“I am.”
“MissGwendolyn Smythe?”
Again, Lady Astley was clearly baffled. Gwen forced back her irritation at the implied insult.
There was a pause, then a firm and low response from Lord Abbott. “I was overcome by Miss Smythe’s beauty and wit. Her acceptance of my offer is a great honor that I will cherish for all my future days.” He sounded irate, defensive even. Of her?
Gwen bit her lip. Hidden behind him, she soaked in the wonder of what he had just said. If only it were true. Sadly, Lord Abbott had simply been caught at the wrong time with the wrong woman. When he saw her clearly in the light and discovered she was a gangly spotted ginger, he would be deeply disappointed and understandably wish to retract his offer.
And she would allow him to do so because she could not possibly hold him to blame for her own ill-advised behavior. She had wanted him to kiss her. Had actively participated.He could hardly be held responsible, and change the course of his entire future to include her, when they did not even know each other.
But he knows my name. Perhaps he knows me somehow?
It did not signify. She was on the shelf as it was. This scandalous encounter hardly ruined her non-existent prospects of courtship.
Squaring her shoulders, Gwen resolved to be honorable, too.
“Lord Abbott failed to understand me.”
Her statement would be bolder if she confronted their observers. Stepping from behind Lord Abbott, she pretended to stare them down, but truly she simply focused on the French doors right behind them because she had not the courage to meet anyone’s eyes.
“He made his offer, but I turned him down.”
Lady Astley wasted no time with her astonished response. “Youturned down the heir of Viscount Moreland?”
One could practically hear the exclamation mark at the end of the question. Truly, did the old peeress have nothing better to do than cast aspersions about Gwen’s appearance and general worthiness as a mate?
“I did,” she replied firmly.
From the corner of her eye, Gwen could see Lord Abbott cock his head and tense his square jaw at her statement, which had negated his attempt to defend her reputation. “I confess Miss Smythe had her reservations regarding my offer, and I was attempting to persuade her to change her mind.”
Gwen nearly burst into hysterical giggles. To his credit, Lord Abbott was doing his best to raise her in status, inferring that he was the one who was inferior to her. What he did not understand was how little Gwen had to lose. She could not force a marriage onto a man, no matter his mutualculpability in her ruin. One should marry for true partnership, not because of what thebeau mondemight think or say on the subject.
While fear still coiled and uncoiled deep within her belly, she was a woman of strong character and she would never forgive herself if she forced a wedding on a man just to avoid social discomfort. Lord Abbott should have free will in whom he married, and she would take her punishment for falling into his arms like a besotted girl.
“I thank Lord Abbott for his offer, and for his attempt to protect my reputation, but I stand by my refusal.”
The gathering broke into heated debate, and Gwen was sure she overheard someone exclaim that she was a stupid girl. Probably Lady Astley, a bitter old biddy who had never liked her.
Nevertheless, her principles were more important than what other people would say about her, and she would not steal a man’s future just to benefit her reputation.
Her immediate future would be difficult, but after a while the scandal would die down. She had to live with herself for many years to come, so what she thought about herself must take precedence over the small-minded fault-finding of people who did not truly care about her one way or the other.
Next to her, Lord Abbott soughed under his breath before interrupting the storm of controversy in his deep voice. “It appears we cannot reach an agreement, so I believe that Miss Smythe and I should discuss this with Mr. Smythe.”
Lord Astley’s head immediately bobbed up. Waving a bony hand to shush his wife and the others standing with them, he spoke with the thin voice of an aged man. “Agreed, young man. I think we should step inside to find Frederick so you can debate this private matter without an audience.”
Gwen could not refute this conclusion. It suited her fine to end this public display. “I will be in the study.”
She quickly walked away from the growing crowd to enter her father’s study from the terrace so she could wait for Lord Abbott and her father alone. Entering the ballroom to face a large audience after being caught in a passionate embrace was an impossibility, even for a strong woman of character.
Walking about the study, she lit the lamps before taking a seat on the sofa across from the desk, frowning slightly in surprise when she noticed that her father had tidied his desk, the inkstand and quill perfectly positioned together, the drawers fully shut, and the surface wiped clean of pounce.
Her father was fastidious with his clothing but notoriously clumsy with his work space, a quirk which caused him endless aggravation when he trapped the fine sand of the pounce in the intricate buttons of his sleeve cuffs, especially those grains blackened with ink.
Perhaps a servant had come in and cleaned up early? Strange that they had the time, considering all the preparations for the ball tonight.
The vagaries of her thoughts led her to realize she was quite anxious. She hoped her father would arrive soon and perhaps could direct her on what she must do now that she had ruined her reputation in society. Gwen had not comprehended how daunting it was to be in this position, her stomach in knots, and the terrifying thought of joining the guests made her palms damp with the mere prospect of it.
