Mary and Mama giggled, their faces glowing with admiration. But while they were thoroughly entertained, Sophie was valiantly struggling to stifle a yawn. She found his story too practiced and polished for her liking. He delivered it so smoothly, one had to wonder if he’d rehearsed it in front of a mirror a dozen or more times.

But she knew she wasn’t being fair. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Lord Singleton. Nothing, except … he wasn’t Reese.

“Sophie, dear,” Mama drawled. “The sun is shining and it’s an especially lovely day. Perhaps you’d like to show Lord Singleton the garden?”

The marquess’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. “I should very much like to see it.”

“Of course,” Sophie said, leaping at the suggestion. Perhaps if she moved, she’d be less likely to nod off. Besides, she could no longer put off the inevitable. The garden was as good a location as any to tell him she was finally ready.

And willing to become his fiancée.

Chapter 25

The garden area behind her parents’ townhouse was tiny, so Sophie had populated the space with miniature hedges, small flowerbeds, and a narrow stone path leading to a single bench tucked beneath a vine-covered trellis. It was an ideal spot to read a book or sip a cup of tea. And it would have been a perfectly lovely spot to accept a marriage proposal—if only that offer had come from the man she loved.

“I confess I was surprised to receive your letter,” Lord Singleton began. He sat beside her on the bench, sweat glistening on his forehead. “You said there was something you wished to discuss?”

She’d already decided to approach the conversation in as forthright a manner as possible. “Yes, my lord.”

“I think we should dispense with formalities,” he said kindly. “Please, call me Charles.”

“Very well … Charles. I’m ready to announce our engagement.” The words were easier to say than she’d anticipated. Perhaps because there was no feeling behind them—it was almost as though she were hollow inside.

“That’s … that’s wonderful,” he said with gusto, clearly hoping to convince her. Granted, she probably should have summoned a little more enthusiasm, but she didn’t want to be false with him.

“Forgive me for speaking plainly,” she said earnestly. “I admire and respect you, but the truth is that it may take a while for my romantic feelings to develop. I hope you understand.”

“I do.” He swallowed, then smiled a bit too brightly. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

She laid a hand on his forearm and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “You should know I intend to be a dutiful wife. I’ll do my best to make you happy.”

“You’ll make a fine marchioness. And I hope to make you happy as well.”