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“It won’t be me, Matthew.” It could never be her because even if he wasn’t a gambler, he had honor for what he did for her five years ago. She would never be worthy of such an honorable man.
She often wondered if she was worthy of any man after what she’d done. Perhaps when she settled in Florence she would take a lover. But that idea left a dry, unpleasant taste in her mouth. There was only one man she wanted.
“Time will tell, Jennette.” He dipped his head and then turned to leave. Just before he reached the end of the garden, he glanced back at her.
If only her life was different.
Jennette left her room and closed the door with a sigh. As she walked down the hall, her shoes barely made a sound on the Persian carpet. Everything was set, Mary would accept an introduction and because her parents wouldn’t arrive until Monday night, she and Matthew would have plenty of time to get to know each other. There might even be an engagement to announce by the time Mary’s parents arrived.
Jennette’s heart constricted. This was for the best. She had to get him married before she left for the Continent. Even if her heart wasn’t in it.
Mary would make Matthew a good wife.
“Lady Jennette?”
Jennette turned to determined who had called her. Seeing Mary Marston, she attempted to smile at the young woman.
“Yes?”
Mary quickened her step to reach Jennette. “Could we walk into the salon together? I fear I’m not as confident as I should be. My aunt is feeling unwell and decided to have dinner in her room.”
“Of course.” With her aunt feeling ill, Mary would have no one to condemn her for speaking with Matthew. Hopefully, Elizabeth performed her part and placed them next to each other at dinner.
The petite blonde linked arms with her and they started for the salon. “Lady Jennette, doesn’t all the bustle of Society wear you down? You always look fresh and happy and, well, confident.”
If only that were true. She had never felt so inept in all her life. “It does get easier. Each Season you will gain more confidence and composure. And once you marry you will be all the rage.”
“I hope so. Do you really think Lord Blackburn is a good man?”
Jennette pressed her lips together. He was such a good man. Too good, at least for her. “Yes. I think you shall find that the gossips have been far too hard on him.”
“I hope my parents will be pleased with the introduction.”
“They should be, indeed. He is an earl.”
After walking down the steps, they entered the salon and glanced about the room. A footman walked by with sherry and Jennette quickly grabbed two glasses. She handed one to Mary and then sipped hers.
“I don’t drink spirits, Lady Jennette,” she whispered, holding out the glass as if the devil himself were in it.
“If you want to be a success, you need to learn to drink a few sips. I promise you will not get foxed and lose your innocence.”
Mary giggled softly. “Very well.”
Jennette watched as the woman slowly drew the glass toward her puckered lips. Mary winced as she took a sip smaller than a mouse would have.
“I don’t think I like it,” she said, leaning in cl
oser. “Must I drink this?”
“Not if you don’t wish to,” Jennette replied, shaking her head slightly. She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped at her sherry, wishing it were brandy. A nice stiff brandy and a good book by the fireplace would be a lovely thing right now. Instead, she smiled through the boredom as her mother had taught her and looked for Matthew.
She found him leaning against the wall in conversation with Somerton. She ignored the tightening in her stomach as she admired the angles of Matthew’s face. Angles she would love to draw, or better yet, kiss.
“Is that him?” Mary asked. “The man near the wall with the short, light brown hair?”
Oh God, now she’s admiring Somerton. “No. That would be Lord Somerton and he is a man you would not want to know.”
“Why?” Mary’s innocent tone grated on her nerves.
