With her fists clenched, she strode from the dining room, and Leonora suspected Mama wished she could punch each of the matrons who had failed to ever request her presence.
“The invitations make her happy,” Sam said quietly.
“Oh, yes, I could tell by all the joy emanating from her as she marched out.”
He leaned forward. “I understand one of the wives has a brother you might like. A Lord Camberley. An earl.”
“Sam, I’m truly not looking to marry.”
“I’m not asking you to. Just be nice to him. Be nice to them all. We want them to like us.”
“Business decisions aren’t made on personalities.”
“But they are made on character. They have to trust us in order to give us money.”
She was impressed Sam had finally worked that out for himself. “I’m well aware, which is the reason I’m so opposed to Mama’s strategy of encouraging men to believe I might give them my hand. It’s deceptive.”
“It needn’t be. You don’t have to go so far as to imply you’re looking for a husband, but it would help tremendously if you’d simply be... likable.”
Being likable apparently included a late-afternoon stroll through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. Leonora didn’t know why they had to come to this particular park when a small pleasant one was not far from their hotel. But it seemed her mother had spent her time at the ball ferreting out all the ways a girl could throw herself into the path of a lord.
So here they were, she and her mother strolling along the green. Sam had made his excuses, deciding to go to a club to meet with some men who might be enticed into investing. Leonora simply hoped it didn’t involve attending another ball. She considered claiming a megrim because she found balls to be incredibly taxing on her nerves. All the people, the din of conversations, and always being on show exhausted her. But she was nothing if not a dutiful daughter and whenever she hesitated, she was reminded that she was doing this for her father’s memory.
“Look more interesting, dear,” Mama muttered, and Leonora wondered exactly how she was supposed to do that.
She’d brought her sketchbook, hoping to find a few minutes to sit beneath a tree and work, but she was rather certain that particular activity would not make her appear more interesting. Perhaps she should skip as she had when she was a child or twirl about or lie on the ground and make out the shapes of various things in the clouds.
As a couple of ladies walked by, they glared at her as if she was strutting about nude. She wondered if their attitude had anything at all to do with that morning’s gossip rags. If they saw her as a threat, in danger of stealing away one of their precious lords. Perhaps she should use the writing machine to compose a letter to a newspaper editor announcing she was not on the hunt for a husband but rather an investor and she had no plans to remain in this country, so marriage was quite out of the question.
But then she’d be harangued by Mama and receive further lecturing from Sam.
She caught sight of a man riding a chestnut mare, and his path seemed to be in a direction that would lead him to her. It took her a moment to recognize him, having only met him once—when he signed her dance card. Lord Lawrence Brinsley-Norton. One of the men she’d disappointed. She’d not crossed paths with him after she’d returned to the ballroom and had welcomed the reprieve, but it seemed now she’d have to pay the piper his due.
He drew his horse to a halt near her and quicklydismounted. Swiping his hat from his head, he smiled. “Mrs. Garrison, Miss Garrison. What a pleasure to see you enjoying our park.”
“We’d heard that everyone who mattered would be here at this hour,” Mama said.
“Are you searching for anyone in particular?” he asked.
“No,” Leonora answered quickly, before Mama could say she was searching for someone for her daughter to marry. Although in truth Leonora had been glancing around wondering if she might see Rook. “Just enjoying the lovely weather that greeted us after last night’s rain.”
“We must make the best of the sunshine while we can.” He slid his gaze from her to Mama. “Mrs. Garrison, have I your permission to walk ahead with your daughter?”
Mama hesitated, no doubt because he was a lord who wouldn’t inherit a title. It had gone to his brother, the Duke of Kingsland. “I can see no harm in giving her your attention for a few minutes.”
Lord Lawrence offered his arm. She took it. As they walked along with Mama several steps behind, she focused on a polite way to apologize for missing their dance. She knew the slight couldn’t go unrecognized. “I’m sorry to have missed our waltz. I’m not accustomed to so much dancing, was feeling quite light-headed, and needed some time in the ladies’ retiring room. Unfortunately, I drifted off for a spell.” She’d given the same excuse to the other gentlemen with whom she was supposed to have danced. She wasn’t particularly happy with how easily thefalsehood rolled off her tongue. It seemed since arriving in this country she was engaged in quite a bit of fibbing and sneaking around. She’d always been so upstanding before.
“No need to apologize. While I was naturally disheartened not to have found you, when I couldn’t, I went to the cardroom where my fortunes changed for the better and I ended up staying there for the remainder of the night and making a tidy sum.”
She considered suggesting he invest that unexpected tidy sum in their enterprise, but she didn’t want to come across as too desperate. She also suspected that should his older brother invest, he would as well. And if his brother didn’t, Lord Lawrence would be unconvinced that it would turn out to be a profitable endeavor. “Surely, I’m not the only one with whom you were going to dance.”
“No, I do like to take a few ladies about the floor before heading toward wagering.”
She suspected he was simply trying to make her feel less guilty. “Well then, I’m glad you had such a good streak of luck last night.”
He shrugged. “I also know that I can’t compete with Rook.”
Breathing became suddenly difficult. “What do you mean?”
