“What? No. Absolutely not. My daughter, however...” She let her voice trail off, all that was needed to make her point that her daughter was desperate. Leonora wanted to shout that she had no wish to marry but didn’t want to engage in an argument in front of these people she’d only just met.
“Actually, my husband has a club for the unmarried,” Lady Kathryn said. “The Fair and Spare. You should pay it a visit. I think you’d enjoy all the various entertainments.”
“Spare? That’s what you call second sons, isn’t it?” Sam asked.
“Indeed. I’m a spare,” Lord Griffith said. “No firstborn sons who will inherit a title are allowed inside the doors.”
“Well, that won’t do her a damn bit of good, will it?” Mama asked succinctly. “We’ll not settle for less than a titled gent.”
“Mama,” she ground out.
“Well, I won’t have it. We’ve traveled all this way, and you finally have the opportunity to make something of yourself if you’d put more effort into the endeavor.”
She wondered why a hole couldn’t open up beneath her feet and swallow her up, allow her to escape from this maddening discourse and Mama’s obsession with her marital status and her desire to use it toher ownadvantage rather than striving to ensure it was to her daughter’s. Leonora felt rather like those young princesses who had been forced to marry aging kings in order to prevent wars: sacrificial, unappreciated for herself and any contributions she could personally make.
She turned to the other women in the group. “Would you be kind enough to direct me to the ladies’ retiring room? I have a pebble in my slipper that’s becoming rather annoying, and I should like to eliminate its existence before the dancing begins.” She’d already had several gents ask her for a dance, and she was planning to take advantage of the opportunity to entice them into possibly investing.
As though they were the firmest of friends, Lady Althea slipped her arm around Leonora’s. “Here, I’ll take you.”
The soft smile she gave her husband promised a swift return. Then she was guiding Leonora through the throng of guests. “Mothers can sometimes be troublesome,” Lady Althea whispered in sympathy.
“Was yours?”
She laughed lightly, sadly. “No. ’Twas my father who caused the trouble, but thankfully my older brother managed to put matters to right.”
Leonora had no older brother to do the same forher family. Not that she felt she needed one. She enjoyed managing the business, wanted to keep doing so. Which was the problem. Marriage, particularly to a noble, would rob her of that opportunity. She couldn’t imagine an aristocratic husband allowing her to work, to do as she pleased. Sam, eventually, would have the confidence to take over their company, and she should be striving to assist him in achieving that goal. But what was she if not the overseer of the family business? What would be her place within the family then?
She’d never really had a position outside of it. It was a bit frightening to consider not having the security of what she’d always known.
“It’s not much farther,” Lady Althea said, drawing Leonora’s eyes toward her. “You look to be in considerable pain.”
“No, I just... when I embarked on this journey, I hadn’t realized my mother and brother viewed this as a husband-hunting expedition. I thought we were looking only for investors. And to that end, I don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of any men of means—not necessarily lords—who might be willing to take a risk on a new and exciting venture.”
“I suspect I could introduce you to a couple of gentlemen who might be interested in what you are offering.”
At the very least, Leonora could ensure they received an invitation to the demonstration they’d be holding. She’d managed to get permission to use the hotel ballroom for their purposes in a few days.
She and her escort walked through the doorway, and Leonora stuttered to a stop as she encountered abrick wall, one that reached out and wrapped a large hand around her upper arm to steady her.
“Ah, and here’s serendipity stepping in to provide you with just what you were looking for,” Lady Althea said. “Rook, allow me to introduce—”
“We’ve met,” he said quietly, his hold on her loosening, his white-gloved fingers grazing over the inside of her upper arm before retreating. She’d felt the warmth of the glide as though nothing separated his skin from hers. Heat coursed through her as she recalled what he had touched with bare fingers: her cheeks, her throat.
“Oh, I’m not all surprised. The Chessmen always seem to know about investment opportunities before anyone else.”
His gaze stayed on Leonora. “Staying alert and informed gives us an advantage.”
“As though any of you need it. If you’ll be kind enough to excuse us, we’re on our way to the ladies’ retiring room. Miss Garrison has a pebble in her slipper.”
“We can’t have that, can we?”
Before she even realized what was happening, he had hold of her arm again, led her to a chair, and managed to put her in it without shoving or forcing her. She’d been mesmerized by the teasing warmth in his eyes and thought she might follow him anywhere.
Then he gracefully went down on one knee. Her breath backed up into her lungs and her mind raced from a fantastical image of him asking her to marry him to the memory of him posed like that just before he’d kissed her. Whichever he intended now was unconscionable, and yet she seemed powerless to speak, to move, to do anything other than study the planes of his face in this lighted foyer. Every line was strong,designed by a deft hand, so that each flowed into the other. He was all angles: sharp cheekbones, pointed chin. This close, with a nearby lamp providing light, she could see that his eyes weren’t as dark as she’d originally surmised, but more the brown of a fawn she’d once watched in the woods.
But his lips were exactly as she remembered. Every detail of them. The plump lower one that even now she wanted to run her tongue over, the upper that she wanted to nibble, and the seam begging for her attentions. The choices were too many. The skin at his throat, above his knotted neckcloth, called to her to taste, to explore.
“Which one?”
