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As was typical for her, Lady Viola seemed oblivious to his lack of interest. She giggled like a child and took his hand, standing far too close to him when she rose from her seat.
“I would love to, milord,” she said.
Andrew led her down from the stands without a word and joined the people milling about on the levels in front. If he had to walk with her, he would make it the fastest walk around the course in the history of the races. She kept lagging behind, hanging on his arm, clearly trying to get him to slow down, but he would not relent.
“I can’t get over what a lovely day it is today,” Lady Viola said in a dreamy voice.
Andrew nodded.
“Indeed,” he said, turning his head so she wouldn’t see him roll his eyes. Truthfully, he didn’t care if she saw. But he knew she would run and tell her parents, who would in turn tell his mother. It was not worth the cost, so he did his best to hide his true feelings.
“The air smells so fresh, as well,” she said.
Andrew coughed to hide a snicker. Did she really think the air smelled fresh with the smells of sweaty horses and manure?
“It has a very distinct smell,” he said, biting his cheeks to keep from laughing.
Lady Viola giggled. Andrew wondered if there was more depth to her than he had realized. Had she been being facetious? No. She quickly proved she wasn’t.
“Doesn’t it?” she said. “It smells almost like there is rain on the way.”
Andrew looked sideways at her, dumbfounded. She was being perfectly serious. Either she didn’t know the difference between fresh air and horse dung, or she was just talking for the sake of talking. Either way, it was maddening.
Despite his hurried pace, the walk around the racecourse took them half an hour. And the entire time, the conversation went in much the same manner. Andrew was relieved when they completed the circuit and at last headed back to the stands once again. Soon, he could see his mother watching them in shrewd expectation. He shook his head, not caring if she saw him. Was there no escape from her overbearing matchmaking?
Chapter Ten
The race concluded, with Nutmeg snatching victory from the favorite, Thunder. In the tumult that followed the win, Rowena dared a glance at her father, and she could see instantly that he was downcast. With a sinking heart, she wondered how much of their family fortune he had squandered with his loss. Would Lord Worthingwood really never come to his senses and stop gambling away what precious little money they had left?
When she looked at her father again, his expression had changed. The creased brows had relaxed and a small smile played on his lips. It seemed as though the loss was already a distant memory and that it was nothing to be concerned about. For some reason, that was even more unsettling to her.
She tried to steal a peek at her mother for any indication of what she was thinking, but she was met instead with her father’s smiling face.
“My dears,” he said, his voice falsely sweet, “I am honored to inform you that Lord Axenshire will be joining us for dinner tomorrow evening.”
Rowena tried to keep her expression neutral, but she felt her eyes widen. The viscountess looked equally shocked, but she straightened her face just as the viscount turned to her. Rowena felt her stomach turn. She dreaded the idea of having to eat a meal with the earl in the same room, let alone at the same table.
The plump earl rose in a clumsy fashion, wheezing as he did so. He bowed to her family, giving her wolfish smile that she found deeply unsettling.
“It has been a pleasure to share your company this afternoon,” he drawled in a way that made Rowena’s skin crawl. “I look forward to dinner tomorrow night. For now, I must take my leave. Good day to you all.”
With something a horrified Rowena thought was supposed to be a wink at her, he turned and made his way slowly down from the stands. Rowena shuddered, debating on whether she should feign a migraine to avoid dining with the vile man the following evening.
A sharp pain in her arm brought her abruptly back to the present. She looked down to see her father gripping her wrist forcefully, and he was no longer smiling. She tried to pull away instinctively, but her father’s grip only became stronger.
“You are refusing to take finding a match seriously, Rowena,” he hissed. His lordship has taken an interest in you, even though you are a spinster with an old scandal hanging over your head. And yet, you behave as though you are too good for him. Have your senses left you, girl?”
Rowena swallowed hard. She had never seen her father so angry before, especially not with her. She looked to her mother for aid, but the viscountess’s eyes were firmly locked on her wringing hands.
“Papa,” she whispered, trying to appeal to the father who had always loved his daughters.
But the viscount would not be moved. He maintained his tight grip on her wrist and sneered at his eldest daughter.
“You will start behaving in a manner more befitting of a future countess and less like an ungrateful child,” he growled.
Rowena sat paralyzed, unable to think of anything to say or do to appease her father. It wouldn’t be long before people around them began to stare and notice the scene playing out. Her mother was suffering enough, and her father was beginning to truly frighten her.
“Excuse me,” said a sharp voice from behind and above them.
