AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As her mother and Sybil curtseyed and murmured inaudible greetings to him, the earl stepped closer to Rowena. She noticed two things right away. Firstly, he did not seem at all interested in speaking to her mother. His watery eyes were fixed directly on her. And secondly, as he breathed through his mouth, she could smell his breath; it was horrible, testifying to his liking for tobacco, strong drink, and the poor condition of his teeth.
“It is a pleasure, my dear,” the earl said, stooping stiffly to kiss Rowena’s hand.
“Likewise, my lord,” she said quickly, withdrawing her hand as soon as it was appropriate and hiding it behind her to wipe it on her dress. What was her father doing, introducing her to the gentleman in such a fashion?
Then, to her further surprise, her father took her hand once more, holding it out beside him. Puzzled, Rowena looked at her father, raising her brows questioningly.
He smiled at his daughter, nodding and glancing toward the earl.
“Lord Axenshire will be sitting with us during the races,” he said in that same boastful tone. “And speaking of races, they are just about to begin. We best get to our seats.”
Rowena was so busy watching her father and questioning his odd behavior that she didn’t see the earl step up beside her. She only noticed him when she felt an arm that wasn’t her father’s link through hers.
“Shall we, Miss Whitworth?” the earl asked, gesturing to the stands, towards which Lord Worthingwood was making a beeline.
Rowena reluctantly nodded, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. She knew her family was desperate, but she still couldn’t believe her father was trying to match her with this horrible old earl. The man was more than twice her age! Even if she was blind, she knew she could never be attracted to him in the least. Besides, what could such a man want with her? Then, as she was reluctantly dragged along by the earl, light dawned, and she wondered bitterly how much the old man was offering to pay her father for her hand.
Chapter Nine
“Mother, Gemma,” Andrew said when they arrived at the Epsom Derby. “You may go up to our box. Edmund and I will join you after we have placed our bets.”
Gemma nodded, linking her arm through her mother’s.
“All right,” she said, leaning forward as Edmund stooped to kiss her cheek. “Don’t be long.”
The men bowed and watched the women disappear into the crowd. Then, they went in the opposite direction, heading to the bookies’ stands. The lines were long, and Andrew let out a groan.
“You expected any less?” Edmund teased him.
Andrew sighed.
“I suppose not,” he said. “But you would think every gentleman in London and his brother is here!”
Edmund nodded.
“It does make you wonder,” he said.
The men fell silent, spotting the stand of their favorite bookie and joining the long queue. As they waited, Andrew heard a familiar voice talking behind him. Casting back a casual glance, he was surprised to see Viscount Worthingwood and Lord Axenshire again and he frowned. Were they following him? Recalling the conversation he’d heard between the two men in White’s a few nights' ago, he subtly repositioned himself so as to listening in on their current discussion. And this time, he felt no guilt whatsoever.
“Well, there can be no doubt that Miss Whitworth is lovely,” the earl was saying to Lord Worthingwood. “However, I was hoping for my bride to be a bit younger.”
Andrew bit down hard on his lip, a snicker involuntarily escaping his mouth. The old man would be lucky if any woman below the age of sixty glanced in his direction. Truly, he would be lucky if any lady at all looked at him, ever. And yet, he was talking about being displeased that his already young bride-to-be was not younger still. It was laughable to Andrew, but it was also disgusting. How could the foul fellow possibly think he had anything to offer to warrant such choosiness?
“I think we would be wise to bet on Nutmeg,” Edmund’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Andrew turned to face him quickly to avoid being caught eavesdropping again.
“Nutmeg?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “Why’s that?”
Edmund grinned.
“Because everyone else is betting on the favorite, Thunder,” he said.
Andrew blinked in confusion.
“Well, if everyone feels so sure about Thunder, doesn’t it make sense to bet on him too,” he said. “And isn’t Nutmeg the underdog?”
Edmund nodded, his face lighting up with excitement.
