Blake had not seen anything that convinced him of the benefits of marriage. Countless women married to miserable men. He shuddered.
“I may be many things, but I am not dishonest. I am who I am, and no one need expect anything else.” Blake clenched his fist. “I am my own man.”
He stretched out on the seat, rubbing his forehead in frustration.
Maybe you’ll meet your future wife.
Blake laughed mirthlessly—that would be a most unfortunate turn of events, albeit an impossible one.
“After all, I did make a promise.” His mouth twisted into a snarl. “And I am nothing if not a man of my word.”
In his mind, the image of a man towering over him, holding a belt in his hand, swam forward. “Do your duty.” The voice was cold.
Blake shook his head, clenching his jaw. “I am not a child.” He glanced out the window. “I will do what I want.”
He glared into the distance. He liked nothing less than doing what was expected.
It is time to be the gentleman.
ChapterThree
First Impressions
“How else is a man supposed to attract a good wife?” Lord Canterbury winked at Jane. “You are every bit the prim and proper English rose. A veritable and delectable, modest woman.”
Jane forced herself not to wince. She was painfully aware of how sweaty Lord Canterbury’s hand was as it clasped hers. A sweet, cloying cologne mingled with a particularly pungent and human scent. It was hot—almost painfully hot—and for some reason, everything seemed far too bright.
If I didn’t love Cressida half as much as I do, then I would not have come to yet another ball.
“Curse being maid of honor and needing to attend the engagement ball,” Jane muttered under her breath without thinking as the world seemed to shift in and out of focus.
What is wrong with me? Is my corset too tight?
“Pardon?” Lord Canterbury asked.
“Oh, nothing. I… It doesn’t matter.” Jane’s thoughts felt sluggish. She fought the urge to excuse herself at once, only resisting because she knew her mother was watching her.
I should never have let her talk me into this.
Lord Canterbury gestured towards Jane, his eyes lingering for a fraction too long on her chest. “I see that you care not for the more immodest fashions of the French. It is always nice to see an English woman dressed properly.”
“Am I? I…” Jane was struggling to focus, even as she noticed the man’s wandering eye. Her voice suddenly sounded far away.
When did I last eat?
She tried to plow through the molasses of her brain to discover the answer.
I remember eating breakfast. Surely I must have eaten lunch? I would not have forgotten, would I?
Yet, she had no memory of eating another meal. Her thoughts had been consumed with trepidation about the upcoming ball.
Lord Canterbury smiled ingratiatingly at her. “And so quiet. Honestly, it is so unusual to find a wallflower like you. A regular shrinking violet. Such a change from the other young women.”
Nausea threatened to overcome her, even as her anger flared. It seemed as though she were looking at everything through a particularly dirty window. The noise of the room hit her like a wall of bricks. She wanted to leave. No, sheneededto leave.
“I think… I must… If you could just… Excuse me.” Jane broke away from Lord Canterbury just as the floor beneath her began to roll ominously, drowning out her stab of anger.
Her vision darkened at the edges. Her legs seemed suddenly unable to support her weight.She stumbled, anticipating the impact with the cold hard floor, but hands caught her.
