Page 8 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“Why, I should expect more enthusiasm from such a young couple in love.”

“We are not in love, My Lord,” she blurted again.Good heavens! What is the matter with me?

“I see,” the Earl murmured, his gaze flitting between them once more, but more directed at Gillingham. Perhaps the Earl was not convinced they were truly courting.

When Agnes dared to glance at Gillingham, she found his expression had shuttered, replaced by a cool detachment that left her further discomposed. Realizing her misstep, Agnes chided herself internally. Their arrangement, however pragmatic, had boundaries she’d inadvertently crossed with her careless words.

Thankfully, their conversation was interrupted as the Earl’s attention was sought by their host, prompting a polite but swift departure from their company. Agnes barely concealed her relief, her breath hitching ever so slightly in her chest as she turned to face Gillingham, whose gaze was fixed upon her with an intensity that felt almost tangible.

“Quite the convincing answer you gave Asmont,” his said. Agnes found herself momentarily at a loss, the remnants of her composure threatening to unravel.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she managed to stammer out. She wished to clarify, to make him understand it was a slip and nothing more.

“Asmont doesn’t know that,” he said, his tone cool, his expression meticulously neutral. His guarded demeanor, so unlike the Gillingham at the park, left her yearning for a glimpse of the emotion she was certain lurked beneath the surface. The ambiguity of his response was far more disconcerting than outright disapproval.

“Would it kill you to trust and agree with me for once, Miss Young?” His words sounded measured.

“It’s not a matter of trust,” she responded quickly, her defense rising. She wanted to explain the surge of panic that had gripped her at the mention of marriage, to make him understand her reaction was not a reflection of her feelings toward their arrangement. She could not tell him the truth, however, that marriage to a man like him spelled disaster for a woman with hopes such as hers.

Their exchange was interrupted by another gentleman, who greeted Gillingham with a familiarity that suggested a long-standing acquaintance. “Gillingham, it has been a while since you deigned to properly join society,” the gentleman observed, clapping Gillingham on the shoulder in a manner that spoke of their shared history.

Seizing the opportunity to escape what promised to be yet another uncomfortable conversation, Agnes excused herself with a hastily concocted reason. “Please, excuse me,” she murmured, making her retreat with what she hoped was grace. She left the ballroom to seek the retiring room, and when she found it, she splashed some water on her face and patted it with a towel before looking up at her reflection in the mirror.

“You foolish, foolish, woman,” she murmured to herself.

Upon her return to the ballroom, she found the mood had shifted. Gillingham was conspicuously absent, and her attempts to locate him proved fruitless. The remainder of her evening unfolded in a haze of polite conversations and half-hearted dances, the earlier encounter casting a shadow over the festivities.

“I told you he was interested in courting you!” Caroline’s voice was filled with triumph as she settled onto the edge of Agnes’ bed, her eyes alight with satisfaction and excitement.

Despite the turmoil churning within her, she met Caroline’s questions with patience, trying to navigate the conversation without betraying the complexity of her emotions.

“Perhaps I underestimated him, Mother,” she whispered. The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in, now that she had agreed to Gillingham’s proposal. The facade of courtship they were to uphold demanded more from her than mere acceptance—it required her to play her part convincingly, a prospect that filled her with a deepening sense of dread. How was she to be convincing when she had the tendency to blurt out nonsense?

“Oh, thank Providence! I shall be planning a wedding by the end of the season,” Caroline gushed, lost in her own world of matrimonial fantasies. Agnes winced and fell back against her pillows, closing her eyes. “What would you like to wear, my dear? Silk or lace? The satin in fashion in France, perhaps?

“Mother!” Agnes couldn’t help but protest, sitting up.

“Child, he’s courting you. I saw your dance today and the two of you could not look away from each other. You cannot tell me that this cannot develop into something greater.” Caroline held a hand to prevent Agnes from arguing. In her mother’s eyes, the arrangement with Gillingham was a clear path to marital bliss,a conclusion Agnes found increasingly difficult to envision for herself.

“May I ask you to slow your pace, Mother?” Agnes managed a weak chuckle, an attempt to lighten the mood that felt hollow even to her own ears. “You dream excessively.”

“As well I should. I’m marrying off a daughter,” Caroline said, rising to her feet with a flourish that left no room for argument. Her excitement seemed to fill the room, an infectious energy that Agnes found both endearing and overwhelming.

“We’re simply courting for now, Mother,” Agnes tried to interject, her voice soft but firm, as Caroline reached the doorway, poised to spread the news of the evening’s developments.

“I must find William and tell him what’s happened at the ball tonight,” she continued, opening the door and departing, leaving Agnes alone with her thoughts.

The silence that followed filled Agnes with dread once more. Gillingham had left the ball displeased with her, and she was still questioning whether she could trust him to improve her chances this season instead of diminishing them.

She gathered her hair and began to braid it, wondering how she could stop her parents from getting too excited about her courtship without revealing its nature to them. Guilt weighed on her heart, particularly as she considered her mother’s unbridled joy. She had embarked on this charade with Gillingham tosecure her future and prevent any disappointment to her parents, yet the deceit necessary to maintain the facade left her feeling increasingly isolated.

CHAPTER 5

Theodore pondered the unforeseen consequences of his actions as he sat at a table in a corner at White’s after leaving the ball. His encounter with Miss Young was intended to solidify their agreement, but it had instead left him questioning everything.

They’d had more disagreements than a proper conversation, and he was not sure if the ball counted as their first event. He sighed and shook his head, tossing back the remaining contents of his tumbler and gesturing to a waiter to refill it. He reached into his coat pocket for a handkerchief and felt the missive from his solicitor that he had placed there earlier, intending to reply.

Theodore had been reluctant to agree to meet the parties interested in his property. He still had hope in securing a partnership with Asmont and regaining their lost family fortunes. He mulled over their interaction with Asmont at the ball, and the gnawing feeling of doubt only intensified. Perhaps he had been too hasty, too focused on the ends to consider the means properly. His strategy, he feared, mighthave compromised more than it secured, for Asmont was not convinced he was truly courting Miss Young.

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