Page 9 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

She stood and dipped the smallest of curtseys. ‘Thank you for seeing us, your lordship. I know how busy you must be, but I know you will see the wisdom of my suggestions. I bid you good day.’

She marched out as if it was her own idea to leave. Primrose, a head taller than her diminutive sister, trailed after her. Neither of them looked back.

Graydon watched them go, open-mouthed. Could she possibly be under the impression that, given time to think, he would actually agree to invite her and the rest of her friends to a ball?

Impossible woman.

Chapter Three

‘What a grumpy old gentleman,’ Primrose said, when she and Florence were back on the road headed for home and sharing an umbrella against the drizzle.

‘Old?’ Florence stared at her. ‘What do you mean, old?’

‘He has to be over thirty,’ her sister said, wrinkling her dainty nineteen-year-old nose.

Florence was almost twenty-five. Did that mean she was old too? Well, she had been thinking of herself as a spinster. But thirty for a man wasn’t old. His lordship seemed like a man in his prime, not old at all. Indeed, he seemed the epitome of virility, and startlingly handsome. Each time she’d seen him she’d been astonished anew by his gorgeous appearance. No man should look so good.

Florence nudged Primrose with her elbow. ‘He is the perfect age for marriage. All his wild oats will be sown by now.’

Her sister’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Younger men are flighty, so Mrs Pole says.’

‘How would she know. She doesn’t know any young men.’

‘I expect she has met some in her time. And besides, there are some young men in the district. The squire’s son can’t be above twenty-three.’

‘And he is married and has two children. I wager this Lord Blackdown isn’t married because something is wrong with him.’

Primrose sounded…sulky. Primrose was never sulky. Florence regarded her younger sister carefully. She looked thoroughly unhappy. ‘I am sure he is very nice when you get to know him.’

‘If you like him so much, you get to know him.’

Primrose quickened her pace and, since she was holding the umbrella, Florence was forced to trot to keep up. She put a hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Oh, Primrose, have you taken a dislike to the earl? I would never ask you to marry someone you found distasteful. You know I wouldn’t. We just have to be pleasant to him until he agrees to put on a ball. Then you will meet lots of suitable men and I am sure some of them will be younger. More to your taste, and eligible.’

Her sister stopped. She turned to face Florence. ‘All you seem to want to do is marry me and Iris off willy nilly. What about what we want? Who we want?’

Florence’s jaw dropped. ‘That is not all I want to do. Wait? What, for someone who you want?’ Her stomach dropped. ‘Is there someone you want?’

Primrose looked uncomfortable. ‘No, but you never know, I might meet someone.’

‘To do that you need the chance to meet eligible bachelors or risk ending up as old maids.’

‘Like you will, you mean?’

A sharp pang beneath her heart made her gasp. ‘I am not an old maid.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Not yet, anyway. Besides, who would look after Father? You know he could not manage by himself. But you do not want to live here with Father for the rest of your life, I know you do not.’

‘No. You are right, I do not, but nor do I want to be pushed into marrying a man I do not love.’

‘I promise, I will never do that, as long as you promise me you will not fall for some unsuitable lout, or some conniving music teacher.’

Primrose tilted her head and regarded her intently. ‘You do know I am sorry about that. I really didn’t know—’

‘Pish posh. I should not have brought it up. We were both fooled by that man. Thank goodness we found out his true nature before any harm was done.’

At least before any harm was done to Primrose. It had been too late for her, fool that she had been. But there was no sense crying over spilled milk. She had let her heart rule her head and been ruined as a consequence. It was something she had learned to live with.

Primrose switched the umbrella to her other hand, and they linked arms. ‘Well, I have to admit, a ball would be lovely.’ They started walking again. ‘But I am not sure we have him convinced.’