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Julie nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. She knew the state of his household like nobody else in the world.
“I was a soldier for most of my life. I do not know anything about running an estate. I tried to learn but…” He shook his head. “Now my solicitor tells me the only way out of this is for me to marry into money. I know it’s a hell of a reason to marry—”
Julie scoffed, “I married for a title, remember?”
“I remember,” John said quietly, almost inaudibly, a sad smile on his face.
“And it all worked out, didn’t it?” Julie asked.
John nodded, but he started to lose track of the conversation. The quiet of the room was pressing on his nerves. Too quiet was never a good thing in a war, and the eerie silence always made his skin crawl with unpleasant anticipation. He had to get back to the conversation before he drifted away from his thoughts and was back on the front lines.
“So.” Julie stood, breaking him from his reverie. “We shall find you a perfect bride, one you can fall in love with, and with a sizable dowry,” she said cheerfully.
John also stood.
“Let me get a quill and paper—” Julie began, but John interrupted her.
“Actually, not to sound rude, but can you possibly do that without me? I don’t know any of the ladies anyway, and you can just let me know who you came up with the next time we meet. I need to….” He cleared his throat. “I have a… another appointment soon.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Julie looked at him apologetically. “We can meet during one of the pre-season events. There’s a dinner party at Lady Pelham’s next week. Do you have an invitation?”
John stared at her numbly.
“Never mind, I shall ask her to extend an invitation to you. We can discuss the prospects there and go over my list.”
“Thank you.” John started walking to the door but paused with his hand on the door handle. “There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you.” He turned his head in her direction. “I know it’s a strange question, but do you happen to know anyone who made their debut in 1812?”
“No. That’s the year Mary’s scandal happened and then I spent most of 1812 and 1813 in Bromley, in confinement. So, I’m sorry I don’t really know who made debuts that year. Why?”
“No reason.” He made to turn the handle and paused again. “I am sorry I wasn’t there for you… I know you probably needed a friend and you went through some rough times at the beginning of your marriage. We have been friends for too long. I shouldn’t have cut you out like this.”
“It’s all right. I understand,” she said quietly.
He nodded and left the room.
John exited the house and took a deep breath. He’d done well. He’d kept the panic at bay. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. Now there was a dinner party next week. A room full of suffocating crowds of people, loud noises, thundering music, and lots of stares. He could do it too. He didn’t have to stay long this time either, he reminded himself. He would go right up to Julie, let her introduce him to a couple of ladies, and bow out.
Next, he could pay them a visit and invite them for a ride in the park. He always felt better outdoors. He mounted his horse and proceeded toward his house in a slow canter.
And as for his Angel, well, he wasn’t holding out hope Julie would help him find her, anyway. How many young ladies had made a debut in 1812? Dozens. Maybe more.
Perhaps it was for the best. Better to never find her and keep her in his dreams. Because if he did find her… What did he expect would happen? With flaws the size of Mount Snowdon, finding any wife would be an issue, never mind a perfect lady like his Angel. Yes, he thought wryly, better to keep her in his dreams.
* * *
Samantha woke up with a start. She looked around the familiar room in the moonlight. Ah, yes, she was still in her room at the Gage townhouse.Thank God!She kept having this horrible nightmare that she’d gotten married and was getting shipped off to some Godforsaken land north of Yorkshire.
After spending the last season in mourning, she had been welcomed back into thetonwith open arms. She was no longer a debutante, and even when she was, she was never considered a diamond of the first water. Now, when she was coming perilously close to spinsterhood, she was courted either by lords who were old enough to be her father—and sometimes her grandfather—or by randy young lords in need of an heiress. After every ball, or other social engagement, she had nightmares that her family tired of her and sent her away with the first suitor who offered for her.
Of course, that was never going to happen, but dreams were irrational, and the guilt she felt for not making a fit match for her family added fuel to the fire. It wasn’t as though it was her fault. She’d met plenty of young lords, danced and flirted with them, but she felt nothing beyond a simple interest. And even then, the spark wasn’t enough to turn their relationship into a friendship, much less a marriage. Her parents had a love match, and her best friend was spouting nonsense about true love and how a marriage without it was empty and hollow.
Sam groaned loudly, put a pillow over her face, and toppled back into bed.I am not going to feel guilty about this. I am not going to feel guilty about this.
Isabel had sacrificed her chances of making a good match so that their brothers, and most importantly Sam, didn’t have to worry about anything. Isabel was the one who had looked after their ailing father. She was the one who helped their brother, Richard, accept his responsibilities as the new Viscount Gage after their father’s passing. With numerous estates, somebody had to be the hostess, and Isabel assumed that role all too young. Wanting to spare Sam the same fate, Isabel never married, and remained a constant mother figure of the family—even to their elder brothers.
Obviously, there was another reason Isabel had never married—a broken heart.
She never admitted that to anyone. But Sam knew better. She saw Isabel bright-eyed and happy during those long-ago days when she was being courted by the Earl of Stanhope. She knew how excited Isabel had been about the prospect of running her own household. And Sam also saw how broken-hearted Isabel had become when all that courting came for naught, once Stanhope disappeared right after their mother’s passing. She hadn’t accepted a suitor since.
