The Jane Austen Project by Kathleen A. Flynn

Author:Kathleen A. Flynn
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

IT WAS NO WEATHER FOR FRIVOLOUS OUTINGS, THE AIR DAMP AND the clouds thick, threatening rain at any moment, and I shivered despite spencer and shawl as we turned in the direction of Berkeley Square.

“He asked me to make him the happiest of men,” I said without preamble.

“Did he really? Amazing.” Liam’s tone was low and cautious, and he kept shooting sideways glances at me. “What did you tell him?”

“Your amazement is a little unflattering. It’s like I’ve never received a proposal of marriage before.” In fact, I never had, but now that the shock was wearing off, I felt my spirits rising; I could not suppress a grin of triumph.

Liam gave me another quick glance as if assessing my sanity. “Amazing, as in—grand—brilliant. It means we’ve succeeded in convincing them that we—But what did you say to him, Rachel dear?”

“I told him I had to think it over.”

“And how did he take that?”

I paused, recalling the enjoyable sensation of his nose in my cleavage. “As well as can be expected.”

“He didn’t ask to talk to me?” Henry would need to have the money conversation with the male relatives of anyone he hoped to wed; marriage was as much about property as love. What he could offer, what I brought to the table, terms of the settlement.

“I think he said something about talking to you. We didn’t really get into it.”

“He was too busy removing articles of your clothing?” Liam demanded, his voice rising. I blinked; had he just said that? “Whispering sweet nothings? Pledging his undying love?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

He turned his head away and did not reply for a long moment. I looked down the street, a tunnel of terraced houses bristling with ironwork and watchful with windows. And at the end, Berkeley Square opened up to swirling gray clouds behind bare tree shapes, like a promise of freedom.

“I’m sorry. I’ve no right to ask about anything that happened between you and him. Except as pertains to the mission.”

His words were formal, his tone careful. Could he be jealous? I felt a flutter of hope, also amusement. “There’s nothing to—”

“Of course you’re attracted to him. He’s a compelling—You just have to be careful, that’s all, we both have to be careful, this—You don’t want to change history, is what I’m saying. At least—at least not more than we apparently already have.” He fell silent, looking miserable. “He’s the sort of man one can’t help—But just be careful, Rachel. This is not our world.”

“You don’t imagine I feel anything for him? I’m playing a part. Remember?”

“I see how you look at each other,” Liam muttered. “I don’t judge, but I see. You’ve not acted before, you don’t know; it happens before you know it’s happened, when the feelings you feign become the feelings you—” He stopped.

I thought of the sensation that had overtaken me when I was with Henry, of vanishing into the role. As we reached the square and stepped in under the bare trees, the sky had grown darker; a drop of rain plinked onto the brim of my bonnet, then another.

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