problem .â
A problem indeed, one fraught with risk. Fabien did not want to choose, to commit her fortune and by inference his support to any of the four. Favor one and the other three would slit his throat at the first opportunity. Metaphorically, definitely; possibly literally. All that, sheâd understood; the observation that Fabienâs manipulative schemes had come home to roost with a vengeance she had kept to herself.
âIt is no longer an option to approve an alliance for you inside France, yet the pressure to bestow your hand will only increase.â Fabien had eyed her thoughtfully, then continued in his silken purr, âI am therefore of a mind to leave this now-unsatisfactory arena and move to potentially more productive fields.â
Sheâd blinked at him. Heâd smiled, more to himself than her.
âIn these troubling times it would, I feel, be in the best interests of the family to develop stronger connections with our distant relatives across the Channel.â
âYou wish me to marry an émigré?â Sheâd been shocked. Ãmigrés were generally of low social standing, those with no estates.
A frown had flitted through Fabienâs eyes. âNo. I meant that if you were to attract the attentions of an English nobleman, one of station and estates equal to your own, it would provide not only a solution to our present dilemma but also a valuable connection against the uncertain future.â
Sheâd continued to stare, stunned, surprised, her mind racing.
Misinterpreting her silence, Fabien had drawled, âPray recall that the English nobility is largely if not exclusively composed of families descended from William. You might be forced to learn their ghastly language, but all of any consequence speak French and ape our ways. It would not be so uncivilized as to be insupportable.â
âI already know the language.â It had been all she could think of to say, as a vista sheâd never thought to see had opened before her. Escape. Freedom .
Seven years of dealing with Fabien had taught her well. She had held her excitement in, kept it from her expression, her eyes. Sheâd refocused on him. âYou are saying you wish me to go to London and seek an alliance with an Englishman?â
âNot any Englishmanâone of station and estates at least equal to your own. In their terms, an earl, marquess, or duke, with considerable wealth. I need hardly remind you of your worth.â
All her life sheâd never been allowed to forget that. Sheâd frowned at Fabien, letting him believe it was because she didnât wish to go to England and consort with the English, while sheâd assembled her plan. Thereâd been one very large hurdle in her path. Sheâd let disillusionment and disgruntlement color her face, her voice. âSo I go to London and glide about their salons, being oh-so-nice to the English milords, and then what? You decide you do not after all wish me to marry this one. And then later, maybe not that one, either.â
Sheâd given a dismissive humph, folded her arms and looked away. âThere is no point. I would rather go home to Cameralle.â
She hadnât dared peek to see how Fabien responded to her performance, yet sheâd felt his dark gaze on her, intent as always.
After a long moment, to her considerable surprise, he had laughed. âVery well. I will give you a letter. A declaration.â He had sat at his desk, drawn forth a piece of parchment, then picked up his pen. He spoke as he wrote. âI hereby confirm that as your legal guardian I agree to your marrying a member of the English nobility of station equal to your own, of estates more extensive than your own, and with income greater than your own.â
Sheâd watched him sign and hadnât been able to believe her luck. Heâd sanded the paper, then rolled it and held it out to her; sheâd managed not to