Don Juan's eyes widened at her question. He hadn't really grasped the full implications of what he'd said when he'd said it (per usual, honestly) but now he didn't know how to walk it back. He didn't want to just lie to her face, and even if he tried he wasn't sure he could keep up a believable lie in a foreign language. On the other hand, how on earth could he explain having agreed to marry someone and not having told his family about it? There was no reasonable explanation, except for the truth — that he had no intention of actually marrying her. Merlin, he couldn't tell her the truth now. She'd slap him, he was sure — he deserved it — and he didn't relish the idea of having an audience of every woman in her family when it happened. Or of having to get past her brother to make his way out of the house.

"Oh," he said, entirely stuck. "Uh..."

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