“Andrew,” Victoria corrected him. “Andrew Bainbridge.”

Jason dismissed him with a shrug. “When the subject of our betrothal comes up, I want you to say what I’ve been saying.”

“What is that?”

“I say that everything is not quite settled, or that you don’t know me well enough to be certain your affections are fixed on me. That will leave the door open for your other suitors, and even Charles can’t object.”

“I’d much rather tell the truth and say we aren’t betrothed.”

Jason ran his hand across the back of his neck, irritably massaging the tense muscles. “You can’t. If either of us cries off now—so soon after your arrival in England—there will be a great deal of unpleasant speculation about which of us cried off, and why.”

Victoria remembered Caroline’s description of the ton's attitude toward Jason and she immediately guessed what people would think if she cried off. When she viewed it in that way, she was willing to continue the pretense of their betrothal. Not for the world would she repay Jason’s kindness and generosity to her by letting anyone think she found him repugnant or frightening as a prospective husband. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll say things aren’t quite settled between us yet.”

“Good girl,” he said. “Charles has already had one near-fatal attack and his heart is weak. I don’t want to worry him needlessly, and he is utterly determined to see you well married.”

“But what will happen to him when Andrew comes to take me home?” Her eyes widened as a new problem occurred to her. “And what will people here think when I—I toss you over to marry Andrew?”

Amusement gleamed in Jason’s eyes at her choice of expressions. “If that happens, we’ll say you’re honoring a former betrothal arranged by your father. In England, it is a daughter’s duty to marry to suit her family, and everyone will understand. Charles will miss you, but if he believes you’re happy, it will soften the blow. However,” he added, “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Charles has told me about Bainbridge, and I agree that he is probably a weak man who is under his widowed mother’s thumb. Without your presence in America to reinforce his courage and determination, he’s not likely to get up the gumption to defy his mother and come after you.”

“Oh, for heaven’s—” Victoria burst out, exasperated at his misconception of Andrew.

“I’m not finished,” Jason interrupted authoritatively. “It’s also apparent to me that your father wasn’t particularly eager for the two of you to wed—not if he insisted on a trial separation to test your feelings for each other, when you’ve already known each other all your lives. You were not betrothed to Bainbridge at the time of your father’s death, Victoria,” Jason finished implacably. “Therefore, if he does arrive on our doorstep, he will have to gain my approval before I will permit you to marry him and return to America.”

Victoria was torn between anger and laughter at his gall. “Of all the nerve!” she sputtered, her thoughts tumbling over themselves. “You’ve never met him and you’ve already decided what sort of man he is. And now you are saying I can’t leave with him unless he passes muster with you, you who practically tossed me out on my ear the day I arrived at Wakefield!” It was all so absurd that Victoria started to laugh. “Do you know, I never have the faintest idea what you are going to do or say next to astound me. I don’t know what to do where you’re concerned.”

“All you have to do,” Jason said, an answering smile tugging at his lips, “is look over the current crop of London fops during the next few weeks, choose the one you want, and bring him to me for my blessing. Nothing could be easier—I’ll be working here in my study nearly every day.”

“Here?” Victoria uttered, choking back a horrified giggle at his description of the way she ought to go about choosing a husband. “I thought you were going to stay at Uncle Charles’s house.”

“I’m going to sleep there, but I’m going to work here. Charles’s house is damned uncomfortable. The furniture is old and the rooms are mostly small and dark. Besides, no one will think anything of it if I’m here during the day, so long as you’re properly chaperoned, which you are. There’s no reason for me to be inconvenienced when I work. Speaking of chaperones, has Flossie Wilson chattered you into a coma yet?”

“She’s very sweet,” Victoria said, trying again not to laugh.

“I’ve never heard a woman talk so much and say so little.”

“She has a kind heart.”

“True,” he agreed absently, his attention shifting to the clock. “I’m engaged for the opera tonight. When Charles returns, tell him I was here and that I’ll be here tomorrow night in time to greet the guests.”

“Very well.” Giving him an impudent, laughing look Victoria added, “But I warn you I shall take the greatest pleasure when Andrew arrives and you’re forced to admit how wrong you’ve been about everything.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Oh, but I am counting on it. I shall ask Mrs. Craddock to fix a crow pie and I shall force you to eat it while I watch.”

In surprised silence, Jason gazed down at her laughing, upturned face. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

“I am not afraid of you,” she announced blithely.

“You ought to be,” he said, and on that enigmatic remark he left.

Chapter Thirteen

“Nearly everyone has arrived,” Miss Flossie bubbled excitedly as Ruth finished putting the last touches to Victoria’s coiffure. “It’s time to make your grand entrance, my dear.”

Victoria rose obediently but her knees were trembling. “I would much rather have stood in the receiving line with Uncle Charles and Lord Fielding, so I could meet the guests separately. It would have been much less nerve-racking.”

“But not nearly as effective,” Miss Flossie said airily.

Victoria took a last critical glance at her reflection, accepted the fan that Ruth gave her, and picked up her skirts. “I’m ready,” she said shakily. As they passed across the landing, Victoria paused to look down upon the foyer below, which had been turned into a wondrous flower garden in honor of her ball, with giant pots of airy ferns and huge baskets of white roses. Then she drew a nervous breath and climbed the curving staircase that led upward to the next story, where the ballroom was located. Footmen dressed in formal, green velvet livery trimmed with gold braid stood at attention along the staircase beside tall silver stands of more white roses. Victoria smiled at the footmen she knew and nodded politely to the others. O’Malley, the head footman, was stationed at the top of the staircase and she asked him softly, “Has your tooth been bothering you? Don’t fail to tell me if it pains you again—it’s no trouble at all to fix another poultice.”