Seger sat down for supper in his dining room with his stepmother, Quintina, at one end of the table and his cousin by marriage, Gillian, to his left. Lobster puffs with hollandaise sauce were served, followed by tarragon chicken with artichokes, at which time Quintina set down her glass of wine and broke the customary silence.
“I received an invitation today, from the Duke and Duchess of Wentworth.”
Seger paused, his fork in midair. “You don’t say.”
“Are you surprised by this?”
He did not look up from his plate, for there was very little he ever chose to reveal to his stepmother. “Should I be? I wouldn’t know, since I haven’t been following your social calendar.”
Quintina bristled. “Surely you know that I do not receive invitations from dukes or duchesses, but we won’t go into the reasons why.” She gave a cursory glance at Gillian, as if she didn’t want to soil the girl’s virgin ears with talk of Seger’s personal exploits.
Instead, she’d cast the blame without actually saying it, which was her way. She blamed Seger for the family’s social descent, all because of what had occurred three years ago with Lord and Lady Edmunston.
Though if one were analytical, one could go back much further than three years and find another source for blame. The true origin of Seger’s current manner of existence—the reason why he preferred to remain an island.
“The odd thing about it,” Quintina said, “is that the invitation was addressed to you and me both.Nowtell me that you’re not surprised.” She raised a dark, arched eyebrow.
Seger wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back. “All right, you win. I am surprised.”
This was, in fact, an understatement. He hadn’t been invited into those upper echelons for years. The duchess couldn’t be playing matchmaker for her sister, could she? He wasn’t exactly a respectable catch, although he did hold a title, and that was the singular purpose behind most of the American heiresses’ shopping excursions to London. Perhaps she or the duchess didn’t care about his reputation. Or didn’t know about it.
Not that any of it mattered. He was not interested in being bought for cash. He was one of the few English aristocrats who had enough cash of his own to buy three lifetimes of freedom.
“So, what do you make of it?” he asked.
“I would call it a gift,” Quintina replied. “Despite the unpleasant fact that the duchess is American, it’s a chance for us to be accepted in the right circles again, which is an opportunity this family desperately needs. An opportunity Gillian needs.” She smiled warmly at her niece. “I promised my sister on her deathbed that I would do everything I could to see her daughter married well. This is Gillian’s first Season and I must seize this opportunity.”
Seger glanced at Gillian, who kept her eyes lowered and said nothing. She was a quiet little bird at the table most nights. Barely noticeable sometimes.Shy,Seger thought. Though not completely unattractive in a youthful sort of way.
“You will go, I presume?” he asked Quintina as he leaned forward and reached for his wine.
“Naturally. But may I request that you decline?”
He raised his eyebrows. “The first decent invitation I’ve received in years, and you want me to decline? What was all that talk about this family finally getting back into the right circles?”
To be honest, he didn’t care a whit about that, nor was he interested in a stuffy Mayfair assembly where most of the old matrons would likely hiss at him anyway. He would, however, like to see the lovely masked creature who’d kept him up most nights for the past two weeks. He still hadn’t gotten over her departing words—that she’d been unable to stop thinking about him.
To say he was flattered was an understatement. He hadn’t expected her to say such a thing. He had expected some roundabout answer, perhaps an aloof claim that she was simply looking for adventure, because that’s what most women said to him when flirtations began. They knew by instinct that that was what would lure him into their bedrooms.
He remembered suddenly that Miss Wilson had initially reminded him of Daphne, and he felt a twinge of discomfort.
Quintina spoke up and interrupted his thoughts. “I am of the opinion that your presence at the assembly would evoke whispers, and I want to do what is best for Gillian.”
He glanced at his cousin again. She smiled sheepishly.
“What would you have me do, Gillian?” he asked.
Seeming surprised that he had spoken to her directly, she went suddenly pale. “I...I would have you do whatever you please.”
She certainly was a nervous little thing.
Quintina cleared her throat. “There is a more critical reason why you should not attend, Seger.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I suspect the motive behind our invitation concerns the duchess’s younger sister—that garish girl we read about in the paper. The duchess is holding this assembly to gather all the unmarried peers into one room, so that they may be sized up like merchandise. Surely, you would prefer to avoid such a vulgar affair.”
Seger slowly blinked. “Ah. You don’t want me to meet the American. Afraid I’ll become infatuated with someone inappropriate?”
