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He heaved a sigh. “Well, at least I tried.”
“You did,” Jo agreed. “And an admirable effort it was.”
* * *
It was a good thing that she’d rejected him, Richard thought as he escorted Miss Claremont from the dance floor and bowed low. He couldn’t afford entanglements now. He would be wed soon.
But instead of relief, he felt as though a noose was tightening around his neck. Perhaps this little indiscretion with the actress was his rebellious nature trying to get out one last time before he officially shackled himself to a respectable lady.
A lady he had never met. A lady he might not even like.
He grimaced. What did it matter? Plenty of people married out of convenience. Plenty of people grew to adore and respect each other in marriage. And his future bride’s father, Mr. Fowley, was his father’s good friend.
He was a gentleman.
He was also in financial trouble. Without dowries and money for the season, his daughters were unmarriageable.
Richard was saving his father’s friend, and he was solving his own problem all in one fell swoop. He should forget about Miss Claremont, her marble white skin, her thick chestnut hair, her unapologetic boldness, and her exuberant delight at everything.
He was promised to another and she…
He glanced up to see her watching him. He raised a brow, and she instantly turned away, her cheeks heating.
She was clearly interested in him.
Richard heaved a sigh. He needed to get it over with and just tell his sister about his impending betrothal. He needed to start acting as a bridegroom.
He sneaked another peek at the delectable actress.
Did he, though?
What harm would one night of passion do? He was still a free man. She was a fiery woman. They could indulge in one night of passion, could they not?
Richard groaned inwardly and turned away. He needed to find Isabel. Fast.
He took a glass of wine from the passing footman, gulped the contents in a few short moments, and embarked upon his search for his sister.
If only it was that easy to find a hostess during her own welcome ball of the house party, Richard thought grimly as he walked into the garden. Isabel was not in the ballroom, she wasn’t in the cloakroom, and neither was she in the garden, apparently.
Where had she disappeared to?
Her husband was nowhere to be found, either. The guests were starting to whisper.
Luckily for everyone, the Duchess of Somerset took on the duty of hostess for the night with the help of Richard’s youngest sister Sam.
And as for Richard…
He sat on the stone bench in the garden and lowered his head into his hands.
Perhaps it was the providence of God.
He chuckled darkly.
Or perhaps he was looking for an escape route. Any excuse to stave off his admission that he was about to get betrothed.
Why avoid it? It was going to happen whether he told anyone or not. His bride was on her way to this house party right at this moment. The agreement had been struck, albeit no contract had been drawn yet, but it might as well have been.
Richard could not break a gentleman’s agreement. Not that he truly wanted to. He needed a wife. It was his duty to wed.
