Enid wanted to close her eyes and relish his touch, but she didn’t dare show Greydon how much he affected her. She loved him, she knew that now, but she refused to succumb to her desires. Greydon deserved better than her, and she wouldn’t allow him to settle for a woman such as her.
Greydon sat in a comfortable armchair at White’s but he was anything but. He’d had a fitful night of sleep and couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what he had done yesterday.
What in the blazes had he done? He had confessed to Enid that he had feelings for her and offered for her. Yet the worst part of it all was that he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. He loved her, and he wanted her as his wife. But he knew that was going to be an uphill battle since her scars ran deep.
How could he convince Enid to marry him? He needed a plan, but he couldn’t seem to formulate one. He had always relied on logic, but love was not logical. There was no reasoning to it. It seemed to have a mind of its own and it always trumped his way of thinking.
Leaning forward, he placed his full glass onto the table. Drinking away his woes would solve nothing. He needed a clear head when he went to see Enid.
Lord Roswell approached him with an obnoxious smile on his face. “Rushcliffe,” he greeted. “I did not expect to see you here.”
“I needed a drink,” he said.
His friend glanced down at his glass. “Yet you have hardly touched your drink.”
“I have been thinking.”
Lord Roswell smirked. “It is always hardest the first time.”
Greydon looked heavenward. “What is it that you want, Roswell?”
“I have come to keep you company,” Lord Roswell replied as he sat across from him.
“Surely there is someone else that could benefit from your company,” Greydon asked.
With an amused look, Lord Roswell said, “You looked troubled.”
“It is nothing that I can’t handle,” he asserted. He was hoping that Lord Roswell would get the hint that he did not want to engage in conversation. He was content being alone.
But he was not so lucky.
Lord Roswell leaned back in his chair. “Is it your brother’s case that is bothering you or something else?”
“I would rather not say,” Greydon muttered.
“Then it must be about Enid.”
Greydon stared at him in astonishment. How in the blazes did he know that? Had he been so obvious in his affection for Enid that other people had noticed?
Lord Roswell chuckled. “It wasn’t hard to deduce that you two care for one another.”
“Regardless, I do not wish to discuss it with you.”
A server came to a stop in front of the table and asked, “Would you care for something to drink?”
Lord Roswell nodded. “Brandy.”
The server turned his head towards Greydon. “Anything for you, sir?”
“No,” he replied. “I still have a drink.”
“Very good, sir,” the server said before he walked away.
Lord Roswell gave him an expectant look. “Pray tell, what went awry with Enid?”
Had his friend always been this astute, he wondered. “Nothing,” he replied.
“You are a terrible liar.”
