But their father was far from amused.
“This is nothing to celebrate,” he announced, his voice cold and clipped as their mother approached. “Blanche has ruined us.”
“Ruined us, Father?” Blanche repeated incredulously. “You are well aware I have never expressed a desire to wed—especially to someone like Lord Bromley.”
“A man of wealth, society, and title! I fail to see what fault there was in him!”
“Money isn’t everything—can’t you see that?” she argued, her voice rising with frustration.
Their mother, ever aloof, now joined them. “So, when should I have the wedding arranged?”
Oh, dear Mama…
“This is unfair!” Fanny interjected—her voice sharp with frustration as she turned to their father. “Blanche shouldn’t be forced into a marriage she despises just because?—”
“Silence, Fanny,” their father cut her off.
Blanche saw the desperation in her sister’s face—her eagerness to fight for her. But their father’s glare silenced her, his authority absolute.
“We shall see if you still believe that money isn’t everything when you’re forced to seek work as a governess to survive,” the Earl snapped, while their mother covered her lips with both hands in horrified disbelief.
Blanche felt her chest tighten, her breath shallow.
A governess?
“But Father, why would I need to seek employment? Has something happened?” Her voice trembled despite her efforts to remain composed.
“You do not understand,” Lord Gooldwer said, his words were tight and clipped with frustration. He pointed at her mother and sister as he spoke.
“You have just ruined all three of you, Blanche.”
Humiliated and overwhelmed, Blanche turned and fled, her pace hurried, her anger simmering. Her sister called out after her, but it was all a blur as tears threatened to spill with every step.
Two
“Apleasure to see you again, Lady Sophia.”
“The pleasure, as always, is entirely mine, Your Grace.”
Heath inclined his head slightly, pressing a polite kiss to the silk of her glove. She did not release him at once, her fingers lingering—a silent invitation he chose not to acknowledge. He was well aware that in the eyes of every debutante at Greystone, he was the ultimate prize of this year’sDuke Hunt. Their fathers, however, held a different opinion.
Sophia’s gaze glimmered with mischief as she assessed him. “How peculiar to find you standing so far removed from the ballroom. Is the ball failing to meet your expectations, Your Grace? Or are you simply hiding from the Dowager’s matchmaking net?”
Heath exhaled, feigning disinterest. “Balls are, more often than not, predictable affairs, my lady. And the Dowager’s Hunt is rather loud for my tastes.”
She laughed lightly, stepping closer. “Perhaps you lack the proper company.”
“I should think not.”
Sophia tilted her head, feigning a pout. “Surely, you will not claim the evening lacks amusement entirely?”
Setting his glass down, Heath considered her words with idle amusement. He had no shortage of admirers, and Lady Sophia’s attention was nothing new. He had little interest in anything beyond fleeting distractions.
At last, with measured ease, he extended his hand.
“Very well, Lady Sophia. I suppose I might grant you at least one dance.”
Sophia arched a delicate brow, her smile brimming with wicked amusement. “Delighted, Your Grace. A dance… and perhaps more?”
