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As he turned, he spied his would-be rival Ravenwood standing amid a group of dandies. That he himself would likely be considered a dandy didn’t bother Percy at all. There was a fine line between vulgar ostentation and presenting oneself as a fashionable example of good taste—and he was careful to always remain on the right side of the line.
Most of the men in Ravenwood’s circle appeared to have erred on the wrong side. In his yellow silk, Ravenwood stood out like a beacon even among such peacocks. The man clearly craved attention.
But though the ladies nearby looked at the fellow with much the same eagerness Percy had himself for years both enjoyed and endured, Ravenwood appeared truly oblivious to their presence. Any other man in his position would be flaunting his wares with the aim of taking full advantage of the resulting admiration—as were several of his comrades.
Yet Ravenwood didn’t.
Some men affected dispassion as a means of whetting a woman’s appetite—everyone longed for that which they thought unattainable. But instinct told him this was not the man’s intent.
Had Percy been in his place, he’d have casually turned to the side and rested a fist on his hip, pulling back his jacket to proudly display his manly figure—particularly the well-filled front of his breeches. Then he’d have flashed an occasional smile at the ladies to spur hopes and whip them into a frenzy of feminine preening.
Not once did Ravenwood cast even a glance at the women, much less a smile. For a man dressed in bright yellow and reputed to be a younger version of himself, he seemed somewhat less than keen to garner female notice.
Thus it was to Percy’s surprise when he found the man a dutiful and determined caller at Eden’s residence the week following. Thrice did he encounter the fellow, once on the way coming in and twice on his way out. Each time, Ravenwood passed him by with barely a polite nod of greeting, his eyes hard and unfriendly.
It soon became apparent he was going to have to speak to the man and clarify his position. He hoped it wouldn’t result in an altercation.
Walking in the garden with Eden—under the watchful eyes of her stepmother who stood at the window overlooking them—he expressed his concern.
“She’s determined to force him upon me,” replied Eden. “I’ve told her I don’t want him, but she will have none of it. She continues to encourage him, and I cannot be rude to him without incurring her wrath. She has threatened to forbid your visits if I do anything to put him off.”
“If she does, I’ll find other ways to see you. No door in England is closed to me. At least not for long.”
“There is something else, too,” she said after a moment’s silence. “Ravenwood is a very strange man. The way he looks at me…”
“Yes?” Percy’s gut tightened. “How does he look at you?”
She squirmed a little. “Like I’m a curiosity or something to be studied. He’s very reserved for someone of his reputation. Mama is enamored of him, and they get on well, but I don’t…” She paused as though searching for words. “To be honest, I don’t think he actually likes me very much. Not—not in the same way you like me.” Her cheeks turned rosy. “Yet he continues to call.”
Her words touched on that nagging suspicion he’d had since observing the man at the Sheffield ball. “I wonder…” He peered at her sidelong for a moment. “Has he made any attempt to inspire romantic sentiments between you?”
“Most of our conversations have centered on French fashion, the addition of a new folly on his country estate, an
d his ‘extensive’ gardens.”
“No talk of marriage?”
She bit her bottom lip, a clear sign of reluctance. “Although there have been no violent declarations, he has begun asking leading questions of me—seemingly innocuous inquiries concerning preferences in décor. Last night Mama confided her suspicion of his intent to reappoint his house according to my answers. She believes this is in preparation for his proposal.” Again, she took that plump bottom lip between her teeth, tormenting it briefly. “She has demanded I accept his offer, should one be put forth. If we are to act, it must be soon.”
Bloody hell. “I am, as you know, hosting a party next week.” He struggled for calm. “I shall invite Ravenwood. I can expect him to attend, because you will be there and he won’t like the idea of me having your undivided attention. I shall at that time speak with him and see if I can persuade him to leave off his pursuit of you.”
“Do you think he will heed you?”
“I must make the attempt. If it goes ill…”
“I want no duels,” she said quickly.
“My intent is not to challenge him, but to warn him I cannot be dissuaded.”
“But he already knows you are his chief rival. He cannot have helped but see the difference in me when I’m with you, as opposed to him.”
“Yes, but he has not yet been directly threatened by me.” He stopped and looked into her stormy blue eyes. “He must know beyond all doubt that his cause is a hopeless one. After it’s been made clear there is no possibility of success, he’ll have little choice but to fish elsewhere for a bride. No man wants to wed a woman whose affections are already given to another.”
When she made no objection, he knew he was right, that it was he who held her heart. His own quickened its pace. If I were to ask her now, she would say yes.
And yet his heart rebelled against the idea. No. When she accepted him, it must be solely because it was what she wanted, not because she was avoiding a more unpleasant alternative. Pride would not allow escape from Ravenwood to be a factor in her decision to become his wife.
Then, too, there was her father to consider. Would he agree to the match against Lady Catherine’s objection?
