Page 75 of A Rogue to Resist
Even as he made these justifications, he knew he was lying to himself. But the alternative—watching Greythorne fall into Captain Halston’s careless hands while he nursed his broken heart over Katherine—seemed even worse.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Greythorne,” Lord Carrington commented, settling into the chair opposite Drake’s. “The Thornhill connection is valuable, and I understand the young lady is both accomplished and of pleasant disposition.”
“So I’m continually informed,” Drake replied, unable to keep a hint of dryness from his tone.
Carrington raised an eyebrow. “Not feeling the triumphant bridegroom, I see.”
“Merely tired of discussing the matter,” Drake countered, signalling to a footman for another brandy. “One would think London society had never witnessed a betrothal before.”
“Not one secured with such remarkable speed,” Carrington observed shrewdly. “Barely a month since you arrived in Town, and already the announcement is in the papers. Some might call it impressive efficiency.”
Drake’s jaw tightened. “The entail’s conditions leave little room for extended courtship.”
“Ah, yes. The notorious Greythorne marriage clause.” Carrington nodded sagely. “Though I must admit, Lady Eleanor was not the bride most had anticipated you selecting.”
Drake looked up sharply. “Meaning?”
“Lady Westmore seemed the more likely choice, given your conversations at Lady Fairchild’s reception. Something of a surprise when you announced your engagement to Lady Eleanor instead.”
Drake stared into his fresh glass of brandy, watching the amber liquid catch the light. He could hardly explain that he had chosen Lady Eleanor precisely because she was nothing like Lady Westmore—or Katherine.
Where Lady Westmore had been forthright about the practical nature of their potential union, Lady Eleanor had been properly demure. Where Katherine had challenged his every decision with fierce intelligence, Lady Eleanor had agreed pleasantly with every opinion he expressed.
She was, in short, exactly the sort of bride Society expected for a newly titled earl—young, properly educated, from an excellent family, with no troublesome opinions of her own. The perfect countess to grace his arm at social functions and eventually provide the heir the entail demanded.
The perfect countess for a man who wanted nothing more than to satisfy inheritance requirements with minimal emotional complication.
“Lady Westmore and I determined we were not ideally suited,” Drake said finally, the diplomatic phrasing masking the truth: after seeing Katherine with Lord Clifton, he had been unable to stomach the thought of a marriage based solely on practical considerations.
If he could not have a union of genuine affection and respect, at least he could fulfil his obligation to Greythorne with a bride who harboured romantic notions rather than mercenary ones.
The irony that his chosen bride was from another prominent family had not escaped him. When the Earl of Fairfield had approached him with the proposal, Drake had initially been inclined to refuse outright. But something about Lady Eleanor’s lively demeanour and eagerness to please had seemed exactly what he needed—someone who would never remind him of Katherine.
Unlike the coincidence of timing that had led him to witness Katherine apparently accepting another man’s suit.
“Well, however it came about, the match seems advantageous for both parties,” Carrington said, breaking into Drake’s increasingly dark thoughts. “And Captain Halston must be sorely disappointed. I understand he’d begun making inquiries about estate management, anticipating your failure to meet the entail’s conditions.”
Drake’s mood darkened further at the mention of his naval cousin. “Captain Halston will have to content himself with his distinguished military career. Greythorne remains in my hands.”
“As it should be,” Harrison Marwood interjected, joining their conversation with a fresh glass of port. “Though I confess, Halston, your announcement took many of us by surprise. Lady Eleanor was not among the ladies whose company you seemed to particularly enjoy during your brief foray into Society.”
Because there had been only one woman whose company he had genuinely enjoyed, and she had made it abundantly clear that remarriage held no appeal for her. Or at least, no appeal when it came to another Earl of Greythorne.
“Lady Eleanor possesses all the qualities one could desire in a countess,” Drake replied, the words practiced from numerous repetitions over the past three days.
Harrison studied him with disconcerting perception. “Indeed. Though one might have thought you would prioritize other qualities, given your previously mentioned unconventional views on marriage.”
Drake shot his friend a warning glance, which Harrison blithely ignored.
“Pity about Lady Katherine,” Harrison continued, his tone deliberately casual. “I thought you’d suit.”
Drake felt a muscle twitch in his jaw.
“Lady Katherine has no interest in remarriage, at least not to a Halston,” he said flatly. “She’s made that abundantly clear from our first meeting.”
“Has she?” Harrison mused. “I suppose that explains then why she declined Lord Clifton’s suit at Thornfield Park. One might almost think she had specific objections rather than general ones.”
Drake’s glass halted halfway to his lips. “What did you say?”
