bowl.
“What exactly do ye mean?” he demanded. While his eyes conveyed seriousness, his mouth smiled agreeably for the obvious benefit of the other guests.
“It’s quite simple, really,” she replied, taking the lemonade he offered her. “I will learn which young lady is most amiable and whose countenance,
and purse,
are most suited for a man of your position.”
Lord Somerton considered her words. “Interesting notion.”
“If you desire, I will go so far as to befriend her to discover the exact amount of her dowry.”
He lifted a brow.
“You doubt me?” Eliza raised her chin. “Young ladies often share information that men deem too private to discuss. I assure you, Lord Somerton, you will never learn as much about a potential bride’s family as you would through me.” Eliza smiled brightly. “Join me in this arrangement and together we can save Somerton.”
“A most intriguing proposition, Miss Merriweather.”
Eliza held her breath in anticipation of his answer. The seconds passed slowly. Too slowly. Why wasn’t he answering?
All he had to do was pretend interest and her aunts would have no need to bombard her with potential suitors. Hadn’t she positioned it well enough? Was this not the perfect solution for them both? Evidently not.
She had to think of something else. Had to sweeten his prize. Then, Eliza came upon the perfect solution … for them both.
“I will paint your portrait,” she added.
“My portrait?” He rubbed the hazy beginnings of stubble on his chin.
Was that a hint of intrigue in his voice?
“I am quite a skilled painter,” she proudly told him.
Eliza studied his reaction. From the look on his ridiculously handsome face, he was mulling over her offer. “I am certain your heirs would want a portrait of the fifth earl— the man who saved Somerton for future generations.”
He chuckled dryly. “Ye’ve figured me out already, have ye? Aren’t ye the clever one?”
“Yes, my lord.” Eliza turned her face up to his and smiled. “Come now, you must realize that spending time with me would benefit you in other ways as well. Look around you. I count at least six marriage-hungry mammas ready to thrust their daughters at you the moment I leave your side.”
The earl looked around the ballroom.
Close, so close.
Eliza scattered a few more crumbs before him. “But, make your attentions to me known, and they will be quick on the trail of some other titled bachelor—until you are ready to select a bride, of course.”
Lord Somerton drew a deep breath through his nostrils then exhaled as he glanced around the ballroom once more. He turned to look at her.
“While I am certain I will live to regret this, Miss Merriweather, I will agree to this
arrangement
of yers.”
“Marvelous!”
Eliza said, a bit louder than she meant to.
“I’ll pose as yer dutiful suitor for the season and ye—”
So eager to begin, Eliza cut him off before he could finish. “I will investigate potential brides for you and paint your portrait then, shall I?”
“Aye,” he agreed.
Eliza bounced gleefully on her toes. Both painting and snooping would keep her mind occupied—until this egregious season was at its end.
With his acceptance of this arrangement, her future
and
her thoughts would be her own once more.
Late the next morning, Eliza sat at the table swirling a silver spoon through the steaming tea Mrs. Penny had poured.
She glanced at the case clock in the corner. It was already eleven in the morn. Eliza slumped in her chair. They had returned from the Greymont’s ball only five hours earlier.
She would never survive the season.
Aside from Mrs. Penny and the rest of the Featherton’s meager house staff, Eliza appeared to be the first to rise. This she had done primarily out of habit, for had she thought about it, she certainly would have remained in bed well past the stroke of noon to catch up on her sleep like a good debutante.
But tired as she was, the day already