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Even Red. Hadn’t she been clear when she’d said she wasn’t interested? No one of merit was. Not his friends, not his uncle, and most likely, not his father.
Red was beautiful and intelligent, which meant she found him lacking. Why did he like her more for it? “Sometimes you meet a pretty lady, and you think to yourself, what might that be like?”
It wasn’t really true. Just like yesterday, he lied. But it sat a bit less like a lie in his chest and more like the truth. He didn’t want to marry her, didn’t want to marry anyone. If his uncle was attempting to force matrimony on Ethan, he didn’t want it. But Red had made him wonder.
What might life be like if he were a different man? A better one.
Natalie stood in the haberdasher’s shop, pretending to carefully choose a deep red ribbon to match the new gown she and her mother had just purchased for her upcoming season. In reality, she was eavesdropping. Was it still called that when one was not listening through the eaves but around a rack of ribbons?
“I heard that he raced a man in his phaeton in Hyde Park and the other man was nearly killed,” one lady whispered to another, their heads bent.
“Well, I heard he had a duel and was shot in the shoulder over a countess,” the other said. Was she just attempting to best her friend, or were these stories true? Natalie peeked over the rack, catching sight of the man who’d inspired such gossip. The Earl of Somersworth stood casually in the town square, looking tall and ridiculously handsome as he spoke to Lord Smith.
The two women were standing in the window and when he caught their stares, one of them waved, blushing furiously as she did. Natalie nearly rolled her eyes. He wasn’t that handsome—all right, perhaps he was…
But his response was to give the woman a saucy wink, sending both ladies into a fit of giggles. She snorted behind the rack. Ever the rake…
The two men started forward once again, said earl crossing the square and entering the pub.
Which should not have surprised her. But still, she felt the tiniest niggle of disappointment. She’d hoped…
She didn’t allow herself to finish that thought. Somersworth was a rake and a degenerate. If listening to the ladies had proven anything, it was that every ill thought she’d had about the man since meeting him was likely true.
She could even add a harrowing tale of her own…I saw with my own eyes that he vomited on a debutante’s shoes and didn’t even have the decency to apologize. She even had proof.
“I heard that he ruined a viscount’s daughter after he’d sworn to marry her.”
Natalie felt the blood drain from her face, disappointment swelling in her stomach. She ought to have known that he’d be not just a regular rake, but a rake of the first order.
“Haven’t you chosen yet?” her mother asked on a huff of breath. “The ribbon in your hand is perfect and I’ve got several more stops to make.”
Natalie fingered the silky strip of fabric, pasting her best smile on for her mother. “Not yet. Go on without me. I’ll meet you in the…”
Her mother frowned, likely not approving of this plan. “The cordwainer’s.”
“Good.” She meant it. If her mother was purchasing new shoes, that would take ages. Which gave Natalie plenty of time…
She now had an errand of her own. She was going to put a stop to her acquaintance with the Earl of Somersworth before her mother could foist Natalie on the man. It was past time.
Once her mother had entered the cordwainer’s shop, Natalie abandoned the ribbon altogether, then crossed the square and entered the inn.
It would be best to just catch the earl in the act of drinking. That way she might nullify their agreement quickly and easily.
Then she could go back to…
Her feet tripped on nothing but air and she stumbled for no reason. Back to what? Waiting for her mother to choose a new lord? And what might he be like? The list of possibilities made her shudder. Surely, he’d be titled. But what if he were even worse than Somersworth?
She shook that thought away, sure no one was worse, even as she entered the inn. She easily spotted the earl at a corner table sitting with her neighbor, Lord Smith.
Holding her chin high, she crossed the room and stopped in front of their table. Anger that she didn’t quite understand coursed through her. She never called anyone out…ever. But staring at him, the words tumbled from her lips. “Fine afternoon for a drink.”
Somersworth’s gaze met hers, and for the first time since she’d met him, they were clear and bright, a startling shade of sky blue.
“It is indeed, Miss Blake.” He stood, pulling out the chair next to him. “We were just enjoying a nice cup of tea. Would you care to join us?”
That’s when she noticed the steaming pot in the middle of the table and the teacup in front of him.
He was, in fact, drinking tea. There was not an alcoholic beverage in sight.
