Indeed, after their sojourn at Hightham Hall, he was even more wary of rocking their rowboat at this point in time, of giving her any excuse to balk or back away from the altar. One afternoon and one night had altered his perspective; where before he'd thought her desirable, very likely the right lady for him, after those two interludes, he knew.
He was absolutely adamantly set against giving her any chance of escaping him. Of doing anything other than becoming his wife.
On Wednesday next.
After that, he'd have plenty of time in which to find the right moment to tell her the truth.
Assuming she ever truly needed to know.
That last phrase whispered through his brain; he thrust it aside, refused to dwell on it, knowing it for the coward's way out.
He wasn't a coward — he would tell her, one day. Once she loved him, she'd understand and forgive him; that's what love was all about, wasn't it? All he had to do was encourage it in her, and all eventually would be well.
Reaching the front steps of Number 12 Upper Brook Street, he glanced up at the door, then determinedly climbed to the porch and rang the bell.
He'd sent a message earlier; Lord Arthur Cynster, Amelia's father, was expecting him.
"Come in, my boy." Arthur rose from the chair behind the desk in his library and held out his hand.
Going forward, Luc shook it. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, sir."
Arthur humphed. "I'd be given short shrift if I hadn't." Blue eyes twinkling, he waved Luc to a chair beside the desk. "Sit down." Resuming his seat, Arthur grinned. "What can I do for you?"
Luc returned his smile easily. "I've come to ask for Amelia's hand."
That — getting out the words he'd never thought to say — was the easy part. Arthur beamed, and said the expected things; he'd known Luc from childhood and viewed him from a position similar to that of a distant uncle.
Amelia's wish to marry at Somersham Place the next Wednesday—"That's her choice, and I'm happy to indulge her" — had Arthur's brows rising, but he accepted his daughter's stubbornness without a blink.
They eventually got to the financial aspects.
Luc drew a folded letter from his pocket. "I asked Robert Child for a declaration, in case you'd heard any rumors that the current position of the Calv
ertons had been adversely impacted by my father's activities."
Arthur blinked, but accepted the document, opened it and read. His brows rose. "Well, my word. No need to worry on that score." Refolding the letter, he held it out to Luc. "Not that I'd expected to."
Luc reached for the letter; Arthur didn't immediately let go. Luc met his gaze — very blue, very worldly — over the document.
"I didn't imagine you had any financial worries, Luc. Why, then, this letter?"
Arthur released it and sat back, waiting, patient and paternal. It had been sometime since Luc had faced such an interview.
He knew better than to lie — wouldn't have done it anyway. "I…" He blinked, then steeled himself. "The fact is Amelia imagines I'm very much less wealthy than I am. In short, she thinks her dowry plays a part, indeed, is significant, in cementing our union."
Arthur's brows had risen high. "But that's clearly not so."
There was a smile — a definite smile — flirting at the corner of his future father-in-law's lips; Luc felt the ground firm beneath his feet. "Indeed. However, I don't, at this juncture, wish to… rattle her with that revelation."
Leaning back, he gestured to the paper lying folded on his knee. "She'll court no danger of penury by marrying me, but you know what she — indeed, ladies generally — are like. We came to our understanding unexpectedly and rapidly — there wasn't a suitable moment, earlier, to correct her misapprehension. Now… as she wishes to marry so soon, I would prefer not to broach the matter at this time—"
"On the grounds that she's likely to dig in her heels, insist on reexamining every last detail, and generally make your life a misery because she misunderstood, and very likely not agree to marry in June, and subsequently hold the fact against you for the rest of your days?"
He hadn't followed the outcome quite that far; it was no difficulty to look aggrieved. "In a nutshell, yes. So you see the problem."
"Oh, indeed." The twinkle in Arthur's eyes suggested he saw more than Luc would wish, but was prepared to be understanding. "So how do you see us proceeding?"
"I was hoping you would consent to keep the matter of my wealth in confidence, at least until I've had a chance to break the news to her."