Gwendolyn turned her head as if she had heard him, her forehead puckering.
Lord Abbott had emitteda low growl after his declaration, and Gwen was perturbed by the evidence of his reluctance. When he had taken a seat by her side, she had briefly entertained the notion that he truly was attracted to her, but the guttural accompaniment to his words revealed he was not as willing as she might have hoped.
Resolve was a welcome friend. Marrying Lord Abbott might be convenient, even desirable from her point of view, but it would be wrong. Forcing a man to wed her would be a despicable failing in character. Her father had sufficient means for Gwen to disappear from society, possibly pursue her academic interests in the country. Lord Abbott need not sacrifice his future to tie himself to her.
“And I have informed Lord Abbott that I appreciate his offer, but it is not necessary.”
Her father’s grin fell off his face like a distended fruit from an overloaded tree. “Not necessary?”
Gwen gave a firm nod. She had hoped that her father would understand her concerns, but his jovial attitude had made it clear that he thought his dreams of making a great alliance to secure her future were at hand. She was going to have to convince both men that it was a terrible idea, which would require fortitude and dedication.
“I have no wish to put Lord Abbott in that predicament. I am certain he has far better marriage prospects than myself, and I do not wish to tie the gentleman down for something we are both responsible for.”
Next to her, Lord Abbott shifted, flexing his shoulders as if he were suffering from tension. “I assure your daughter that she is the very best of marriage prospects, and it would not be a hardship at all to announce our betrothal.”
“And I wish to assure Lord Abbott that I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I free him to find a more suitable partner.”
“I am perfectly capable of selecting a wife, and I believe that Miss Smythe should have a greater appreciation of her worth as a prospect for such.”
Across from them, her father shifted his gaze back and forth between the two of them. He cocked his head with a perplexed expression, and Gwen realized that they were sparring while addressing their words at her father.
“Could one of you explain to me what exactly unfolded on the terrace?” Her father had a trace of steel in his tone, and Gwen bit her lip. It took much to raise his ire, and she had learned to pay it mind when he showed signs of growing irate.
“I thought Lord Abbott had informed you of what transpired?”
Lord Abbott shifted once more, his taut thigh making contact with her briefly through the thin silk of the gown when he dragged a hand through that lustrous hair. Goodgrief, he was the best-looking man she had ever sat this close to. Which was why she had been addressing her father, rather than him, directly. He was far too daunting to face.
“I simply laid out the broad strokes.”
“Well, now I wish to hear the specifics.” Papa’s rejoinder was immediate and tense, his face having settled into suspicious lines.
Lord Abbott coughed into his hand. “I encountered … your daughter on the terrace and was overtaken by the beauty of her in the moonlight. The words of Manilius sprang forth, and I was taken aback when Miss Smythe responded. Which is when I … um …” He coughed once more.
Gwen watched her father’s face suddenly break into his customary grin, his head bobbing in confident rejoicing. “You witnessed the perfection of my only daughter and fell at her feet, defeated by her magnificence.”
It was not a question, and Gwen was mortified. The words Papa had spoken a fortnight earlier had been said once more, hanging like smoke from a cannon after it had fired. Her instinct was to raise her hand and swat the words away as if clearing the air, but it was too late.
Next to her, Lord Abbott tilted his head in thought and then, to her alarm, a corresponding grin broke across his face as the two men gazed at each other with newfoundcamaraderie. “Quite so.”
Papa turned his piercing gaze to her. “And then what happened?”
Gwen nervously bounced her legs, averting her eyes. “Lord Abbott approached me … and then we … um … embraced.”
“Embraced?”
“Well … yes … we … uh …” Gwen flung her arms about wildly to demonstrate before deciding there was no helping it. She should just finish it without prolonging the agony.
“Kissed! We kissed! And then the guests walked out and found me, his lips pressed to mine and his hands upon my buttocks!”
Her father burst out laughing.
Lord Abbott had turned a deep red while she was speaking, Gwen herself blushing fiercely, but to her dismay, the gentleman at her side had burst into corresponding laughter.
What she truly did not need was for them to form a genuine bonhomie while she attempted to dissuade them from pursuing a wedding. She made a sound of disgust as the two men chuckled freely, unable to suppress a shiver of delight at the sound of Lord Abbott’s husky merriment.
Egad, he is an enticing specimen of manhood!
She still had brief flashes of believing this might all be an elaborate dream. It was the only explanation why a man such as him would be arguing to marry her with such ferocity, while insisting she was the true catch.
