music he had ever heard, her soft, smothered, keening cry as he drove her to ecstasy and she shattered in his arms the ultimate benediction.
When they drifted back to earth, finally caught their breath, she lifted her head, studied his eyes, then her lips, swollen from his kisses, curved in a smug smile. She scored her nails lightly up his nape, an evocative caress that made him shiver. She touched her lips to his. "You're mine," she whispered.
"Always."
He kissed her back. Realized they were both still too tense, too wound tight with expectation. Realized her ladyship's guests had much yet to discuss.
Decided to give them something more.
They gathered at five in Martin's library. Reggie and Jules's nephew, Joseph, currently acting in Jules's stead, had rearranged the furniture, swapping the daybed with a chaise from further down the long room.
"It was too distracting," Reggie declared when Amanda stood staring at the replacement chaise.
She had to admit that was true. Noting the daybed, still intact but at the other end of the room, she nodded. "It does make this area more formal."
"Precisely."
Luc joined them, nodding briskly. "The other four all know, but I saw no sign that any of them might interfere. Quite the opposite-they seemed delighted you were so close to clearing your name."
Martin's lips twisted. "Edward knows at least the vital details."
Luc met his gaze. "So the trap is set."
They settled to wait.
The library shared a wall with the front hall; when the front doorbell pealed, they all tensed. Listened to Joseph's footsteps cross the hall. Listened as he spoke to the caller.
It quickly became apparent that whoever the caller was, it wasn't anyone they'd expected; they listened as Joseph strove to get rid of the gentleman. But the voices behind the wall only rose higher; Amanda frowned. The tone seemed familiar…
Then she heard her name. Realized who it was.
"Good God!" Reggie glanced at her. "Isn't that-"
She snapped her mouth shut, surged to her feet. "I'll deal with this."
By the time she reached the front hall, her temper was on a seriously strained leash. Joseph heard her coming, glanced around, then stepped back and left the field to her. Left her facing the gentleman who had forced his way into the front hall.
"Mr. Lytton-Smythe!" Eyes narrow, she drew herself up. "I believe you were asking for me?"
Any wise man hearing her tones would have turned tail and run. Percival tugged down his waistcoat and frowned at her. "Indeed." He locked a hand about her wrist. "You will please me by leaving this house this instant!"
"What?" Amanda recoiled. Percival was gentleman enough not to drag on her arm, but neither did he release her; he stepped further into the hall as she stepped back.
Amanda halted and glared at him. "Mr. Lytton-Symthe, you appear to have taken leave of your senses! What has got into you?"
"Nothing at all-I have merely reached the limit of my patience. I have been-I am sure anyone would agree-extremely forbearing. I have watched you play games with others"-he wagged a finger at her-"and not sought to curtail such lighthearted pastimes. A last fling before taking on the sober mantle of marriage was reasonable enough, and while I can excuse your motives in assisting the rehabilitation of a relative of close friends, I of course did my duty to ensure that no interaction of a scandalous nature could ensue."
Amanda had been following his diatribe, absolutely astounded, but she fastened on that confession like a terrier. "Are you saying that you were the one who sent those girls out to Lady Arbuthnot's courtyard? And the other times-on the terrace at the Fortescues', and the Hamiltons' library? You thought to avoid scandal?"
Nose in the air, he nodded. She stared at him. "Why?"
"That ought to be obvious. I could not marry a lady whose reputation had been besmirched, however innocently. Now, given our agreement, I insist that you leave this house immediately. I'd heard you'd gone north, I assumed to visit relatives and so went to visit my aunt, only to learn on my return that you've been spending your time even more openly in Dexter's pocket. I will not stand for it. Now-"
"To which agreement are you referring, sir?"
Her tone finally penetrated; Percival stiffened. "To your agreement to marry me, of course."