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“It is when you’re me,” answered his friend. “Do you really wish to pursue a woman who doesn’t wish to be pursued? Why, when there are so many others who would give their left leg to bag the illustrious heir of Pembroke?”
Henry kept his face neutral. “It would be a very convenient union. I’ve known her and her family a long time.”
“I see. Are you certain that is the only reason?”
“I’m also damned attracted to her, if you must know.”
“Ah, now we get down to the truth of it!” Percy’s eyes lit. “Perhaps you’re not quite withering away. Excellent!” He coughed a little. “May I assume that the problem lies in that the lady is not likewise attracted?”
“She is.” His answer was short, as was his patience. Normally, he wouldn’t mind sharing his thoughts with his old friend, but Percy had a habit of playing devil’s advocate, and he had no desire to endure such discussions at the moment.
“But?” persisted the other man.
Damn. “I’m not certain why she seems so bent on rebuffing me. But I intend to find out and overcome the objection.”
“There’s the spirit!” exclaimed Percy, slapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t take no for an answer. Just be certain you’re not making a mistake by seeking her hand.”
Henry closed his eyes and quietly sighed
.
“Marriage is rather permanent, you know,” continued Percy. “You don’t want to be forever tied to a woman who doesn’t want you. Though there is always the pleasant diversion here and there, should the shackles become unpalatable. I should know. I provide such diversion to a number of lovely ladies.”
“Percy…” Now he truly wished he’d kept silent on the matter.
“Yes, yes. I know. I’m incorrigible. It’s part of my charm, so I’m told.”
“Can we discuss this another time?”
Percy’s grin broadened. “She’s really got you all in a dither, this one. Fine. I’ll let you brood in silence and solitude. If you need help—or rescuing, should she turn out to be a harpy—you know where to find me.” He departed, making a beeline for the nearest cluster of ladies, who greeted him with fluttering lashes and coy smiles.
Shaking his head, Henry returned to watching Sabrina. She was dancing with Lord Sheffield and behaving quite as though nothing untoward had occurred only moments prior. He laughed to himself. She might have removed her head from between the lion’s jaws, but she had not escaped unscathed. No matter how much she wanted to erase the incident, everyone would now think of them as a pair.
And they would be watching to see what happened next.
The music ended and she and Sheffield disappeared into the crush. He turned away, and his gaze lit upon Chadwick and his lady mother coming in his direction. The pair seemed to be in the midst of a quiet, heated debate.
Quickly, Henry moved to stand at the outer edge of a nearby cluster of guests and waited for them to pass. He had no desire for a confrontation with the lad.
But the mother and son did not pass by. They stopped—almost directly behind him.
Lady Chadwick’s voice was a reptilian hiss: “Apparently, they were so enthralled with one another they didn’t even take notice when she opened the door.”
What she said next surprised Henry.
“You’ve lost her, you fool! If you were less incompetent and more of a man, it would have been you in there instead of him!”
The lad did not answer, and Henry thought that would be the end of it, but then Chadwick broke his silence with evident fury. “Allow me to remind you that I am a man full grown and heir to my father’s estate in its entirety. Your future comfort is dependent upon my goodwill, and I will not tolerate being berated in public like a child!”
Good for him! thought Henry.
Lady Chadwick sucked in an audible breath, but her son cut her off before she could vent her spleen. “We both know I’m not destined for an earl’s daughter, though saints know I tried my damndest,” he said. “But neither am I willing to be sold to the likes of Miss Bidewell. I can hardly stand to be in the same room with her.”
“That is entirely beside the point!” honked Lady Chadwick. “That girl comes with a substantial dowry. It is an excellent match, and you would do well to put aside your foolish notions of l—”
“I will bloody well choose my own wife!” the young man snapped. “And it will not be Miss Bidewell, or anyone like her!”
“I suppose you want someone like your fine Lady Sabrina, is that it?” taunted the matron. “A shameless little harlot who’ll cuckold you the instant you turn your back? Tell me, have you come completely unhinged?”
