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Time was running out.
Jennette walked down to dinner feeling miserable. She reviewed her list of potential brides for Matthew and found them all lacking. Each of the women would love the title Countess Blackburn, but none of them had the resourcefulness to know how to help him with his estates. Assuming any of their fathers would agree to a match, which at this point was a major flaw in the plan.
She frowned as she walked through the hallway. How could a woman with no experience deal with the everyday workings of multiple estates?
She slipped into the salon unnoticed and sat in a blue leather Hepplewhite chair. Matthew sat alone in a seat across the room. Others in the room still ignored him after Mrs. Marston’s outburst. Jennette longed to go to him, sit next to him, and talk to him more about his estates. But after her decision today, it made more sense to attempt to pay him no heed.
As if there were any possibility of that happening.
Even from this distance, his gaze burned her, scorched her, baring her soul for him to see. She squirmed in her seat under his constant stare. Moist heat slid through her folds as she crossed her legs.
“My, my, what a look on your face.”
Jennette blinked and looked up to see Somerton smiling down at her. He dropped to the
chair beside her.
“Whatever are you talking about, Somerton?”
Somerton chuckled softly. “It came to my attention today that you believe something about someone that isn’t quite the truth.”
“Oh? And who might that be?”
“I think you know to whom I am referring.” He leaned in closer to her and whispered, “I know that was you watching us as we departed Norton’s a few nights ago.”
Jennette breathed in deeply. “It could not possibly have been me. I would never go near a gaming hell.”
“And neither would the man with me. Blackburn isn’t a gambler.”
“And let me guess, neither are you?”
Jennette slid her glance to the man next to her. Somerton’s lips twitched as he sought a rejoinder.
“Actually, I am. I’m quite good at it, too, which is why I should know a gambler when I see one. And Blackburn isn’t one. He was assisting me that night.”
“Why are you so concerned with what I think about Blackburn?” she whispered back to him.
“Because unlike me, he is a good man.” Somerton rose and walked away before she could question him further.
Jennette glanced over at Matthew. Could she have been wrong about him? The fact remained that his father and brother had both been consummate gamblers. Most men had the fortitude to resist the temptations of a wager unless for sport, but Matthew’s relatives couldn’t seem to help themselves. Could he?
“Good evening, Lady Jennette.”
Jennette glanced up to see Baron Huntley standing over her. What did he want? “Good evening, Huntley.”
“Might I sit with you?” He inclined his head toward the empty seat next to her.
“Very well,” she answered when she preferred that he disappear.
“I heard about your dreadful experience at the dowager house this afternoon.”
Oh God, the gossip had started already.
“Rumor has it that Aston and a scullery maid were swiving right under your feet,” he leaned in and whispered. “That must have been dreadful.”
“Very,” she replied.
“Or was it?” he questioned in a low, seductive tone. “Did your mind wonder exactly what they were doing?”
