“I daresay you are neither the fairest nor the most charming lady of the ton, nor does your family possess an unblemished reputation—for your father has been entangled in a few rumors that… well. Nonetheless, it suffices for me to know your rank in society makes you a most suitable match.”
“Lord Bromley, truly, I must thank you for your interest, but?—”
“And it is for that reason that, on this grand evening, I offer you the honor of becoming my wife?—”
“—I must decline your offer,” Blanche concluded, just as the viscount finished his proposal.
For a moment, they stared at one another, caught in a silence that spanned from awkwardness to sheer bewilderment.
Of the two, it was the viscount who recovered first, letting out a smug and self-satisfied chuckle that deeply irritated Blanche.
“Your father did not jest when he claimed you possessed a sense of humor, Lady Blanche, for I must assume you are not truly serious in rejecting my proposal.”
“I can assure you that I amquiteserious, Lord Bromley,” Blanche said, drawing a deep breath and stepping slightly away from the viscount. “I am most grateful for your interest, my Lord, but I must reiterate my refusal to become your wife.”
“But do you even comprehend what you are saying?” the viscount asked, slightly affronted. “Youmustbe aware that a woman such as yourself, now in herfifthSeason, has been granted a greathonorin being deemed eligible by me. The Dowager Duchess of Greystone herself would tell you that you are squandering a miracle.”
“Well, since you put it that way, then I find myself compelled to decline such anhonor.” Blanche had grown increasingly irritated and took another step away from him.
The viscount, who also seemed somewhat shaken, looked her over from head to toe, as though he could assess her worth with a single glance. After a moment, he offered her a chilling smile, followed by words as sharp as they were cutting.
“Are you aware, Lady Blanche, of the rumors circulating throughout the ton about your family? About your father?” the viscount pondered aloud, closing the distance to her.
If anything, his words only served to inflame Blanche’s temper further. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her sister trying to come to her aid—only to be stopped by their father.
A father who might not have been perfect, but whom Blanche loved deeply. And the fact that Lord Bromley used the rumors surrounding him to pressure her into marriage only intensified her indignation.
“Ifthe rumors concerning my family—and especially my father—are truly as ruinous as you suggest, then surely you would be wise to forget me entirely. I have no intention of tarnishing your pristine reputation by uniting my name with yours,” Blanche said firmly, hoping to dissuade him.
“Yourfather is the one who has made this promise on your behalf,” Lord Bromley spat coldly. “A man who assured me you were a docile and obedient woman. But I seenowthat, like so many others, he has deceived memostcruelly.”
Swelling with pride like an over-inflated balloon, he continued his tirade against her.
“Out ofpurebenevolence, I took pity on you. ButnowI see you are nothing more than a rude, miserable, and foolish spinster. I daresay your intellect would not recognize a good match even if it stood right before your very eyes!”
At that insult to her character, Blanche could do nothing but defend herself. She was utterly exhausted by men like Bromley—men who, season after season, thought cruelty was a way to earn a lady’s favor.
“Perhaps I am a spinster, my Lord, but I would choose that fate a thousand times over before becomingyourwife. That is the depth of my aversion to joining myself to a man so conceited as to think a lady’s favor is earned by humiliating her.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd, subtle yet unmistakable, and she was now all too aware of just how loud they had been. Couples faltered in their dance; their movements stilled by curiosity. Bromley had made a spectacle of her, and she him, and now the room was watching, judging. Even the Dowager Duchess, standing near the punch bowl, seemed to tilt her silver head in their direction, her keen eyes missing nothing.
Blanche felt Fanny’s gaze from across the ballroom—wide-eyed, concerned. But there was no escape, no retreat. Not with him still standing before her, his fury barely concealed.
Blanche inhaled sharply, steadying herself, though her pulse pounded in her ears.
Fortunately, her father arrived hurriedly at their side. He wore a naïve, perhaps even nervous, smile. It was enough to make Blanche understand that the Earl likely assumed his daughter was simply unsettled… not suspecting the storm that was about to break over them all.
“I’ve waited as long as I dared, but may I now offer my congratulations to the happy couple?” the Earl said to Blancheand Lord Bromley, who stared at him as though the Earl had spat in his face.
“Happy couple?” the viscount repeated, sneering with disdain. “Ifanything, I would be committing the gravest error of my life by wedding this… this…!”
“I’ve refused Lord Bromley’s proposal, father,” declared Blanche. Her words barely left her lips before the Earl choked on his drink. Across from them, the viscount’s cheeks darkened in rage, his nostrils flaring.
“This is outrageous! An absolute disgrace!” Bromley spat, turning on his heel and storming off like a furious beast.
All eyes followed him, whispers rising in the wake of his departure. Couples interrupted their dance, a few ladies craning their necks in delight at the unfolding scandal.
Fanny slipped to her sister’s side, barely holding back a laugh. “What did you say toLord Pompousto send him off in such a fury?” she whispered, squeezing Blanche’s hands.
