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He was about to excuse himself when two gentlemen strolled by. “I can’t believe she chose Dawson,” one of them said. “My money was on Markham.”
The other man shook his head. “Why’d she choose Dawson over an earl? Makes no sense to me, but then women never do.”
Titus stood. “What are you discussing?”
The pair stopped in their tracks and slowly turned. They regarded Titus as if he had a second head. The first man swallowed. “Your Grace?”
Titus’s gut clenched. “What are you talking about? Who?” He feared he knew the answer and, like these men, he could make absolutely no sense of it.
“A wager was placed last night at White’s. About Miss Lockhart—your stepmother’s ward, I believe.” The man sounded a bit nervous, tentative. “There seems to be a competition for her hand between Lord Markham and Mr. Dawson.”
A bloody competition? A wager? The room seemed to darken, and Titus’s breath squeezed from his chest. “You said she chose Dawson?”
The two men exchanged puzzled looks. “Evidently,” the second one answered. “We just heard it down at Key’s Coffee House.”
The good mood Titus had just enjoyed, the only contentment he’d found in nine long years, evaporated like smoke.
Without a word, he turned and strode from the club, his feet devouring the ground as he made his way to his coach. He barely spared a glance for the coachman, who held the door for him. “Satterfield House.”
Once inside the vehicle, he exhaled his pent-up breath. She’d chosen Dawson? After what had happened between them the other night?
Well, why wouldn’t she, you ass? It’s not as if you proposed.
And he should have. Not because it was the right and honorable thing to do, which of course it was, and whichof courseshe deserved. But because he loved her. He was irrevocably, hopelessly, desperately in love with her.
He had to tell her. Even if nothing came of it, he had to share what was in his heart before it was too late. He’d lost one person in his life—his father—without telling him how much he meant, and he wasn’t going to make that same mistake again.
Chapter Thirteen
Despite a blissfully quiet night at home, Nora was no closer to making a decision about her future. The tea was due to start shortly, and presumably both Markham and Dawson would make an appearance. Neither would ask for her hand during such an occasion, but they would likely press their potential courtships.
She told herself that was fine. Better than fine. Either would be an excellent match, and Dawson had certainly laid out his advantages yesterday.
The mystery lay with Titus. Only there really wasn’t a mystery at all. They’d enjoyed a spectacular evening together where no promises were exchanged. She ought to continue as if it had never happened.
She practically choked at the thought.
Another option had skipped into her brain last night as she’d tried to fall asleep. What if she didn’t marry anyone? What if she worked as a companion as she’d intended and saved her pennies so that she could afford to retire to the country by herself? Granted, it would take years. And years. But what else did she have to do?
However, on her own she couldn’t look forward to a repeat of what she’d experienced with Titus. Which led her back to her choices of husband and the conclusion that she didn’t trust that any other man could give her what Titus had. It went far beyond the physical sensations he’d aroused. He’d gifted her with a sense of empowerment, something she’d never even conceived of.
She’d lost everything that mattered nine years ago—her reputation, her ability to secure her future, her ability to secure her sister’s future. Two nights ago, she’d realized that she’d actually lost far more: her self-respect. Titus had shown her that she’d regained it and so much more.
Nora walked into the drawing room as Lady Satterfield checked over a table laden with delicate cakes and neat sandwiches. She glanced sideways at Nora. “There you are. Just in time.” She straightened, inclining her head toward the door. “They are arriving.”
Over the next quarter hour, Nora greeted guests, including Lady Dunn, whose company she’d come to enjoy. The older woman was quite pleased to see that Nora was enjoying a surge in popularity. She clearly took a small amount of credit, since she’d championed Nora from the start.
Lady Dunn nodded toward the doorway. “Your Mr. Dawson is here.”
Nora bit her tongue before she said he wasn’therMr. Dawson. She turned in her chair and made eye contact. He instantly smiled and cut toward her.
He took her hand and dropped a kiss to the back. “Good afternoon, Miss Lockhart. You are lovelier than the sun.”
“Thank you. I’m delighted you could come today.”
He looked at her expectantly. “Might I take you for a turn about the room?”
Nora preferred to continue visiting with Lady Dunn but didn’t wish to be rude. “Certainly.”
