A Grand Deception (15 page)

"So you've been secretly tutored." Sherwin must have finally understood what she had done.

"And you must know my father would not approve of my
being here, nor would my aunt." Muriel began to relax and
moved out from behind the desk. "I must deceive them for
my education, if I am to see Signore Biondi at all."

"Yes, yes, of course ..." Sherwin seemed relieved and at
the same time disappointed in himself for the lapse.

"What does any of it matter?" Muriel was well aware of
his daily presence in the Park, with a different young lady
every day, and his highly anticipated, much-touted attendance at every evening affair. He probably did not give her
a second thought. "I am nothing to you."

Their waltz last night could not have meant anything more
to him than it had to her. The purpose was to quash annoying rumors. Muriel would never admit that she had, not in
the smallest amount, enjoyed their dance, enjoyed the feeling
of his arms around her, of him holding her close. She had enjoyed herself so very completely.

"Nothing? You could not be more wrong." Sherwin's voice
softened, and he moved very slowly toward her. "I know
there have been difficulties between us, especially that first
time we met here in Town."

Muriel hated to think of that night at Almack's. Never
had she felt more angry in her life. It wasn't too long after
that, though, that her feelings had changed. She wasn't so
vexed anymore. He was, after all, the very same Sherwin
she had corresponded with for many years.

"You are ... you mean, the world to me," Sherwin stated
in a clear voice, without a hint of torment or mockery.

Muriel somehow knew he was telling her the truth. But
she could hardly believe it. Was it possible he had forgiven
her? Not only forgiven, but held her in great affection?

"I imagine we were both hurt; I know I was," he confessed. "We thought we'd been completely honest with each
other-and I believe we had been, except for that which
we'd omitted. It's only, we hadn't expected that our own actions, our each coming to London, would affect the other.
How would we have known?"

Muriel had thought him at Eton, and it had never occurred to her he would visit London for the Season. So why
tell him of her visit? How lowering to confess that she would
pretend to stand in the petticoat line. Going to Town allegedly to seek a husband? How could she possibly write to
him of that?

"Our years of correspondence were my happiest. Everything changed when my father and brothers died." He turned
away from her to sit on the edge of the desk. "All I cared
about was my studies and your letters. Now I'm the Earl. I
have to manage the estates, find a wife, marry and ..." He
closed his eyes. "I hate my new life. My mother brought me
to Town and has me courting a countless number of young
ladies, none of whom I care for in the slightest." The muscles of his jaw tightened, showing his irritation. "I could not
write to you of these things. I should have confided all to
you. I sincerely regret it now."

Muriel remained silent and listened to his tale. The longer he spoke, the more she empathized with him. Coming
to Town had at least been her choice; it had not been his.

"Only since I've seen you-" He opened his eyes and
faced her. "I have to confess that all I can think of is you.
Where you are and, even though it pains me, who it is sharing your company. It has taken me quite some time to realize how dear you are to me." Sherwin took her hand lightly
in his. "I cannot bear the thought of being apart from you.
If I must marry, I very much want it to be you."

"What?" Muriel could not have heard him correctly.

"We'll make the Grand Tour for our wedding trip." Excitement shone on his face, lighting up his eyes, animating
him. "Perhaps we'll travel straight to Italy. I daresay we've
both shared that interest for ages. We shall go to Rome and
stay for as long as you like. A year, no-two!"

Of course Muriel wished to see Rome. It was her fondest
desire. But-

"If after Rome you wish to continue to Greece, we shall
depart immediately. All you need do is say the word."

Muriel blinked and did not know what to make of this.
He wished to marry her? This was all so very sudden.

"Is that a proposal?" She could hardly believe what she
was hearing and could not help but tease him a bit. "It's not
very romantic, is it?"

"As far as I know, you're not a very romantic sort of girl,"
he stated evenly.

"And you know me so well, don't you?" Muriel had to
admit, she wasn't the highest stickler when it came to propriety. Actually, in most cases, she cast the whole idea aside ...
why had she thought it mattered now?

"Yes, I believe I do." Sherwin smiled first, and Muriel
soon followed.

Still, what made him think she would ever accept such a
casual, offhanded offer?

They weren't children anymore, and no one made Muriel
realize it better than the grown Sherwin, the Earl of Amhurst.

"You're right, I'm not very romantic." She spied him out
of the corner of her eye. He understood her very well.

"I adore you, Moo." Sherwin's smile widened, and he
pressed her hand. "My search for a bride has ended. There is
no one else for me. If you think on it, you'll know we belong
together."

The declaration still shocked her. He sounded certain
where his heart lay. It hadn't occurred to Muriel until that
moment how deeply she had buried her feelings. She had
been convinced he had absolutely no interest in her. But she
did care for him.

"This is not why I came to London. I had no expectations
of marriage," she confessed. "I did everything to discourage
any of my suitors from reaching the point of offering."

"I was never one of your suitors. I have only a passing
acquaintance with your family, and I have yet to pay even a
courtesy call on you." For someone who did not appear interested in courtship, he seemed to know exactly what was
proper and how to go about it. "We shall remedy that at once.
I realize all this is new and sudden, but you shall come to
realize, just as I did, it is meant to be."

"I cannot say no," she confessed.

He placed a kiss on the back of her gloveless hand. The
feeling of his lips upon her skin caused Muriel's breath to
catch. The pencil stub that she held in her left hand slipped
from her fingertips, hit the carpet, and rolled across the floor.

"For now our engagement is secret-sub secreto," he told
her. "But it shall not remain so for long."

Muriel stepped near and slid into his arms, where he held
her close. This was so very right. This was where she belonged. How could she ever have thought that there could be
anyone except Sherwin for her?

Sherwin's purpose for coming to Town had suddenly become perfectly clear. It had taken some time for the chaos
that had come with the death of his father and brothers to
ebb, but finally he felt at peace. Every element, every aspect
of Sherwin's life had fallen into place, just as if it had been
preordained.

"Is there cause for celebration?" Signore Biondi had reentered his study in silence. "I see the signorina has left.
She appeared most felicitous, even though she has missed her
lesson."

Gazing at Muriel was like looking into a mirror, Sherwin
realized. She reflected every affection and good feeling inside of him. How he would remain sane until he could see
her, be near her again, Sherwin did not know.

"I am quite overwhelmed," Sherwin replied. "I do not have
the words, in any language, to express myself."

"Of course it is so. You are not fluent in Italian!" Signore
Biondi shrugged. "Ah! I have something for you. Attesa qui
per uno momento." He drew his banyon to one side, out of the way, and settled in his chair, then pulled open one of his
desk drawers and rummaged around. "I have always known,
even when the two of you were both young. Si, destino!"
Closing one drawer and opening another, the Signore continued his search. "Something very special, oh, yes, I knew
even back then." He pulled the desk drawer open and proclaimed, "Ecco!"

Lying in the palm of Signore Biondi's hand was a small,
round miniature painting set in a gold pendant. Sherwin lifted
his quizzing glass to examine the image. It was a profile of
Muriel-her eye, eyebrow, surrounded by wisps of her
brown hair.

"Hand painted on ivory. I completed it many days ago,
and just in time, I believe." Signore Biondi handed the goldframed miniature to Sherwin. "It is a gift for you, per
favore."

"You painted this?" It was a perfect rendition. The auburn hue of her curls, the arch of her brow, the shape of her
eye, and even the individual lashes. He'd even managed to
catch her impish manner in the glint in her eye.

"I must occupy myself with something while the signorina works her lessons, so I sketch." He leaned over Sherwin's arm to regard his work. "I have some talent, do I not?
It is good, yes?"

"It's an astonishing resemblance." He retrieved the empty
fob from his waistcoat and fastened the portrait for safekeeping.

"You can keep her near even when you are apart" Signore Biondi nodded in a knowing manner. "Italians truly
understand such things-and I think now that you do also,
yes?"

"Thank you, Signore." Sherwin slipped the miniature into his pocket, wishing the portrait lay even closer to his heart.
"I shall treasure it always."

Muriel stepped down from the carriage, continued up the
walk, passed through the front door of Worth House the
moment it swung open, and came to a stop just short of running into the large round table in the marbled foyer.

She hadn't even paused once. It was just like magic.

"What is wrong with you, Moo?" Susan finally caught up
and removed her hat, then untied Muriel's because she had
not moved to do so. "You haven't said a word the entire
drive home."

Muriel shrugged. How could she explain to Susan about
the lighthearted, flighty sensations like butterflies filling
her stomach, tickling her insides? Never before had Muriel
felt so happy.

"And you have the most peculiar expression. Whatever
are you about?"

Muriel wasn't thinking of anything in particular. Complete
happiness and images of Sherwin filled her soul. Gazing at
the bonnet Susan had lent her, Muriel mused that it wasn't
as silly as she'd first thought, the color not so garish, the
roped trim not as overdone but rather tastefully adorned,
and the gently arching ostrich feather was rather artfully
graceful.

All in all she found it rather quite splendid.

"Gracious, Moo!" Susan took her friend by the arm. "What
ails you? Your eyes may be open, but I believe you are
sleeping on your feet. If I tell your aunt as much, she would
insist you proceed directly to bed and make sure you stayed
there until morning."

"Oh, no-I must attend tonight!" If she missed the ball, she would not see Sherwin, and Muriel did so wish to meet
with him and, she hoped, dance with him. How she longed
for him to hold her in his arms again.

"Moo, are you quite sure you're feeling all right?" Susan
pulled the hat from Muriel's hand.

Muriel twirled away; maybe she spun twice. Oh, she did
feel silly. Is this what it felt like to be in love? Life was wonderful, perfect.

"I'm fine, Sukey." Muriel relished her lovely secret and
smiled. She was engaged to be married to the most wonderful man in all of Britain. "Actually, I've never been better."

Sherwin found preparation for the Burnettes' ball that evening bearable. He knew he would see his beloved, dance
with her, and, most important, take the first step in securing
her position as the new Countess of Amhurst.

He had tried to speak to his mother upon returning to
Lloyd Place, but she had been unavailable. Sherwin would
not allow much more time to pass. He would speak to her
on their way to the ball tonight or at the ball, if need be.

While standing with his chin slightly elevated as Lewis
did his magic, turning a strip of linen into a fashionable cravat, Sherwin thought back to the events of that morning: his
meeting with Muriel, their heated discussion, which turned
into a warm conversation, and finally to their secret engagement.

Sherwin truly hadn't been sure exactly how she would react to his declaration. What he had known was that he had
to confess his affection for her. It seemed that once he'd
started, he could not stop talking. He'd had to tell her how
much he esteemed her, held her in regard, and completely
treasured her.

He must have worn her down. She had said yes. Muriel
had agreed to marry him.

He'd been walking on air when he finally left Signore
Biondi's residence to return to Lloyd Place. As if by fate,
Freddie had dropped in and was just about to leave. Sherwin was ever so glad to regale his proposal and its outcome.

"My word . . ." the Earl of Brent drawled in obvious
surprise. He suggested Sherwin send a small but meaningful token of affection, an engagement gift, as it were.