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describe his reaction to her
question. He may have forgotten what she had written in her letter, but he
wouldn’t have forgotten a betrothal. His lapses in memory weren’t that far
along. Worried, he moved to sit next to her on the chaise. Grandmother was old,
yes, but she’d never suffered from delusions before. He knew some were prone to
them as they aged, but somehow he’d never thought his strong-willed, mentally
acute grandmother would be one of them.
    “What makes you think I am getting married?” he asked, his
tone gentle.
    She stiffened. “Don’t treat me like an old woman.”
    He smiled at that and she swatted his arm.
    “I forbid you to say it.” She frowned again. “Did you
receive my letter?”
    He wasn’t sure how to hedge that one. He didn’t want to lie
to her, but he also didn’t want her to worry. She didn’t have to know yet that
he’d started having headaches or that they were starting to affect his memory.
    “Your letter?”
    She sighed with resignation. “It must have missed you. But
if you didn’t come because of my letter, why are you here?”
    “Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with my favorite
grandmother.”
    “I am your only grandmother. And you are not going to want
to have anything to do with me soon.”
    This was what he’d been waiting for. He stood and faced her,
bracing himself for the worst.
    “What have you done, Grandmother?”
    “I have arranged for an announcement to appear in the papers
tomorrow morning about the ball I’ll be hosting here at the end of the month.”
    His confusion deepened. “Most people send out invitations to
announce a ball.”
    She didn’t react to the sarcasm in his tone. “I have sent
out invitations, but I wanted everyone to hear our happy news before then.”
    Dread crept up his spine. “News?”
     “Yes. News of your upcoming nuptials.”
    “My what? ”
    She really had gone mad. It was bound to happen at her age,
but that it should occur in so public a manner was beyond embarrassing.
    “Please, Grandmother, say you didn’t.”
    The dowager marchioness held firm. “I did.”
    His mind began to race. He paced to the door, hands combing
through his hair. He darted a glance at the clock on the mantel. It was almost
one o’clock.
    “If I leave now I might be able to reach London before they
go to press.” Presuming, of course, he didn’t suffer a relapse. His headache
was only marginally better, but he did feel steadier on his feet. He had no
idea how a newspaper was run, but he had to try to stop that announcement from
appearing.
    “You’ll stay right here,” his grandmother said, her tone
firm.
    Nicholas spun to face her.
    “I may be old, Nicholas, but I haven’t lost my senses.
Tomorrow’s item is not precisely an announcement. I merely arranged to have it
known that you plan to announce your betrothal at this ball. It will appear as
a bit of gossip.”
    That admission went a long way toward relieving some of his
concern.
    “Surely you don’t expect me to manufacture a bride-to-be
before then,” he said, exasperated by her meddling. She’d been trying to get
him to marry since his brother’s death, but this was going too far.
    “I know the Earl of Raymond would consent to a match between
you and his eldest daughter. And Lady Strathmore has been hinting broadly that
her daughter would favor a match with you. My preference would be for you to
wed your cousin Mary, as your brother had planned to do, to mend the rift
between the two families. I cannot force you to do that, however.”
    “How kind of you,” Nicholas said, unable to keep his
annoyance from his voice.
    His grandmother continued as though he hadn’t spoken.
    “I am sure speculation will be rife. I suggest you finalize
who your betrothed will be soon.”
    Nicholas could only stare at her, incredulous. The memory of
what had been in that damnable letter had come crashing back to him as she
spoke. How could he have forgotten the announcement of an