‘Gentlemen don’t snigger at their afflicted friends either,’ Lord Christopher Fellingham retorted as he threw himself into an armchair in James Albright’s library.

‘Snigger?’ Lord James blinked at his old friend through the thick lenses of his spectacles. ‘Never. But why were you courting the chit if you’ve no intention of marrying her?’

‘I was not courting her. I’ve known Antonia Woolmer since she was in the cradle. I was squiring her about, making her feel at ease in Town. Being neighbourly.’

‘But if you’ve been betrothed to her for years…’

‘It was a jest! Our fathers came up with the hair-brained scheme in their cups and it became a standing joke. You know the sort of thing, When you two young people are married, blah, blah. Then she’d blush and giggle and I’d put a frog in her pocket.’ Kit gestured, the heavy gold signet on his left hand catching the late afternoon sunlight. ‘We didn’t take it seriously, never spoke of it. Never agreed to it. Now, five months into her first Season, he’s demanding to know when I’m going to propose to her. The dratted man is doing everything except load his shotgun.’ He shuddered. ‘He’s in no mood to listen to reason!’

‘You can see why,’ James said. ‘He’s a country squire, you’re the Earl of Twyford, an excellent catch for his daughter and he believes he has you netted. But if you know her and like her enough, why not marry her? You were saying you were serious about settling down, establishing the nursery, all that.’

‘Because she’s a sweet girl with the brain of a peahen,’ Kit said. ‘And a giggle like a Guinea fowl.’ James winced. ‘If there are two ideas in her head, beyond shopping and fashions, I’ve never heard her utter them.’

‘Ah.’

‘Ah, indeed. I might be resigned to marriage but it doesn’t mean I’ve got to settle for a lifetime with a woman who makes my ears bleed with boredom after an hour.’

‘And who giggles. Yes, I understand. But what are you going to do?’

‘Tell him I never took it seriously, that I regard Antonia in the light of a sister.’

‘Will he accept that?’

‘Doubt it.’ Kit hunched a shoulder defensively. ‘Damn it, he thinks she’s perfect, but she’s not. Not for me. If I can’t get out of this with some smidgeon of honour then the pair of us will be condemned to a lifetime of indifference, at the best.’

‘Are her affections engaged?’ James asked. ‘If she’s in love with you, there’s no getting out of this.’

‘Lord no. She confides in me about one man after another. Perhaps she’d like an officer because of the uniform. Or a duke, because she’d like to be Her Grace. Or she thinks black-haired men are the most dashing. But she’ll obey her papa, that’s the rub.’

James got to his feet with a snort of laughter. ‘Good thing you are a civilian, blond earl, then. Well, now you’ve taken refuge here, you’d better make yourself at home. They’ve put you in the Green Bedchamber. I’ve got to talk to my secretary. Help yourself to the decanters, old man.’ He paused with his hand on the catch. ‘You’re done for unless you can convince him that you’ve a prior obligation—and a damn good reason for keeping it quiet.’

‘Hell.’ Kit stared at the closing door and then, with yearning, at the brandy decanter. Getting foxed wouldn’t make Antonia vanish. ‘What am I going to do?’

There was a sound from the far corner where a winged chair stood facing the shelves. A tousled head, crowned with two goose quills, appeared over the back and an oval face with a smudge on the chin and a pair of gilt-framed spectacles perched on its nose regarded him solemnly. ‘You could marry me,’ suggested the young woman. ‘I don’t mind.’

Chapter Two

‘…marry me.’ What on earth have I done? Chloe thought. Kit Fellingham was staring at her as if she had escaped from Bedlam.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded with less than gentlemanly finesse. At least he was not running. Yet.

‘Chloe Albright. Don’t you remember me?’

‘The bluestocking?’

Chloe hated that word. If a woman had a glimmering of intelligence and opinions of her own she was labelled a bluestocking. Which came with the subtext, eccentric, unfeminine and likely to run off to Wales to live with another woman in a man-hating household.

‘No,’ she said coldly, getting down from her unladylike position kneeling on the chair seat. ‘I am a scientist. A geologist to be exact.’

‘Plutonist or Neptunist?’ he demanded, startling Chloe. Not even her own family remembered that much information.

‘Plutonist. Which are you?’

‘I don’t know enough about it to form an opinion.’

A sensible answer. Chloe added intellectual humility to the other good points Kit possessed, which included being the nicest man she knew after her own brother. She hoped he hadn’t changed, it would be dreadful to propose to a man she could not like, even if it was all a ruse.

‘I have James Hutton’s work on the subject if you wish to borrow it,’ she offered. ‘I’m reading the final volume.’

Kit drew in a deep breath through his admirably straight nose which caused his equally admirable chest to expand while he narrowed his penetrating blue eyes at her and swept the dark blond hair from his forehead with one long-fingered hand. Aah…Chloe told herself that it was a perfectly rational female response to feel shaken, and stirred, by the display of so much masculinity.

‘Lady Chloe. We have moved from a proposal of marriage to the formation of the earth. Might we return to the former topic? Unless I misheard you?’

‘No, I did say it.’ Now was the time to blush prettily, but she had never mastered the art. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re in a fix. You’ve known me for ever, so we might have formed an attachment.’

‘I can recall you as a child. You used to help James get around.’ Her brother had poor eyesight from an early age, but he’d never let it hold him back. ‘But since then? You are out, aren’t you?’

‘I am two and twenty,’ Chloe said. ‘I have had three Seasons and danced with you during all three.’ And you did a very good job of convincing me you were having a delightful time. ‘I did not take. I am much happier as a scientist.’

From Kit’s face she could see he was not at all surprised she had not taken. Had his charm when they had danced been simply good manners? He had been amusing, interested and…special when they had talked. Handsome, of course, but that was not why she had felt as she had. As I do. It was inexplicable, irrational, and somehow that had convinced her as nothing else would have done that she truly had lost her heart. An impossible daydream, of course, but at least she could help him out of this situation.

As Kit’s expression shifted from baffled to mildly pitying she tore her gaze from his face. ‘Where have I put those quills?’

‘The two in your hair?’

Oh Lord… Her spectacles slipped and Chloe looped them into the chain around her neck with one hand while she plucked out the quills with the other. Most of her hair came down.

‘Tell me, Lady Chloe…’ She found Kit standing right beside her. ‘…Why should you want to marry me?’ He lifted his hand and cupped her chin. His thumb brushed across the point, sending shivers down her spine and Chloe wondered what he would say if she told him the truth.

Because being yours is my dearest fantasy and now I can pretend, if only for a very little while?

Chapter Three

Chloe was a rational woman. A scientist. Intellectually she knew she was unlikely to melt because a handsome man was caressing her chin, but it felt uncomfortably as though she was about to test the theory. She realised Kit had asked her a question.

‘You are in a difficult position and I can help you. James said you needed a prior engagement and a reason to keep it quiet. The scandal over my sister Penelope’s engagement would work. How could I be celebrating my own betrothal when poor Penny has broken off with Andrew White?’

‘Strong-minded lady, your sister.’

‘Of course! She found the beast having an orgy with Lady Isobel Jervis and she is still very upset.’

Kit released her chin. ‘That’s better. You had a smudge.’

Wonderful. ‘Thank you.’ I think. Her skin still tingled.

‘I agree your suggestion is feasible and would certainly convince Squire Woolmer, but what benefit is there for you?’

‘The knowledge that I had prevented an unhappy marriage taking place? The gratification of assisting an old friend of James’s?’

‘It seems rather a drastic way of offering help.’ His gaze moved to the stacks of books, the papers and the tray of rocks beside her chair. ‘Surely there is a gentleman who wishes to fix his interest with you?’ he asked. ‘I have no wish to be called out.’

‘There is no one else. You are perfectly safe.’ That brought the colour up over his cheekbones and she realised it must seem as though she doubted his courage. ‘I mean, there is no danger you would be hurting anyone.’

‘No? What about you?’

He was admirably scrupulous. ‘There is no risk to me.’ Liar.

‘Would we convince anyone?’ Kit still seemed doubtful. ‘What do we have in common?’

‘We don’t have to tell anyone except the Woolmers.’ He frowned at that, and she could see he might have scruples about the deception. They could discuss details later, but, after all, this would just be a temporary thing, until Antonia Woolmer fixed her interest elsewhere, and then they could discreetly ‘discover’ that they did not suit.

‘We are both intelligent and well-bred so Mr Woolmer would not be surprised at an engagement between us on, er…dynastic, grounds. Of course, people do say I am eccentric, but I assure you I have been trained to run a large household and I do not spend all my time hitting rocks with a hammer. He will see that I’m plain, and that might surprise him because you are known to be a high-stickler…’

‘You are no such thing.’ Kit frowned at her, doubtless searching for some feature he could compliment her upon and finding himself stymied by spectacles, wayward brown hair, freckles from being outdoors without a hat and, unlike her siblings, an undistinguished nose. ‘And I’m known to be what?

‘You must admit that you only flirt with the loveliest women.’

‘I —’

‘Thought I heard your voice, Chloe.’ It was James, head tilted to one side as he worked out who was in the room and where. ‘What are you doing? Keeping poor Kit from his brandy?’

‘Not at all,’ Kit said. He sounded a trifle strained, but that must be the effect of having to remain polite in the face of her proposition, instead of laughing his head off. ‘Lady Chloe, would you excuse us? I need to ask James’s permission.’

‘Permission?’ But she was of age and knew her own mind perfectly well and this was only pretence, after all.

‘About the matter we were just discussing, my dear.’ My what? But the flat of his hand, lightly against her back, urged her towards the open door. ‘We can discuss it again after dinner.’

And then she was outside, staring at the unyielding oak panels. Faintly she heard James’s voice. ‘You want to do what?’

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An Experiment in Love

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