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“A trifle, it’s true. But pay me no mind. I’m just not skilled at subterfuge and dissembling.”
“I would argue that you are doing quite well at it.” Eastwood’s smile was probably meant to take the sting out of his words, but Hilaria felt heat in her cheeks.
“Well, I should say I am not accustomed to dissembling, whether I am skilled at it or not.”
Eastwood’s gaze was attentive and searching before he asked, “What are you most concerned about? Did your sister say something after you returned home? Has something changed?”
Hilaria sighed softly. “My sister believes your attention is real and is thrilled that I am allowing a viscount to court me. I’m not remarkably close with her, but it doesn’t feel right to be deceiving her.” Hilaria glanced around to reconfirm that no one was listening to their conversation, but she lowered her voice even further just to be certain. “I planned to re-examine our Debrett’s to make sure I’m not missing out on any available dukes, but I got distracted with something and didn’t get to it before needing to begin my preparations for this evening. But tomorrow, I will certainly get to that task.”
“I’m surprised, with your determination, that you haven’t memorized the book already.”
Hilaria was taken aback by Eastwood’s hard, sarcastic tone. But she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. She was a little ashamed of herself, and she couldn’t rightly say why. He was right; she should have it memorized. But perhaps he was also right in that her ambitions were a trifle foolish. But it was the only way to redeem herself, even if only in her own eyes. If she couldn’t have Sherton or Glendale, she wanted something even grander.
“Could you help me consider my options, Eastwood? You are probably more familiar with the gentlemen than I could ever be.”
She couldn’t interpret the expression on his face. He appeared to be surprised by her request, but there seemed to be other, more complicated feelings flickering in his gaze. She rather thought it was a strange combination of compassion and disgust. Hilaria hoped she was wrong, as neither were acceptable.
After a lengthy pause, Eastwood finally asked her, “Who have you considered thus far? And are any of them here this evening? Are you familiar with any of the available dukes? Do you have a preference?”
“There are so few available, I am fairly certain I’m familiar with all of them. But that was why I thought to reread the book, to ensure I haven’t missed any.” She looked away, wondering if she ought to be having this conversation. She dismissed the thought of it being inappropriate. Surely, her entire association with Eastwood was inappropriate, so it was missish to balk at this point. “To be honest, I’m worried that Wexford was the only unmarried duke who isn’t at least sixty years of age. There’s Rathnelley, of course, but he so rarely attends Society events.”
“There is always one of the royals,” Eastwood commented.
“I don’t think I could commit myself to someone who so disregards his position. Besides the fact that most of them already have families.”
“Well, you aren’t likely to be any duke’s first wife.”
Hilaria felt her shoulders slumping even though it was unacceptable posture. She couldn’t begrudge her sister her husband, but why couldn’t Hilaria have found him first? Eastwood’s hard tone, combined with his compassionate eyes, was going to be her undoing if she didn’t pull herself together. Suddenly, she brightened.
“Aren’t there some foreign princes in Town?”
“You mean the exiled? That would hardly be comfortable for you.”
“What about the Austrian prince? He’s not in exile.”
“That’s true. But he’s friends with Prinny.”
Silence descended between them, as she struggled not to give in to her disappointment. Hilaria could feel the eyes of those around them settling upon her. She felt as though they were all judgmental, but she tried to tell herself they were merely curious. She should be expecting speculative scrutiny since it was unusual for her to be receiving so much attention from a gentleman. Perhaps their scheme would pay off soon and she could be done with it.
“My lady, I believe it is our turn to dance.”
Hilaria didn’t resist as Eastwood drew her onto the dance floor and into a waltz. By now, it seemed to her that it was the only dance they ever partnered in. It was a good thing they were trying to draw attention. She would be mortified otherwise. Of course, she would never accept a gentleman’s invitation to waltz so frequently if not for their plans.
“What will happen when your mother descends upon us and agrees to stop pressuring you into marriage if only you won’t pursue a courtship with me? Will you drop me instantly? Is she likely to be discreet about it, do you suppose?”
“I thought you didn’t believe it would work.”
Hilaria avoided his searching gaze, unwilling to allow him to read her innermost thoughts, as he seemed to be so skilled at. She offered him a slight shrug.
“Anything is possible, Eastwood.” She tried to add some spirit to her words, but she knew she had failed when his hands tightened on her. It shouldn’t thrill her, but it did, despite her melancholia.
“You are giving up,” he murmured. “What has happened? You never struck me as the depressive type, my lady. I would think you would go kicking and screaming if anyone tried to force you into something.”
Fighting the burn of tears deep in her throat, Hilaria tried valiantly not to allow them to reach her eyes. She lifted her chin and met Eastwood’s gaze.
“I spent time in my father’s library this afternoon,” she said softly.
“Is that not where your copy of Debrett’s is kept?”
