All that lay before her was the challenge of convincing him her idea made sense. And with every word, she’d convinced herself too. This was practical. Her plan could work.
But now all her arguments and rationales scattered like dandelion fluff on the breeze.
Did he think she’d devised this scheme to get close to him again?
How could she admit that she’d come to him because there was no one else? No other man would agree to such a scheme, and she couldn’t imagine feigning an engagement with anyone but Rhys. He was, after all, the only man she’d ever considered marrying.
“I’m not trying to trap you in an engagement if that’s what you fear.” The heat in her cheeks spread down her neck and her pulse began to race.
“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Rhys, this could benefit both of us.”
He stepped closer, limned in golden morning light. He looked achingly handsome with his windswept hair and bright blue eyes, but he also looked exhausted. He glanced back at the pile of ledgers, one brow arched. “You agreed to help me, so I should agree to help you?”
“It does seem a fair exchange.”
He still had the foil in his hand and dragged the tip across a leaf in the study’s carpet design. “Wentworth is still at Hillcrest, is he not?”
“I departed early this morning, but I suppose he is.”
“He seems the most bearable of the lot. Would you not consider a real proposal from him?” He laid the foil down, balanced atop two ledgers. Turning to face her, he rested his backside against the desk’s edge.
“I barely know him.” Even from across the room, the intensity of his perusal made her warm. Her pulse sped. Tapping her foot against the carpet, she willed herself to face him. To maintain the same confidence she’d felt when she walked through Edgecombe’s doors.
“He seems a decent sort of chap,” Rhys retorted.
“I don’t trust him.”
His mouth curved. “But do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The single syllable felt sharp and false on her tongue. Though she was proposing a deception, she hated lying. “No.”
“No,” he agreed. “Of course you don’t. As you know too well, I’m not a trustworthy man.”
There was such wounded bitterness in his tone that Bella felt an urge to reassure him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t trust him, at least not with her heart. But she could believe in him enough to enter into an agreement that benefited each of them.
“Isn’t making deals the sort of thing you do in the Duke’s Den?”
“No. Not like this.”
“I know you well,” she told him, trying to find a way to explain why it would have to be him and no one else. “We’re familiar with each other.”
His eyes glinted when she said the word familiar and his mouth tipped in a mischievous slant.
“We were friends once.” He lifted off the desk and approached. “But you said you didn’t think we could be again.”
“I never said that. Not exactly in those words anyway.” Parting from him last night had left her unsettled and miserable because she’d allowed that single glimpse of hurt to slip out.
“Ah yes, only the implication that we’d never share confidences.” There was an aching wistfulness in his tone. “But if we do this, we’ll share quite a big secret between us.”
Bella clenched her teeth. He was making this far more difficult than she’d expected.
He stepped closer, arms braced across his chest. His gaze was intense, unrelenting. Somehow their positions had changed. She’d come to petition him and now all the questions were directed her way.
She blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. “My parents wish me to marry. I will not agree to that for expedience’s sake to a man I barely know and who does not . . .” She’d been on the verge of confessing all the foolish notions that still filled her head when it came to love and romance. “A man who does not appeal to me.”
“Ah.” His eyes lit up. “So I appeal to you?”
“You did once,” she admitted. “Not anymore.” Never would she let herself tread that path again.
His low chuckle shocked her and her pulse pounded in her ears when he stepped closer.
“That almost sounds like a challenge, Bella.”
“An impossibility, I promise you.” If there was one man in England she would never trust with her heart, it was the handsome scoundrel watching her with a knowing smirk.
“You shouldn’t underestimate me.”
She barely resisted rolling her eyes. He wasn’t simply bold. His confidence had reached epic proportions. Though he’d teased her plenty in the past, it had never been like this. With heat in his gaze.
He was too close. She could see the darker flecks of lapis blue in his eyes and the dusting of blond stubble along his jaw that glinted in the morning light.
This wouldn’t do. She hadn’t come to assess his masculine appeal. This was supposed to be a sensible agreement.
“My parents are familiar with you.” The words tumbled out unbidden, as if her mind had dredged them up to save her from making an utter fool of herself.
“They are, and I admire them both. But what will they think of me after such a deception?”
“It’s a very temporary fib. And for their own good. They needn’t ever know it wasn’t a real engagement, only that we changed our minds.” The truth was that lying to her parents made Bella queasy. But this was necessary. There was no other way. “They worry ceaselessly about my happiness. They wish to see me settled.”
Mention of her parents seemed to unnerve him. He nodded and ran a hand over his chin. A muscle in his jaw began to tick. “They dote on you.”
“And expect a great deal of me.”
He smiled at her again, but not with his usual wolfish charm. This grin was softer. Almost tender. “You’ve never had trouble living up to their expectations.”
“My mother would disagree.” Bella’s mother had probably written a dozen poems about how her only daughter had disappointed her. “My four unsuccessful Seasons are glaring proof of how I’ve failed them.”
“Knowing your own mind isn’t failure.”
No one had ever put it that way. No one had ever framed her refusals in a way that made her seem admirable for making the decision that resonated as the right one, the only one, in her heart and mind.
“Maybe I’m just stubborn,” she confessed.
“You’ve always been stubborn, Arry. But I admire you for wishing to wait and choose wisely.” He took another step closer, his gaze fixed on hers. “Which is why I would be the worst choice you could possibly make.”
“It need only be—” Panic rushed up. He had to agree.
“Even temporarily.” He ducked his head, but she sensed there was more he wished to say. “My reputation is well-earned and that will affect how others think of you.”
“I don’t care.” A worse reputation than being icy and unfeeling? More dire rumors than that she was frigid and incapable of love? None of that frightened her.
“I do. It’s bad enough that my past choices may affect Meg. I won’t let them impact you.”