I know you will not listen to that last part. But a mother must try.
Write to me. Let me arrange the introduction, at least.
With all my love, Mother
He read it twice. Lady Clarissa Whitfield. Sensible. Not given to excessive temperament. Not troubled by scars.
She sounded perfectly adequate. Exactly like what he needed. He slid the letter back into the drawer. She sounded like a competent partner and an excellent mother and who would never, not once, look at him with Estella Hale's eyes or slay him with a single smile.
“Why don't you marry Estella?”
Because I can't.
“She deserves someone who actually likes her, not just someone kind and responsible.”
He let out a huff of wry amusement. Someone who liked her? Then that was not him. For he did not merely “like” Miss Estella Hale. And that…
That was the problem.
10
Lord Alderton was nothing if not kind. And attentive.
Oh, but he was so very attentive.
She smiled when he brought her lemonade. "Thank you."
Not only was Lord Alderton so very kind and attentive, but he had lovely warm eyes. There was absolutely no reason her pulse should remain so stubbornly, irritatingly calm.
Not that she expected swooning and passion at the duchess's afternoon musicale. But wouldn’t it be lovely to feel at least a hint of…something? A stirring of excitement, perhaps. Or even a flutter of nerves.
But no.
Her gaze slid to the side, where Sebastian stood looking gloomy as ever in the midst of a small gathering of gentlemen.
Her belly instantly tightened, and her pulse skittered. Not with those kinds of nerves, of course. It was just that he was so difficult to read, and so intimidating with his growling voice and his dark glares.
Just then he turned her way, and those dark eyes met hers. She looked away hastily, gulping a too-large, rather unladylike swig of her lemonade.
Drat. Her cheeks were already beginning to burn.
No, no. It was for the best that she didn’t react to Lord Alderton like that. It was far too uncomfortable. One could not marry a man who made her cheeks burn and her heart do somersaults.
One would expire before the honeymoon even ended.
"Did you wish to join Her Grace?" Lord Alderton’s voice startled her.
She whipped her head around to look at him. "Pardon?"
He gestured in Lord Blackwood’s direction, and it was only then that she realized he was standing close to the duchess. They were speaking to different clusters of guests, but their shoulders very nearly brushed.
"Oh, no." She flashed a smile at Lord Alderton. "I was just…taking in the crowd."
Lord Alderton returned her smile and gestured to a vacant chair so she might sit for the musicale. She sank into it and did her best to focus on Lord Alderton and the musicians who were preparing to play.
But her gaze kept drifting back to Sebastian and the duchess. What was the relationship there, exactly?
Though she’d been staying in the duchess’s home, and the woman had been nothing but gracious and accommodating, she’d hardly say they’d formed a friendship. She knew as little about the other woman now as she had when she’d first met the lady.
