Mr. Rutledge had been pleasant, if a bit on the older side, but he conversed exclusively about fox hunting, which Gwen abhorred, and hounds, which was acceptable but monotonous.
Gwen wanted what her parents had shared, a meeting of the minds and hearts. If hearts were out of the question, she minimally required an intelligent husband to father her children, or she would be better without.
“No wedding, no children.”
Her tone was sharp. Frederick Smythe was a dreamer, and she could not allow herself to be tempted into taking up a lance to joust the sails of a wind machine, convincing herself that there be giants.
Her father turned a sympathetic blue gaze to her, no tallerthan Gwen herself, who stood at five feet nine inches. “You are lovely, Gwendolyn. The right man will appreciate you and provide you with the security you deserve while you will provide him with a worthy and challenging partnership.”
Gwen looked down at the toes of her slippers peeking out from under her gown, her shoulders heaving with a heartfelt sigh. She wanted to believe her father, she really did. But hard-won experience proved he was deluded about her and her shortcomings. Mama had been a great beauty, and an excellent scholar. Gwen had inherited one of those traits, and it was not one that could be viewed in the reflection of a looking glass.
“Papa, we cannot waste money on such extravagances.”
Her father strolled over to his desk, a man dapper for his years. He was filled with a youthful energy, a reflection of his strong interests. The sharp cut of his charcoal coat and trousers, along with his pristine white linen, spoke to his fastidious nature, but he had an easy manner which made him well-liked by most people. He managed their finances well, but as the third son of a baron, they were not a wealthy family and could not afford the lavish ball he held each year in her honor even as the men of thetoncontinued to ignore her presence.
This brought to mind the women who tittered behind their fans, giggling at her unfashionable appearance.
Gwen sighed, wondering how to explain to her idealistic father that she was a poor investment. How her mother had managed to be a graceful beauty despite her scarlet locks remained a mystery to her only daughter.
Mama was unique. Special.
And Gwen was merely an oddity.
A fact that Frederick Smythe refused to accept.
“Please, Papa. The money can be used for Oxford when Gareth is ready. It has been seven years, and I am still awallflower. What could possibly happen this year that would be different from any other year?”
Her father cocked his head, his lips quirking into his characteristic grin. “This year you could encounter the right man. The one who recognizes the perfection of my only daughter and falls at her feet, defeated by her magnificence.”
Gwen burst into laughter despite her resolve to steel herself against her father’s whimsies. She finally found the breath to respond.
“You are incorrigible, Papa.”
Blue eyes twinkled in the afternoon light. “Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit …There is no great genius without a touch of madness.”
Gwen shook her head. “Aristotle will not sweeten my temper, old man.”
“Ah, but we both know that is a lie.”
She bit her lip to prevent a smile, unable to argue with her father’s claim. It appeared there would be no dissuading him. The ball would proceed as stated over breakfast, and her visit to his study had not achieved a damned thing.
CHAPTER 2
“The ideal man bears the accidents of life with dignity and grace, making the best of circumstances.”
Aristotle
AUGUST 13, 1821
The past ten days in Trafford’s company had been excruciating. Together, they had attended several social events, to Aidan’s chagrin, the pursuit of information notwithstanding. Trafford was not the kind of companion he wished to be associated with, but they had been seen in public together the length and breadth of Mayfair, while Aidan had been forced to put up with Trafford’s antics.
Currently, Aidan stood by the corner, observing the home of Mr. Frederick Smythe amid the loud clatter ofcarriage wheels.
The night sky was adorned with silvery clouds and a large full moon, but his vantage point on the street blocked the view of the magical evening unfolding above.
“How do you plan to get in without an invitation?”
Trafford waved his hand in dismissal, contemplating the arriving guests with a focused gaze. Aidan growled in irritation, wishing for any other conspirator than this dandified fool. Nevertheless, he stepped back to give the other man the space he had requested.
